The guild hall wasn't grand or inspiring. It just felt worn out.
Dark wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, stained by years of smoke and grime. Sunlight sliced through the high windows, illuminating dancing dust motes. The air buzzed with layered sounds – snippets of arguments, bursts of laughter, grumbles of complaints, and the gruff murmur of empty threats.
The metallic clang of weapons and the scraping of boots on the floor created a constant backdrop. Somewhere in the hall, somebody was loudly cursing about a missing payment.
Zairen paused just inside the entrance, not trying to stand out. He didn't need to.
To his left, a long wooden board was plastered with notices on parchment. Some looked fresh, others were yellowed with age, and a few had been torn down haphazardly, leaving jagged edges. To his right, rough benches were crammed with people in different states of disrepair. One man clutched his arm, wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth. Another leaned against the wall, his helmet still on, fast asleep.
Straight ahead was the reception counter, where three clerks worked—or rather, looked busy—none of them happy to be there.
Zairen walked toward the counter and waited patiently.
Eventually, a woman with her brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, her fingers stained with ink, glanced up from her work.
Yes? she asked, without warmth.
I'd like to register, Zairen replied. As an adventurer.
She gave him a quick once-over – his patched clothes, the sword strapped to his waist – before picking up a slate.
Name.
Zairen.
Family name?
He hesitated for a moment. ...Crow.
The stylus scratched across the slate.
Place of birth?
I don't remember, he stated calmly. Bandits attacked me.
That got him a reaction. Not of compassion, but of confirmation.
Head injury? she inquired.
Yes.
She gave a single nod. Amnesia.
She made another note on the slate.
Any prior guild affiliations?
No.
Group?
Solo.
She slid the slate toward him. Fill this out completely. Then, wait by the pillar over there.
Zairen followed her instructions carefully.
He handed the slate back. She barely spared it a glance before tapping the surface twice.
Evaluation wing is down the hall. Someone will be there to receive you shortly.
He waited patiently, observing the subdued atmosphere of the hall.
After a few minutes, a man appeared, wearing a plain brown guild vest. He simply gestured silently, then turned and headed away. Zairen followed without question.
They went down a narrow staircase at the rear of the hall.
With each step, the noise from above became fainter. The wooden structure gave way to bare stone. The air turned cold. The scents shifted from sweat and stale ale to something like iron and dust.
A reinforced metal door swung open.
It revealed a large underground chamber carved directly out of the bedrock.
Crystals were embedded in the walls, giving off a soft glow that filled the room with pale light. Metal supports reinforced the ceiling. Several people stood near a platform, each wearing a guild insignia, identifiable in the soft light.
One of them stepped forward.
Manna and alignment test first, he announced. Place your hand on the crystal.
A translucent sphere hovered over a metal pedestal. Thin trails pulsed through its surface.
Zairen placed his palm against it.
The crystal dimmed noticeably.
A faint ripple went through it, then nothing.
The examiner frowned, clearly confused by the outcome.
No elemental alignment detected.
Another examiner leaned closer, wanting a second opinion. Manna output reading?
The first examiner paused for a moment. Below average.
He hesitated, then added, ...Essence density is remarkably strong.
How strong? the second examiner asked, clearly interested.
Dense, the first examiner confirmed. Highly compressed. Flow is undefined.
The second examiner wrote it down on his own pad. Irregular. Physical variant.
There were no alarms raised. No whispers of concern.
The lead examiner turned back to Zairen.
Do you wish to participate in the physical evaluation?
Yes, Zairen responded with determination.
They guided him deeper inside.
Another chamber opened up, this one larger and circular with reinforced iron railings. The floor was crisscrossed with old cracks and repair work.
A heavy metal gate stood across from the entrance.
Low-tier monster, the examiner explained. Eliminate it.
The gate swung open with a grinding noise.
The monster stepped into the arena.
It was roughly man-sized, but hunched over, almost animalistic. Its blue-black skin was stretched tightly over taught muscles. It had two normal arms, along with a third one jutting awkwardly from its left shoulder, ending in a sharp clawed hand.
Its legs were thick, bent slightly backward, and ended in heavy blunt talons.
It screeched and charged at Zairen.
Zairen reacted instantly.
The first sweeping attack missed his head by inches. He dropped under the second attack, sliding forward, his sword already drawn.
Steel flashed once.
Both of the monster's arms fell to the stone floor.
The monster staggered backward, roaring in pain.
Zairen rose to his feet, completing the motion by striking again, aiming with practiced skill.
The monster's head rolled free and landed with a wet thud.
Silence fell over the chamber.
The examiner ticked marks on his assessment sheet.
Not bad, he stated, without emotion.
When Zairen was called back to the registration counter, the hall was noticeably quieter.
Not peaceful—just tired.
Several adventurers had left, possibly discouraged. Others sat slumped on the benches, quietly counting coins or nursing drinks. The receptionist he had spoken to earlier motioned for him to come forward without looking up.
Zairen Crow.
He stepped up to the counter.
She reached underneath and placed a thick, paper-like plate in front of him. It wasn't parchment, and it wasn't metal, either. The surface was firm but also warm, with faint patterns pressed into it, similar to veins beneath skin.
This is your guild token, she explained. Touch it.
Zairen placed his fingers against the plate.
The plate dissolved into a flash of light.
The feeling wasn't painful, but it was peculiar. The light flowed into his palm and settled there, a simple emblem becoming visible momentarily, only etched onto his skin. Two crossed blades inside a circle.
You won't lose this, the receptionist stated. It exists within your body. You can summon it at will.
Zairen focused his mind.
The token reappeared briefly in his hand.
Then vanished again.
He nodded slightly.
Based on your evaluation, she continued, glancing at her slate, your mana reserves are below average, but your physical assessment was marked excellent. You've been classified as Upper E-rank.
Zairen wasn't surprised by the classification.
I understand, he confirmed his belief.
Missions are posted on the board upstairs. First floor.
Thank you for your help.
He headed away from the counter and went up the stairs.
The mission board was a chaotic sight.
More than fifty notices were hung there, layered and overlapping. Most of them were clearly marked C-rank and above, which indicates jobs that involved dangerous routes, and monster outbreaks. The remaining E- and D-rank missions were less than appealing.
Chasing small animals off farmland. Plant gathering, and guard duty, which merchants required from other shady merchants.
Zairen glanced over them once.
Then a second time.
His eyes stopped on one notice as of interest.
Escort needed for travel through SCANT Valley.
Eligibility: E-rank and above.
He tore it from the board and went back to the front counter.
I'll take this one.
The receptionist glanced at it. Report tomorrow. Five in the morning.
He nodded, confirming.
He left the hall.
Outside, the air felt cool and fresh.
---
Rethan's house was silent when Zairen got back home.
The man sat by the table, honing a knife with smooth, practiced movements. He looked up and smiled faintly.
How'd it go down?
I was accepted, Zairen said in reply. Upper E-rank.
Rethan chuckled softly. Not bad. Not bad either.
His wife came out of the back room, taking her hands and wiping them off on a cloth. Upper E? That's way better than half the simpletons in this town.
Zairen gave a slight bow.
SCANT Valley? Rethan asked after Zairen explained the escort job.
Yes, Zairen responded with confidence.
Rethan waved dismissively. You'll be just okay. Low-level monsters, mainly. They are more annoying than they are dangerous.
Dinner was modest that night.
Stew. Bread. Pickled vegetables.
There was small talk.
Rethan griped about taxes in the city. His wife scolded him for passing out on the road again from exhaustion. Zairen listened carefully, and made only a few comments himself.
After night came, he drifted off to dreamland.
---
The morning was quick to arrive.
Zairen set off before dawn, walking in the peaceful streets toward the guild hall. The city had a different feel at that hour, which included less sounds, few people, and wagons and carts lined the roads and preparing for the day.
He got there after five minutes.
Six total people stood by the entrance.
One of them recognized him.
A tall individual with dark brown hair tied in a loose knot, a long, delicate scar running from his left ears down to the upper jaw line. He wore reinforced shoulder armor and had a longsword with him.
You Zairen Crow? the man questioned
Yes, Zairen stated.
Good, then we are all ready to go.
The guild group turned toward him.
Zairen had a good look at the team.
The first woman stood slightly away from the group. Short silver hair. Deep green eyes. She wore fitted armor and sharp throwing knives. Her attention was constant.
The second fellow was tall with long hair. She wore heavy protection gear. A large shield was with her. Her expression was calm.
Two others were close by.
One wore light gear and carried a bow. His hair was blond and messy.
The other was stockier and had dark skin. A heavy weapon rested on his shoulder.
The small man stood behind them all.
Average height. Regular eyes. Clothing that didn't stand out. No weapon.
Zairen took note of the man.
The tall man with the scar stepped forward some steps. Name's Kael. I'm directing this group.
He gestured individually to each memeber.
"Lira," he said, nodding to the silver-haired woman. "Scout."
Branna, the man said while indicating to the shield-bearer. Frontline."
"Tess," the blond archer said, waving. "Ranged."
"Harn," the man stated once, grunting at the heavy support.
Finally, the silent person.
"Marek."
Marek said a kind hello.
Kael then stated, "You're new, right?
"Yes.", Zairen said with confidence.
Upper E?
"Yes."
"Fine. Just follow nearby and don't do anything foolish.
Zairen bowed politely.
They traveled.
Kael did not answer initially.
"You'll know when we get there.", Kael said politely.
They turned the street.
A carriage awaited them.
Painted black and had reinforced wheel, but it didn't contain any markings.
Zairen's eyes lingered on the carriage.