The politicians hoped that this new direction for the Adventure Guild would revitalize the economy, and to their relief, it achieved exactly that. The reforms encouraged investment, created entirely new industries, and provided meaningful work for hundreds of thousands of licensed adventurers across the European Union. More importantly, they addressed a problem that had been steadily growing ever since Gaia had expanded the planet. Humanity simply did not possess enough people to properly explore, map, and utilize the enormous amount of new land that now existed.
Gaia had not merely increased the size of the Earth. She had also dramatically enhanced the reproductive capabilities of every naturally occurring species, ensuring that plants and animals could rapidly repopulate the vast wilderness created by the world's expansion. The goal was simple: an empty world served no purpose, and thriving ecosystems required healthy populations to occupy them. Within only a few years, forests, grasslands, rivers, and wetlands had become teeming with life once again. Nature had reclaimed its place with astonishing speed, often growing faster than humanity could keep up with.
However, appearances could be deceiving. Human civilization looked prosperous from the perspective of someone living inside one of the newly expanded cities, where construction projects, factories, and modern infrastructure continued to grow every year. Looking beyond those urban centers told an entirely different story. Compared to the sheer size of the wilderness, humanity occupied only a tiny fraction of the land that technically belonged to it.
Following Gaia's expansion, every nation's military had launched massive reconnaissance operations to secure the areas surrounding their population centers. Around each city, soldiers conducted rapid sweeps extending roughly three hundred kilometers into the surrounding wilderness. These operations served two purposes: they demonstrated humanity's presence to any intelligent creatures that might exist, and they searched for newly formed Secret Realms before those dangerous locations could mature unnoticed. The campaigns were considered a remarkable logistical achievement, especially given the enormous distances involved.
Despite those impressive efforts, the military never claimed to control every kilometer they had surveyed. Realistically, only the innermost one hundred kilometers surrounding each city could be considered firmly under human authority. Those regions contained the farmland that fed the population, industrial districts that supported local economies, and the infrastructure necessary for civilization to function. Everything within that radius received regular patrols, maintenance, and permanent settlements capable of responding to emergencies.
Beyond those developed regions stretched a completely different world. Roads connected one city to another, allowing trade and military movement to continue uninterrupted, but those narrow transportation corridors could hardly be considered genuine territorial control. A road only guaranteed safe travel along its own path, while countless kilometers of untouched wilderness stretched endlessly on either side. Anyone leaving those roads quickly entered territory where humanity's influence became increasingly uncertain.
Outside the transportation network, only locations with obvious economic value received permanent human investment. Mana veins were guarded by the factions that owned mining rights, while quarries, logging operations, and other profitable resource sites established isolated settlements wherever valuable materials could be extracted. Those locations formed small islands of civilization scattered throughout an otherwise untamed landscape. Everywhere else remained untouched wilderness that very few people had ever seen with their own eyes.
The forests themselves were also unlike anything humanity had known before Gaia's arrival. While they were technically young in terms of age, having existed for only a few years since the world's expansion, they possessed an uncanny sense of maturity. Every valley, mountain range, river, and woodland had been carefully shaped by the consciousness of the planet itself. If one insisted on describing Gaia using religious terminology, calling her a goddess would not have been an exaggeration.
As a result, these newly formed ecosystems never resembled the artificial forests humans had planted throughout previous centuries. Every species occupied locations where it naturally belonged, food chains established themselves with remarkable efficiency, and entire habitats developed as though they had evolved over thousands of years rather than appearing almost overnight. The balance of nature existed from the very beginning. Humanity often found itself studying these environments rather than attempting to reshape them.
To understand the sheer scale of Gaia's changes, one only had to look at Europe. The wilderness that now covered the continent had become so enormous that the entirety of pre-expansion Europe could fit comfortably within it while still leaving vast stretches of unexplored land beyond. Maps created before Gaia's arrival had become little more than historical curiosities. The world had simply become too large for old measurements to retain any practical meaning.
Naturally, governments quickly realized that properly exploring such an immense territory would require far more manpower than any military could realistically provide. Even with satellites, countless valleys, forests, mountain ranges, and cave systems remained beyond humanity's reach. Maintaining permanent military patrols across millions of square kilometers would have bankrupted even the wealthiest nations. Adventurers therefore became an indispensable part of humanity's expansion into its own territory.
Licensed adventurers possessed one enormous advantage over traditional government agencies. Exploration was already their profession, meaning they willingly traveled into remote regions that ordinary people actively avoided. Every expedition expanded humanity's understanding of the wilderness while simultaneously discovering valuable resources, dangerous monsters, rare plants, and hidden mana veins. Governments no longer needed to organize countless dedicated survey teams when experienced adventurers willingly accomplished much of that work themselves.
Even so, enormous portions of the wilderness remained completely unexplored. The reason was surprisingly simple. Some environments were so dangerous that even experienced adventurers hesitated before entering them, knowing that a single mistake could cost an entire expedition its life. These locations represented the remnants of Earth's most formidable natural ecosystems, many of which had already enjoyed protected status long before the arrival of the System.
The Black Forest served as perhaps the most famous example. Long before mana had entered the world, the region had already possessed a fearsome reputation because of its dense woodland, rugged terrain, and abundant wildlife. After Gaia reshaped the planet, those characteristics became dramatically amplified. The forest grew larger, denser, and far more dangerous than anything recorded in history, eventually becoming the location where one of Europe's first major mana stone deposits was discovered.
Many outsiders struggled to understand why places such as the Black Forest inspired so much caution among experienced adventurers. The explanation, however, was remarkably straightforward. Powerful ecosystems naturally supported powerful predators, and weaker members of their species were gradually driven toward safer territories where competition remained less intense. The strongest animals occupied the richest habitats, making those locations exceptionally dangerous for human explorers.
That same pattern repeated itself throughout the world. Every continent contained ancient ecosystems that had flourished under Gaia's guidance, each becoming home to creatures perfectly adapted to dominate their surroundings. Whether one looked toward the jungles of South America, the vast plains of Africa, the frozen wilderness of northern Asia, or Europe's immense forests, the principle remained exactly the same. Nature always favored strength, and only the strongest survived within its most prosperous environments.
Consequently, adventure guilds expanded rapidly across every nation on Earth. Although their responsibilities differed according to local customs, laws, and political priorities, every government recognized that licensed adventurers had become an essential part of modern society. Their duties ranged from exploration and resource discovery to monster suppression, ecological surveys, and assisting isolated settlements beyond civilization's borders. Each nation developed its own interpretation of how those responsibilities should be organized.
One principle, however, remained almost universal. Every Adventure Guild ultimately operated under national authority rather than private ownership. Regardless of how much influence corporations or wealthy individuals possessed, governments retained direct control over licensing, regulations, and legal oversight. That decision was considered absolutely essential for maintaining public trust in the profession.
Many nations looked toward the United States when designing their own guild structures. The American guild had modernized at an astonishing pace, introducing administrative systems that significantly improved efficiency while making cooperation between adventurers, businesses, and government agencies much easier. Other countries borrowed those ideas enthusiastically, although few adopted them without making substantial modifications to better suit their own political systems and cultural traditions.
The rapid modernization of the American guild had not occurred purely out of altruism. Wall Street's financial elite had quickly realized that the newly expanded wilderness contained countless rare materials, magical resources, and unique biological specimens worth unimaginable amounts of money. At the time, no reliable organization existed to systematically locate those resources. The Adventure Guild, originally created simply to regulate wilderness exploration, unexpectedly became the perfect foundation upon which an entirely new economy could be built.
Once the capitalist class recognized that opportunity, investment flowed into the profession at breathtaking speed. Politicians reshaped existing legislation, businesses developed new industries around adventurer logistics, and governments expanded guild infrastructure to accommodate rapidly increasing demand. Yet despite the enormous amount of private capital supporting those changes, the guild itself remained firmly under government control. Ironically, that fact became one of its greatest strengths, because ordinary citizens distrusted the wealthy elite far more than they distrusted their own governments, believing that public oversight—despite its flaws—offered far greater stability and protection than placing such power entirely in private hands.
The distrust toward private ownership was deeply rooted in the history of many nations, especially after the Civil War in the USA. Many citizens believed that wealthy corporations and financial elites had gained too much influence over society, using their resources to protect their own interests rather than the interests of ordinary people. Because of that history, the idea of allowing the Adventure Guild to become a completely private organization was immediately rejected by a large part of the population. People feared that if corporations controlled the guild, adventurers would eventually become nothing more than tools used to gather resources for the richest members of society.
The government, despite its own many problems, still represented a form of stability that people understood. Citizens knew that governments could be slow, inefficient, and sometimes corrupt, but they were also bound by laws that were publicly established and theoretically applied to everyone. A private organization did not have the same restrictions in the eyes of the population. Many believed that if the guild became privately owned, the powerful would simply rewrite the rules to benefit themselves while ordinary adventurers had no way to fight back.
Because of these concerns, politicians decided that the best solution was not to remove the economic potential of the Adventure Guild but to restructure it. Instead of replacing government control with private ownership, they allowed businesses and wealthy individuals to influence the guild through legal channels while maintaining public oversight. This created a balance between economic opportunity and social protection. Companies could still benefit from adventurer discoveries, but they had to operate within a system designed to prevent exploitation.
The transformation happened incredibly quickly. The United States restructured its Adventure Guild before most other nations had even fully understood how the organization could function on a large scale. This gave the rest of the world an opportunity to observe both the advantages and disadvantages of the new system before creating their own versions. By the time other countries began modernizing their guilds, they already had half a year of America's experience to study.
Every nation developed its own interpretation of the Adventure Guild, but the fundamental principles remained surprisingly similar. Adventurers needed proper legal protection, companies needed reliable access to resources, and governments needed a method to monitor the rapidly expanding wilderness. The guild became the bridge connecting all three groups. Without it, the distance between civilization and the unknown would have remained far too large to overcome.
The success of the modern guild system also changed how society viewed adventurers. They were no longer seen as reckless explorers chasing impossible dreams or treasure hunters hoping to discover a miracle. Instead, they became professionals who provided valuable services to governments, businesses, researchers, and local communities. Their work supported economic growth while simultaneously increasing humanity's understanding of the world Gaia had created.
However, even with all the benefits brought by the new system, adventuring remained a dangerous profession. The wilderness had become more prosperous, but that prosperity also created countless dangers. Stronger ecosystems meant stronger creatures, and unexplored regions often contained threats that had never been encountered before. Every expedition still carried the possibility of death, which was why experienced adventurers remained highly respected.
It was within this changing world that Arin found himself enjoying a rare moment of peace. After spending so much time exploring one of the most dangerous regions known to adventurers, he had chosen to relax beside the lake hidden within the forest. The warm sunlight reflected across the calm water, creating a peaceful scene that felt almost impossible compared to the dangers he had recently faced. For once, there were no monsters to fight, no unknown paths to investigate, and no urgent discoveries waiting for him.
"There you are," Bill said as he approached the lakeside.
Arin was lying comfortably on the beach beneath the sunlight, enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the afternoon. When he noticed Bill approaching, he only turned his head slightly rather than making any attempt to stand up. The exhaustion from their recent expedition through the Black Forest was still present, and the opportunity to simply relax was too valuable to waste.
"Oh, hey, Bill. Is there something you need from me?" Arin asked casually.
He remained exactly where he was, allowing the warmth of the sun to continue washing over him. Seeing this, Bill simply accepted the invitation without needing to ask and sat down nearby. After spending so much time beneath the dense canopy of the Black Forest, even something as ordinary as direct sunlight felt incredibly refreshing.
The forest had been beautiful, but it had also been oppressive. The enormous trees blocked most natural light from reaching the ground, creating a constant atmosphere of darkness beneath the branches. Days could pass without adventurers seeing a clear sky, and even experienced explorers found themselves missing simple comforts such as warmth from the sun. For that reason, both men appreciated the peaceful lake more than they normally would have.
"Well, not really," Bill replied after settling into the sand. "Actually, I was ordered to ask everyone if someone wanted to become a guest lecturer at a local university."
He released a small sigh as he looked toward the sky. The assignment itself was not difficult, but he already knew what Arin's answer would probably be. Convincing Arin to speak to people outside his comfort zone was not really possible unless it was forced upon him, and this was a request. It was easier to get him to spend another year in the Amazon, which was way more dangerous than the Black Forest.
Arin raised an eyebrow slightly but continued relaxing. "Okay, but you already know my standards. My answer is a solid no. Why exactly do they want us to become guest lecturers?"
Bill had expected that reaction, so he did not seem surprised. "That one is actually quite simple. Universities have created entirely new courses specifically for future adventurers, and some professors heard about our successful exploration of the Black Forest."
The story of their expedition had become far more famous than Arin personally expected. Successfully entering one of the world's most dangerous protected wilderness areas and returning alive was already impressive. Guiding ordinary people through parts of that environment had made their achievement even more unusual. Very few adventurers could claim to have experience operating deep inside such hostile territory.
"They want us to explain how we explored the forest," Bill continued. "Not just what we found, but how we made decisions, how we judged danger, and how we survived."
Arin remained silent for a moment because he understood the logic behind the request. From an outsider's perspective, they possessed exactly the kind of experience universities wanted their students to learn from. The problem was that much of what allowed them to succeed could not simply be written on a classroom board.
"That makes sense," Arin admitted. "But we cannot really explain everything."
There were several reasons for his hesitation. Some of their knowledge came from years of personal experience that could not be replicated through lectures. Other information involved family techniques and secrets that they had no intention of revealing publicly. Teaching students about the wilderness was one thing, but explaining every advantage they possessed was another matter entirely.
Bill nodded because he already understood that argument. "Arin, don't forget that what we consider ordinary knowledge is not actually ordinary anymore."
He looked toward the forest surrounding the lake. "Things like understanding wolf behavior, recognizing changes in the environment, or knowing when an ecosystem feels wrong are skills most people never learn."
For Arin and his companions, these things seemed obvious because they had grown up around them. However, the majority of modern adventurers only possessed knowledge gained from books, simulations, and controlled training environments. They understood theory, but they lacked the instincts developed through genuine experience.
"But I already knew you would refuse," Bill added with a small smile. "The important part is what we receive in return."
Arin glanced toward him with curiosity. "And what exactly would that be?"
"Mainly exposure," Bill explained. "The ability to build connections, influence the next generation of adventurers, and make sure people know about our faction."
That part was actually difficult to argue against. A public reputation could become incredibly valuable in the modern adventurer economy. Being recognized by future professionals meant opportunities for cooperation, recruitment, and future commissions.
Bill then smiled knowingly. "Although, don't worry. I already know Berhto will never refuse. He won't be able to resist the chance to stand in front of thousands of people and act like the greatest expert alive."
The thought caused Arin to chuckle quietly. Berhto's personality made such a situation almost inevitable. If there was one thing he enjoyed as much as exploration, it was sharing his knowledge with anyone willing to listen.
Eventually, Bill stood up from the sand and brushed himself off. The special cloak they wore had once again proven its usefulness, as almost no sand remained attached despite them lying directly on the beach. It was another small advantage that made their equipment far more comfortable during long journeys.
"You are right," Arin said as he slowly closed his eyes again. "Well, good luck."
His voice became quieter as exhaustion finally caught up with him. After everything they had experienced in the Black Forest, the peaceful sound of the lake and the warmth of the evening sun were impossible to resist.
Within moments, Arin was already beginning to fall asleep.