The elevator ride to the seventh floor was quiet, shared only with a nervous-looking young man who kept muttering to himself and a bored security guard. Arthur used the time to review everything he'd prepared.
The Guild Creation Qualification Test had three components:
First: Financial Stability. You needed to prove you had the capital to sustain a Guild for at least six months without income. That meant covering operational costs, equipment, insurance, and member salaries. The minimum requirement was 15,000,000 Credits.
Credits were the universal currency of Earth thirty years ago, when a major bank decided to form neutral-party states after acquiring every other major bank around the world through a series of aggressive mergers and strategic acquisitions that reshaped the global financial landscape forever. The consolidation happened gradually at first, then all at once, as smaller institutions fell like dominoes and regulatory bodies proved powerless—or perhaps unwilling—to stop the relentless tide of corporate expansion.
Forming the Federal Banking Clan: A sprawling, powerful organization that handles all transactions of every major guild in the world, managing the flow of gold, resources, and trade agreements across entire continents.
Though calling them a clan is very generous since infighting and sabotage are common occurrences within their ranks. Loyalty is a rare commodity among bankers, and trust is even rarer. The banking clan is divided into different tribes, each with their own goals, their own interpretations of the ancient banking codes, and their own secret ambitions for power and wealth. Some tribes focus on merchant loans and trade financing, while others specialize in war bonds or the financing of expeditions into dangerous territories. Rivalries between these tribes can be fierce, sometimes erupting into open conflict that threatens to destabilize the entire financial system they claim to protect.
Arthur had exactly 50 million Credits sitting in his account. Every single penny had been earned over the course of five long, grueling years.
Most of it was from donations that poured in from many senators and various organizations throughout the UK. The contributions came from a wide range of sources, including individual politicians who believed deeply in the cause, as well as charitable foundations and community groups scattered across England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland.
Arthur did find it weird that the only clause from those donations was that he never comes in contact with their wives or daughters under any circumstances whatsoever. The stipulation was oddly specific and rigidly enforced. He wasn't allowed to attend social gatherings where they might be present, couldn't respond to their emails or phone calls, and was explicitly prohibited from any one-on-one meetings or casual encounters. It struck him as bizarre, maybe even a little insulting the girls like him very much but they do write checks ever week. So Arthur chose not to question their peculiar requirement too deeply.
Second: Combat Capability. You needed to demonstrate that you were personally strong enough to lead a Guild. This usually meant a practical examination against either a simulated Gate scenario or a sanctioned examiner. Minimum requirement was C-Rank combat ability.
Arthur was confident here. He'd awakened at fifteen, and his abilities had grown rapidly. He wasn't sure exactly where he ranked—official ranking required expensive testing—but he'd soloed a C-Rank Gate last year and come out without a scratch. He was probably B-Rank, maybe higher.
Third: Strategic Knowledge. A written and oral examination covering Guild management, Gate theory, monster classification, emergency protocols, and legal requirements. This was where most people failed, even if they passed the first two requirements.
Arthur had spent the last six months studying every manual, guidebook, and regulation document he could get his hands on. He'd memorized monster weaknesses, Gate classification systems, and the entire Guild Association legal code. If he failed this section, it wouldn't be for lack of preparation.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened onto the seventh floor.
The Testing Division was quieter than the lobby, but no less busy. Examination rooms lined the corridors, some with windows showing combat simulations in progress—Awakened fighting holographic monsters in various environments. Other rooms were clearly set up for written tests, with rows of desks and proctors monitoring candidates.
Arthur approached the check-in desk, where a middle-aged man with graying hair and the weathered look of a veteran adventurer sat reviewing applications.
"Ticket," the man said without preamble.
Arthur handed it over. The examiner scanned it, then pulled up Arthur's file on his terminal. His eyebrows rose slightly.
The examiner leaned back in his chair, studying Arthur with sharp gray eyes. "Try not to die kid." So this is Urien's grandbrat? The kid looks more like a flashy playboy pretending to be a hero than an actual fighter.
"I will try my best sir. I got big goals in mind. To create the greatest guild in history!"
"Brave and ambitious." The examiner's expression was unreadable.
"Ambition gets a lot of young Awakened killed. But it also builds legends." He stamped Arthur's application with a physical seal—old-fashioned, but official. "You'll start with the financial review, then move to combat assessment, and finish with the strategic examination. The whole process takes about four hours. You can withdraw at any time, but if you fail any section, you'll have to wait six months before reapplying. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Room 7-C for financial review. They're expecting you."
Arthur made his way down the corridor, his heart pounding. This was it. The first real step.
Room 7-C was a small office with a desk, two chairs, and a woman who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. She had the distinctive silver hair of a high-level Awakened, pulled back in a severe bun, and her eyes glowed faintly with mana—a sign of constant enhancement magic.
"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her. "I'm Examiner Frost. I'll be reviewing your financial documentation. Provide your bank statements, asset declarations, and projected budget."
Arthur pulled out his carefully organized folder, handing over the documents. Examiner Frost began reviewing them with the speed and precision of someone who'd done this thousands of times.
Her expression didn't change as she worked, but Arthur could feel his anxiety building with each passing second. Everything was legitimate—he'd triple-checked—but the numbers were so tight. One mistake, one overlooked expense, and he'd fail before he even got to show what he could do.
"Your projected operational costs are optimistic," Frost said finally, not looking up from the documents. "You've budgeted for a five-person Guild, but your equipment allocation is barely adequate for three. And your insurance coverage is the bare minimum required by law."
"I'm aware," Arthur said carefully. "I'm planning to start small and scale up as we complete contracts and build capital."
"Mmm." She made a note on her tablet. "Your personal savings account shows regular deposits over the last two years. Freelance Gate raid participation?"
"Yes, ma'am. I've been working with established Guilds as a temporary contractor."
"Smart. Shows initiative and practical experience." She continued reviewing, her stylus moving across the tablet. "Your family's contribution is... significant. This represents most of the Pendragon estate's liquid assets, doesn't it?"
Arthur swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
Frost finally looked up at him, her glowing eyes unreadable. "You understand that if your Guild fails, your family loses everything. The estate, the land, all of it. You'll be bankrupt."
"I understand."
"And you're willing to take that risk?"
Arthur met her gaze steadily. "My family is already losing everything, ma'am. Slowly, piece by piece. This is our chance to rebuild. I'd rather risk it all on a real opportunity than watch us fade away over the next decade."
Something shifted in Frost's expression—not quite approval, but perhaps respect. She made a final notation on her tablet, then stamped his financial documents with a holographic seal.
"You pass the financial requirement. Barely. Don't spend a single Credit unnecessarily until your Guild is profitable." She handed back his documents. "Combat assessment is in Room 7-H. Down the hall, third door on the right. Good luck, Pendragon."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Arthur left the office feeling like he'd just survived his first real battle. One down, two to go.
Room 7-H was significantly larger—a combat simulation chamber with reinforced walls and a holographic projection system that could recreate virtually any environment. A muscular man with dark skin and ritual scarring across his arms stood in the center, arms crossed.
"Arthur Pendragon?" His voice was deep, with an accent Arthur couldn't place.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm Examiner Kato. I'll be assessing your combat capability." He gestured to the center of the room. "The test is simple. You'll face a simulated C-Rank Gate scenario. Your objective is to clear it within thirty minutes while taking minimal damage. The simulation will adapt to your performance—if you're doing too well, it gets harder. If you're struggling, it stays at baseline. We're testing your minimum capability, not your maximum. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Equipment check. What are you using?"
Arthur shrugged off his backpack and drew his weapon—a longsword he had discovered embedded in a stone on an island. It wasn't fancy, but it was reliable.
"Just the sword, sir. And my abilities."
"Confident. I like it." Kato moved to a control panel on the wall. "When the simulation starts, you'll be placed in a standard dungeon environment. Expect goblins, maybe some wolves, possibly a mini-boss at the end. Standard C-Rank fare. Ready?"
Arthur drew his sword, feeling the familiar weight settle into his hands. He took a deep breath, centering himself. This was what he'd trained for. What he'd prepared for.
"Ready."
"Begin simulation."
The room dissolved into light, and when Arthur's vision cleared, he found himself in a forest plain bathed in the glow of an artificial sun. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and a hint of rot. Somewhere in the distance, the chittering of wild monsters echoed.
He smiled.
Finally. Something I'm actually good at.
Arthur moved forward, his footsteps silent on the stone floor. His Awakened abilities hummed to life—Amplication.
Awakened Power, or A.P, is a unique ability displayed by the Awakened. It develops from a person's Mana and varies from one individual to another, ranging from super strength and object manipulation to disorienting opponents.
At first glance, Amplification seemed like a pretty basic Awakened Power, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a bit let down when he realized that's what his A.P. turned out to be.
He hadn't grasped its true worth. An Awakened Power didn't consume Mana; whatever fueled it remained a mystery to researchers, but it definitely wasn't Mana. With Amplification, he could replenish his already vast Mana reserves in minutes. On top of that, the combat techniques his grandfather had taught him became even more valuable. And Amplification wasn't just about restoring Mana—it enhanced its effects on him. With it, he was stronger, faster, and tougher than most Awakened could ever hope to be.
Soon, a group of wild goblins appeared around a corner—five of them, armed with crude weapons and snarling with simulated aggression. They charged.
[Wild Goblins (Normals)]: The most common type of goblins, they mostly fight using small melee and distant weapons, possess no special abilities and rely mostly on numbers to overwhelm their opponents. In essence, they are how all goblins start out until they mature into higher ranks. They also use meat shields.
Arthur moved.
Arthur drew Excalibur from its sheath and swept a blazing white arc of aura across the field, slicing through a group of wild goblins in an instant, cleaving it in two, before sending a searing line through a couple of nearby trees.
He frowned at the dissolving bodies, frustrated by his slowness. He hadn't managed to sheath his sword before the Wild Goblins hit the ground.
He was thankful to his grandfather for taking the time to teach someone as lacking in talent as he was. After three years, he had hoped to be better Awakened Warrrior, but he never felt he'd made much progress. Even at his maximum effort, he still couldn't surpass his grandfather.
Sure, he could smash through trees and rocks with barely any effort, but all that strength was useless against the old man.
I need to do better, he thought, moving deeper into the dungeon.
The simulation adapted quickly. The next group was larger—ten goblins, plus two hobgoblins. The group after that included wolves with glowing red eyes and unnaturally sharp teeth. Twelve of them, each easily the size of a small car.
[Dire Wolves (Elite)]: Larger and more intelligent than standard wolves, Dire Wolves hunt in coordinated packs and possess enhanced speed and strength. Typically found in B-Rank Gates. Known for their ability to coordinate ambush tactics and overwhelm even experienced Awakened through superior numbers and teamwork.
B-Rank monsters? Arthur's eyes widened slightly. The simulation is adapting faster than I expected. I must be doing worse than I thought.
The wolves split into three groups, attempting to flank him from multiple angles. Arthur analyzed their formation in the split second before they attacked—a classic pincer movement, designed to divide his attention and create openings.
He moved.
Excalibur sang through the air as Arthur pivoted, pouring mana into his eyes, allowing him to track all twelve wolves simultaneously. The first group lunged, and he cut through them with a single horizontal slash, the white aura of his blade extending far beyond the physical steel. Three wolves dissolved before they could even close the distance.
The second group tried to capitalize on his apparent opening, but Arthur had already shifted his stance.
Swung a vertical cleave that split two wolves in half and carved a trench into the simulated ground.
Still too slow, he criticized himself, even as the remaining wolves hesitated. I'm telegraphing my movements. Grandfather would have ended this already.
The final group of wolves, perhaps sensing their disadvantage, attempted to retreat. Arthur couldn't allow that—in a real Gate scenario, letting monsters escape could endanger civilians or other Guild members.
He launched forward, his enhanced speed turning him into a blur. Excalibur flashed seven times in rapid succession, and the remaining wolves dissolved into light.
Arthur landed in a crouch, breathing only slightly harder than normal. He glanced at his sword, frowning at a microscopic nick in the blade's edge—a result of his imperfect angle on the last strike.
Sloppy, he thought. I need to be more precise.
The simulation didn't give him time to dwell on his perceived failures. The canyon environment dissolved, replaced by what appeared to be an ancient temple interior. Massive stone pillars stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, and the air shimmered with residual magical energy.
And then the mini-boss appeared.
It was a Minotaur—but not the standard C-Rank variety. This one stood nearly five meters tall, its muscles rippling beneath bronze-colored hide. Massive horns curved from its skull, glowing with runic inscriptions. In its hands, it wielded a battle-axe that looked like it could cleave a building in half.
[Greater Minotaur (Boss-Class)]: An elite variant of the standard Minotaur, typically found as the final guardian of A-Rank Gates. Possesses immense physical strength, enhanced durability, and the ability to channel mana through its weapons. Known for its berserker rage state, which activates when its health drops below fifty percent. Recommended party size: 5-7 B-Rank Awakened or 2-3 A-Rank Awakened.
Arthur stared at the creature, his mind racing. An A-Rank boss? In a C-Rank qualification test?
Then understanding dawned. The simulation must be malfunctioning. Or maybe I accidentally triggered some kind of advanced difficulty setting. Either way, I can't fail here. Not when I'm this close.
The Minotaur roared, the sound shaking the temple pillars. It charged, each footstep cracking the stone floor.
Arthur didn't retreat. Instead, he analyzed the creature's movement pattern—the slight favor of its left leg, the way its axe was positioned for a horizontal sweep, the predictable trajectory of its charge.
Grandfather always said: the bigger they are, the more openings they have.
Arthur waited until the last possible second, then sidestepped. The Minotaur's axe whistled past him, missing by centimeters. In that moment of overextension, Arthur struck.
Excalibur bit deep into the creature's side, coating the blade with mana to increase the stregnth of the blade while also channeling mana into his arm. The Minotaur's aura flared, absorbing most of the damage, but Arthur could see the health bar above its head drop by nearly a quarter.
Not enough, he thought critically. I should have aimed for a vital point. Wasted energy on a body shot.
The Minotaur spun with surprising speed, its axe coming around in a devastating arc. Arthur ducked under it, feeling the displaced air ruffle his hair. He countered with an upward slash that caught the creature's arm, severing several tendons.
The Minotaur's health dropped below fifty percent, and its eyes flared crimson. The berserker rage state activated.
Suddenly, the creature was faster, stronger, more aggressive. It abandoned all defense, attacking with wild, powerful swings that would have pulverized a normal Awakened. The temple floor cracked and shattered under the force of its assault.
Arthur found himself genuinely engaged for the first time in the simulation. This was closer to the level of challenge his grandfather provided—not quite there, but approaching it.
He wove between the attacks, reading the Minotaur's movements. Each dodge was calculated, each counter-strike precise. He targeted joints, weak points in the creature's armor, the gaps in its defense created by its own aggression.
Better, he thought, but still not good enough. I'm reacting instead of predicting. Grandfather would have ended this in the opening exchange.
The Minotaur's health bar dropped steadily: seventy-five percent, fifty percent, twenty-five percent. With each percentage lost, it grew more desperate, more dangerous.
Finally, Arthur saw his opening. The Minotaur overextended on a downward chop, its axe embedding in the stone floor. For a fraction of a second, its neck was exposed.
Arthur moved. Excalibur flashed in a perfect horizontal arc, and the Minotaur's head separated from its body.
Both dissolved into light.
Arthur stood in the empty temple, breathing normally, his sword held in a ready position. He waited for the next wave, the next challenge.
Nothing came.
Is it over? He glanced around, confused. But I only fought for... what, maybe fifteen minutes? The test is supposed to be thirty minutes long. Did I fail by finishing too quickly?
An alarm sounded—not the failure buzzer he'd been dreading, but a completion chime.
The temple dissolved, and Arthur found himself back in the white testing chamber. Examiner Kato stood at the control panel, his expression frozen in what could only be described as shock.
"Um," Arthur said hesitantly, "did I... did I pass?"
Kato didn't respond immediately. He was staring at his tablet, his finger scrolling through data with increasing speed. His eyes kept widening.
"Examiner Kato?" Arthur prompted, worry creeping into his voice. "I know I made a lot of mistakes. The wolves flanked me because I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, and I wasted energy on that body shot against the Minotaur when I should have—"
"Stop," Kato said, his voice strained. He looked up at Arthur, and there was something almost like awe in his expression. "Kid, do you have any idea what you just did?"
Arthur swallowed. "I... completed the simulation?"
"You completed a simulation that was supposed to be impossible." Kato turned his tablet around, showing Arthur the data. "The system is designed to adapt to the test-taker's performance. It starts at C-Rank baseline and scales up if you're doing well. Most people never get past the initial goblin waves. The ones who do might face the Dire Wolves."
He scrolled down. "You not only cleared the Dire Wolves in under thirty seconds, you triggered the emergency escalation protocol. The system threw an A-Rank boss at you—something that's only supposed to appear if someone demonstrates consistent A-Rank capability."
Arthur blinked. "But... I struggled with it. I made so many mistakes—"
"You killed it in four minutes and twenty-three seconds," Kato interrupted, his voice flat with disbelief. "Solo. With zero damage taken. The recommended party size for a Greater Minotaur is five to seven B-Rank Awakened."
"Oh." Arthur looked down at Excalibur, then back at Kato. "So... did I pass?"
Kato laughed—a short, incredulous sound. "Pass? Kid, you didn't just pass. You set a new facility record." He made several notations on his tablet, then stamped Arthur's evaluation form with perhaps more force than necessary. "Combat capability assessment: S-Rank potential. Recommended for immediate A-Rank classification upon official ranking."
Arthur's eyes widened. "S-Rank? But I'm not—I mean, my grandfather is way stronger than me. I can barely keep up with him in training."
Kato gave him a long, searching look. "Who exactly is your grandfather?"
"Urien Pendragon."
"Urien Pendragon," Kato repeated slowly. "The Urien Pendragon? The Ramaging Dragon?"
Kato closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Kid, your grandfather is a living legend. He's one of maybe ten people in the world who could be classified as SS-Rank if he bothered to get officially tested. The fact that you're comparing yourself to him is..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind. Just... go to Room 7-J for your strategic examination. And try not to break anything else."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Arthur bowed respectfully and headed for the door, his mind still processing the information.
S-Rank potential? That can't be right. I'm nowhere near that level. The examiner must be being generous because of Grandfather's reputation.
He made his way down the corridor, still lost in self-critical thoughts. Two down, one to go.
Room 7-J was set up like a classroom, with a desk, a computer terminal, and a stern-looking woman who introduced herself as Examiner Chen. She had sharp features, graying hair pulled back in a tight bun, and the air of a professor who'd seen too many students fail and had stopped being sympathetic about it.
"Sit," she said without preamble, gesturing to the desk. "I'm Examiner Chen. The strategic examination has two parts. First, a written test covering Guild management, Gate theory, monster classification, emergency protocols, and legal requirements. You have ninety minutes. Second, an oral examination where I'll present scenarios and you'll explain your decision-making process. Questions?"
"No, ma'am."
"Then begin." She handed him a tablet, already loaded with the test.
Arthur took the device and started reading the first question.
Question 1: A C-Rank Gate opens in a residential district. Your Guild has three members available: one B-Rank, two C-Ranks. The estimated time until Gate break is six hours. The nearest other Guild is four hours away. Do you: A) Attempt to clear the Gate immediately, B) Wait for backup, C) Evacuate the area and monitor the Gate, or D) Request military intervention?
Arthur considered carefully. The obvious answer was C—evacuate and monitor. But the question was testing whether he understood the nuances of Gate management. A Gate break in a residential area would be catastrophic, but attempting to clear it with insufficient forces could result in casualties.
He selected C and added a written explanation: Evacuate civilians first to minimize potential casualties. Monitor the Gate for signs of early break. If the Gate shows signs of instability before backup arrives, attempt clearance with available forces while maintaining defensive positions to protect evacuation routes.
The questions continued, each one more complex than the last. Some tested his knowledge of monster weaknesses and Gate classifications. Others focused on legal liability, insurance requirements, and Guild Association regulations. A few presented ethical dilemmas with no clear right answer.
Arthur worked steadily, drawing on months of intensive study. He'd memorized the entire Guild Association legal code, studied every major Gate incident from the past century, and analyzed the strategies of successful Guilds.
Time blurred as he focused. The outside world faded away until there was only him and the test.
When he finally submitted his answers, he glanced at the clock and realized he'd used eighty-nine of his ninety minutes.
Examiner Chen reviewed his results in silence, her expression giving nothing away. Arthur sat quietly, trying not to fidget. This was the section where most people failed, even if they passed the first two requirements.
Finally, Chen looked up. "Ninety-two percent. Well above the passing threshold." She set aside the tablet, her expression softening slightly. "Now for the oral examination. I'm going to present you with three scenarios. I want you to walk me through your decision-making process. There are no perfect answers—I'm evaluating your judgment and reasoning."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Scenario one," Chen began, leaning back in her chair. "Your Guild accepts a contract to clear a B-Rank Gate. During the raid, you discover the Gate is actually A-Rank, misclassified by the initial assessment. Two of your members are injured, one seriously. Do you retreat or continue?"
Arthur didn't hesitate. "Retreat immediately, ma'am."
"Explain your reasoning."
"The safety of my Guild members is the highest priority. An A-Rank Gate requires specific preparation and equipment that we wouldn't have brought for a B-Rank contract. Continuing would put everyone at unnecessary risk. The injured members need immediate medical attention—delaying treatment could result in permanent damage or death. A failed contract is better than dead Guild members."
Chen nodded. "What if retreating means the Gate breaks and threatens a nearby town?"
"Then I'd contact the Guild Association for emergency support while establishing a defensive perimeter. My Guild would focus on evacuation and damage control rather than attempting to clear the Gate. We'd be more useful saving civilians than dying in a Gate we're not equipped to handle."
"Good. Scenario two: A rival Guild offers to merge with yours. They have significantly more resources, better equipment, and higher-ranked members. However, accepting means you'd lose majority control and the Guild would be renamed. Do you accept?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, ma'am."
"Why not? It would benefit your members significantly."
"Because I'm not building a Guild just for profit or power. I'm rebuilding my family's legacy and creating something that represents specific values. If I give up control and the name, I've failed my purpose. I'd rather stay small and independent than become a subsidiary of someone else's vision."
"Even if it means slower growth and more risk for your members?"
"I would never force my members to stay if they wanted better opportunities elsewhere. But the people who join my Guild should believe in what we're building, not just the benefits. If they're only there for resources and equipment, they'll leave the moment something better comes along anyway."
Chen's expression was unreadable. "Final scenario: You discover one of your Guild members has been selling information about your operations to a rival Guild. What do you do?"
This one was harder. Arthur thought carefully before responding.
"First, I'd verify the information is accurate. No accusations without proof. If it's confirmed, I'd confront the member privately to understand why. There might be extenuating circumstances—blackmail, family debts, personal problems. If there's a legitimate reason, I'd try to help them resolve it."
"And if it's simple greed or betrayal?"
"Then I'd expel them from the Guild immediately and report them to the Guild Association. Trust is the foundation of any Guild. You can't function as a team if you can't trust each other. A skilled traitor is still a traitor—they'll betray you again when it's convenient."
"Even if expelling them leaves you short-handed for important contracts?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'd rather be short-handed than have someone I can't trust watching my back in a Gate."
Examiner Chen studied him for a long moment, her sharp eyes seeming to look straight through him. Then, slowly, she smiled—a small, genuine expression that transformed her stern features.
"You pass, Arthur Pendragon." She began filling out forms on her terminal. "You've demonstrated adequate financial resources, exceptional combat capability, and sound strategic judgment. You meet all requirements for Guild Creation."
Arthur felt his heart leap. "I... really?"
"Really." Chen finished her paperwork and generated a data chip, which she handed to him. "This contains your official certification and your Guild registration number. You have thirty days to formally register your Guild name, establish a headquarters, and recruit at least one additional member. After that, you'll be an official Guild subject to all associated regulations. Fail to meet any of those conditions, and your certification is revoked."
Arthur took the chip like it was made of gold. "Thank you, Examiner Chen. I won't waste this opportunity."
Chen stood, offering her hand. "A word of advice, Pendragon. Passing the test is the easy part. Actually building and maintaining a Guild? That's where most people fail. You're young, you're inexperienced, and you're carrying the weight of your family's expectations." She paused, her expression serious. "But you have something most applicants don't—genuine conviction. You're not doing this for money or fame. That might be enough."
Arthur shook her hand firmly. "I'll do my best, ma'am."
"See that you do. Good luck."
Arthur left the examination room in a daze, the data chip clutched in his hand. He'd done it. He'd actually done it.
He made his way back to the main lobby, his mind already racing ahead to the next steps. Register the name. Find a headquarters. Recruit members.
But that can wait until tomorrow; for now, his first step was complete.
Exodia Camelot was about to be born.