Miri waited in the Guild library while Tamsin and Grath argued about her fate behind a closed door.
She didn’t mind.
The library smelled right.
Paper and dust and old glue. Leather bindings. Ink soaked into pages. Underneath it all, the faint, indefinable scent of people—generations of hands turning pages, breathing softly, learning things they hadn’t known before.
When they were kids, Mason had dragged her to the library the way other kids dragged their siblings to the arcade. He’d sink into an armchair with some ridiculous fantasy novel—sword-and-planet adventures, star empires with laser halberds—and vanish for hours.
Miri had always wandered.
She’d lose herself in oversized art books, glossy pages heavy in her hands. Photographs taken from the tops of mountains. Caverns hidden under continents. Rivers slicing through jungles no one had named yet. Vast, white tundras untouched by footprints.
She loved exploring—but the ideas had always come from books.
This library was magnificent.
It filled the center of the three-story Guild building, open all the way up, balconies ringed with shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls. There were journals written by adventurers long dead, bestiaries thick with annotations, magical theory texts chained to desks, and hand-copied notebooks stuffed wherever they fit.
Miri could happily fail the Guild test if it meant permanent access to this place.
She was idly contemplating which shelf to start with when the door creaked open.
“Miri Sutton,” Grath called.
She jumped, then grinned and followed.
“You passed,” Grath said, folding his massive hands on the desk.
Just like that.
Miri blinked. “I—wait. Really?”
Tamsin nodded once. “Field assessment complete. You meet the criteria for solo contracts.”
Something in Miri’s chest loosened. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself together until that moment.
Grath reached under the desk. “No badge,” he said. “Too easy to steal.”
Instead, he took her hand, palm up.
A brief pulse of warmth flared against her skin—sharp but not painful. When he released her, a symbol remained etched faintly into her palm: a sword and a staff crossed before a shield.
It shimmered once, then settled.
“Guild mark,” Grath said. “Anyone connected to the System can verify your status with a touch.”
“That’s…” Miri flexed her fingers, delighted. “Way cooler than a badge.”
Tamsin transferred the credits from the field jobs. Miri’s System chimed softly in acknowledgment.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Miri said. “For contracts.”
“Get some rest,” Tamsin replied. “And clean clothes.”
“Absolutely my top priority,” Miri agreed fervently.
Later, alone in her bedroom at the tavern, Miri pulled up her status.
It took longer than usual.
The System hesitated—buffering, for lack of a better word—before the text finally appeared.
At first, only the basics.
Her name.
Her level.
[ Name: Miri Anne Sutton ]
[ Age: 24 ]
[ Race: Human ]
[ Level: 4 ]
[ Affiliate: Adventurer’s Guild - Helmsworth ]
Development (Simplified)
[ Body: 25 ]
[ Mind: 26 (1) ]
[ Spirit: 34 (1) ]
Then the text paused.
And everything she’d earned came rushing in at once, stacked atop on another faster than she could read.
[ You have defeated Shadow Imp x 4! ]
[ You have looted: Nice Stick x 1 ]
[ Congratulations! You have joined the Adventurer’s Guild! ]
[ Reward granted. ]
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
[Overriden. Reward granted.]
[ New skill acquired. ]
[ Potions added to inventory. ]
Cleanse chimed and leveled—now capable of cleaning clothing as well as body.
Miri nearly cried.
Swordsman leveled again, giving her the ability to extend mana beyond the edge of the blade.
Mana Sense was her new skill—passive and uncommon—which let her perceive the presence, flow, and condition of magic.
Her stat points had already been allocated quietly and efficiently by the System itself.
Only then did the text continue, unfolding the rest of her information like nothing unusual had happened at all.
[ Class: Mage ]
[ Element: Unlocks at Lv5 ]
[ Sub-Class: Unlocks at Lv10 ]
[ Affinity: Unlocks at Lv15 ]
[ Spells: Arc Bolt (Common) ]
[ Skills: Cleanse Lv2; Flame Lv1; Swordsman Lv3; Auto-Loot Lv1; Threat Perception Lv1; Mana Sense Lv1 ]
Cleanse Lv1: remove basic impurities from your body and clothing
Flame Lv1: create a small flame
Swordsman Lv3: instinctively channel mana to the edge of your blade and beyond
Auto-Loot Lv1: automatically loot credits from fallen foes
Threat Perception Lv1: gain awareness of nearby threats
Mana Sense Lv1: perceive the presence, flow, and condition of magic
[ Traits: Steady Hands (Uncommon) ]
[ Titles: 1/0 ]
[ Achievements: First Blood, Pest Control ]
[ Wearables: Hiking Boots of Lord L. Bean (+1 to Body); Utility Shorts of The Gap; T-Shirt of Grateful Death (+1 to Spirit); Eternal Time Keeper (+1 to Mind); Collar of the Jack of Hearts ]
Miri exhaled slowly, a smile spreading across her face.
She had some questions for the System. But she had already tried to talk to it and got no response. So she filed the oddity away for later and focused on her gains.
Tomorrow she’d take her first real contract.
Tonight?
Tonight she was going to take the longest, hottest shower of her life and sleep in a real bed.
She closed the System text, already moving toward the door, feeling—for the first time since waking up in that cave—like she’d finally arrived.
* * *
As Miri ate a delicious steak dinner followed by a hot shower and a couple more hours in a magically heated bath, Grath and Tamsin had claimed a corner table at the Guild’s common room.
Two mugs of dark beer thumped down between them.
Grath lifted his. “To new members.”
Tamsin clinked hers against it. “To ones who survive their first test.”
They drank.
Grath leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. “Her mana channels,” he said at last. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”
Tamsin raised an eyebrow. “Not unstable.”
“No,” Grath agreed. “Reinforced. Like someone rebuilt her from the inside out and over-engineered the result.”
Tamsin frowned slightly. “That doesn’t happen by accident.”
“No,” Grath said again. “But it also doesn’t feel wrong.”
They sat with that.
“My parents sent word,” Tamsin said after a moment. “The western marches are getting worse. More monsters. Bigger ones. Patterns that don’t make sense.”
Grath’s expression darkened. “I’ve heard similar reports. And mages.”
“Disappearing,” Tamsin finished.
“Every few years,” Grath said. “Like clockwork. Rumors, whispers. Then nothing.”
“But this time,” Tamsin said slowly, “it’s louder.”
Grath nodded. “An archmage vanished two months ago. During a fundraiser. Full room. No struggle. No trace.”
“Conspiracy theories?” Tamsin asked.
“Flying,” Grath said. “Cultists. Rogue gods. Mana storms. Old evils waking up.”
Tamsin stared into her mug. “And now her.”
Grath smiled faintly. “Yes. And now her.”
He lifted his beer again. “Tomorrow we worry. Tonight we celebrate.”
Tamsin allowed herself a small smile. “Agreed.”
* * *
The voice returned just after sunset.
Not loud. Never loud.
It slipped into his thoughts the way a knife slipped into soft fruit.
There she is, it whispered.
She always smiled at everyone at the farmer’s market. Had kind words for all she interacted with.
Not him. She walked right past him this morning as he ate breakfast alone.
She hurt you, the voice crooned. You deserve to be seen.
His hands trembled as he followed, staying just far enough back to remain invisible.
The night felt thick. Heavy. Like it was holding its breath.
Just a little closer, the voice urged. I’ll help you.
He believed it.
* * *
Hank finished his dinner in silence, his hound asleep at his feet like always.
He washed his plate. Dried it. Set it away.
Then he lit the lantern and went downstairs.
The basement door was thick with runes, iron bands etched with symbols older than the house above them. Hank pressed his palm to the first seal and murmured the words he’d memorized over a century ago.
The ward flared. Held.
Second lock. Third.
He moved methodically, as he always did. Then—
He paused.
That was new. A subtle give where none should be. Hank frowned.
The ward was still there. Still strong, but somehow thinner. Like old cloth stretched too many times until the weave was loosened.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
He reinforced what he could, pouring a little more power than usual into the seal. It responded sluggishly, then settled.
Good enough for tonight.
He extinguished the lantern and climbed the stairs, already planning the change in his routine for the next day.
He’d speak to the Warder tomorrow when he went to town. Get this fixed properly.
