Usually, when adventurers returned from the Howling Cleft, they limped. They smelled of wet dog and failure, dragging their bruised bodies toward the bar to drown the memory of the dungeon in cheap ale.
Elara Thorne didn't limp. She glided.
She stepped into the torch-lit hall, and the ambient noise of the room died instantly. It wasn't just quiet; it was a vacuum.
The Cloak of the Umbra trailed behind her like a piece of the night sky had been cut off and draped over her shoulders. It didn't just hang; it moved with a fluid, smoky sentience, swallowing the light around her calves.
But it was Elara herself who stopped the room.
Her skin, once the pale, dusty complexion of a street rat, now possessed a flawless, alabaster luminescence. Her hair was bound in a tight, severe braid that looked like woven silver in the firelight. Her eyes—those terrifying, violet-rimmed eyes—scanned the room with the boredom of a predator deciding which sheep to eat first.
She looked like a masterwork painting brought to life, vibrant and sharp, while the rest of the world was just a faded sketch.
"Is that... Thorne?" a warrior whispered near the hearth, his tankard halfway to his mouth.
"No way," his companion hissed. "Thorne is a Scout. That’s... that’s a High-Noble. Look at the gear. That cloak is enchanted."
Elara ignored them. She walked straight toward the main counter, her boots making absolutely no sound on the stone floor.
Behind her, shuffling awkwardly in her wake like a servant carrying the luggage, was Gideon.
He was still wearing his burlap tunic. His hair was a disaster. He was clutching the rag-wrapped Magma-Caster to his chest and trying very hard not to make eye contact with the room full of armed mercenaries.
No one looked at him. They looked through him. Beside the radiant, terrifying presence of Elara, Gideon Vance was effectively invisible—a background NPC in a potato sack.
Elara reached the counter.
Lyra, the head receptionist, looked up. Her quill froze mid-stroke. Behind her, the Guild Guardian—the Level 50 veteran in plate mail—straightened up, his hand drifting instinctively to his sword hilt. He sensed the threat level before his eyes registered the face.
"Elara?" Lyra whispered, her professional mask cracking. "You... you returned."
"I did," Elara said. Her voice was smoother now, lacking the raspy edge of the slums. It carried a resonance that made the candles on the counter flicker.
She reached into her belt pouch and pulled out the Warden’s Token. She didn't hand it over; she slammed it onto the wood.
THUD.
"The Howling Cleft," Elara said, her voice cutting through the silence of the hall. "You said it was a 'Promotion Trial'. You said it was 'Restless'."
"It spawned a Void-Stitcher," Elara stated, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper. "A Level ?? monster that was eating your guards."
A gasp rippled through the room. A Void-Stitcher was a myth to most D-Ranks—a monster that belonged in the nightmares of the Capital, not a training dungeon.
"I cleared it," Elara continued, leaning forward. The violet rings in her eyes flared. "I cleaned up your mess, Lyra. I did the job your C-Rank 'Old Guard' was too slow to handle."
"That's... impossible," a sharp voice cut in.
Sera Kade stepped out from the shadows of a pillar. The mage looked impeccable in her silk robes, but her expression was brittle. She stared at Elara, her eyes darting from the legendary cloak to the violet eyes.
"A Void-Stitcher would shred an E-Rank in seconds," Sera said, though her voice lacked its usual bite. "You're lying. You found that token on a corpse."
Elara turned her head slowly. She didn't turn her body. She just looked at Sera over her shoulder.
"Do you want to test that theory, Sera?" Elara asked softly. "Do you want to see what I learned in the dark?"
She took a step toward the mage. The shadows in the room seemed to lean toward her, stretching unnaturally.
Sera flinched. She actually took a step back, her face paling. The magical instinct that had kept her alive as a mage was screaming at her: Predator. Do not engage.
Elara smirked—a cold, terrifying expression—and turned back to Lyra.
"I want my promotion," Elara stated. "D-Rank. Effective immediately."
"Of... of course," Lyra stammered, reaching for a stamp. "The token is proof enough. The XP gain alone must have..."
"And," Elara interrupted, slamming her hand down on the counter again. "I want a bonus. Hazard pay. Breach of contract. You sent me into a death trap."
"We can offer... fifty gold?" Lyra suggested weakly.
"One hundred," Elara countered instantly. "And a waiver."
"A waiver?"
Elara jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the burlap-clad figure standing behind her.
"Him," Elara said. "He’s with me. He takes the E-Rank exam today. And he takes it for free."
Lyra blinked, finally looking at Gideon. She squinted, as if trying to resolve his presence.
" The... porter?" Lyra asked, confused. "He wants to register?"
"He's not a porter," Elara said. "He's a specialist. Put him on the roster. Waive the fifty silver fee. Or I take my token, my report on the Void-Stitcher, and my new Class to the Mercenary Guild across the street."
The threat hung in the air. The Mercenary Guild was the Adventurers' Guild’s biggest rival. If word got out that they had lost a rising star who could solo a Void-Stitcher...
"Done," a deep voice boomed from the stairs.
Guild Master Corin descended, looking tired but impressed. He eyed Elara’s cloak with the knowing look of a man who recognized Legendary gear when he saw it.
"Rank D approved," Corin said. "One hundred gold bonus approved. And the stray gets a free shot at the exam."
He looked at Gideon, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the glowing blue eyes under the burlap hood.
"You're up, Scientist," Elara said, her voice dropping the scary act for a split second. "Don't embarrass me."
He looked at the room full of people staring at him. He looked at Elara, who was radiating enough main-character energy to power a city.
"Right," Gideon squeaked. He cleared his throat. " Right. I mean... Yes. Let's do the assessment"
He stepped up to the counter, clutching his rag-wrapped weapon.
"Hi," Gideon said to Lyra, giving a small, awkward wave. "I'm here for the... thing?"
Gideon stepped up to the counter, placing the rag-wrapped bundle on the dark wood.
Behind the desk stood Lyra, the Head Receptionist. She was currently staring at Elara with a mixture of awe and fear, but when Gideon cleared his throat, her gaze snapped down to him.
"Assessment," Gideon said. "I was told there would be a test?"
Lyra adjusted her spectacles. She looked him over—from the burlap hood to the muddy boots.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
"Standard procedure for unregistered applicants," Lyra said, her voice crisp. "Fee is usually fifty silvers. Since Thorne has waived it, we proceed directly to the asset check."
She pointed a manicured finger at the bundle.
"We need to verify combat readiness. You claim to be a 'Specialist'. Show me your focus."
Gideon unwrapped the rags.
The Magma-Caster lay revealed.
It was an ugly, brutal thing. The black Iron-Wood shaft was stark against the twisted, heat-scarred Copper Horns. In the center, floating in its magnetic cage, the Magma Core pulsed with a rhythmic, breathing red light.
Guild Master Corin, who had been watching from the stairs, walked over. He leaned in, his eyes widening.
"That's a Level 9 Variant Core," Corin rumbled, his voice like gravel grinding together. "And... beetle horn? You shoved a Variant Core into a bug part?"
"Fused it with heat-welding," Gideon explained. " It’s a directed mana weapon. Point and burn. Highly efficient."
Corin snorted. "Don't use fancy words, boy. It’s a fire-spitter on a stick. It’s ugly as sin, but..." He hovered his hand over the core, feeling the heat. "...it's stable. And it's angry. A Noble would pay good money to give that to their kid. Safe enough not to blow their hand off, flashy enough to impress the girls at the Academy."
He looked at Gideon with a merchant's eye.
"I’ll give you twelve Gold for it."
Gideon paused. He did the math instantly.
Twelve Gold was one hundred and twenty Silvers. At his current burn rate of 5 coppers a day, that was years of survival. It wasn't "buy a mansion" money, but it was enough to rent a room that didn't smell like vinegar, buy actual clothes, and maybe even afford soap.
The Magma-Caster was Level 9. Gideon planned to be Level 20 by next week. The weapon was a depreciating asset.
"Sold," Gideon said instantly.
"Wait," Elara spoke up from the pillar, her violet eyes narrowing. "Gideon, the trial is in ten minutes. You just sold your only weapon."
"Incorrect," Gideon said, accepting the heavy pouch of gold from Corin. He felt the weight of it—the weight of pants. "I just sold a temp item to get some cash flow. Basic economics."
He reached into his burlap sack and pulled out... a piece of scrap metal.
It was the Bent Sword.
It was rusted. It was chipped. And it was bent at a distinct 30-degree angle halfway up the blade, looking less like a sword and more like a metal boomerang that had given up on life.
"I have this," Gideon said proudly.
The room went silent.
Lyra stared at the bent piece of metal. "Is that... a crowbar?"
"It’s a sword with unique ergonomic geometry," Gideon defended, giving it a practice swing. Whoosh. " The curve... adds weight to the swing. It’s aerodynamic. Sort of."
Elara covered her face with her hand. "I take it back," she muttered. "I don't know him. He's a stray I found in the trash."
Corin laughed, a booming, belly-shaking sound. "I like you, kid. You've got guts. Or brain damage. Probably both."
He wiped a tear from his eye. "Alright, keep your scrap metal. Lyra, log his vitals. Let's get this over with before he hurts himself."
Lyra sighed, pulling out a clear crystal monocle—an Inspection Lens.
"Stand still," Lyra commanded. "I need to record your Name, Level, and Role."
Gideon stood still, holding his bent sword. "Ready."
"The System knows what you are," Lyra muttered, raising the lens to her eye. "Let's see..."
She focused on Gideon.
Usually, the lens would display a simple status window.
Name, Level, Class.
But as Lyra pushed mana into the crystal, looking for the data, nothing happened.
It wasn't that he had no stats. It was that the lens slid off him. It was like trying to read a book that was wrapped in lead.
Lyra frowned. "Hold on."
She squinted, pushing more mana into the lens. The crystal began to hum.
[ ERROR: ACCESS DENIED ] [ TARGET DATA OBSCURED ]
Lyra lowered the lens. She tapped it against the desk. "It’s not working."
She tried again. She focused hard on his chest, trying to pierce the veil.
[ ERROR: REDACTED ]
Lyra recoiled, blinking rapidly as if she had been flashed with a bright light. She rubbed her temple.
"What is it?" Corin asked, his voice dropping the jovial tone instantly.
"I can't read him," Lyra whispered. She looked at Gideon with a sudden, sharp suspicion. "I’m getting a Redaction Error."
Corin’s face hardened. He stepped closer, his hand drifting toward his belt.
"A Redaction?"
He looked at Gideon. The boy was wearing a burlap sack and holding a bent piece of rusted metal, but he had just sold a powerful magic weapon without blinking, spoke like a scholar, and his status was blocked by a grade of privacy usually reserved for Royalty or the King's Shadows.
"Who are you?" Corin asked, his voice low.
"Gideon Vance," Gideon said honestly. "I'm just a guy who needs a job."
"Don't play games," Corin grunted. "Commoners don't have blockers that strong. If you're hiding, that's your business. But I can't stamp a Guild Card for a ghost."
He exchanged a look with Lyra. Runaway Noble, the look said. Or a Spy with a very convincing disguise.
"Sir," Lyra said formally. "I cannot assign a Rank without a Stat verification. If I can't see his Level, I can't certify him for E-Rank."
"Then we do it the hard way," Corin decided.
He pointed a thick finger at Gideon.
"The Competency Exam. The full battery. Written and Practical. If the System won't tell us what you can do, you're going to have to show us."
"Written exam?" Gideon perked up, ignoring the tension in the room. "A standardized test?"
"Don't look so happy," Lyra warned. "It’s designed to weed out the idiots who think swinging a sword is enough. Go to the back room."
She pointed to a heavy wooden door.
"And Gideon?" Corin added. "You better hope that bent piece of tin can kill a boar. Because if you die in the arena, I'm keeping the twelve gold."
Gideon patted the pouch at his belt.
"I don't need a sharp edge to calculate impact force," Gideon said, adjusting his hood. "I just need mass. And this sword has plenty of mass."
He turned and walked toward the testing room, looking surprisingly confident for a man holding a piece of garbage.
Elara watched him go, then looked at the Guild Master with a faint, amused smile.
"He won't fail," Elara said quietly. "But I pity the poor soul who has to read his answers. He has a habit of... correcting people."
The testing room smelled of chalk, old paper, and anxiety.
Gideon sat at a small wooden desk, surrounded by empty seats. The rest of the applicants—mostly wide-eyed teenagers hoping for F-Rank status—had been ushered into a different room.
Because of Elara’s "negotiation" and the broken appraisal lens, Gideon had been fast-tracked. He was taking the Competency Assessment for Rank E.
"Standard procedure," Lyra had said, dropping a thick stack of parchment onto his desk. "Rank F is for laborers and rats. Rank E requires literacy and a basic understanding of System Theory. You have one hour."
Gideon picked up the quill. "System Theory. Finally. A subject with rules."
He dipped the quill and looked at Question 1.
[ Q1: What is the primary catalyst for a Fireball Spell? ]
- A) Sulfur and Guano.
- B) The chant of the Cinder-King.
- C) Passion and Anger.
- D) A Ruby Focus.
Gideon stared at the paper.
"Passion?" he whispered, offended. "It’s thermal agitation. It’s the rapid acceleration of molecular bonds in a localized area. Where is option E: 'Exothermic Reaction via Mana-Induced Friction'?"
He looked at the other questions.
[ Q5: Why does a Shield spell block damage? ]
- Correct Answer (implied): Because the user’s Will denies the blade.
"Will?" Gideon scrawled in the margin. "Incorrect. A shield blocks damage because it creates a surface with a lattice density higher than the incoming object's kinetic force. It is a transfer of momentum, not a philosophical debate!"
He went through the test with the furious energy of a grad student grading a freshman paper that got everything wrong. He crossed out "Magic" and wrote "Quantum-Mana Entanglement." He drew a small diagram explaining why "Levitation" was actually just localized gravitational dampening.
By the time he finished, the parchment was more ink than paper.
"Done," Gideon announced, putting the quill down.
Lyra walked over. She picked up the test. She adjusted her glasses.
She read the first answer. She frowned. She read the second. Her frown deepened. She flipped to the diagram of the gravitational dampening.
"What..." Lyra looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "...is this?"
"Corrections," Gideon said helpfully. "Your textbook is outdated. Significantly. I assume this is based on a pre-industrial understanding of mana dynamics? I updated the terminology to reflect actual physics."
Lyra stared at him. She didn't see a scientist. She saw a lunatic. Or worse—a High-Noble scion who had been educated in the forbidden archives of the Capital and was now mocking her.
"Pass," Lyra said tightly, shoving the papers into her folder without grading them.
"Pass?" Gideon blinked. "But you didn't check my math on the fireball trajectory."
"We don't grade the content for E-Rank," Lyra hissed, leaning in. "We grade the literacy. You can write. You can draw complex diagrams. You use big words. That’s enough."
She marked a heavy red E on his file.
"Now," she said, pulling out a new form. "The Registry. We need a Role Designation."
"Ah," Gideon sat up straighter. "Excellent. I have given this some thought."
He cleared his throat.
" I am a Defensive Specialist with a focus on high-density defensive structures and thermal projection. Effectively, I focus on kinetic redistribution and blocking. I take the hit, then I hit back."
Lyra stared at him. The quill hovered over the paper.
"So..." Lyra said slowly. "You have a shield?"
"Yes."
"And you hit things with a heavy weapon?"
"Well, I use the weapon to conduct thermal..."
"And you wear..." She squinted at him, her eyes flashing with a faint blue light as she attempted to use [Inspect] to gauge his durability stats.
The light fizzled out instantly.
[ ERROR: TARGET DATA OBSCURED ]
Lyra sighed. She looked at his burlap sack, his glowing eyes, and the heavy, rusted iron weapon on the table. She had to assign a Generic Role—a placeholder title until he got a system recognized class, if he ever got one.
"You aren't a Warrior," Lyra muttered. "You rely too much on mana. You aren't a Mage, because you insist on standing in the front line with a club. You aren't a Cleric because you clearly don't pray."
She hesitated, then scribbled something on the paper.
"Battle-Mage," she announced.
"Battle-Mage?" Gideon wrinkled his nose. "That sounds... imprecise. Is there a 'Thermodynamic Guardian' option?"
"No," Lyra said, stamping the paper. "There is Warrior, Rogue, Mage, Scout, and Ranger. Since you refuse to fit in a box, you get the hybrid label. Battle-Mage tells the party leader that you can cast spells but you're too stupid to stay in the backline."
She turned the paper around. It was official.
[ NAME: Gideon Vance ] [ RANK: E (Provisional) ] [ ROLE: Battle-Mage (Generic) ]
"It’s a placeholder, Gideon," Lyra said, seeing his expression. "If you survive long enough you can either receive one as a reward or buy a real Class at some point—like Spellblade, Guardian, or Pyromancer.”
She pointed to the heavy iron door at the back of the room.
"The written test is a formality. The Combat Trial is where you actually earn the badge."
He stood up, adjusting his burlap hood.
"Let's go then" Gideon said. "I have a hypothesis about combat that I need to test."