Chapter 8 – The Guild
Lyra led Asiel deeper into the guild, her steps graceful yet firm. The clamor of the main hall slowly faded—the clang of mugs, bursts of laughter, and the rustle of coins replaced by the quiet anticipation of the inner chamber. Here, the air was calmer but heavier, as if the walls themselves carried the weight of countless oaths.
Rows of wooden benches stretched before them, occupied by fresh-faced recruits. Their eyes were alight with excitement, but their stiff postures betrayed nerves. Asiel quietly slipped into a seat near the back, folding his hands to mask the tension creeping through his chest. The chamber smelled faintly of parchment and oiled steel—a reminder that this was no tavern. This was the heart of the Adventurers' Guild.
The silence broke when the great wooden doors swung open. A man entered—tall, broad-shouldered, clad in a dark coat embroidered with gold at the seams. The guild's insignia glimmered proudly over his chest. He carried no weapon, yet his presence was sharper than any blade.
"Welcome," the man said, his voice low and commanding. "I am the Grand Master of Lagunica's Adventurers' Guild. You may call me Master Darius."
The weight of his gaze swept across the chamber. Even Asiel felt it press against him—a look belonging to one who had seen war, loss, and victories carved in blood.
Darius folded his gloved hands behind his back. "Listen well, newcomers. The Guild does not hand out titles for glory's sake. Each rank is earned, not given—and each one is written in blood. Let me show you what you're truly climbing toward."
He lifted one hand, voice striking the room like steel on steel.
General-Class – "The ground floor. Farmers with swords, city guards, and wide-eyed dreamers. This is where every journey begins."
Fighter-Class – "The first step toward true warriors. Fighters hold grit and training enough to be trusted. Mercenaries, bodyguards—soldiers nobles will pay coin to command."
Expert-Class – "Masters of their craft. One blade, one element, one art honed to perfection. A single Expert can tip the balance of a city's defense."
Disciple-Class – "Veterans of discipline and command. They lead. They are names that echo beyond villages—respected, followed."
Core-Class – "The pillars of kingdoms. Rare adventurers who shape wars, carve histories, and hold the strength of nations in their grasp."
Beyonder-Class – His tone darkened. "Those who break the limits of humanity. They wield power that bends the world itself. Few reach this rank—and fewer survive long enough to bear it."
Ascendant-Class – His voice lowered, reverent. "Living legends. Their deeds reshape borders, kingdoms, and destiny itself. When an Ascendant moves, history moves with them."
Sovereign-Class – For a moment, silence. Then, softer, weightier: "And beyond all, the Sovereigns. Forces of nature draped in flesh. They do not walk through history—they are history. Only a handful live today, and to speak their names is to summon reverence."
The room had gone utterly still. Recruits leaned forward, caught between awe and dread. Asiel's heartbeat thundered—this wasn't merely strength. This was the scale of destiny itself.
Darius let the silence stretch before continuing. "Know this: if all the Beyonders, Ascendants, and Sovereigns across the world were gathered—there would not be a thousand. Less than a thousand who stand upon the peak. Sovereigns… are gods among us."
Uneasy glances rippled through the benches.
"And it is not only adventurers who bear ranks," he pressed on. "Monsters too are measured—G through S. Most of you will die without ever seeing higher than D. A few…" His gaze sharpened. "…will stare into horrors far above."
The chamber felt heavier, yet his tone warmed, carrying a proud steel.
"We fight not merely for coin, but for the safety of mankind. When you bear the crest of the Guild, you stand as shield and sword alike."
He paused, then straightened, voice cutting the tension clean. "And now—the rules. If you are here for freedom without responsibility, leave."
Several recruits shuffled out, restless for glory but unwilling to carry chains of duty. Soon, only a few remained. Among them sat Asiel, his gaze locked firmly on the Grand Master.
Darius arched a brow. "You stayed?"
"Yes, sir," Asiel said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. "If I'm to carry this title, then I should know its weight."
A rare smile ghosted across Darius's lips. "Good. Very good. Few crave duty before glory." He stepped closer, and his shadow seemed to fall over Asiel alone.
"The rules are simple in word, but heavy in soul," he began:
"You are accountable for your actions—within the mission and beyond it."
"Freedom is granted, but not lawlessness. Crimes of blood, slavery, or treason—these the Guild will never shield."
"Every dungeon unearthed, every relic uncovered, every monster slain of note—must be reported. Conceal them, and you betray us."
"You may work for nobles, merchants, even kings—but the Guild must always be informed."
"Above all…" Darius's voice lowered, sharp as a blade. "…trust is the Guild's lifeblood. Break it, and you are no adventurer. Not here. Not anywhere."
The weight of his words pressed into Asiel's chest like an oath.
Darius placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Remember them well. For every adventurer who rises, a hundred sink into nameless graves."
Asiel bowed his head, resolve hardening like tempered steel.
And for the first time since awakening in this strange world, something deeper stirred within him—not fear, nor curiosity alone, but belonging. Responsibility.
The beginning of his path.
Asiel stepped out of the chamber, the Grand Master's words still echoing in his mind. His chest felt heavier, not from fear, but from the weight of the responsibility he had just accepted. He walked toward the reception desk where Lyra was waiting, her calm smile meeting him.
"Miss Lyra," he asked, voice cautious, "do I have to take on quests given by the guild… or can I continue my own work?"
Lyra folded her hands neatly over the desk, her tone gentle yet firm.
"Sir Asiel, I understand. A peaceful life, steady wages—it's tempting. But as a C-Class mage, your strength is more than personal. It is a duty. The Guild does not demand recklessness, but with power comes responsibility. You must answer when the Guild calls."
She slid a parchment across the desk. "This will be your first quest. A D-grade task, simple enough, but necessary. You said you had no combat experience, so I'll assign you a partner."
From behind her stepped a young man, perhaps Asiel's age. His expression carried calmness tinged with uncertainty, his presence neither boastful nor timid. He bowed slightly.
"Hello, fellow adventurer," he said, voice polite and even. "It will be a pleasure to work with you. I am Yrion Carter, a D-Class swordsman. Let's finish this quickly before those monsters cause more trouble."
He took the quest paper from Lyra with a respectful nod. "Thank you." Turning, he motioned for Asiel to follow.
The two left the guild and soon crossed through the great gates of Lagunica, the stone walls shrinking behind them as open grasslands stretched before their eyes.
As they jogged along the dirt road, Yrion glanced sideways. "What's your name, mage?"
"Asiel," he replied. "And you, Yrion… what are we hunting?"
"Demonic wolves," Yrion answered with a steady tone. "Normally E-grade, but this quest requires five of them culled. Simple, but not careless." His eyes flicked toward Asiel's hands. "Where are your weapons?"
"I don't carry any," Asiel admitted. "I'm a mage. My spells are enough."
Yrion chuckled softly, gripping the hilt of the longsword strapped to his back. "Then I'll trust you to prove it."
They climbed a hill overlooking a shallow valley. Below, near the mouth of a dark cave, a pack of wolves fed on the remains of a slaughtered bull. Their fur was coarse, black streaked with crimson veins, and their glowing red eyes turned hungrily at the slightest sound.
Yrion drew his blade in one fluid motion. Fire licked along its steel, dancing like a living flame. "I'll take the front. Cover me from behind."
Asiel swallowed but nodded. "Yes. I can do that."
The hunt began.
Yrion charged down the slope, his sword blazing. Two wolves lunged to meet him, snarling. His swing split the first clean in half, fire scorching the torn flesh, before he twisted and cut the second into parallel halves with terrifying speed.
"Nicely done," Asiel called from behind—though his stomach churned. The stench of burnt fur and torn flesh was nauseating. It looks just like those old games I used to play… except this is real.
Another wolf leapt from the shadows of the cave, aiming for Yrion's back. Asiel's eyes widened. Instinct took over—he stomped his foot, channeling his magic. The ground cracked, and a jagged stone spike erupted behind Yrion, skewering the wolf mid-leap.
Asiel froze, heart pounding. "I… I killed one."
There was no time to linger. Two more wolves burst from the cave, snarling as they circled. Asiel thrust both hands forward, and stone spikes surged upward. One wolf dodged with supernatural speed, but the other shrieked as a spike pierced its side. Yrion closed in before the last beast could counter, flames roaring along his blade as he cleaved its head clean off.
The valley fell quiet save for the crackling of fire.
Yrion sheathed his sword with a sharp motion, turning to Asiel. The swordsman's serious expression softened into a grin. He extended his hand. "Well fought, mage. We did it."
Asiel exhaled, relief washing over him as he grasped Yrion's hand firmly. "That was… amazing. You were incredible out there."
Yrion chuckled. "And you did more than well yourself. Not bad for a first hunt."
Asiel managed a smile. The disgust of battle still clung to him, but beneath it burned something else—excitement, pride, and the first taste of what it truly meant to be an adventurer.
Yrion glanced at the remains of the fallen beasts and sheathed his sword with a quiet sigh. "Let's take their horns as proof. The Guild won't accept stories without something to show."
"Right," Asiel nodded, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a small knife.
Yrion blinked. "Whoa, where did that come from? You've been carrying that the whole time?"
Asiel chuckled lightly. "Oh, this? It's just a simple knife I bought when I first arrived in town. Nothing special—just a safety measure in case my magic fails me."
Yrion smiled, clearly impressed. "Smart thinking. Always have a backup. Never know when luck runs out."
Together, they worked quietly, cutting the blackened horns from the demonic wolves and storing them in a leather pouch. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and the sun hung low over the hills as they began their walk back toward Lagunica.
The silence stretched comfortably between them for a while before Yrion spoke.
"Hey, Asiel," he began, glancing sideways. "That magic you used earlier… those spikes. Have you always been able to do that? I've heard even trained mages struggle to pull off spells of that scale."
Asiel scratched his neck awkwardly. "Honestly? That was my first time using magic like that. I didn't even know what I was doing—I just reacted. But now that you mention it…" He rubbed his temples. "My head does hurt a little."
Yrion nodded knowingly. "Overexertion. Mana strain hits hard when you're new. Still, not bad for your first cast. You might have some serious potential."
Asiel smiled faintly. "Thanks. But your swordsmanship was amazing too—so clean and precise. Have you ever thought of joining the knights? They're held in pretty high regard, aren't they?"
Yrion's expression darkened. His eyes turned away, voice lowering. "They might have position and honor, sure… but most of them are scumbags. I'd rather walk my own path than serve under corrupt banners."
Asiel caught the tone and nodded. "I understand. I won't pry if it's personal."
Yrion gave a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks for that."
The rest of the walk passed quietly, the wind carrying the faint hum of the city ahead. When the tall walls of Lagunica came into view, Yrion stretched his arms and grinned.
"Well then, partner. Let's go claim our reward."
Asiel looked at the bag of proof, the weight of it oddly satisfying. "Yeah. Our first quest… completed."
And with that, under the fading orange sky, the two young adventurers walked through the gates—
marking the quiet end of Asiel's first commission in this strange new world.
TBC...