The heavy oak doors of the Greyward Adventurer's Guild creaked open into a large, bustling hall filled with activity. The air was thick with the scent of steel, sweat, parchment, and old wood—a blend uniquely belonging to guildhalls across the land.
The floor was made of worn stone tiles, smoothed over years of foot traffic. Wooden beams supported the tall ceiling, and thick banners bearing the sigil of the Adventurer's Guild—a crossed sword and quill over a shield—hung proudly on the walls. Torches lined the sides, their soft orange glow dancing off metal armour and polished surfaces.
To the left, a large quest board stood tall, filled with papers of varying sizes, stamped with different star ratings. Adventurers crowded around it, reading requests ranging from herb gathering and beast culling to caravan escort and bandit elimination.
Straight ahead, behind a reinforced wooden counter, sat the reception desks, manned by well-trained clerks dressed in practical uniforms. Each desk had a small crystal embedded at the side, which was used for identity confirmation and mana affinity readings. Behind them, walls were covered in ledgers, scrolls, sealed records, and tracking maps of the region's dangers and commissions.
To the right, a smaller area held training dummies, weighing scales, and weapons racks, where new registrants could demonstrate basic combat ability. Behind it was a short corridor leading to offices, meeting rooms, and an underground vault where completed quest bounties and valuables were processed.
Near the centre was a lounge space with wooden tables and benches. Adventurers gathered there—some laughing over ale, others quietly exchanging maps, tools, or information.
And it was clear to Ash that mages were rare here at first glance.
His father had warned him:
"Mages are incredibly expensive to raise and train. Not many baronies can afford it. The Virellian barony only has one known Four-Star Mage to its name, and he's pledged to the Virellia family directly—for protection and war. Most guilds like this rely on elite knights."
Sure enough, the guild was filled mostly with warriors, hunters, and knights-for-hire—most wielding swords, bows, axes, or spears. The few robed figures around were either alchemists or minor healers.
Despite the rough edges, the place felt alive—with ambition, danger, and opportunity lingering in every corner.
Justin led Ash toward the reception counter of the Greyward Adventurer's Guild. The air inside buzzed with murmured conversations, clinking armor, and the occasional bark of laughter. The hall was built with thick timber and stone, lined with noticeboards filled with parchment, and a long wooden counter where adventurers waited their turn.
Behind the counter stood a woman with sharp green eyes and a knowing smile. Her chestnut hair was neatly braided and tucked over one shoulder, and though she looked barely in her twenties, there was a calm presence about her that hinted at experience. She looked up, then grinned as she spotted them.
"Well, well. Look what the wind dragged in," she said, setting her quill down. "Didn't expect to see you again, Justin ."
Justin chuckled and stepped forward. "Elara. You look the same."
"You always say that." She smirked. "Now, what brings you here? Finally coming out of retirement?"
"Not quite." He nudged Ash gently forward. "This one's mine. He's ready to register."
Elara leaned over the counter, giving Ash a quick once-over. "Yours? Huh. Twelve?"
Ash nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"No need for 'ma'am' here. Just Elara's fine." She smiled, then grabbed a parchment from the stack nearby. "Alright, let's get you started. Name?"
"Ash ."
"Age twelve, got it. Place your hand on the crystal here, let's check your affinity."
Ash pressed his palm against the smooth orb set into the counter. A soft pulse of light flickered inside, and after a second, arcs of blue lightning danced within the glass. Elara leaned in, reading the faint runes that swirled across its surface.
"Lightning, huh. And ten percent purity. Not bad for a first-time reading. Could be something if you train right." She gave Justin a sideways look. "You train him yourself?"
Justin nodded once.
"Figured." She smiled again and reached under the counter for a small bronze card. "Starting out as an F-Rank. Don't take it personally—it's where everyone begins, even the big shots."
She etched a quick rune on the back of the card, then handed it to Ash.
"This card's linked to your mana signature. Lose it, and you'll have to pay to replace it. Understand?"
"Yes," Ash said, gripping the card carefully.
"Good. Now, some ground rules," she continued, her tone friendly but firm. "Stick to quests your rank allows. Don't mess with guild property. And don't falsify reports—we check, and we ban."
Justin raised an eyebrow. "Still giving the scary speech?"
"Always," Elara grinned. "Keeps the overconfident ones from making dumb mistakes."
She handed Ash a folded parchment. "Quest board's that way. This sheet lists. After a few more signatures and formalities, Ash received a small leather pouch containing his first payment advance—just enough to cover beginner supplies.
Beginner contracts—herb gathering, delivery runs, maybe a small beast culling job if you're lucky. Also includes what the guild's buying."
"Thanks," Ash said.
"Welcome to the guild, kid." Elara leaned back on her chair. "Let's see what you make of it."
As they stepped away from the counter, Ash glanced back. She was already taking the next adventurer's request, her voice firm but kind—someone used to keeping chaos in order.
"Is she always like that?" Ash asked quietly.
Justin smirked. "That was her being friendly."
As they stepped out of the guild building and into the fading daylight, the warm hum of Greyward's streets wrapped around them again—vendors packing up, blacksmiths hammering away, and townsfolk rushing to finish errands before nightfall.
Justin adjusted the strap of his cloak and glanced over at Ash.
"We'll head to the market next," he said. "You need a proper weapon."
Ash nodded. "I've trained with the short sword, but…"
Justin smirked slightly. "But you've also practised with spears, staves, and even tried your hand at throwing knives when you thought I wasn't looking."
Ash gave a small, sheepish grin. "Figured it was worth trying everything."
Justin's tone was calm but approving. "It is. Versatility keeps you alive. But now's the time to choose your main form—for focus, for precision, and to help channel your lightning more effectively."
Ash glanced at the crowd, thoughtful. "I want something with reach. Control. Maybe a spear."
Justin nodded. "Makes sense. You've always moved better at a mid-range. And with your mana output, reinforcing the shaft with lightning could give you serious striking force."
"But I still want to keep training with the short sword on the side," Ash added.
Justin gave a satisfied nod.
They walked toward the western district, toward the market.
As they walked through, Ash slowed down, his gaze caught by something in the gutter.
Children — crawling on the ground with missing limbs, dirty bandages clinging to stumps, blank eyes staring into nothing. A boy without legs dragged himself forward through the mud with trembling arms. A girl, no older than five, sat with burn scars across half her face, holding out an empty tin cup that no one touched.
Ash stopped walking.
A man spat near the children. Another passerby stepped over the boy without a glance. Even the knights guarding the alley didn't so much as flinch.
Ash's voice came quietly, hollow and angry.
"Why… why does no one help them?"
Justin stood beside him in silence, then looked out at the same street. His eyes didn't flinch.
"Because mercy means effort," he said softly. "And effort is the first thing people abandon when life gets hard."
Ash's fists clenched. "They're suffering… and people just walk by like they're not even there."
Justin sighed.
"I once thought like you," he said, voice distant. "When I was younger. I shouted at the world. Thought that maybe, if I cared enough, I could change something."
He paused, then looked directly at Ash.
"But this world doesn't listen to the weak. If you want to say something — truly say something — you need power first. Otherwise, no one hears you."
Ash turned toward him, jaw tight. "That's not right."
"No," Justin said quietly. "But it's the truth."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Around them, the world kept moving — loud, blind, indifferent.