Chapter 29: The Adventurer’s Guild

Crowd moving behind me
The sun on our heads
Standing at the side of the road, staring at the big building in front of me
In front of me: a building that looked like a tavern from the Middle Ages—two stories, a large wooden board above the door reading ADVENTURER GUILD

'I can read anything but can I write it? I remember seeing in some anime they can automatically write the language too.' I thought, curious since I hadn't tested it before.

[ Master, you cannot write the language. The skill only translates what you hear and read. You must learn to write. ]

Sigh. 'I thought so.'

I pushed open the guild door and stepped into a broad, echoing hall. Tables and Chairs on both sides; people leaned in low conversation, the room filled with the dull clack of armor, soft thumps of boots, and the constant scrape of wooden chairs. No one was eating—this place was for talk and contracts, not meals.

'Do they not serve food here? Wait! I think it was served in tavern or inn. Then what about the chair and table?' I thought, questions forming and answers flickering through my mind.

[ Master, it is used to discuss the details of quests, to converse and to wait. ]

'….That.. makes sense actually. Not going outside for long time maybe f**kd up some of my thinking of normal stuff. ' I thought, a private wryness tugging at me.

There were plenty of people, but the hall had space to breathe. Sunlight sliced in through high windows, dust motes drifting like lazy sigils. The air smelled of oiled leather, iron, and a faint herbal scent.

Some were massive—towering, muscles knotted like ropes, bare-chested with a greatsword slung across a broad back; leather trousers and heavy boots marked them plainly as warriors. I skimmed their statuses—Warrior—levels and scars listed like blunt facts.
Another stood of similar bulk but sheathed in heavy armor without crest or pretension; I checked his status too—Guardian—its skills read like a tank's ledger: shields, taunts, and slow, immovable defenses.

In a shadowed corner a figure in tight clothing kept their head down—average height, lithe. The status hovering in front of him labeled him Assassin; the room's light barely touched them. Their silence felt sharp.

Ahead, the guild desk sat like a small island of polished wood. Steps rose on either side toward the upper floor. I moved toward the desk, eyes flicking over statuses as I passed: mercenary, archer, healer. Names and levels were a dull, useful haze.

I stepped up to the counter.

"Hello. Welcome to the Adventurer Guild. My name is Mia—I'm the receptionist here. Are you here to register?" A woman with long brown hair and soft brown eyes smiled; her voice was warm and practiced.

She glanced at Liora in my arms and added, "Ah—sorry, are you here to post a quest?" Her tone shifted into the official cadence of someone who handled rewards and contracts.

"After hearing your request we'll evaluate the reward and you'll have to submit the money. The one who completes the quest must get your approval before receiving payment." She explained, and for a beat I fumbled for the right interruption but couldn't find it.

"I want to register as an adventurer." I said, keeping my voice low and steady.

'A kind person talking politely and on top of that it's a women. It's really difficult for me to interrupt. Ughhh' I thought, feeling my pulse quicken around the edge of nerves.

"Oh? Is that so. Please forgive me." She blinked, recovering her composure. "Would you like to take a test for a higher rank, or start from the lowest rank?"

'I just want the card so I don't have to pay the toll. I can also sell materials too. So lowest rank would do.' I considered.

"I'll start from the lowest rank." I answered, calmer now, keeping my sentence short.

"Understood. There's a two-silver-coin registration fee, and we'll need some information." She took the coins I offered. She produced a small form and a quill.

"Can you write?" she asked politely.

"No." I replied.

"Then please just answer my questions truthfully." Her pen hovered expectantly.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Zero." I replied.

"And your class?"

"Mage."

"What element do you use?"

"Wind and water."

"Dual elements." Her eyes widened with a professional curiosity. "I'd recommend taking the evaluation exam instead—you'll get many offers to join high ranking teams."

A ripple moved through the hall. Conversations thinned into murmurs.

"We should ask him to join us." a young adventurer muttered.

"Wind and water, huh…" came a heavy voice.

"Recruit him while we can." another said, eager.

"Where's Leader? Tell him a dual-elemental mage is here!" a woman called, urgency in her tone.

Liora watched the swirl of faces with wide, quiet eyes. For a moment I wondered if she was bored or simply taking in the new place.

"No." I said before speculation could become pressure. "I wish to start from the bottom. I don't want anything too dangerous—I need to take care of my daughter."

The room sighed—some disappointed, some approving.

"Tch. Such a waste of talent." someone grunted.

"He's hiding something." another guessed. "No one would start low if they had that dual-element skill."

"Let's wait and see. He'll prove himself or be embarrassed." a bulky adventurer said, voice like gravel.

Their chatter irritated me. The receptionist stepped forward with the expectation of demonstration. "Can you please demonstrate both magics?"

I nodded.

"Please—make a water sphere and a wind sphere on your palm, one after the other." She instructed.

The hall grew quiet on instinct, faces tilting toward me like a tide.

I raise my hand, palm up, and draw moisture from the air; it beads and swells into a clear globe, trembling a finger's breadth above my skin. The receptionist's mouth opens—'Chantless—'—but the word dies as a focused current of cold wind curls around the sphere. I guide the air like a smith shaping metal, pressing and pulling heat away with precise, patient pressure.

The wind robs the water of warmth so fast filigrees of frost lace across its surface with a soft, glassy tick; in a single breath the globe snaps into ice. The frozen orb hangs there, faceted and bright, catching light like a tiny star. The hall exhales into a stunned silence.

'I can actually make ice. Great.' I was happy, and then a stray thought slid into my head.
'I Should make shaved ice with this Later. It's gonna be great.' I grinned at the silly image.

"You can do chantless magic and control dual elements at the same time?" the receptionist asked, stunned. Conversations around the room prickled back to life.

'Ah F**k I forgot chant less Magic is big in isekai. But what was I gonna do. I don't know chants to make it look normal.' I realized, heat rising under my skin.

"Is he a hero?" an adventurer asked, confused.

"Why would there be a child with a hero?" a woman called from the crowd.

"Maybe he's affiliated with a tower." another suggested.

"Are you dumb? Why would he come here if he were tower-affiliated?" a burly man shot back.

I nodded toward the receptionist and decided to go with my wood-magician story, bolstering it on the fly. I was taught by a mage who adopted me as a child and trained me. I added details—small, plausible things to fill the gaps.

'I might not look that old to be this good in magic. I thought of this while travelling making my background story better.' I thought, feeling satisfied with the patchwork.

"That explanation holds." one adventurer said.

"If you apprenticed under a mage for two decades and had talent, sure—you could be this good." a heavy-voiced man agreed.

"But still, what a waste of talent." a woman muttered.

"Is that so? It must be hard." another voice said, trying on pity like an ill-fitting cloak.

The receptionist slid the form and some stray materials into a shallow black frame on the desk. The frame's surface was like a sheet of molten night—black glass set in a wooden border. When she placed the paper and material on it, all of it vanished as if swallowed by it.

"Please lay your hand on it and channel some magic power." she instructed.

The surface felt cool, almost slick, like polished obsidian.

'This world has a lot of interesting tools, it seems' I thought as curiosity warmed behind my eyes.

I threaded a modest pulse of magic into the frame. The black glass drank it and bled color—deep blue, like twilight pooling into the void.

"Please remove your hand." the receptionist said politely.

I pulled away. The mirror-surface thickened like gelatin and a card slithered free, slick and coppered. She plucked it up and handed it to me.

"Thank you for registering. You're now an F-Rank adventurer." she said.

I accepted the card. It was copper, warm from the friction against her palm, stamped with my picture, name, class, and rank. The edges were slightly raised, the engraving crisp and intimate like a seal.

"You'll start at F-Rank. By doing a number of requests you can apply for promotion; completing assigned tasks will raise your rank." She explained the rules with practiced clarity. "If you don't accept any task for two weeks, your license will be revoked. If you re-register later, you'll pay a fine—from five silver up to two gold coins."

She continued, listing the progression. "Ranks go from F to S. As rank increases, the time required for quests extends: E is a few weeks, D and C are about two months, B is four months, A is a year, and S has no set limit."

Just as I thought the lecture was done, her voice softened. "Then there's Legend rank. You can be promoted to it from A or even B. These are people who faced overwhelming disaster and risked everything to save others. They stayed when retreat was the sensible option—sacrificed themselves—and those deeds become stories. We honor them as legends."

The hall changed tone. Respect folded over people like a hush.

"That's right." a man with a heavy voice agreed.

"Remember Leo? He charged a horde of hobgoblins and fought a twin-headed orc that led them, holding the line so the villagers could escape." Someone's voice grew eager.

"Yeah, I remember. When the adventurers rushed over after hearing the villagers' plea, they found all the goblins already dead. Leo was the only one still fighting—the orc. They said his strikes weren't even that deep, just shallow cuts. But the orc's arms and legs were covered in them. Meanwhile, Leo stood there bleeding, refusing to fall, because there were still injured people trapped inside the house who couldn't escape." another adventurer added to the story.

"Yeah. Turns out Leo's left arm—the one holding his shield—was shattered. He'd been fighting that long on nothing but rage and adrenaline. The moment he saw backup, he collapsed." another man added eagerly.

'There are lot of amazing people in this world. It's good that this world isn't just filled with sh*theads' I thought, oddly relieved.

"That's the sort of thing that births a Legend." the receptionist said, reverence threaded through every word.

"You can take quests from the board over there, or ask me and I'll assign something suitable." She gestured toward a large corkboard bristling with parchment—jobs pinned in cramped handwriting, some bleeding ink, others ringed with the grease of many hands.

"Please give me a quest." I replied.

She handed me a simple herb-collection request and sketched the location in the margins—marshland near the west road, three hours on foot, risk of few goblins but nothing that should kill a competent novice.

As I pocketed the note, a group of adventurers fell into step and blocked the doorway.

to be continued…

Author's Note:

Sorry for the late chapter! I was helping my mom with some heavy lifting today and got tired pretty quickly (I’m not exactly strong or a gym person). Thank you so much for reading and for your patience—I really appreciate it!