Guild

Jesse

I try to ignore the eyes on me as I jump down from Tyur’ma’s body. She rocks slightly as my weight leaves her, and my boots hit the dusty road with a muted thud. I don’t look at anyone. Instead, I circle around her bulk and head up the short steps toward the guild’s double doors.

The emblem carved into the wood is exactly what I’d expect - a sword and staff crossed over a shield, neat and symmetrical, like it was ripped straight from an anime.

I push the doors open carefully and step inside.

The hall beyond is alive. A forest of thick pillars supports the high ceiling, their bases surrounded by long tables cluttered with mugs, papers, and coins. Adventurers sprawl everywhere, laughing, scheming, shouting about jobs and rumors. The walls behind the pillars are lined with noticeboards bristling with pinned sheets, contracts and requests layered so thick they overlap. At the far end of the hall stretches a long counter staffed by two female receptionists in dark green and white uniforms, both dealing with small groups of armored men and women.

The air smells faintly of sweat, wood, and ale.

And beneath the roar of chatter, I catch threads of rumor. One stands out - whispers of the Guardian of the Walls, defeated at last. Luckily, nobody knows about the tank sitting outside, so the stares I get are mostly dismissive, more curious about my clothes than anything. I make a mental note to buy some proper gear soon; military fatigues stand out here like neon. For a second, I wish I’d slung the machine gun across my back. It would’ve looked cool as hell.

I join the line, keeping my head down.

A blonde receptionist waves me over as her group departs, and I step forward. Her smile is polite, practiced.
“What can I do for you?”

My tongue fumbles on the words.
“Uh, I’m here to join the guild. As an adventurer.”

Her smile widens.
“Of course! One moment.”

She ducks under the counter, and right then the main doors creak open. I hear footsteps, then a muffled gasp before the doors shut again. My chest tightens. Yeah. They saw the tank.

The girl straightens, setting a wooden clipboard on the counter. On it rests a multi-page form and a stubby pencil.
“Please fill this out. I’ll be right here if you need help.”

She waves the next adventurer in line over, leaving me to hunch over the form. The questions are basic - name, age, class, subclass. I fill them out the way Evren coached me, adding the notes about Tyur’ma. When it asks for her species, I scrawl: unique variant of metal golem. Not the best excuse, but passable. I finish with a signature, then wait until the receptionist has finished with her client before handing it over.

She leafs through my answers, her brows lifting slightly.
“I see you’ve listed the Kaunis Village guild as your origin. And you’ve been commended by… Agnar? Do you have proof?”

I nod, pulling the carved stamp Agnar gave me from my pocket. She inspects it closely, then hands it back with a small smile.
“It’s genuine. You must’ve done something amazing to earn that grouchbag’s approval. My congratulations.”

I can’t help grinning.
“Thanks.”

She whistles, and a younger uniformed girl hurries out from the back room. She takes the form and vanishes again. The receptionist turns back to me.
“Alright. While that’s being registered, when would you like to take your combat aptitude tests? I know Kaunis marked you as S-rank-”

A voice cuts in from across the hall.
“S-rank? That weird guy’s S-rank?”

I don’t bother turning. Neither does the receptionist. She just keeps speaking smoothly.
“-but we still require all new applicants to begin again from F-rank. Sorry, that’s how the system works. And, no offense, but I can’t picture you as an S-rank either.”

The words sting, but I shrug it off. No point arguing.
“Whenever’s fine. Now works.”

“Good. We’ll start with an in-house spar.” She gestures for me to follow.

My pulse quickens as she leads me through a side door into a wide chamber. Most of the floor is sunk into a pit filled with a rocky, sand-like material that muffles impacts. A few adventurers clash with blunted swords down there, their strikes echoing off the walls. Racks of weapons line the room - swords, axes, maces, even shields, all iron and heavy-looking.

“Sir!” the receptionist calls. “We have a new applicant!”

One of the sparring adventurers turns. He drops his opponent in an instant and plants his sword in the ground. He looks like a drill sergeant from back home, stubble thick on his jaw, eyes sharp. He snorts.
“Another one? That’s the third today.”

He strides halfway across the pit, then stops, resting a hand on his hip. He beckons me forward.
“Come on. Don’t waste my time.”

I nod and step down into the pit.

“You’ve got guts,” he says with a grin. “The last applicant turned tail before this point.”

My military training kicks in. I breathe deep, centering myself, scanning for openings. I barely have time to think before he lunges, cocking his arm back for the wildest haymaker I’ve ever seen.

Instinct takes over. I slip aside, catch his wrist, and roll his momentum past me. His massive frame lifts, weightless for an instant, then slams down onto the rocky floor with a crunch.

The room freezes.

My heart hammers. I don’t even fully understand what I just did - pure muscle memory.

Then the man throws his head back and laughs, booming and genuine. He raises a hand from the ground.
“Ha! It’s been ages since anyone countered me like that! I was starting to lose hope!”

I grin, reaching down to haul him back up. Up close, I realise he towers over me by two whole heads. He claps a hand onto my shoulder, heavy and warm, then sticks out his other hand.

“My name’s Gavrel. I’m the head of combat training here.”

I shake his hand.
“Jesse, a mage.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“Mage? You’ve got good instincts for a mage. I would’ve put you down as a shortsword wielder.”

I smile, and he nods at the receptionist girl.
“He’s passed.”

He looks back at me with a grin that’s half challenge, half camaraderie.
“I look forward to sparring with you again, Jesse. I won’t lose so easily next time.”

I grin and nod.
“Thank you.”

Then I follow the girl back out into the lobby. She speaks as we walk toward the front desk.
“Well, now we need to send you out on a monitored subjugation quest. Please wait here.”

I nod, and she begins making the rounds, speaking to tables of adventurers. Before long, she returns - this time with four people in tow. She gestures toward them.
“Jesse, this party will take you on the quest. They’re trusted, so don’t worry about anything.”

I size them up, and they do the same to me.

Two guys, two girls.

The first, a black-haired man, wears a mage’s robes. His tall staff is capped with a carved spiral design that gleams faintly. Beside him stands a tank of a man clad in thick iron armor. A massive shield rests on his back, and a longsword sits sheathed at his hip. Despite the heavy gear, his bright blue eyes seem strangely innocent - childlike even - his messy blonde hair dangling over his brow.

One of the girls has the sharp, coiled stance of a rogue. Twin blades - shortswords or long daggers, hard to tell - hang at her sides. She wears a hooded, dark-grey outfit, two strands of vivid red hair spilling down across her face. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, are the polar opposite of the blond tank’s.

The last member, with curly brown hair brushing her shoulders, carries a longbow almost as tall as she is. A full quiver hangs at her hip. Her sharp green eyes make me feel like she’s already loosed an arrow at me - but then she smiles warmly, softening the impression. She steps forward and extends her hand, clearly the leader.

“Jesse, right? I’m Fianna, an archer.”

I take her hand, and she gives a quick, firm shake before pointing to each of the others in turn.
“This is Asa, our mage. Jari, our tank. And Bree, our rogue.”

Each nods in greeting, and I nod back.

Fianna studies me for a moment, then smiles.
“So, when do you want to leave?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright then. We’ll go now.”

The receptionist girl beams.
“Okay! Let me know how it goes when you return. Your card should be ready by then.”

Card? That’s news to me. Drawing from my anime knowledge, it’s probably a guild rank card - proof of your level that can’t be forged or stolen, likely imbued with magic.

The group turns toward the door, and I follow - before remembering Tyur’ma a second too late.

The door swings open. They freeze. Fianna gasps, and Asa drops his staff with a clatter.

I wince and step past them. Tyur’ma sits right outside the guild, motionless but imposing. A small crowd has gathered, whispering, watching to see if the steel beast will move. I pat her side casually.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. This is Tyur’ma, my metal golem. She’s gentle.”

The four of them stare in disbelief, but eventually nod. Fianna finds her voice first.
“I… I know they said you were a summoner, but I didn’t expect to see something like this sitting right outside the guild…”

I shrug and vault onto Tyur’ma’s sloped frontal plate. Ducking under the barrel, I stride up to my hatch, swing it open, and stand, waving at the party still hovering near the door.

“Come on up. You can guide us to the subjugation area.”

They exchange hesitant looks, then inch forward. After a few tentative pokes at Tyur’ma’s armor, they climb aboard one by one.

I drop down through the hatch. Evren perks up immediately, her purple eyes bright.
“Oh! You’re back! Did it go well?”

“Yeah.” I flip the power on, dials flickering to life. “We’re doing a subjugation now. You didn’t tell me they’d make me spar and do a quest.”

She scratches her cheek sheepishly.
“Oh, right… some guilds do that. Sorry.”

I shake my head with a smile and raise my seat. My head rises above the hull, where Jari is still staring wide-eyed at me.

“Sorry,” I say, tilting my head. “Could you scooch a bit? I can’t see. And can someone who knows the way please sit behind me?”

Jari blinks, then nods, tapping Fianna’s shoulder. She carefully circles the hatch and settles behind me.

The engine rumbles to life with a roar. The sudden thunder makes the passengers flinch and scatters the onlookers outside. The track links clatter as I engage the transmission, rolling forward.

I glance back at Fianna.
“Where to?”

She shakes her head, regaining composure.
“Through the main gates. There’s a forest east of here - goblin infestation.”

“Got it.”

I ease the throttle forward, then swing Tyur’ma toward the gates. People stop and stare as we pass, but the presence of seasoned adventurers riding on top seems to reassure them that this mechanical monster is, somehow, under control.

We rattle through the gates and out into open ground. Fianna leans forward, pointing east.
“Head that way.”

I nod and push the throttle harder. The engine roars, tracks hammering the earth, and Tyur’ma surges forward. Together we race across the flatlands toward the dark line of forest on the horizon.

It takes us around eight minutes to reach the forest’s edge. The sun hangs high in a near-cloudless sky - a perfect day for travel. I ease Tyur’ma to a stop and shut her down. I clamber out of the hatch, the engine ticking as it cools.

Evren’s hatch squeaks open to my left, and she emerges. The adventurers stiffen in surprise - none of them had realised she was aboard. I raise an eyebrow myself, curious why she’s choosing now to show herself.

She takes in the group, her purple eyes bright as she smiles.
“Sorry for introducing myself so late. I’m Evren.”

The adventurers exchange glances before stepping forward to introduce themselves in turn. I circle to the back of Tyur’ma and open the double doors, reaching for the machine gun resting on the shelves. I grab an ammunition box with a heavy strap and detach a generous length of chain-linked rounds from the tank’s internal drum to fill it. The gun isn’t connected yet - I sling it over my back and carry the box like a duffle bag.

By the time I close the doors, conversation has broken out among the group. Evren’s voice reaches me first.
“Oh, Jesse’s looking after me.”

Fianna’s voice rises, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
“Looking after you? Are you… are you…”

Evren giggles lightly.
“No, not yet. So what about you guys? Two boys and two girls… there’s gotta be something going on, right?”

Asa laughs. I walk around to Tyur’ma’s left side, letting the sun glint off the tank’s polished metal as I look up at the group. They glance back, eyes widening at the machine gun strapped to my back. I grin.
“Where do we go now?”

They begin climbing down from the tank. Fianna points toward a break in the dense trees ahead.
“This way. Follow us. Evren, are you coming?”

Evren shakes her head.
“No, I’ll wait here. Stay safe!”

Fianna tilts her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her expression, but then she shrugs.
“Alright. Off we go, then.”

The party moves forward into the forest, boots crunching over dry leaves, shadows stretching as the sunlight filters through the trees. I linger for a moment, watching them disappear among the trunks, before securing my equipment. Tyur’ma’s bulk looms silently beside me, a reassuring presence, as Evren’s gaze follows the adventurers with a mixture of excitement and caution.

The forest is well lit by natural light. It’s more of a woods than a forest - the canopy doesn’t completely obscure the sky. We move through the undergrowth, Fianna leading and Bree covering the rear. Asa walks just behind me, while Jari keeps pace at my side.

He chuckles.
“You know, I was not expecting Evren to appear. Frightened the living daylights out of me.”

I grin, but Jari continues.
“By the way, who is Evren? She said you were looking after her, but didn’t give any details.”

Fianna calls back sharply.
“Jari, it’s not nice to pry into someone else’s life.”

I shrug, smiling.
“Nah, it’s fine. I found her injured, so I’ve been looking after her until she heals. We’ve travelled quite a way together.”

Jari nods, but Asa pipes up.
“Injured? She looked fine.”

I step over a thick root and nod.
“It’s her ankle. She sprained it. I treated it, but it won’t be fully healed for another two and a half weeks.”

Asa’s voice rises in surprise.
“You treated it? I thought the only way to heal something like that was with magic.”

I shrug again.
“I hope I treated it right. It’s also why she didn’t follow us - she’s stuck with Tyur’ma until she can walk properly.”

“Oh. If you’d like, I can heal it for her.”

I glance back, impressed.
“You can do that?”

He nods confidently.
“I specialise as a healer. I have offensive capabilities, but healing’s my strong point.”

I smile.
“That’d be amazing. I’m afraid we can’t pay you very much, though, and you’ll need Evren’s permission first.”

“Of course,” he replies. “Consider it an exception. Don’t worry about payment.”

I grin, and he returns the gesture.

Fianna clears her throat.
“Where did you come from, Jesse?”

Oh gosh. How do I answer a question I should know, but don’t? Thinking quickly, I reply,
“I’m from Kaunis Village.”

She nods thoughtfully. There’s a brief pause before a faint whisper drifts into my ears.

“I love Kaunis. They’re very friendly.”

Bree. I’ve never heard her speak before. I glance at Jari, who nods.
“Mm, they are. Very welcoming. A shame they’re so far away.”

Far away? Oh, right. They don’t have a tank. By foot, it’s about a week’s journey.

Suddenly, Fianna raises her hand, and the group freezes. Tension prickles the air. I catch the faint sound of garbled voices ahead. Fianna gestures in their direction, whispering,
“Goblins. Let’s go carefully.”

We creep through the undergrowth. The voices grow louder. Over a low ridge, a small clearing opens before us: a crude goblin camp. Animal skin tents circle a meager fire. Eight goblins are scattered around, mostly in pairs, while two wander alone. Short, squat, with dark green skin, pointed ears, and four-fingered hands tipped with claws, they carry stone knives; one has a small bow.

I watch one goblin look down at its own hand before chomping on it. It recoils instantly, yelping in pain. Intelligent? Not really.

Fianna squints, reading the situation.
“All warriors. There’s a few, but we’ll rescue you if you can’t handle them. They’re all yours.”

I nod, swinging the gun around. I lie prone, much to the adventurers’ surprise, and place the ammo box beside the weapon. I deploy the bipod and sweep the sights across the goblins, tagging each one. Their positions are saved in my mind. I slide the chain-linked ammunition into the breech, locking it into place.

I whisper to the group,
“Block your ears.”

They obey. I squeeze the trigger. A deafening buzzsaw roar fills the clearing, biting into my ears as smoke curls from the barrel. The first goblin drops instantly, the rest falling in rapid succession under the sweeping fire. Spent casings clatter to the ground, still chained together.

I release the trigger and sit back, breathing heavily. The adventurers slowly uncover their ears, wide-eyed and silent. I give a small, nervous smile.

“Was that good enough?”

The walk back to Tyur’ma is quiet at first. Then Asa bursts out laughing. I glance back in surprise.

“We’re stupid!” he says between breaths. “Why are we even surprised? We all knew it was a holy weapon the moment we laid eyes on it.”

He grins and pats me on the shoulder.
“Sorry, Jesse. We seriously underestimated you.”

I offer a small smile.
“That’s alright.”

I don’t know exactly what they mean by “holy weapon,” but if it means they accept the machine gun, I’ll play along.

Jira shakes his head, curiosity written across his face.
“How in the world did you manage to acquire that, anyway?”

I think fast.
“I, uh… I found it.”

Asa laughs again.
“You found it? A holy weapon, just lying around?”

He keeps laughing as Fianna calls over her shoulder.
“Ignore him, Jesse. If you don’t want to tell us, that’s fine. But I have to agree - it doesn’t make any sense.”

I shrug, staying quiet. Jira sighs.
“Man, I wish I had a holy weapon.”

The “holy weapon” talk lingers in my mind. If they’re willing to accept it as such, then they must have seen something like it before. That means somewhere in this world, someone else might have a gun. Another isekai, perhaps. Are they still around? What do they do for ammunition? Will they see me as an ally… or a threat?

No one can answer those questions, so I stay silent. The weapon bumps against my back as I clutch the strap of the ammunition box, heavy with spent and fresh rounds. I make a mental note to replenish it tonight.

My thoughts drift, inexplicably, to Evren. Something about her feels… off. Hidden. I want to ask her about it, but I know I might get a cold shoulder if I push. And yet… I’m drawn to her in a way I never was to any of the girls my friend’s wives introduced me to. What is it? She’s not as flashy as some of them. She’s the kind of person that a lot of people would probably avoid entirely. And yet… why do I like her? Is it her quirks? Her presence? Something else entirely?

I watch my boots crush leaves and fallen branches as we move. Maybe it’s her personality. Maybe not. But my thoughts wander ahead. Not for me - no, for her.

What happens when she’s healed? Will she leave? Go back to running? Will I be left helpless, my source of fuel gone?

I swallow the rising dread. No. I’ll deal with that when it comes. Panicking now won’t help.

So I continue walking, the forest around us alive with sound, the group joking and talking nearby, while I remain lost in my own private world of thoughts.