chapter 7 - The Guildmaster's Letter

The guildmaster took the letter.

His hand was large enough that Malora’s sealed message almost disappeared between his fingers.

Enshin stood before him, barefoot, damp, scraped, hungry, and holding his new life together with excitement and absolutely no plan.

Behind the guildmaster, the guild continued moving.

A receptionist stamped papers so quickly that the sound became a rhythm.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

At one counter, two mercenaries argued over the payment for protecting a caravan while a merchant insisted that the road was “mostly safe.”

For some reason, that only made the mercenaries laugh harder.

At another counter, an adventurer dropped a sack onto a metal table.

Something inside twitched.

The clerk behind the counter sighed.

“If it is still alive, that is not proof of defeat.”

“It’s mostly defeated,” the adventurer said.

“That is not a category.”

Enshin looked at the twitching sack.

Then at the clerk.

Then at the adventurer.

He nodded to himself.

Good to know.

On the second floor, a line of people waited beneath a large sign covered in words Enshin could not read.

A farmer complained about wolves near his fields. A baker accused a neighbour of stealing enchanted yeast. A tired mother held a notice bearing a sketched face in both hands while a clerk spoke to her gently.

Near the back of the hall, beneath another unreadable sign, armed men and women leaned against pillars, studied contracts, negotiated prices or watched the room with the calm boredom of people who knew violence could happen anywhere.

The guild was not a room.

It was a machine.

A huge, loud, breathing machine made of requests, danger, paperwork, weapons, magic and people who all needed something.

Enshin loved it immediately.

The guildmaster broke Malora’s seal with one thumb.

“Let us see,” he said, still grinning, “what the scary lady has to say about you.”

Enshin looked up.

“Do people call her that?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The guildmaster unfolded the letter.

He looked at the paper.

Then at Enshin.

Then back at the paper.

His one visible eye narrowed.

Enshin blinked.

The guildmaster brought the letter slightly closer to his face.

He looked at Enshin again.

Then back at the page.

The receptionist beside them slowly stopped arranging forms.

Three adventurers seated at a nearby table noticed as well.

One was a swordsman holding a half-eaten meat skewer. Another was a blue-haired mage with ink stains on her fingers. The third was a shield-bearer polishing a dent in his armour.

All three turned in their seats.

The guildmaster lifted the letter higher.

He stared at it.

Then at Enshin.

Then at the letter again.

The swordsman whispered, “Is it fake?”

The mage whispered back, “That seal is real.”

The shield-bearer leaned forwards.

“Then what did the kid do?”

Enshin pointed at himself.

“I am twenty-two.”

No one answered him.

The guildmaster’s expression became even more serious.

The small circle around them fell silent.

Enshin shifted his weight.

One damp foot stuck slightly to the wooden floor.

He lifted it, put it down again and looked at the guildmaster.

“Is something wrong?”

The guildmaster did not answer immediately.

He held the letter closer.

Then farther away.

Then closer again.

The three adventurers leaned forwards.

The receptionist’s eyes sharpened.

Even Enshin could feel it now.

The heavy pause.

The careful stare.

The growing sense that Malora had written something unbelievable.

Finally, the guildmaster lowered the letter.

His face was grave.

“I cannot see it properly without my glasses.”

Silence.

The three adventurers exploded.

“THEN PUT ON YOUR GLASSES, OLD MAN!”

The guildmaster threw his head back and laughed.

The sound rolled through the guild as though thunder had joined a festival.

The swordsman slapped the table.

The mage covered her face.

The shield-bearer looked as though this happened at least once a week and still hurt him every time.

The guildmaster reached into his coat, removed a pair of small, round glasses and carefully placed them on his nose.

They looked far too tiny for his face.

Enshin stared.

The guildmaster looked down at the letter again.

This time, his visible eye tracked the lines properly.

He read in silence.

At first, his smile remained.

Then it faded.

Not completely.

But enough.

His eye moved more slowly as he continued.

Then he looked at Enshin again.

He was no longer looking at him as part of a joke.

He was measuring him.

Enshin stood there, still damp and barefoot, trying to keep Malora’s directions in his head while his excitement tugged his attention towards everything else in the guild.

The guildmaster returned to the letter.

He silently read the next several lines.

The receptionist noticed the change.

So did the three adventurers.

The swordsman lowered his meat skewer.

The mage stopped whispering.

The shield-bearer’s polishing cloth went still.

Enshin looked between them.

“What?”

The guildmaster did not answer.

He continued reading.

His visible eye sharpened.

Then he slowly folded the letter.

He had not read a single word aloud.

That made the silence surrounding them feel even heavier.

The swordsman leaned forwards.

“Well?”

The guildmaster glanced at him.

The swordsman immediately leaned back.

“I mean—respectfully—well?”

The guildmaster tucked the folded letter between two fingers and looked at Enshin.

“Come with me.”

Enshin blinked.

“Did I do something?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

The guildmaster’s mouth curved slightly.

“Several things, from the look of it.”

Enshin thought about the cave.

The bandits.

The wagon.

The hill.

The crates.

The stream.

The ram.

“Okay, yeah.”

The mage whispered, “What does that mean?”

The shield-bearer whispered back, “It means the guildmaster knows, and we do not.”

The swordsman frowned.

“I hate that.”

The guildmaster turned towards the receptionist.

“Lina. Registration forms. Private room.”

She nodded immediately.

“Yes, Guildmaster.”

The guildmaster turned and began walking.

Enshin followed.

The enormous man moved through the crowded hall like a mountain that everyone somehow knew how to avoid.

Adventurers stepped aside.

Mercenaries pulled their elbows from the edges of tables.

Clerks lifted stacks of paper before he could brush against them.

No one appeared surprised by his size or the ease with which he moved through the crowded hall.

Enshin noticed.

He had not seen the guildmaster approach earlier.

The man had simply been there.

Huge.

Laughing.

Impossible to miss.

Yet Enshin had somehow missed him until he spoke.

That bothered him.

In a good way.

Kind of.

The guildmaster led Enshin past the registration counters, through a side archway and into a quieter office behind the main hall.

The room was still large, but compared with the guild floor outside, it felt almost peaceful.

Almost.

Maps covered one wall.

Monster sketches covered another.

Shelves held ledgers, sealed request tubes, broken weapons, strange bones and a glass jar containing something that resembled an angry purple eyeball.

The eyeball followed Enshin as he entered.

Enshin pointed at it.

“That eye is looking at me.”

“Good,” the guildmaster said. “That means it still works.”

“I don’t like that answer.”

“You will dislike many things if you live long enough.”

The guildmaster sat behind a heavy wooden desk.

The chair creaked beneath him but survived, which made Enshin respect the chair.

Lina entered behind them and closed the door. She carried a stack of forms, a small crystal plate, a blank card and an ink pen.

The guildmaster gestured towards the chair opposite him.

“Sit.”

Enshin looked at the chair.

Then down at himself.

“I’m wet.”

“I know.”

“And dirty.”

“I know.”

“I might ruin the chair.”

“It has survived worse.”

Enshin sat.

The chair did not survive silently.

The guildmaster placed Malora’s letter on the desk but kept one hand over it.

“I am Gabarn, guildmaster of this central branch.”

“Enshin Malietoa.”

“Yes. I read that part.”

“Oh. Right.”

Gabarn tapped the letter once.

“Malora does not write nonsense. She does not exaggerate. She does not recommend people simply because they made her laugh, and she does not call someone harmless unless she has already considered ten ways that person could become dangerous.”

Enshin looked at the letter.

“She called me harmless?”

“For now.”

“That sounds less comforting.”

“It should.”

Lina placed the blank card on the desk but said nothing.

Gabarn leaned forwards.

“Tell me what happened inside that cave.”

Enshin scratched the side of his face.

“All of it?”

“The important parts.”

Enshin thought carefully.

“I was at home. Then a beam of light grabbed me. I woke up in a cave, and Vrok was there.”

Gabarn’s eye sharpened at the name, but he did not interrupt.

“He acted friendly. He said his people were survivors. Said everyone called them thieves and bandits because no one cared enough to understand what had happened to them.”

Enshin paused.

“He talked a lot. Too much. Things felt wrong.”

“What felt wrong?”

“Too many weapons. No children. No elderly people. Nothing that looked like a family trying to survive.”

His brow tightened slightly.

“Guarded doors. Armed adults. Everyone kept checking Vrok before they answered me.”

“And the gorehorn?”

“Vrok said it was naturally violent, but it didn’t look angry at everyone. It looked angry at him.”

Gabarn watched him closely.

“And?”

“So I figured Vrok was lying.”

“Then?”

“I found the prisoners and started freeing people.”

Lina’s pen moved quietly across the form.

Gabarn asked, “And the bandits?”

Enshin’s face changed.

Only slightly.

The excitement faded.

His gaze settled on the desk.

“They hurt people in there.”

The room fell silent.

Gabarn did not smile.

“What did you do?”

Enshin looked up.

“What I thought I should.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is my answer.”

Gabarn held his gaze.

Then he nodded once.

Not in approval.

In understanding.

“You fought them.”

“Yes.”

“Alone.”

“I didn’t really have time to find a party.”

Lina’s pen paused for half a second before continuing.

Gabarn leaned back.

“And the wagon?”

“It was there. Some of the prisoners couldn’t walk. Some were injured. Some had no energy left.”

Enshin shrugged slightly.

“So I loaded everyone who couldn’t make it out on foot.”

“You pulled them from the cave yourself?”

“Yes.”

“With the stolen goods?”

“They were already near the wagon.”

“That does not explain why you loaded them.”

“They belonged to the prisoners more than the bandits.”

Gabarn studied him.

Enshin said it as though no other choice had existed.

Gabarn tapped the desk.

“Do you understand how strange that sounds?”

Enshin blinked.

“Which part?”

Lina looked up from the forms.

Gabarn stared at him.

Enshin looked between them.

“What?”

Gabarn’s grin slowly returned.

“Nothing. Continue.”

“The cave started collapsing. I pulled the wagon outside.”

He paused.

“Then the hill happened.”

“The hill happened?”

“It did.”

Gabarn folded his hands.

“I have read many reports in my life, boy. That is the first time I have heard a hill accused with such sincerity.”

“It was very involved.”

Gabarn gave one short, low laugh.

Then he tapped Malora’s letter again.

“She believes you were summoned from another world.”

Enshin nodded.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Do you know what a summoner is?”

“I know the basic meaning. Someone summoned from another world. Maybe they get powers. Maybe they become a hero. Maybe they get yelled at by kings.”

Gabarn stared.

Lina stared.

Enshin stared back.

“What?”

Gabarn’s expression shifted.

“Your world tells stories about this?”

“Too many.”

“And yet you do not understand why people here fear summoners?”

Enshin’s excitement dimmed.

“I’m guessing your stories are less fun.”

Gabarn leaned back.

“Some are songs. Some are prayers. Some are warnings. Others are court records sealed in blood.”

Enshin fell quiet.

Gabarn watched his reaction carefully before nodding once.

“Good. You can listen when necessary.”

“I try.”

“You are doing better than many.”

Lina returned her attention to the forms.

“Shall I begin the registration?”

Gabarn nodded.

“Begin.”

Lina lifted her pen.

“Full name?”

“Enshin Malietoa.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Race?”

“Human.”

“Origin?”

“Earth.”

Lina looked at Gabarn.

He nodded.

“Record his origin as ‘Otherworld Origin.’ Mark it restricted.”

Lina wrote something Enshin could not understand.

He leaned forwards.

The letters on the page meant nothing to him.

His excitement dipped.

“I can’t read that.”

Lina looked up.

“You cannot read Common?”

“No.”

“Can you speak Common?”

Enshin opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

“I think so?”

Gabarn’s eye narrowed.

“You have understood us since you arrived?”

“Yeah.”

“And others understand you?”

“Mostly.”

“But you cannot read our language.”

“Correct.”

Gabarn leaned back.

“A summoning translation effect.”

Enshin perked up.

“That’s a thing?”

“Sometimes. Speech adapts more quickly than writing. It depends upon the ritual, the summoner, the world they were pulled from and how much mana the summoning consumed.”

Enshin stared.

“That is actually useful information.”

“Yes. We have much of that here.”

“Can I learn to read?”

Lina answered before Gabarn could.

“Yes. The guild provides basic literacy lessons for registered members who need to learn Common script.”

Enshin’s face brightened.

“Really?”

“For a fee.”

His face fell.

“Oh.”

Gabarn chuckled.

“You are broke?”

“I have money from Earth.”

“It is worthless here.”

“I figured.”

“Do you possess any goods?”

“Malora took my crates.”

“They were not your crates.”

“They emotionally felt like my crates.”

Gabarn laughed again.

Lina continued.

“Combat experience?”

Enshin shifted in his chair.

“Mostly exercise and doing chores while wearing weights. Some shadow boxing. Copying movements I saw in fights on television.”

He paused.

“Nothing formal. Today was my first real fight.”

Lina stopped writing.

“You wore weights while doing household chores?”

“Every morning.”

Gabarn’s grin returned.

“What fighting style?”

“Boxing basics. Elbows. Tackles. Headbutts. Animal-style movements.”

Enshin shrugged.

“Whatever felt useful.”

“So you have not received formal training?”

“No.”

“Good to know.”

Enshin frowned.

“Is that bad?”

“It means you are raw.”

“I can work with raw.”

“It also means you are dangerous to yourself.”

“I can work with that too.”

“No,” Lina said. “That is the part you should reduce.”

“Oh.”

Gabarn opened a drawer and removed a small crystal sphere held within a metal frame.

“Basic mana reading.”

Enshin immediately leaned forwards.

Gabarn raised the device.

“Place your hand on it.”

Enshin obeyed.

For one second, the crystal remained clear.

Then light stirred inside it.

White.

Blue.

Gold.

Something deeper beneath the colours pulsed once.

Lina’s pen stopped.

Gabarn’s grin vanished.

The crystal flickered more violently.

Tiny cracks of light crawled through its centre like lightning trapped inside glass.

Enshin looked fascinated.

“Ohhh.”

Gabarn closed his hand around the frame and pulled it away.

The light died.

Enshin blinked.

“Was that good?”

Gabarn stared at the crystal.

Lina stared as well.

A thin crack ran down one side of the glass.

Gabarn carefully placed it on the desk.

“That device was intended for basic readings.”

“Was it basically good?”

“It was basic equipment.”

“Oh.”

Lina swallowed.

“Should I record the result as unstable?”

Gabarn looked at Enshin.

Enshin looked back, confused.

Gabarn’s grin slowly returned, although it was smaller now.

“Yes. Unstable. Untested. High concern. High potential.”

“That sounds like a school report.”

“It is a report about your life.”

“Oh.”

Gabarn pushed the cracked crystal aside.

“You require proper testing.”

“Okay.”

“Advanced summoner testing.”

Enshin straightened.

“That sounds cool.”

“It takes time to prepare.”

“That sounds less cool.”

“It also requires people who know how to avoid exploding.”

Enshin nodded.

“Important.”

Gabarn opened another drawer and removed a stack of small metal plates. Each bore a different letter and symbol.

“Guild ranks.”

He arranged them across the desk.

“G is the lowest rank. SSS is the highest. Each tier contains five levels: double minus, minus, base, plus and double plus.”

Enshin stared at the plates.

Gabarn pointed to each as he spoke.

“G double minus. G minus. G. G plus. G double plus. Then F double minus, F minus, F, F plus and F double plus.”

He continued along the row.

“The same pattern continues through E, D, C, B, A, S, SS and SSS.”

Enshin leaned closer.

“That is a lot.”

“It keeps people alive.”

“How?”

“By stopping idiots from accepting work beyond their abilities.”

Enshin slowly looked away.

Gabarn smiled.

“Did that one feel personal?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

Lina lifted the blank guild card.

“Most new adventurers begin at G or F, depending upon their training, background and test results.”

Enshin nodded.

“That makes sense.”

“Summoners,” Gabarn said, “are different.”

The room grew quieter.

Even through the wall, the noise of the guild felt farther away.

Gabarn kept his eye on Enshin.

“Most confirmed summoners are ranked no lower than A-plus once properly tested.”

Enshin opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then opened it again.

“A-plus?”

“That is not a gift. It is a warning label.”

Enshin stopped smiling.

Gabarn continued.

“A weak summoner may still develop an impossible ability. A foolish summoner may cause a disaster. A cruel summoner may become a weapon that no one can easily stop.”

He leaned forwards.

“A good summoner may save thousands. A broken summoner may do both.”

Enshin said nothing.

Lina quietly placed the blank guild card onto a small metal plate.

Gabarn continued.

“You are untested. You lack local knowledge, legal status, formal training, literacy, equipment, party registration and basic survival understanding.”

Enshin raised one finger.

“I know not to drink random water now.”

Lina looked at him.

Gabarn stared.

Enshin lowered his finger.

“Sorry.”

Gabarn continued.

“According to Malora’s report, your physical ability appears to exceed the early ranks. As an untested summoner, your eventual risk level could be far higher.”

He paused.

“According to common sense, you should not be allowed near sharp objects without supervision.”

Enshin frowned.

“That last part feels personal.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

Gabarn picked up a metal plate marked B++.

“Until your advanced testing can be prepared, I am assigning you a provisional rank of B double plus.”

Lina inhaled softly.

Enshin stared at the plate.

“Is that good?”

Lina looked at him as though he had asked whether fire was warm.

“B double plus is the highest B rank before A double minus.”

Enshin’s eyes widened.

“Oh.”

Gabarn raised one finger.

“Provisional.”

Enshin nodded quickly.

“Right.”

“Restricted.”

“Less exciting.”

“Observed.”

“Even less exciting.”

“You may not complete solo work above D rank without explicit approval.”

Enshin blinked.

“But I’m B double plus.”

“Provisionally.”

“But I’m restricted to D rank when I’m alone?”

“Until we determine whether you are a hero, a hazard or a hero-shaped hazard.”

Enshin thought about it.

“That is fair.”

Gabarn pressed the B++ plate against the blank card.

A magic circle ignited beneath it.

The card absorbed the marking.

Letters formed across its surface in glowing lines.

Enshin leaned forwards, his eyes shining.

Lina pulled the card away before he could touch the active circle.

“Wait.”

“Sorry.”

The light faded.

She handed him the card.

It was smooth, rectangular and dark bronze, with silver lettering he could not read. A small crystal mark glowed faintly near one corner.

Enshin held it as though it were a sacred object.

“My first guild card.”

Gabarn watched him.

Despite the chaos described in Malora’s letter, the danger suggested by the cracked crystal and the dread carried by the word summoner, Enshin’s expression was painfully simple.

Joy.

Pure, exhausted joy.

Gabarn’s expression softened, although only slightly.

“Do not lose it.”

“I will protect it with my life.”

“Do not protect it with your life. It can be replaced for a fee.”

“Oh.”

Lina added, “A high fee.”

Enshin tightened his grip on the card.

“I will protect it with my life.”

Gabarn laughed.

Then his voice lowered.

“Now listen carefully, boy.”

Enshin straightened.

“Do not tell people that you are a summoner.”

His fingers tightened around the card.

“Why?”

“Because a captured summoner is worth more than a noble ransom. Some kingdoms honour summoners. Some worship them. Some fear them.”

Gabarn’s expression hardened.

“Some chain them. Some dissect them to study their abilities. Others place crowns upon them and call the cage a throne.”

Enshin’s face changed.

The brightness receded.

Something colder rose beneath it.

“Chain them?”

“Yes.”

“Like tools?”

“Yes.”

Enshin’s jaw tightened.

Gabarn leaned back.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“The part of you Malora noticed.”

Enshin said nothing.

Gabarn kept his voice calm.

“Summoners are not automatically heroes. The first great summoner was brought into this world to fight the Demon God before it achieved its perfect form. He saved kingdoms, and many died during that war.”

Gabarn folded his hands.

“After he vanished, other kingdoms attempted to copy the summoning ritual. Some succeeded. Some failed. Some summoned children. Some summoned killers. Some summoned saints.”

His expression darkened.

“Some summoned broken people and demanded miracles from them.”

Enshin listened quietly.

No jokes.

No distractions.

Gabarn continued.

“The ritual does not care whether someone is rich, poor, good, evil, young, old, willing or terrified.”

His eye remained fixed on Enshin.

“It takes whoever it takes.”

Enshin looked down at his card.

He thought about his home.

His parents.

His chores.

His weights.

The ordinary world that had vanished in a beam of light.

His dream had come true.

But now the dream had teeth.

Gabarn’s voice softened by the smallest degree.

“Good summoners exist. Bad summoners exist. Summoners who have been used exist. Runaway summoners exist.”

He paused.

“Dead summoners exist.”

Lina remained silent.

Enshin looked up.

“And what do you think I am?”

Gabarn smiled, but only slightly.

“Hungry.”

Enshin blinked.

His stomach growled.

Loudly.

Lina looked down at the forms.

Gabarn laughed.

“And broke.”

Enshin sighed.

“Also true.”

“And untrained.”

“Rude, but true.”

“And possibly good-hearted.”

Enshin looked away.

“That sounds embarrassing.”

“It should not.”

“It does.”

Gabarn stood.

“You will keep your summoner status secret. According to the public record, you are an unknown foreigner with unusual strength and provisional B double plus status.”

“Okay.”

“You will not accept private invitations from nobles without notifying the guild.”

“Okay.”

“You will not sell your blood, hair, clothing, memories or foreign possessions to anyone claiming to be a researcher.”

Enshin stared.

“That was a very specific list.”

“It is a necessary list.”

“Do people do that?”

“Yes.”

“Concerning. Noted.”

“You will report any contact from suspicious nobles, military agents, cults, private collectors or anyone offering too much money in exchange for your cooperation.”

Enshin nodded.

“What counts as too much money?”

Gabarn smiled.

“For you, at present? Any money.”

Enshin looked wounded.

“Accurate.”

Lina handed him a small folded paper.

“These are the temporary basic rules. You cannot read them yet, so I will explain the important ones.”

Enshin listened.

Mostly.

No violence against civilians.

No fighting inside the guild.

No accepting work above his approved range.

No entering restricted dungeon areas.

No selling monster parts without registering the sale through the guild.

No threatening guild staff.

No sleeping in the monster-processing area.

Enshin raised his hand.

“Why is that last one so specific?”

Lina stared at him.

“Because people have done it.”

“Fair.”

She continued.

No removing posted requests without registering them.

No falsifying proof of completion.

No dragging living monsters to the public counters.

Enshin looked towards the office door.

“Mostly defeated doesn’t count?”

“No.”

“I heard that earlier.”

“That adventurer will be fined.”

“Good to know.”

Gabarn took the rules and tucked them behind Enshin’s guild card.

“Now, you need money.”

“Yes.”

“You need food.”

“Yes.”

“You need shoes.”

Enshin looked down.

His feet remained dirty, scratched and painful.

“Probably.”

“You need somewhere to sleep.”

“Yes.”

Gabarn crossed his arms.

“You have none of those things.”

“Correct.”

“And you still look excited.”

Enshin tried to stop smiling.

He could not.

“I’m inside an adventurer guild.”

Gabarn laughed through his nose.

“Go to the beginner counters. They will provide you with legal work options.”

“Can I accept a dungeon job?”

Lina immediately said, “No.”

Gabarn said, “Not yet.”

Enshin’s shoulders dropped.

“Why?”

“You have no equipment, no party, no knowledge of the region, no ability to read the notices and no shoes.”

Enshin looked at his feet again.

It was a difficult argument to defeat.

“But soon?”

Gabarn grinned.

“Soon, if you survive your registration day.”

“That sounds threatening.”

“It is motivational.”

Lina guided Enshin out of the office.

The moment the door opened, the noise of the guild rushed over him again.

Clerks shouted.

Weapons clinked.

Boots crossed wood and stone.

Someone laughed near the tavern.

Someone cursed at a request board.

A bell rang twice.

The enormous hall swallowed Enshin back into its moving crowd.

This time, a few people looked at him.

Not everyone.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

A barefoot stranger had entered the guildmaster’s office and emerged holding a guild card.

That was worth noticing.

Enshin felt their attention.

His chest tightened.

Too many eyes.

Too many people wondering what had happened inside the office.

He held the guild card closer.

Not because he thought there was anything strange about how he looked.

The card felt important, and the attention made him want something steady in his hands.

Lina noticed.

“Counter seven,” she said. “Beginner work and membership basics.”

“Right.”

She pointed.

“That way.”

Enshin followed her finger.

Across the hall.

Past two request boards.

To the left of the desk where the farmer and baker were still arguing their cases.

Not towards the armed people negotiating contracts.

Not towards the counter with the twitching sack.

Not towards the smell of the tavern.

Definitely not towards the smell of the tavern.

His stomach growled again.

Lina heard it.

“You should eat.”

“I have no money.”

“You should work.”

“I need money to eat so that I have enough energy to work.”

“That is common.”

“That is terrible.”

“Yes.”

She left him there.

Enshin stood in the centre of the guild, clutching his new card while repeating Malora’s warnings in his head.

Register immediately.

Do not cause trouble.

Do not accept work before registering.

Do not fight anyone unless someone’s life is in immediate danger.

Technically, he had registered.

Mostly.

He looked towards counter seven.

A long line waited there.

A very long line.

People held papers.

Forms.

Tokens.

Someone had brought a chicken.

Enshin stared at the chicken.

The chicken stared back.

“Nope,” he whispered.

He turned slightly.

A smaller board near the entrance displayed crude drawings beside written notices. He could not read the words, but he understood one picture.

A cave mouth.

A small sword symbol.

A monster’s face.

A guard stood beside the board, giving directions to a group of young adventurers.

Enshin slowly drifted closer.

The guard looked at him.

“Are you looking for beginner dungeon access?”

Enshin’s eyes lit up.

“There is beginner dungeon access?”

“Registered members only.”

Enshin immediately held up his card.

The guard glanced at it.

Then froze.

“B double plus?”

“Provisional.”

The guard looked at Enshin’s bare feet.

Then at the card.

Then at his feet again.

“Where are your shoes?”

“I don’t have any.”

“What weapon do you use?”

Enshin raised his fists.

The guard stared.

“You intend to enter a dungeon barefoot and unarmed?”

“A beginner dungeon?”

“That is not an answer.”

“I’m broke.”

“That is also not an answer.”

“It is the source of many answers.”

The guard looked deeply tired.

“Your card permits solo work only up to D rank. It does not allow you to ignore entry procedures.”

Enshin’s hope faltered.

“Oh.”

“You need to register a request at counter seven. In your current condition, they may also refuse you entry today.”

“Do I have to register if I don’t want the reward?”

“Yes.”

“What if I only want to fight a monster?”

“You still need to register your entry.”

“Oh.”

Enshin looked down at his guild card.

Then towards the long line.

Then at the picture of the cave.

Then at the guild entrance.

Somewhere outside, dungeons existed.

Real dungeons.

Monsters.

Proof of completion.

Money.

Food.

Perhaps an inn.

Definitely not the cow area.

His stomach growled again.

The guard heard it.

“You need work?”

“Yes.”

“Go to counter seven.”

“The line is long.”

“That is how lines work.”

Enshin looked at the line.

The chicken was still there.

He looked back at the guard.

“What if I only ask where the nearest legal low-rank dungeon is, walk there and wait outside until I’m allowed in?”

The guard stared at him for a long moment.

Then he slowly pointed towards counter seven.

“No.”

Enshin nodded.

“Understood.”

He walked away.

Not towards counter seven.

The guard blinked.

“Hey.”

Enshin continued walking.

“Hey.”

Enshin moved faster.

“HEY!”

Enshin reached the guild doors, pushed them open and stepped into the city.

Behind him, the guard shouted, “THAT IS NOT COUNTER SEVEN!”

Enshin winced.

“Sorry!”

He did not stop.

He was hungry.

Broke.

Excited.

Legally registered.

Mostly.

And somewhere in the kingdom, there was a dungeon.

The city street opened around him, loud and alive.

Enshin looked left.

Then right.

He had no idea where he was going.

His grin returned.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“First legal monster.”

Then he walked away in the wrong direction.