Julian Gray now had something he didn't have yesterday: a bronze-rank guild card… and crippling anxiety.
He twirled the card between his fingers as he sat at a corner table in the guild's tavern area, sipping what passed for juice in Elmsmere. It tasted like someone whispered the word "fruit" into water and called it a day.
"I passed. I actually passed."
[Yes. And the world did not implode. Your odds of survival have increased by 0.3%.]
"Reassuring as ever."
Across the room, other adventurers were celebrating loudly. A trio of axe-wielding guys were already drinking from mugs that steamed suspiciously, while two girls compared the sizes of their swords—loudly and competitively.
Nobody was talking about mind magic. In fact, nobody even looked like they'd *heard* of mind magic.
Julian leaned closer to the AI in his brain.
"Be honest. Is 'Mind Mage' even a real class here?"
[It exists. Technically. Though most consider it obsolete, unstable, or fictional.]
"Wait—fictional?!"
[Like unicorns. And common sense.]
Julian rubbed his face. "I passed the guild exam with a rusty spoon and an underwhelming spell. I can't keep doing that."
[Correct. You'll need more skills. More knowledge. Possibly a better spoon.]
A clatter near the bulletin board broke his train of thought. The redhead from earlier—Lira Sunflare—had just yanked a high-ranking quest off the board and stuffed it into her bag like it owed her money. Her gloves still smoked faintly.
Julian stared. "She's like if confidence wore boots."
[High affinity for fire magic. Competitive streak. Zero patience for idiots.]
"Which makes me her natural opposite."
[Undeniably.]
She turned suddenly, looked right at him, and frowned. Julian immediately looked away and pretended to be fascinated by his juice.
"Do I look threatening?" he whispered.
[You look like a washed-up librarian lost in a soup kitchen.]
"Cool. That's cool."
He stood up and walked back to the receptionist desk, where the crimson-haired woman still hadn't smiled once since the day he arrived.
"Hey, uh… quick question," he said, tapping his guild card on the counter. "Where would someone go to learn new spells? You know, hypothetically. If their only weapon was a sarcastic inner voice and an improvised utensil."
She blinked once. "You're a mage?"
"Sort of. Mind Mage. I think."
"Is that a real thing?"
"I ask myself that daily."
She sighed and flipped through a thick leather-bound book. "Closest place with training for oddball casters would be the Old Arcanum Tower. Half-day walk. South road. You'll know it when you see it — the top's collapsed and nobody's fixed it in eighty years."
"That sounds safe."
"It's abandoned. Mostly. Just don't open anything labeled 'cursed.'"
Julian accepted the advice like it was a breakfast warning and stepped outside.
"So. Tower of forgotten magic in the middle of nowhere?"
[Best place to learn forgotten things. Worst place to find friends.]
Julian shrugged. "At least the mushrooms won't judge me."
[They might.]
As he adjusted the strap on his bag and started down the dusty southern road, Julian couldn't help but smile. He was sore, underdressed, and armed with a spoon, but for the first time in this new world...
He felt like he had a quest.