The walk to Grayhollow took two hours, and Nero learned three important things:
One: Kade could not shut up to save his life.
Two: Finn had apparently made it his personal mission to be sarcastic about literally everything.
Three: Lyra was terrifyingly competent and had the situational awareness of someone who'd survived way too many "oh shit" moments.
"...and then the dungeon boss—I kid you not—split into THREE versions of itself," Kade was saying, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Three! Who designs a boss like that? What sadist at the Guild approved that quest?"
"The same sadist who thought pairing you with explosives was a good idea," Finn muttered.
"That was ONE time!"
"You destroyed an entire wing of the dungeon."
"It was structurally unstable anyway."
Nero, walking between them, couldn't help but grin. The banter was so natural, so comfortable—these guys had clearly been through some shit together.
Lyra, scouting ahead, called back without turning around. "Contact. Two travelers on the road. Non-hostile."
Nero's Debug Mode confirmed it before he even saw them—two NPCs (god, he had to stop thinking of people as NPCs) walking the opposite direction. An elderly man and woman, pulling a cart.
They passed with friendly nods and continued on.
"How did you know they weren't hostile?" Nero asked Lyra.
She glanced back at him. "Body language. Posture. The way they moved. Bandits are tense, always scanning for targets. Normal travelers just look tired."
"That, and bandits don't usually travel in grandparent pairs," Finn added. "Bad for the intimidation factor."
"Though there WAS that one gang of elderly assassins in Thornwick," Kade said thoughtfully.
"The Sunset Slayers," Finn confirmed. "Terrifying. Never underestimate someone who's survived to seventy in this world."
Nero filed that information away under "things I wish were jokes but probably aren't."
The forest gradually thinned, giving way to farmland. Fields of wheat stretched out on either side of the road, golden in the afternoon sun. In the distance, Nero could see walls—rough stone, maybe twenty feet high, with wooden watchtowers at intervals.
Grayhollow.
"Home sweet home," Kade announced. "Well, not HOME home. But close enough. They've got a decent tavern, a functional Guild hall, and most importantly, beds that don't involve sleeping on rocks."
"Set your expectations low and you'll never be disappointed," Finn said. "That's the Grayhollow motto."
As they approached the main gate, guards in leather armor waved them through with barely a glance. Apparently Kade's face was familiar enough that they didn't need to check.
Nero's first impression of Grayhollow was: medieval European town, but make it fantasy.
Cobblestone streets wound between two and three-story buildings with thatched roofs. Merchants called out from stalls selling everything from vegetables to weapons. The smell of bread baking mixed with horse manure and something that might have been alchemy ingredients. People bustled about—humans, yes, but also a few with pointed ears (elves?), a massive lizard-person carrying lumber, and what looked like a child but with a full beard (dwarf, his brain supplied).
His Debug Mode went haywire, trying to analyze everything at once.
"First time in a real town?" Lyra asked, noticing his wide-eyed stare.
"That obvious?"
"You look like a kid in a candy shop. Or someone who just discovered indoor plumbing."
"Both, honestly."
Kade clapped him on the shoulder—hard enough that Nero stumbled. "Don't worry, mate. We'll get you sorted. First stop: Guild hall. Get you registered, maybe find you a proper party. Second stop: Inn. Third stop: Tavern. In that order."
"What's the difference between an inn and a tavern?"
"One has beds, one has beer. Both are essential."
The Adventurer's Guild hall was impossible to miss—a large three-story building with a sign depicting a sword and staff crossed over a shield. People streamed in and out, most wearing armor or carrying weapons.
Inside was organized chaos.
A massive quest board dominated one wall, covered in papers. Adventurers crowded around it, arguing about quest difficulty and reward splits. To the left, a long counter where tired-looking clerks processed paperwork. To the right, what looked like a tavern area where off-duty adventurers drank and swapped stories.
Kade led them straight to the counter, where a middle-aged woman with graying hair and the expression of someone who'd seen Every Possible Form of Bullshit looked up.
"Kade. Finn. Lyra." She nodded to each of them. "Another successful dungeon clear, I assume?"
"Course!" Kade grinned. "We're professionals, Marge."
"You're walking disasters who somehow stay alive through sheer stubbornness." Her eyes slid to Nero. "And who's this? Don't tell me you adopted another stray."
"Found him in the woods, half-dead," Finn said. "Kade couldn't resist."
"He jumped off a cliff to escape a Level 15 ogre," Kade added proudly, as if Nero had accomplished something admirable instead of something insane.
Marge's eyebrows rose. "Level?"
"Two," Nero admitted.
"Two." She stared at him. "You jumped off a cliff at Level 2."
"To be fair, staying on the cliff meant getting clubbed to death by an ogre, so the math worked out."
A smile tugged at her lips. "Smart and lucky. Rare combination. Name?"
"Nero Cross."
She pulled out a crystalline tablet—magic, his brain noted—and tapped it a few times. "Class?"
"Unassigned."
"Sponsor?"
Nero blinked. "Uh..."
"He's with us," Lyra said firmly. "Temporary party member. We'll vouch for him."
Marge's expression shifted slightly. "You three don't usually take on dead weight."
"He's not dead weight," Kade said, and there was an edge to his cheerful tone now. "He survived solo in the Thornwood at Level 2. That's more than most."
Nero felt something warm and uncomfortable in his chest. They barely knew him, and they were already backing him up.
Marge studied them for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Nero Cross, you're registered as a provisional adventurer, sponsored by Iron Rank Party: Ashford's Vanguard. Your trial period is thirty days. Fail to level appropriately, die, or cause significant problems, and your registration is revoked. Understood?"
"Crystal clear."
"Good." She tapped the tablet again. "You'll need a class assessment. That's fifty copper."
Nero's stomach sank. He had exactly three copper coins from the goblin he'd killed. "I don't have—"
Kade dropped a silver coin on the counter. "Consider it an investment."
"Kade, I can't—"
"You can, and you will. We've all been broke Level 2s before. Pay it forward when you're loaded, yeah?"
Nero swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "Yeah. Thanks."
Marge pocketed the silver. "Assessment room is through the back. Ask for Instructor Vale. Tell him Marge sent you. He'll get you sorted."
Instructor Vale turned out to be a grizzled man in his sixties with a scar running from his temple to his jaw and the kind of presence that made you stand up straighter without meaning to.
"Nero Cross," he read from a paper. "Level 2, no class. Let's see what you've got."
The assessment room was sparse—padded floor, weapon racks on the walls, a few training dummies.
"Standard procedure," Vale explained. "I'm going to test your basic aptitude with weapons, magic, and problem-solving. This determines your class recommendations. Some people are natural warriors. Some are mages. Some are sneaky bastards who belong in the shadows." He said it without judgment. "The system will guide you, but it's not absolute. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Don't call me sir. I work for a living. Just Vale."
The next hour was intense.
Vale had him swing swords (mediocre), shoot a bow (terrible), throw daggers (surprisingly decent), and attempt to cast basic magic (the fireball spell fizzled, but he managed a weak light orb).
Then came the puzzle section—a series of magical locks and traps that he had to disable or bypass.
This was where Nero excelled.
His Debug Mode kicked in automatically, showing him the mechanisms, the weak points, the code behind the magic. What should have taken twenty minutes took him five.
Vale watched with increasingly narrowed eyes.
"Interesting," the instructor muttered. "Very interesting. You've got decent dexterity, adequate strength, poor accuracy with projectiles. But your problem-solving and magical analysis..." He trailed off, studying Nero like a puzzle. "You see patterns others don't, don't you?"
You have no idea. He thought
"I guess?"
Vale grunted. "The system will offer you class options based on this. My recommendation? Rogue or Spellblade variant. You've got the mind for tactics and the hands for precision work. But..." He hesitated. "There's something else. Can't put my finger on it."
Please don't put your finger on the fact that I can literally see the Matrix.
"Must be my natural charm," Nero said.
Vale snorted. "Get out of here. Results will be ready in an hour. Check back with Marge."
Nero found Kade, Finn, and Lyra at a corner table in the Guild's tavern section. Kade waved him over with a grin, a massive mug of something that smelled like it could strip paint clutched in his hand.
"How'd it go?"
"Apparently I'm good at puzzles and bad at archery."
"Join the club," Finn said, raising his own mug. "Lyra's the only one of us who can hit anything smaller than a house at range."
"Someone has to be competent," Lyra murmured, though Nero caught the hint of amusement.
Kade shoved a plate toward him—bread, cheese, some kind of stew. "Eat. You look like a strong wind would knock you over."
Nero ate. The food was simple but good, and he realized he was absolutely starving. The conversation flowed around him—Guild gossip, quest recommendations, someone's embarrassing dungeon mishap.
It felt... normal. Comfortable. Like he'd known these people for months instead of hours.
"So," Finn said eventually, fixing Nero with a calculating look. "What's your story? And don't give me the 'woke up in the forest' line. Nobody just spawns in the Thornwood."
The table went quiet. Lyra's eyes sharpened. Even Kade stopped drinking.
Nero's mind raced. How much truth? How much lie?
"Honestly?" He set down his spoon. "I don't really remember. Last thing I recall clearly is... work. Lots of work. Then nothing. Then waking up in the forest and goblins trying to kill me."
Not technically a lie. Just... incomplete.
Lyra studied him for a long moment. "Memory loss isn't uncommon with severe head trauma or certain magical attacks."
"Could be a dungeon mishap," Kade suggested. "We found a guy once who'd been trapped in a time-dilated dungeon for what he thought was a week. Outside world? Three years. His memories were scrambled to hell."
Finn didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. "Well, whatever happened, you're here now. And you've got decent survival instincts, which is more than most."
"Speaking of which," Lyra said, "if you're going to party with us—even temporarily—you need to understand how we work. Kade's our tank. He takes hits, controls enemy positioning, and makes sure nothing gets past him to Finn and me."
Kade flexed. "I'm a wall. A very handsome wall."
"Finn's our damage dealer and scout. Stealth, precision, exploiting weaknesses."
"I make things dead quietly," Finn clarified.
"I'm ranged support and area control. I keep enemies at distance, provide covering fire, and handle battlefield awareness."
"She's the reason we're not dead," Kade said simply.
Lyra's lips twitched. "And you, Nero, would be... what? Based on your assessment?"
"Apparently I'm good at finding exploits and solving puzzles. So... tactical support? Problem solver?"
"That could work," Finn said thoughtfully. "We could use someone who thinks before hitting things. God knows Kade doesn't."
"I think! I think about hitting things very hard. That counts." Kade snapped.
Nero couldn't help but laugh. These people were ridiculous and competent in equal measure, and somehow, against all odds, he was starting to feel like he might actually survive this world.
His system pinged.
[RELATIONSHIP UPDATE]
Kade Morrison: FRIENDLY (25/100)
Finn Cooper: NEUTRAL-FRIENDLY (15/100)
Lyra Ashford: CAUTIOUS-NEUTRAL (10/100)
[PARTY SYSTEM UNLOCKED]
You can now see party members' basic status in combat
Shared XP when fighting together
+10% stat bonus when fighting alongside trusted allies
Nero blinked at the notification. Party system. Of course that's a thing.
"You alright?" Kade asked. "You zoned out there."
"Yeah, just... processing. This is a lot."
"First day's always overwhelming," Lyra said. "It gets easier. Or you get better at handling the chaos. Hard to tell which."
Marge appeared at their table, holding a piece of parchment. "Nero Cross. Assessment results."
Everyone leaned in.
She cleared her throat. "Available classes based on aptitude: Rogue, Spellblade, Enchanter, or..." She frowned at the paper. "Huh. That's new."
"What?" Nero asked.
"There's a fourth option. 'System Specialist.' Never seen that before." She handed him the parchment. "It's marked as a rare class. Limited information. Says you have 'unique affinity with system mechanics and reality structures.' Whatever that means."
Nero's blood went cold. The system is trying to out me as a glitch user.
"System Specialist?" Finn repeated. "That sounds made up."
"All classes are technically made up," Kade pointed out. "Someone had to be the first Berserker."
Lyra was watching Nero carefully. "What does your instinct tell you?"
That I need to be careful. That taking an obvious glitch-related class is basically painting a target on my back.
"I think... I need time to decide. Can I hold off on choosing?"
Marge nodded. "You have seventy-two hours to select a class. After that, the system defaults you to the most compatible option. Choose wisely. Classes can be evolved but not changed."
She left. The table was quiet.
"System Specialist," Kade said thoughtfully. "That's actually pretty cool. Imagine being able to see how quests work, find hidden bonuses, maybe even—"
"Exploit game mechanics," Finn finished. "Which would make you either incredibly valuable or incredibly dangerous."
"Or both," Lyra said softly, still watching Nero.
Nero forced a smile. "No pressure or anything."
Kade laughed and clapped him on the back again—gentler this time. "You'll figure it out. And hey, whatever you pick, you've got us. Vanguard takes care of its own."
"Even provisional members?" Nero asked.
"Especially provisional members. They're the ones most likely to do something stupid and entertaining."
Despite everything—the danger, the secrets, the ticking time bomb of his Corruption meter—Nero felt himself relax.
Maybe, just maybe, he'd found something here worth protecting.