The city of Arvendale looked wrong in the afternoon light, which was perhaps the most disorienting part of returning after a century. Yuuto had expected ruins or at least significant architectural changes, but instead everything felt subtly off, like someone had copied his memories and made small mistakes in the reproduction. The streets were narrower than he remembered. The Guild Hall's replacement sat three blocks south of where the original had stood, a squat wooden structure that would have served as a storage annex in his time.
Aria walked slightly ahead of him, her staff tucked under one arm and the dungeon core wrapped carefully in cloth. She'd been silent since they'd emerged from the Verdant Catacombs, which Yuuto was beginning to recognize as her processing mode rather than actual anger. Kael and Lyria flanked them, maintaining what was probably supposed to be a casual formation but read more like a protective escort.
The new Guild Hall's door stuck when Aria pushed it, requiring a second shove that made her scowl. Inside, the building smelled of fresh lumber and old beer, a combination that somehow managed to be less pleasant than either scent individually. A dozen adventurers occupied the common room, most of them clustered around job boards or hunched over tables covered in maps and equipment. The noise level dropped noticeably when Yuuto's party entered.
A woman behind the counter looked up from a ledger, her expression cycling through professional welcome to confusion to something that might have been recognition. She was perhaps forty, with the kind of weathered face that suggested years of outdoor work before taking an administrative position. Her eyes lingered on Yuuto longer than was strictly polite.
"Aria," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "You're back early. The Verdant Catacombs usually takes parties at least two days."
"We had help." Aria set the wrapped dungeon core on the counter with a solid thunk that made the woman's eyebrows rise. "One Rank B core, as requested. Plus the moss samples, though honestly those feel like an afterthought now."
The woman unwrapped the core slowly, her professional mask slipping into genuine surprise. Dungeon cores were supposed to be difficult acquisitions, the kind of trophy that required planning and significant risk. Bringing one back on what was supposed to be a simple harvesting run was the kind of thing that generated questions.
"This is genuine," she said, which wasn't really a question but carried the weight of one anyway. "The Guardian?"
"Dead. Very dead. Extremely dead, if we're being specific about it." Aria glanced back at Yuuto, who was doing his best to look like a completely normal person who definitely hadn't just disintegrated a three-story monster with a single spell. "Our new party member is surprisingly effective."
The woman's gaze shifted to Yuuto, and he felt the weight of actual assessment rather than casual curiosity. She had the look of someone who'd spent enough time around adventurers to recognize when something didn't fit the usual patterns. Level 3299 didn't broadcast itself, but apparently whatever she was seeing was enough to trigger her professional instincts.
"I don't recognize you," she said. "Are you registered with the Guild?"
Yuuto considered several possible answers, most of which involved varying degrees of truth and deception. The problem with lying was that it created complications, and he was already dealing with enough of those. The problem with telling the truth was that it created different complications, possibly worse ones.
"Not with this Guild," he said, which was technically accurate. "I'm from out of town. Way out of town. Different era entirely, if we're being specific."
The woman's expression didn't change, but something in her posture shifted. Behind the counter, her hand moved in a way that suggested she was either reaching for a weapon or triggering some kind of alert system. Yuuto really hoped it wasn't the latter.
"That's an unusual way to phrase it," she said.
"He's an Archmage," Lyria offered helpfully, because apparently she'd decided that subtlety was overrated. "From the Age of Heroes. Level 3299. He showed us his status screen and everything."
The common room went very quiet. Yuuto counted at least eight adventurers who'd stopped their conversations to stare, and several more who were trying to look like they weren't listening while obviously listening. The woman behind the counter had gone completely still, her hand frozen in whatever motion she'd been making.
"That's not possible," she said, but her tone suggested she was trying to convince herself rather than stating a fact. "The Age of Heroes ended a century ago. All the Archmages are dead or disappeared. The records are very clear on this."
"The records are incomplete," Yuuto said. "I was the Guildmaster. I built the old Hall, the one with the enchanted foundations and the self-repairing walls. I left for what I thought would be a few years, and when I came back, everything had changed. The Hall was gone. My friends were gone. The entire magical infrastructure I'd spent decades building was just... history."
The woman's hand finally completed its motion, but instead of a weapon, she pulled out a small crystal that pulsed with a faint blue light. A communication device, Yuuto recognized, though the design was different from what he remembered. More efficient, probably, but also more limited in range and functionality.
"I'm going to need to verify this," she said. "If you're really who you claim to be, there are people who will want to meet you. Important people. The kind who don't appreciate being lied to."
"I'm not lying." Yuuto pulled up his status screen again, making it visible not just to the woman but to everyone in the common room. The display hung in the air like a challenge, its numbers so far outside the normal range that they barely registered as real.
Someone in the back of the room swore. Another person dropped their mug, the sound of shattering ceramic loud in the sudden silence. The woman behind the counter stared at the screen with the kind of intensity that suggested she was trying to find some flaw, some indication that this was an elaborate hoax.
"The level cap is 100," she said weakly. "Everyone knows that. The system doesn't allow for higher levels. It's a fundamental limitation."
"The system has a lot of fundamental limitations that aren't actually fundamental," Yuuto said. "They're design choices made by people who didn't fully understand what they were working with. I helped build the original framework, back when we were still figuring out how magic and systematic progression could coexist. We made mistakes. A lot of them. Some of those mistakes became codified as rules."
Kael spoke up for the first time since they'd entered the building. "He killed a Rank B Guardian with a single spell. I've seen court mages who couldn't do that with a full ritual circle and three assistants. Whatever he is, he's not faking his capabilities."
The woman set the communication crystal down carefully, as if it might explode. Her professional mask had cracked completely, revealing something that looked like a mixture of awe and terror. Yuuto recognized the expression from his previous life, back when he'd first started demonstrating abilities that exceeded the known limits of magic. People didn't handle paradigm shifts well.
"I need to contact the Guild Council," she said. "This is beyond my authority to handle. If you're really an Archmage from the Age of Heroes, then there are protocols. Procedures. Things that need to happen."
"Or," Aria interjected, "you could just register him as a new adventurer and let us get on with our lives. We're not trying to start a political incident. We just want to run dungeons and maybe not die in the process."
The woman looked at Aria like she'd suggested setting the building on fire. "You want me to register an Archmage as a Rank F adventurer? Do you have any idea what kind of paperwork nightmare that would create? The forms alone would take weeks to process."
"So skip the forms," Lyria said. "Give him a temporary license. Emergency registration. Whatever you call it when someone shows up with credentials from a century ago and you need to figure out what to do with them."
Yuuto watched the woman's internal struggle play out across her face. She was clearly someone who valued procedure and proper documentation, but she was also pragmatic enough to recognize when the situation had moved beyond standard protocols. The communication crystal sat on the counter between them, a reminder that she could escalate this at any moment.
"If I do this," she said slowly, "and it turns out you're lying, I will personally hunt you down and ensure you never work as an adventurer again. In any kingdom. Ever."
"Fair enough," Yuuto said. "Though I should mention that I don't actually need to work as an adventurer. I could probably buy this entire building with what I have in storage. I'm doing this because I want to be part of something again, not because I need the money."
The woman pulled out a blank registration form, the kind that looked like it had been printed by someone who'd never heard of the concept of user-friendly design. She began filling it out with quick, precise strokes, her handwriting cramped but legible.
"Name?"
"Yuuto Kisaragi."
"Class?"
"Archmage."
"Level?" She paused, her pen hovering over the form. "Actually, don't tell me. I'll just write 'pending verification' and let the Council deal with it."
"Probably wise," Yuuto agreed.
The form took another five minutes to complete, each question more bureaucratic than the last. By the time the woman finished, she looked like she needed a drink and possibly a vacation. She stamped the form with a seal that glowed briefly with verification magic, then handed Yuuto a small card that identified him as a probationary member of the Adventurer's Guild.
"This is temporary," she said. "You'll need to come back for a proper evaluation once the Council has reviewed your case. Until then, you're restricted to Rank F and E dungeons, and you need to be accompanied by at least one registered party member at all times."
"I can work with that," Yuuto said, tucking the card into his borrowed pack. "Thank you for being flexible about this."
The woman gave him a look that suggested she was already regretting her decision. "Don't make me regret this. Please. I have enough problems without adding 'accidentally registered a legendary Archmage as a novice adventurer' to my list of career mistakes."
Aria picked up the dungeon core, which the woman had apparently forgotten about in the chaos of Yuuto's registration. "So about our payment for this?"
"Right. Yes. The core." The woman pulled out a ledger and began calculating numbers with the kind of focus that suggested she was grateful for something normal to do. "Standard rate for a Rank B core is fifty gold pieces. Split four ways, that's twelve and a half gold each."
Aria's expression brightened considerably. Twelve gold was apparently good money, enough to make the entire dungeon run worthwhile even without the added complication of discovering an Archmage. Kael and Lyria looked similarly pleased, their earlier tension fading into the kind of satisfaction that came from a successful job.
Yuuto accepted his share of the payment, even though he didn't particularly need it. The coins felt lighter than he remembered, probably a different alloy or minting process. Another small change in a world full of them.
They left the Guild Hall with their payment and a growing sense that they'd just created a situation that would have consequences. The common room's noise level had returned to normal by the time they reached the door, but Yuuto could feel eyes tracking their movement. Word would spread. It always did.
"So," Aria said once they were back on the street. "That went better than expected."
"You have very low expectations," Kael observed.
"I expected us to be arrested or interrogated or possibly attacked by paranoid Guild officials who thought Yuuto was some kind of threat to national security. Instead, we got paperwork and a stern warning. I'm calling that a win."
Lyria was studying Yuuto with the kind of clinical interest that made him slightly uncomfortable. "Can I ask you something? About your skill. The one that lets you copy and fuse magic."
"You can ask," Yuuto said. "I might not answer, but you can ask."
"How does it work? The fusion, I mean. You took two basic spells and created something that shouldn't exist according to current magical theory. The system doesn't allow for that kind of spontaneous skill creation."
Yuuto considered how to explain something that he'd spent decades mastering. "The system does allow for it, but only if you understand the underlying structure. Most people treat magic like a black box. You put in the components, you get out the result, and you don't question how it works. But magic isn't a black box. It's a framework built on fundamental principles, and once you understand those principles, you can manipulate the framework itself."
"That's not how they teach magic now," Lyria said. "The Academy focuses on memorization and repetition. You learn specific spells through specific methods, and deviation from those methods is discouraged because it's considered dangerous."
"It is dangerous," Yuuto agreed. "I've seen people blow themselves up trying to fuse incompatible spells. But danger doesn't mean impossible. It just means you need to know what you're doing."
They'd reached a small plaza that Yuuto vaguely recognized, though the fountain in the center was new. Or rather, it was old but in a different location than he remembered. The statue depicted a warrior he didn't recognize, probably some hero from after his time.
"I want you to teach me," Lyria said abruptly. "The fusion technique. Everything you know about manipulating the system's framework. I'll pay you. Whatever you want."
Yuuto looked at her, at the intensity in her eyes and the way her hands had clenched into fists. She wasn't asking casually. This was something she'd been thinking about, probably since the moment she'd seen him fuse those two basic spells into something new.
"It's not about payment," he said. "It's about whether you're willing to unlearn everything you've been taught and start from scratch. The Academy's methods aren't wrong, exactly, but they're built on a foundation of limitations that don't actually exist. Breaking through those limitations requires breaking your own understanding of how magic works."
"I can do that," Lyria said. "I want to do that. The current system is too restrictive. Too safe. I became a healer because I wanted to help people, but the magic they taught me at the Academy is barely a fraction of what healing magic could be. I can feel it every time I cast a spell. There's more there, just out of reach, and the system won't let me access it."
Aria and Kael were watching this exchange with expressions that suggested they were also interested in whatever Yuuto might teach, even if they weren't as vocal about it. The party formation they'd agreed to in the dungeon was starting to solidify into something more permanent, which was both encouraging and slightly terrifying.
"Fine," Yuuto said. "I'll teach you. All of you, if you want. But we're going to need somewhere private to practice, because what I'm going to show you will probably violate several Guild regulations and possibly a few laws."
"I know a place," Kael said. "My family's old estate is mostly abandoned now, but there's a training ground that should work. It's outside the city, far enough that we won't attract attention."
"Your family had an estate?" Aria raised an eyebrow. "You never mentioned being nobility."
"Former nobility," Kael corrected. "We lost most of our holdings in the succession war twenty years ago. The estate is all that's left, and it's not exactly in pristine condition. But the training ground is still functional, and it has privacy wards that should keep people from noticing what we're doing."
Yuuto felt something in his chest loosen slightly. A training ground with privacy wards was exactly what they needed. It would give them space to experiment without worrying about Guild officials or curious onlookers. More importantly, it would give him a chance to assess his new students properly, to see what they were capable of and what they needed to learn.
"When can we start?" Lyria asked.
"Tomorrow," Yuuto said. "I need to figure out where I'm staying tonight, and you all probably need to process what happened in the dungeon. Teaching magic isn't something you rush into, especially when we're talking about techniques that most people think are impossible."
Aria pulled out a small notebook and began writing something down. "I'm making a list of questions. Fair warning, it's already two pages long and growing. You're going to regret agreeing to teach us."
"I've had worse students," Yuuto said, which was true. He'd once tried to teach a duke's son who'd been convinced that magic was beneath him and had only attended lessons because his father insisted. That particular experience had ended with the training hall on fire and Yuuto seriously reconsidering his career choices.
They spent another hour discussing logistics and making plans before finally parting ways. Aria and Lyria headed toward what they described as "a decent inn that doesn't ask too many questions," while Kael offered to show Yuuto where the old estate was located so he could find it the next day. The sun was setting by the time they reached the edge of the city, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple that reminded Yuuto of summer evenings from a century ago.
The estate sat on a hill overlooking the city, its walls crumbling but still standing. The main house looked like it had seen better days, with several windows boarded up and part of the roof missing tiles. But the training ground Kael had mentioned was visible from the road, a large flat area surrounded by stone markers that still hummed with residual magic.
"It's not much," Kael said, sounding almost apologetic. "But it's private, and the wards still work. That's more than most places can offer."
"It's perfect," Yuuto said, and meant it. The training ground reminded him of the one he'd built at the old Guild Hall, back when he'd had students and colleagues and a sense of purpose beyond simple survival. Maybe he could build something similar here. Maybe this was the beginning of whatever came next.
The system chimed softly in his mind, a notification that only he could see.
[New Quest Updated: Rebuild the Guild]
[Progress: Training Ground Located]
[Next Objective: Begin Teaching First Students]
[Reward: Skill Evolution Unlock]
Yuuto smiled. The system was adapting to his intentions, recognizing that he was trying to rebuild rather than just survive. That was good. That meant the framework he'd helped create a century ago was still flexible enough to accommodate new patterns, new purposes.
He looked out over the city as the last light faded from the sky. Somewhere down there, the Guild Council was probably receiving a report about his registration. Tomorrow would bring questions, possibly problems, definitely complications. But for now, standing on a hill overlooking a city that had forgotten him, Yuuto felt something he hadn't felt since returning to this changed world.
He felt like he was home.