After a few minutes of walking through the village's cobbled streets, they stopped before an imposing medieval building, its rough stone walls adorned with monster trophies: horned skulls, gleaming scales, and a massive door reinforced with what looked like giant bones. The air carried the smells of sweat, forged metal, and stale beer wafting from the nearby taverns.
"We're here," the guild master said gruffly as he pushed open the heavy door.
Laura studied the structure with a doubtful frown.
"It's… how should I put it? Not very advanced…"
Owen nodded, sharing her opinion while scanning the details: crackling torches lit the entrance, and adventurers in worn armor went about their business.
"Yeah… I was hoping for better, but I guess this was to be expected."
The master bristled, puffing out his massive chest.
"What? This building is top of the line! Rank A monster core, rank A earth turtle stone… You don't know a thing!"
Inside, a roar of sound engulfed them: boisterous laughter, the clatter of weapons, and curious stares turning their way. Around forty adventurers – from slender elves to weathered humans – stared at Owen and Laura like intruders. The master quickly led them to his office, a narrow room whose walls were lined with yellowed parchments and mounted weapons. They sat on hard chairs facing a desk cluttered with ledgers and an empty tankard.
Owen and Laura waited in silence, but through the system they spoke mentally, their thoughts firing like invisible messages.
[Owen: Don't say anything that could put us in danger. He's way too strong for us. Let's not screw this up.]
[Laura: Okay… Owen?]
[Owen: Yeah?]
[Laura: Thank you… for earlier.]
[Owen: …]
The master folded his arms, breaking the silence.
"Right, let's start with the reward. Show me your IDs."
Owen and Laura exchanged a puzzled look.
"Huh?" they said in unison.
"Take out your cards…"
"We, uh… don't have any. We're not from here," Owen answered calmly.
The master narrowed his eyes.
"Not from here? Meaning what, exactly?"
A murderous aura suddenly poured off him, heavy as a weight on their chests, making it hard to breathe. Owen felt his heart race, a cold sweat beading on his forehead.
"We… we're not… from the neighboring continent…" he stammered, improvising under pressure.
The master withdrew his aura, still suspicious but intrigued.
"Fine. Explain."
Owen spun a quick lie, drawing on scraps of memories from Earth.
"My father was from another village. He ran away because of his debts when I was born. I grew up outside the system. A year ago, after he died, I met Laura."
Laura picked up the thread, her voice trembling but convincing.
"Same for me. Never had a card for the same reasons."
The master grunted, seeming to accept it.
"Let's say I believe you. We'll make your cards afterward."
He pulled out a pouch of gold coins, the bounty for the "guard" – apparently a notorious thief. Owen pocketed his share, a knot of unease in his stomach: that power he'd unleashed earlier… it had a cost. A subtle fatigue seeped into his muscles, as if each use of magic shaved something off his body. You will resist more than the others, but at what cost? The God's words echoed, a warning he could not ignore.
"Now for the more important question," the master went on. "How are you this strong at level 1? How did you do it?"
Owen flinched.
"You can see our stats? And our skills?"
"No, no one can see skills – not even the five great mages."
Laura cut in, playing innocent.
"It's our talents, I think. Above average."
The master nodded, unconvinced.
"Your talents… Fine, we'll stop the questioning here. Go get registered at the front desk."
They left the office with him, relieved to have dodged the worst. At reception, an elven receptionist wrote down their names.
"We need to register them," the master said.
"All right, training room it is."
The room was huge, able to hold a hundred people, with an arsenal of weapons lined along the walls: swords, bows, enchanted staves. About thirty adventurers were waiting for a reevaluation, looking impatient.
Owen discreetly scanned the trainer.
[Class: Swordsman]
[Level: 15]
[Health: 130] [Mana: 50]
[Defense: 63] [Physical Attack: 69]
[Speed: 51] [Magic Attack: 20]
[Intelligence: 25] [Luck: 3]
[Skills: Swordsmanship B-…]
[Magic: None]
[Feelings: Getting ready for a test.]
"They go first!" the master bellowed.
Laura stepped forward, bowing gracefully before taking her position.
The master turned to Owen with a crooked smile.
"Wanna bet?"
"Hm? Sure."
"I bet the trainer wins without getting hit once, even with your stats."
Owen thought it over, running the level gap in his head.
"He's fifteen levels higher, that's not fair. But I bet she hits him in under a minute. She'll lose, obviously – you can't make up that difference."
The master raised an eyebrow.
"You can see her stats? At level 1?"
"Yeah."
The trainer approached with arrogant confidence, sword in hand, ready to finish it quickly. Laura fired a magic arrow, which he dodged with a leap. He rushed her; she countered with a gust of wind that blew him off his feet. Taking advantage of the opening, she fired another arrow, grazing him and leaving a shallow cut.
Furious, the trainer sprang back up and charged, anger fueling his speed. Laura was taken off guard and took a sword strike that made her cry out in pain. But she retaliated with bursts of wind, hitting him several times, though only lightly. More experienced, the trainer eventually overwhelmed her and pinned her to the ground.
"You win, I guess," Owen conceded.
The master laughed.
"You let me have that one. You knew he'd underestimate her and that she'd land a hit."
"Maybe. But now, it's my turn."
The master shook his head.
"No need to fight him. You agree?"
Owen smiled, feeling the tension in the air rise. Through the communication system, a group message came in from the other teams: discussions about converging on the capital. But Ethan Patel's name briefly flickered red, a fleeting glitch Owen filed away in his mind, a shiver of unease running through him.
POV Maddie (on Earth)
At the hospital, Maddie stared at the monitors, her heart in a vise. Morgan was crying softly beside Mike. Suddenly, a searing headache hit her, followed by visions: Owen in a crowded hall, fighting a giant; Laura at his side, healing wounds. Jealousy shot through her, irrational but sharp.
A doctor walked in.
"Maddie, we have an experimental therapy for coma patients. It could help Owen."
She hesitated, intuitively sensing that it would make things worse – as if those visions were warning her.
"No… I refuse. It could make it worse."
At that same moment, in another room, Sarah Gordon stirred, her eyelids fluttering. She woke with a jolt, gasping, with no system and no clear memories of the fantasy world. Alarms blared; outside, the first portal opened, a whirling vortex spewing monsters onto Earth. Nobody knew it yet, but chaos had begun.
Back to Owen's POV
The master watched Owen, intrigued by his growing confidence. The atmosphere in the guild grew heavier, foreshadowing much darker trials to come.