At the heart of the southern district—where trade routes converged and roads from distant regions met—
Stood the Adventurers' Guild.
It was not elegant like the academy.
Nor grand like the royal palace.
It was something else.
Solid.
Practical.
Alive.
The building itself was massive—constructed from thick stone blocks reinforced with iron beams. Its walls bore marks of time: scratches, dents, and faint scorch marks that told stories no one bothered to erase.
Large wooden doors stood open from sunrise to nightfall.
Always open.
Because danger did not wait.
Inside—
The air was thick with sound.
Voices overlapped.
Boots thudded against worn wooden floors.
Armor clinked.
Laughter erupted in one corner while arguments sparked in another.
"…I'm telling you, that wasn't a B-rank monster!"
"…Then why are you still alive?"
"…Because I ran!"
A long counter stretched across the far side of the hall.
Behind it—
Guild staff worked tirelessly.
Sorting requests.
Assigning missions.
Managing chaos.
Pinned to a massive board were sheets of parchment—
Requests.
Bounties.
Subjugation notices.
Some fresh.
Some already torn away.
Above it all—
A large crest carved into stone:
A sword crossed with a scale.
Strength.
And balance.
Beyond the noise—
Up a wide wooden staircase—
The air changed.
Quieter.
Heavier.
This was where decisions were made.
Not shouted.
Not argued.
Weighed.
At the end of the corridor—
A door stood closed.
Behind it—
Sat the man who carried the weight of all of it.
The room smelled faintly of old parchment and iron.
Stacks of documents covered a wide wooden desk.
Maps pinned to the walls—marked with ink, notes, and warnings.
Behind the desk—
Sat a massive figure.
Broad shoulders.
Thick arms.
A frame built like someone who once stood on the frontlines—and could return there at any moment.
His beard was full, streaked slightly with gray.
His hair tied back loosely.
His presence alone—
Heavy.
Grounded.
This was the Guild Master.
Dorian Varkas.
He didn't rush.
Didn't skim.
He read.
Every line.
Every report.
Every name.
Because to him—
They weren't just adventurers.
They were people who might not come back.
Four documents lay in front of him.
He picked up the first.
Rauk.
"…Frontliner. High endurance. Aggressive tendencies."
A small grunt of approval.
"…Good. But reckless."
Second file.
Lira.
"…Magic proficiency… high control… tactical awareness."
He nodded slowly.
"…Smart."
Third.
Elira.
His expression shifted slightly.
"…Cleric… high efficiency… refuses team assignments…"
A pause.
"…Survivor of eastern incident."
Silence.
"…So that's where you went."
He placed it down carefully.
Then—
The last file.
He picked it up.
At first—
Nothing unusual.
"…Academy student… combat adaptability… unknown weapon classification…"
Then—
He stopped.
His eyes narrowed.
"…Corrupted entity… eliminated?"
Silence filled the room.
He read it again.
Slower this time.
"…Unverified report… sealed under restricted access…"
A low chuckle escaped him.
"…So the nobles are hiding this one."
He leaned back slightly.
Chair creaking under his weight.
"…And yet it reaches me anyway."
Because information—
Always found its way to him.
Through coin.
Through connections.
Through people who trusted his judgment more than titles.
"…Interesting…"
Knock.
The door opened without waiting for a reply.
A woman stepped in.
Sharp posture.
Neatly tied hair.
Glasses resting low on her nose.
A stack of documents held firmly in her arms.
"…You're behind schedule again."
Dorian didn't even look up.
"…Good morning to you too, Selene."
She walked in briskly, placing documents on his desk.
Selene Arkwright.
The guild's secretary.
Strict.
Efficient.
Relentless.
"…You were supposed to finish reviewing these yesterday."
"…And I did."
"…Half of them."
"…That still counts."
"…It doesn't."
She adjusted her glasses.
"…Also, you skipped two meetings."
"…They were boring."
"…They were important."
"…Same thing."
She sighed.
Deeply.
"…We have a situation."
That changed the tone.
Dorian's eyes lifted.
Focused now.
"…Go on."
Selene opened one of the documents.
"…Southern trade route."
"…Multiple caravans attacked."
"…No confirmed casualties yet—but significant losses."
Dorian leaned forward slightly.
"…Details."
"…Witnesses report a large, fast-moving entity."
"…Not acting alone."
"…Coordinated behavior."
His eyes sharpened.
"…Corrupted."
Selene nodded.
"…Most likely."
"…Pattern?"
"…Unclear."
"…But the attacks are increasing in frequency."
Dorian tapped the desk lightly.
Thinking.
"…Not random," he muttered.
"…It's testing movement routes."
Selene looked at him.
"…You believe it's expanding territory?"
"…No."
A pause.
"…I think something is pushing it."
Silence.
Selene closed the document.
"…Then we need to respond quickly."
Dorian glanced down.
At the file still open.
Takemi.
"…Yeah…"
His fingers tapped once against the paper.
Then—
He reached for a blank sheet.
He wrote quickly.
But not carelessly.
Each word deliberate.
Selene watched.
"…Who is it for?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"…Someone who already fought one."
She raised a brow.
"…A student?"
"…Maybe."
"…Maybe not."
He folded the letter.
Sealed it.
Then handed it to her.
"…Make sure it reaches him."
Selene took it.
Examining the seal.
"…And this 'him' is…?"
Dorian leaned back.
A faint smirk forming beneath his beard.
"…You'll know when you see him."
She sighed.
"…That's not helpful."
"…It doesn't need to be."
Selene turned and left.
Door closing behind her.
Dorian remained still.
Eyes drifting once more to the files.
"…If this is real…"
He muttered quietly.
"…Then things are moving faster than I thought."
Outside—
The guild continued its noise.
Unaware.
But not for long.
The light faded behind them.
Takemi stepped into the forest first.
The ground changed immediately.
Softer.
Damp.
Leaves crunched beneath his feet.
The scent of earth and moss filled the air.
Above—
Branches intertwined tightly, allowing only thin rays of sunlight to pierce through.
The deeper they went—
The darker it became.
Rauk's voice lowered.
"…Feels like something's watching."
Lira nodded.
"…Because something probably is."
Elira said nothing.
But her grip tightened slightly.
Takemi stopped.
"…Stay close."
The forest didn't respond.
But something inside it—
Moved.
Quiet.
Patient.
Waiting.