The interior of the Adventurer’s Guild was larger than it appeared from outside. The ceiling arched high above a central hall lined with long tables scarred by years of use. Requests were pinned to wooden boards along the far wall, parchment sheets layered over one another in dense clusters—escort duties, pest removal, resource gathering, monster sightings.
The air smelled of ink, leather, and steel.
Behind a long reception counter stood a woman with ash-brown hair pulled tightly into a knot, spectacles resting low on her nose. She scanned a ledger thicker than most books Jake had seen since arriving in this world.
Lysander approached.
“New candidate,” he said.
Her eyes lifted. Sharp behind the lenses.
“Name?”
“Jake.”
“Origin?”
A pause.
“Eastern trade route,” he answered carefully.
Her pen hovered briefly, then continued writing.
“Primary weapon?”
“Sword.”
“Training?”
“Survival.”
The faintest flicker of interest crossed her features.
She set the quill aside and retrieved a small crystalline sphere mounted in a metal frame. It shimmered faintly.
“Place your hand on the appraisal crystal. Do not resist.”
Jake stepped forward.
The System pulsed quietly.
[External Appraisal Detected]
Allow Data Transmission?
He hesitated only a fraction of a second. Then: Yes.
His palm touched the crystal. Cold.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then threads of light crawled across its surface, gathering like veins beneath glass.
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she read the internal flare.
“Level One,” she said calmly. “Attributes above baseline. Elevated will index.”
Lysander shifted slightly.
“Combat exposure confirmed,” she continued. “Recent trauma markers present.”
The crystal flickered again, then dimmed.
“Classification: Provisional Low-Tier Combatant.”
Jake felt the System respond internally.
[External Evaluation Logged]
Discrepancy: 8%
Full Data Masking Maintained
The Guild would only see what the System allowed.
“Registration fee is five copper,” the woman said.
Jake nodded. Structure. Leverage. Coin earned without drawing the wrong attention.
She withdrew the crystal and set it carefully beneath the counter, as though returning a delicate instrument to its proper place. The ledger remained open before her, ink still faintly glistening where she had written his name.
For a moment, she regarded him over the rim of her spectacles—not assessing his strength this time, but measuring something quieter.
“You will address guild officials properly within these walls,” she said, her voice neither harsh nor warm, merely precise. “Names matter. So does knowing who keeps the records.”
She dipped the quill once more and added a final notation before closing the ledger with deliberate care.
“I am Mirelle,” she continued. “Senior Registrar of the Silvercrest Adventurer’s Guild.”
The title carried weight without requiring emphasis.
“If you accept contracts, your successes and your failures will pass through my desk first. Promotions, penalties, rank disputes—those begin here.” She tapped the closed ledger lightly with one finger. “Understanding structure will keep you alive longer than arrogance.”
Her gaze lingered on him a fraction longer than necessary, as though testing whether he would bristle at the instruction.
“Welcome to Silvercrest, Jake.”
The woman finished inscribing Jake’s name in the ledger before closing it. The faint sound of parchment meeting wood carried across the hall.
“You’ll need more than a blade and coin if you plan to survive,” she said. “Understanding where you stand matters more than strength.”
Jake waited in silence.
Lysander leaned one shoulder against the counter. “He’s new to structure,” he said. “Might as well give him the overview.”
The woman adjusted her spectacles and reached for a worn map behind the desk. Corners curled, ink darkened where fingers had traced borders repeatedly.
She tapped the central region first.
“This is the Kingdom of Aldoria. Lion banner. Independent crown. Silvercrest stands here—technically under Aldorian sovereignty.”
Her finger moved east.
“And here, the Empire of Velkar. Dragon banner. Expansionist. Administrative.Merciless.”
The word efficient carried no admiration.
“They control the eastern trade arteries and have absorbed three minor kingdoms in the past decade. They do not burn villages without purpose. They erase them.”
Jake’s expression didn’t shift.
“To the west,” she continued, sliding her finger, “are the wild territories known as the Beast Lands of Raventhorn. Tribal dominance and Ruthless. Territorial disputes are constant. Crossing without escort is suicide unless you know which banner to kneel to.”
South.
“The Demon Lands of Ashkar. Volcanic, scarred, unstable mana zones. No standing treaties. Rare but highly compensated Guild contracts in that direction.”
North.
“The Holy Lands of Eliovar. Theocratic governance. High discipline. They do not interfere often, but when they do, it is decisive and absolute.”
She stepped back from the map.
“East is Empire. West is Beast. South is Demon. North is Holy. Here is balance.”
Lysander exhaled quietly. “Temporary balance.”
“Silvercrest survives because Aldoria tolerates semi-autonomy and Velkar finds it more useful stable than conquered. Trade flows. Information flows faster.”
Jake’s gaze flicked over the map.
“If the Empire expands further west?”
“They will.”
Lysander straightened. “Guild contracts reflect this reality. Eastward assignments sometimes brush Imperial patrols. Westward routes may cross Beast scouts. Southern missions are for volunteers. Northern mostly diplomatic or escort.”
Jake processed quickly. “So neutrality is survival.”
“For now,” she replied.
The System stirred.
[Geopolitical Data Logged]
Regional Conflict Probability: Elevated
Long-Term Stability Projection: Declining
Jake suppressed the panel.
“Why tell me all this?” he asked.
“Because men who do not understand borders die thinking monsters are the only threat.”
Silence settled.
The woman slid a small iron token across the counter.
“Provisional registration,” she said. “You may accept low-tier contracts. Payment routed through Guild exchange. No independent bounties without reporting.”
Jake picked it up. He felt the weight.
Lysander leaned closer. “You spent Empire gold this morning. If auditors notice unregistered old mint, questions follow.”
Jake’s gaze shifted. “Good to know.”
Lysander’s eyes sharpened. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“Surprise wastes time,” he replied.
The woman tapped the contract board behind her.
“Your first three assignments determine your classification. Choose wisely. Eastward patrol assistance is posted. Goblin clearing south of the lower farms is also available.”
Jake’s eyes flicked to the southern marker. The Demon Lands were nearby, but this assignment was close enough to remain background.
“Westward scouting?” he asked.
Lysander shook his head. “Not for Level One.”
The System pulsed quietly.
[Growth Path Available]
Combat Density Increase Recommended
Regional Exposure: Moderate Risk Preferred
The board was heavy with postings. Copper-rank assignments at eye level, layered in rows beneath iron nails. Jake scanned them carefully.
Investigation: Goblin Nest Activity — South Ridge (Solo permitted)
Reward: 12 Silver (Investigation)
Additional bounty per confirmed kill
Jake’s eyes lingered. Investigation. Not elimination. Confirmation. He pulled the slip free.
The Guild hall noise swelled briefly as a group of armored adventurers entered from outside, laughing too loudly for men who likely faced blades daily.
The board was heavier than it looked.
Dozens of parchment slips overlapped one another, pinned in layered rows beneath iron nails. Some were already marked with red wax seals, others scratched through in ink to indicate completion. The copper-rank section sat lowest on the board, closest to eye level for those who were still unproven.
Jake scanned the postings slowly.
Escort grain caravan — West road (2-man minimum)
Rat infestation — Lower canal district
Missing livestock — Eastern farmland
Investigation: Goblin Nest Activity — South Ridge (Solo permitted)
His eyes lingered on the last one.
Investigation.
Not elimination.
He reached up and pulled the parchment free.
The ink was fresh.
Reports of increased goblin movement near South Ridge quarry.
Livestock missing. Two farmhands injured.
Tracks suggest organized nesting behavior.
Confirm nest location. Assess numbers.
Elimination not mandatory unless opportunity permits.
Copper Rank — Solo Eligible.
Reward: 12 Copper(Investigation)
Additional bounty per confirmed goblin kill.
Lysander stepped beside him quietly.
“South Ridge is a half-day walk,” the scout said. “Light forest. Broken quarry pits. Good place for goblins to burrow.”
“Why solo permitted?” Jake asked.
“Because we don’t think it’s large. And because sending full parties to every nest drains guild resources.”
Jake turned the parchment over once, scanning for hidden clauses.
“Or,” Lysander added mildly, “because if it is larger than reported, better one dies than four.”
Honesty.
Jake folded the parchment once.
“I’ll take it.”
Lysander studied him for a moment longer than necessary. “You understand investigation means you’re not expected to charge in.”
“I understand.”
The woman at the counter took the parchment, stamped it with a copper seal, then handed him a small wax-marked token.
“Return within two days with confirmation,” she said. “Physical evidence preferred.”
Jake nodded.
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The System flickered faintly.
[Contract Accepted]
Mission Type: Reconnaissance
Threat Category: Goblin (Low–Moderate Variance)
Reward Base: 12 Copper
Optional Objective: Lethal Reduction
Bonus Calculated Per Unit
[Adaptive Growth Opportunity Detected]
He ignored the final line.
South Ridge
The southern gate of Silvercrest stood open, guarded but relaxed. A pair of city watchmen leaned against their spears as Jake exited, the Guild token visible enough to discourage questioning.
The road south narrowed quickly, stone giving way to packed earth. Fields stretched on either side for a time—wheat bending in pale waves, farmers working with cautious glances toward the tree line. One man paused as Jake passed.
“Guild?” the farmer asked.
Jake inclined his head once.
“Tracks near the lower fence,” the farmer muttered. “They’re getting bolder.”
“How many?” Jake asked.
“Didn’t see. Heard them. At night.”
Jake continued on without further exchange.
The forest thickened gradually. South Ridge rose in uneven slopes ahead, broken stone from the old quarry scattered along the incline like teeth. Wind moved differently here, catching against jagged rock faces and funneling into low pockets.
Perfect terrain for concealment.
He slowed as he entered the tree line.
Leather creaked softly with movement. The new armor felt solid but unfamiliar; he adjusted his stride to account for it. The sword at his hip rested balanced and ready.
Perception extended outward.
No immediate movement.
He crouched near a patch of disturbed soil beside the path.
Tracks.
Small. Narrow feet. Three distinct toe points pressed deep into damp earth.
Goblin.
More than one.
He followed carefully, moving parallel rather than directly within the path of the tracks. The trees thinned near a rocky outcrop overlooking a shallow depression in the ground.
The quarry.
Broken stone slabs lay at uneven angles, forming natural cavities and shadowed gaps. Weeds had grown between cracks, but the deeper pits remained dark.
Jake lowered himself behind a ridge of stone and waited.
Minutes passed.
Wind shifted.
Then movement.
A thin, hunched figure darted from one crevice to another. Greenish skin mottled with dirt. Leather scraps tied around its torso. Crude blade in hand.
Another followed.
Then another.
Four on the surface. More likely hiding below.
He counted carefully. Six in total. One larger than the rest, broader across the shoulders, bone fragments hanging from its belt. A leader.
Near the center of the quarry lay a wooden crate, stamped with a faded merchant’s mark. Not farm equipment. Trade goods.
The System stirred.
[Environmental Irregularity Detected]
Behavior Pattern: Above Baseline
Probability of External Supply: 31%
Someone had invested in this.
Wind shifted again.
A goblin froze, sniffing. Its head snapped toward Jake’s ridge. Yellow eyes locked.
The first goblin charged.The goblin’s scream tore through the quarry like rust scraping stone, sharp and piercing enough to scatter birds from the treeline above. The others reacted instantly. There was no confused scrambling, no panicked scattering. They moved with intention.
Jake stepped forward before they could surround him.
Speed decided the first heartbeat of any fight.
The nearest goblin lunged low, crude blade angled for his thigh rather than his chest. It aimed to cripple, not kill. Jake twisted his hips and brought his steel sword down in a diagonal arc that split collarbone to sternum. Bone resisted briefly, then gave way with a wet crack. The body dropped at his feet, blackened blood spilling across pale stone.
The System pulsed in the corner of his awareness, recording, measuring, analyzing.
Two more came from opposite angles.
Smart.
Jake pivoted left and kicked a loose shard of quarry stone into the face of the closer one. It shrieked as its nose burst under impact, but it did not retreat. It charged through pain. The second goblin leapt toward his back.
He felt the shift in air more than heard it.
Jake turned sharply, shoulder slamming into the airborne goblin mid-flight. They crashed together onto gravel. Its teeth snapped inches from his throat, breath rancid and hot. He drove his elbow into its temple once, twice, and forced the blade upward beneath its jaw. Steel punched through the soft underside of its skull. The body spasmed violently before going limp.
He rolled away just as another blade scraped across the leather of his new armor, sparks snapping off reinforced stitching. The blow would have cut flesh in his old gear. He felt the impact vibrate through ribs but no warm spill followed.
Three remaining in sight.
The larger goblin barked a guttural order.
Two split outward, moving along broken rock to flank him while the leader advanced directly, slower, evaluating.
Jake backed toward a narrow channel between stone slabs, forcing their approach into a tighter line. His breathing had already quickened, but he forced it steady. Panic wasted oxygen. Fear wasted movement.
One goblin darted through the right gap, attempting to slip behind him.
Jake feinted toward the leader, drawing its attention, then snapped his blade backward without looking. Steel met resistance. A thin scream followed. He withdrew the sword and pivoted forward again.
The leader was closer now.
It carried a heavier weapon—an iron cleaver clearly stolen rather than crafted. Its yellow eyes were sharper than the others. Calculating.
It tested him first with a shallow swing. Jake parried, but the impact drove him half a step back. Stronger.
Another goblin lunged low again, aiming for his calf. Jake jumped sideways, boots sliding slightly on gravel, and drove his blade through the attacker’s spine mid-lunge. The body collapsed forward, twitching.
Four down.
Two left.
The leader roared and charged.
This time there was no testing. The cleaver came down with brutal force. Jake raised his sword in a cross-guard block and felt the shock run from wrists to shoulders. The impact nearly knocked him to one knee. The goblin leaned into him, snarling inches from his face, breath thick with rot.
Strength above average baseline.
The System registered it immediately.
[Enemy Classification Update]
Goblin Variant: Quarry Alpha
Tier: Enhanced Low
Strength Index: +18% Standard
The remaining smaller goblin circled behind again.
Jake saw it in reflection along the polished edge of his blade.
He shifted his grip and twisted, allowing the leader’s cleaver to slide downward along steel rather than meeting it head-on. The redirected force staggered the goblin slightly off balance. In that fraction of instability, Jake drove his knee upward into its abdomen and shoved it backward.
Then he spun.
The circling goblin was mid-charge.
Jake met it with a full horizontal slash. The blade bit deep into its neck and nearly decapitated it outright. Blood sprayed across stone and leather in a hot arc.
One left.
The leader recovered faster than expected. It did not hesitate at the death of its pack. It adjusted stance instead, shifting weight lower, eyes narrowing.
It had learned.
It lunged suddenly with a feint high and real strike low. Jake misread it by half a breath. The cleaver tore into his thigh, cutting through leather at the joint seam. Pain erupted instantly, bright and blinding. He stumbled backward, vision flashing white for a split second.
Blood soaked warm down his leg.
The goblin advanced aggressively, sensing weakness.
Jake forced himself upright before it could close distance fully. He planted his injured leg despite the fire screaming through muscle and lifted his sword into guard position.
Fear surged in his chest, sharp and undeniable.
He could retreat.
He could try to disengage.
He would not outrun it with a wounded leg.
Fight or die.
The phrase did not feel dramatic in that moment. It felt mechanical.
The goblin charged again.
Jake waited half a second longer than instinct advised.
At the last possible moment, he stepped inside the arc of the cleaver instead of away from it. The blade skimmed across his shoulder guard, cutting leather but failing to bite flesh. He drove forward simultaneously, closing distance where the cleaver’s length became a disadvantage.
They collided chest to chest.
The goblin tried to headbutt him. He accepted the impact against his brow, stars flashing briefly across his vision, and thrust his sword upward beneath its ribcage with both hands.
The steel punched deep.
The goblin’s roar collapsed into a choking sound. Its claws raked across his armor desperately, failing to find purchase.
Jake twisted the blade and shoved harder.
They fell together onto gravel.
For a moment neither moved.
Then the goblin’s weight sagged completely.
Silence returned to the quarry, broken only by Jake’s breathing.
He rolled the corpse off and forced himself to sit upright. His thigh burned violently. Blood pooled beneath him in dark spread. He pressed one hand against the wound and felt the sticky warmth seep between fingers.
The System activated.
[Combat Concluded]
Enemies Eliminated: 6
Variant Eliminated: Quarry Alpha (1)
Experience Gained: 120
Level Up Available
Level Up → 2
Vitality +2
Strength +1
Endurance +1
Free Attribute Points: 2
The bleeding slowed almost immediately, though the wound remained painful. Regeneration at low tier was crude but effective.
Another notification followed.
[Skill Progression]
Basic Sword Handling → Proficiency Increased
Pain Resistance → Minor Growth
New Skill Acquired:
Tactical Assessment (Passive — Low Tier)
[Irregularity Confirmed]
External Supply Crate Located
Recommendation: Investigate Nest Interior
Jake lifted his gaze toward the central pit again. The wooden crate remained where he had seen it earlier. Beyond it, a dark opening slanted deeper beneath quarry stone.
The fight had been loud.
If more remained below, they had heard.
His thigh throbbed with every heartbeat.
He should withdraw.
He knew that.
He rose anyway.
Because investigation meant confirmation.
And because something had fed these goblins enough confidence to organize.
Sword in hand, blood still drying along the fuller, Jake stepped toward the nest entrance while the wind carried the metallic scent of death across South Ridge.
The quarry remained silent for nearly a full minute after the last goblin fell, as if the land itself waited to see whether the violence would resume. Jake stood still among the bodies, forcing his breathing to slow while scanning the shadows between broken slabs of stone. No additional movement surfaced from the pit below. Either this had been the entire surface patrol, or whatever remained inside was choosing caution over retaliation.
He did not assume safety.
He wiped his blade against the rough fabric of a fallen goblin’s tunic and sheathed it carefully. The metallic scent in the air had thickened, heavy and sour, mixing with coal-like dust from the quarry floor. Flies would come soon. Other scavengers after that.
He moved methodically.
Loot first.
The smaller goblins carried little beyond crude blades and leather scraps hardened by dirt and sweat. Their weapons were poorly balanced, iron chipped and uneven. He ignored most of them. Weight mattered, and he would not burden himself with scrap metal.
From the larger goblin—the Quarry Alpha—he found a thicker iron cleaver of better quality than expected, likely stolen from a caravan or farm. The grip had been rewrapped with hide strips to fit goblin hands, but beneath that the craft was human. He tested its balance once and decided it was too heavy to justify carrying alongside his own blade.He pick it up and store in inventory.
He searched the belts and pouches.
Copper coins. Seven in total.
Two small bone charms carved with crude symbols.
A chipped ring that might once have been silver.
Nothing extraordinary.
Then he began the unpleasant part.
Guild preference was physical confirmation for kill counts. Heads were cumbersome and drew attention. Ears were standard.
Jake knelt beside the first corpse and drew his knife. The cartilage resisted slightly before giving way under pressure. He worked efficiently, forcing himself to detach from the act. One by one he removed the pointed ears and wrapped them in cloth torn from a goblin’s tunic before placing them into a spare pouch.
Six sets.
Copper rank or not, proof mattered.
The System observed without comment.
When he finished, he stood and looked toward the crate again.
It sat near the central pit, partially shielded by stacked stone as if deliberately positioned rather than dropped. That detail unsettled him more than the goblins themselves.
He approached slowly.
The crate was heavier than it appeared, reinforced at the corners with iron brackets. The wood was not local rough-cut timber. It had been planed smooth. Treated. Sealed once with pitch along the seams, though the seal had been broken and roughly pried open.
He crouched beside it and examined the side panel.
There, painted in faded but still distinct pigment, was a golden lion standing mid-roar, one paw raised, mane stylized into flaring lines that suggested pride rather than realism.
The symbol was deliberate.
Not decorative.
He frowned slightly.
The Empire marked its goods with dragons. That much he had already learned from coinage and rumor. This was different.
Golden lion.
He turned the crate lid further open.
Inside were empty sacks that had once held grain or dried goods. A few broken ceramic jars remained, their contents long removed, The goblins had not understood preservation; they had torn through the supplies without care.
Someone had delivered this.
Or lost it.
Jake ran a hand along the painted lion again. The lines were sharp despite fading. Whoever made it had skill.
He did not recognize it.
The System activated briefly.
[Unknown Heraldic Symbol Detected]
Data Insufficient
Recommendation: External Inquiry
Heraldic.
So it was a banner.
A nation or noble house.
Which meant this was political.
He exhaled slowly.
If goblins were raiding farms and stealing crates, that was a local problem.
If goblins were being supplied with marked goods from a kingdom, that was different.
He looked toward the pit entrance again.
Darkness waited below.
He considered descending.
His thigh still throbbed from the cleaver wound, though the bleeding had slowed to manageable levels thanks to level progression. He calculated risk quickly. If more goblins remained inside and he fought in enclosed tunnels with limited mobility, his current condition would disadvantage him severely.
Investigation meant confirmation, not suicide.
He had the crate.
He had kill proof.
He had behavioral irregularity evidence.
That was sufficient.
Jake lifted the crate carefully. It was awkward but manageable. He secured the lid with rope scavenged from inside and adjusted his balance to compensate for weight.
The forest would be slower on return.
Before leaving, he cast one final look across the quarry. Six bodies lay scattered across stone, blood darkening beneath them. The nest entrance remained open, silent and watchful.
He committed the terrain to memory.
If someone else came looking for this place, he wanted the map in his mind.
Then he turned and began the walk back toward Silvercrest.
The road felt longer on return.
Farmers near the southern fields watched him approach with guarded eyes. One man stepped forward slightly when he saw the blood on Jake’s armor.
“Found them?” the farmer asked.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Six above ground. Possibly more below.”
The man swallowed but nodded, gaze shifting to the crate on Jake’s shoulder.
“What’s that?”
Jake glanced at the painted lion.
“Evidence.”
He continued walking.
The System updated quietly.
[Mission Objective: Investigation — Pending Completion]
Evidence Secured:
— 6 Goblin Ears
— Supply Crate (Marked)
Threat Assessment: Elevated Beyond Initial Report.
Silvercrest’s southern gate came into view as afternoon light began to shift toward amber.
Jake adjusted his grip on the crate.
He still did not know what the golden lion represented.
But he knew one thing clearly.
If goblins were organizing around stolen supplies bearing a kingdom’s mark, someone within that kingdom would care.
And if someone cared, then this small Copper mission would not remain small for long.
By the time Jake reached the guild hall, dusk had begun to settle over Silvercrest, staining the stone streets in muted copper light. His armor was marked by drying blood and dust from the quarry, and the crate pressed against his shoulder with dull persistence. Conversations inside the guild quieted the moment he stepped through the doors.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Several adventurers glanced toward him, their eyes first catching the blood, then the bundle at his side.
He walked directly to the counter.
The woman behind it—Mirelle—looked up from her ledger, gaze sharp and appraising. Lysander stood near the contract board and turned as well.
“You’re back earlier than expected,” Mirelle said calmly. “Report.”
Jake set the crate down on the counter with controlled care. The wood struck solid oak with a heavy knock that drew more attention than the blood had.
“South Ridge quarry confirmed,” he said evenly. “Six surface goblins eliminated. One enhanced variant acting as alpha. Organized movement. Rotational watch.”
He untied the pouch and placed the wrapped cloth beside the crate. When he unfolded it, six severed ears dropped onto the wood.
A few adventurers grimaced. One muttered approval under his breath.
“Surface only?” Lysander asked.
“Likely deeper nest below quarry pit,” Jake replied. “Did not descend. Injury risk. Mission was investigation.”
Mirelle nodded slightly.
“Wise.”
Jake placed a hand on the crate and slid it forward.
“This was at the center of their staging area.”
Lysander stepped closer and lifted the lid. His expression shifted immediately when he saw the painted mark on the side panel.
Mirelle’s posture straightened.
The guild hall noise dulled around them.
“Where did you find this?” Lysander asked quietly.
“Near nest entrance. Opened. Supplies mostly consumed.”
Mirelle reached out and brushed her fingers across the golden lion emblem. Her eyes hardened.
“That,” she said slowly, “is the royal crest of the Kingdom of Aldoria.”
Several nearby adventurers exchanged looks.
Jake remained silent.
Aldoria.
Lion banner.
Now it had a face.
Lysander exhaled through his nose. “Aldorian supply crates in goblin hands.”
“Meaning?” Jake asked.
Mirelle’s gaze flicked to him.
“It means either a merchant caravan was intercepted and not reported,” she said evenly, “or someone is moving royal supplies through unofficial channels.”
“Or,” Lysander added, voice lower, “someone is feeding goblins.”
The hall grew quieter still.
Jake processed that.
“If goblins become organized with consistent supply,” Mirelle continued, “farm raids escalate. Villages destabilize. Panic spreads. Border tensions increase.”
“With Velkar watching from the east,” Lysander finished.
Political instability.
Jake understood now why the System had flagged irregularity.
Mirelle closed the crate firmly.
“You were contracted for investigation,” she said. “You delivered elimination of the surface threat and uncovered supply irregularity.”
She opened the ledger again, turning several pages before writing in firm strokes.
“Six confirmed kills. Enhanced variant included.”
The System pulsed faintly.
[Mission Updated]
Investigation → Investigation & Elimination
Bonus Applied: Enhanced Variant
Mirelle looked up.
“Copper rank is for basic extermination and courier tasks,” she said. “You demonstrated tactical restraint, threat assessment, and initiative beyond mandate.”
She reached beneath the counter and retrieved a small metal badge.
Unlike the dull copper token he had received earlier, this one was darker, heavier. Bronze, etched with the guild insignia and a single horizontal line beneath it.
“Jake,” she said clearly enough for those nearby to hear, “you are hereby promoted to Bronze Rank.”
A low murmur spread through the hall.
Copper to Bronze on first contract was uncommon, but not unheard of. What drew more attention was the crate sitting between them.
She slid the badge toward him.
“Bronze rank grants access to intermediate contracts, patrol coordination, and restricted postings. You may now accept missions flagged ‘Situational’ or ‘Discreet.’”
Lysander folded his arms.
“Which this likely will become.”
Jake picked up the bronze badge and weighed it in his palm.
He felt no surge of pride.
Only escalation.
The System confirmed it.
[Rank Advancement Confirmed]
Guild Rank: Bronze
Access Unlocked:
— Special Missions (Conditional)
— Multi-Objective Contracts
— Higher Reward Scaling
Reputation Value: Increased
Then another line appeared, colder than the rest.
[World Thread Detected]
Political Vector Alignment: Pending
Jake dismissed the panel.
“What happens to the crate?” he asked.
“It does not leave guild custody,” Mirelle replied immediately. “We will verify supply manifests and report through proper channels.”
“To Aldoria?” he asked.
“To the right people,” she said.
There was something careful in her tone.
Lysander leaned slightly closer to Jake. “You may have stumbled into something larger than goblins,” he said quietly. “Be cautious which contracts you accept next.”
Jake secured the bronze badge to his belt beside the guild token.
“Understood.”
Mirelle closed the ledger once more.
“Your reward,” she said, sliding a small pouch across the counter. “Base twelve copper. Six confirmed kills. Enhanced variant bonus. Total: twenty-three copper.”
Jake accepted the pouch without counting it.
The hall gradually returned to normal volume, but glances still followed him. Bronze rank on first outing drew interest. The Aldorian crate drew suspicion.
He turned to leave.
“Jake,” Mirelle called before he reached the door.
He paused.
“Rest tonight,” she said. “Tomorrow, there will be contracts that were not posted this morning.”
Meaning special missions.
Meaning someone would want that crate investigated further.
Jake inclined his head once and stepped back into the evening air of Silvercrest.he goes to potion shop to sell all of venom sack, cracked spider fang and Venom in bottle.
The sky above the city was dimming into deep blue, first stars emerging beyond the rooftops. Somewhere to the east, beyond forests and fields, the Empire of Velkar watched borders with calculating patience. Somewhere within Aldoria, a golden lion marked goods meant for loyal subjects.
And in a quarry south of the city, goblins had feasted on royal supplies.
Copper rank had been survival.
Bronze rank would be involvement.
The System spoke one final time before silence.
[Growth Trajectory Accelerating]
Warning: Increased Visibility Detected
