The morning sunlight illuminated the cobblestone streets of Wealden City. Economic activity began to pulse; vegetable merchants unloaded cargo from wooden carts, while the aroma of freshly baked bread overpowered the lingering morning dew.
Amidst the hustle and bustle, three figures walked steadily, parting the crowd.
Alphonse and Arcus left the hoods of their cloaks down, displaying their faces clearly. Behind them, Vrischil walked in silence, pulling her hood tightly to conceal half her face and her pointed ears.
Local residents, pedestrians, and street vendors automatically parted to the sides of the street, making room for the three of them to pass.
Although they were only wearing standard cloaks, Alphonse's upright posture radiated an aura of authority, while Arcus's light yet confident steps screamed high-class arrogance. In the eyes of the Wealden residents, they appeared to be nobles conducting an undercover inspection of the territory.
It did not take long for them to locate the largest building in the center of the district. A three-story structure of solid stone with a carving of a crossed sword and shield above its main doors. The Adventurer's Guild.
Arcus stepped forward and pushed the thick double wooden doors open.
Instantly, a wave of noise assaulted their ears. The main hall of the guild was incredibly spacious, illuminated by light crystals hanging from the ceiling.
The sharp scent of ale, sweat, burnt leather, and dried blood from armor blended together in the air. The clinking of colliding wooden mugs, rough hoarse laughter, and heated debates over the division of hunting spoils filled every inch of the room.
However, as Alphonse, Arcus, and Vrischil stepped across the threshold, a ripple of silence spread.
The noise around the entrance slowly subsided. Several veteran adventurers who were polishing their swords ceased their movements. Their survival instincts, honed in the fields of danger, detected an anomaly.
Arcus's nearly soundless footsteps, and Alphonse's ice-cold golden eyes from behind his glasses, radiated the aura of restrained predators.
The veterans stared in silence for a few seconds, before finally concluding that there was no point in seeking trouble with these mysterious individuals, and resumed their chatter.
While walking toward the reception desk at the end of the hall, Alphonse's eyes moved, scanning the situation. This was the first time he had seen the non-human denizens of the world of Orion en masse.
In the corner of the room near the hearth, he saw a group of short, stout men, their beards braided and adorned with metal rings. They laughed loudly while slamming their beer mugs onto the table. Dwarves.
In front of the large wooden mission board, a tall man was arguing fiercely with a clerk over the payout for monster pelts. The man had furry ears protruding from his hair and a grey wolf tail twitching in annoyance behind his leather belt. A Beastman.
Seeing this sight, Alphonse drew a conclusion in his heart. This world indeed accommodates the exact same racial diversity as in the game. I didn't see them on the streets earlier likely because this city is located in human territory.
Vrischil, walking behind Alphonse, noticed the same thing.
Beneath her hood, the tension in Vrischil's shoulders loosened slightly. The fact that races other than humans could move freely in this place meant an Elf would not be considered an anomaly.
The three of them finally arrived at the long wooden reception desk.
A young woman in a guild clerk uniform looked up. The woman, who usually served rough, dirt-smelling adventurers, suddenly became incredibly nervous upon seeing her three guests.
Arcus, whose ego had returned after Alphonse's recovery, took the initiative. He stepped forward, placed the back of his hand against his left chest, and stared at the receptionist with a dramatic pose.
"O gatekeeper of destiny," Arcus spoke in a theatrical tone, bowing slightly like a knight introducing himself. "Grant us the token of this alliance. We are souls bound by the oath of the falling star, come to carve our legend upon the river of time!"
The female receptionist merely blinked. Her mouth fell slightly open in confusion, her cheeks flushing slightly from the handsome face of the man before her.
From behind Arcus, Alphonse took a step forward. Without changing his expression, he used his elbow to shove Arcus away from the front of the desk.
"We wish to register as adventurers," Alphonse stated in a flat tone. "Please ignore this idiot."
Arcus groaned in annoyance, adjusting his collar because his epic moment had just been cut short.
Although Alphonse spoke briefly, the firmness of his voice and his highly intimidating gaze made the receptionist even more flustered.
She felt as though she were serving nobles from the capital who were playfully roleplaying, rather than a group of commoners seeking their fortune.
"Y-yes, Sir!" the receptionist answered, trying to cover her nervousness with professionalism. "The registration fee is one silver coin per person. So the total is three silver coins."
From beneath her hood, Vrischil stepped forward soundlessly. She placed three silver coins onto the counter.
With slightly trembling hands, the receptionist took the coins and pushed forward three sheets of parchment along with a quill and ink. "P-please write your names here, Sir."
Arcus took the quill first. With bold strokes, he wrote his name with a highly beautiful and elegant flourish.
Alphonse followed, writing his name, and Vrischil took the final turn, writing her name briefly without uttering a single word.
The receptionist received their parchments back. From beneath the desk, she pulled out three rectangular metal plates the size of playing cards. The surface of the plates was plain, with only a single small rune engraved in the center.
"These are Iron plates, the lowest rank for beginner adventurers," the receptionist explained, her tone flowing smoother now. "For this basic class registration, you are not required to take the aptitude test at the Fate Monolith, unless you are willing to pay an additional testing fee of one gold coin."
"These plates need to be synchronized so they cannot be forged or used by others. Please provide a drop of your blood, or channel a bit of mana into the center of this rune."
Arcus smirked. He placed the tip of his index finger upon the plate and channeled a thread of mana.
The rune on the plate instantly glowed yellow for a moment, indicating successful synchronization. Vrischil did the same in a matter of seconds.
Now it was Alphonse's turn.
He stared at the small metal plate before him. Herein lay the problem.
The capacity and pressure of mana inside his body were like an ocean held back by a giant dam.
If he channeled his mana normally as Arcus had done, the metal plate would instantly melt and explode, destroying the reception desk.
Alphonse closed his eyes for a moment. With absolute concentration, he compressed his energy flow until it shrank, and shrank again, until it was only the size of a speck of dust. Incredibly, incredibly weak.
He pressed his finger to the rune and released that 'dust' of energy.
The metal plate glowed with a very dim yellow light, flickering like a candle nearly blown out by the wind, before the synchronization process finally completed.
The female receptionist stared at the weak glow. Her eyes shifted to Alphonse's handsome face and imposing posture. A look of pity crossed the woman's eyes.
She assumed that this highly dominant-looking man actually possessed an incredibly pathetic magical capacity, almost like an ordinary human without any talent.
Alphonse noticed the dismissive gaze hidden by the receptionist. Yet, behind his monocle, he felt not the slightest bit offended. He only smiled faintly in his heart.
He picked up the Iron plate, feeling the cold metal in his palm. He had grasped his official identity card in the world of Orion.
The creak of the guild's wide-open double doors swallowed all the noise inside the room.
The hoarse laughter of the adventurers, the clinking of beer mugs, even the debates in front of the mission board—everything died in a single breath. Total silence enveloped the hall, before it was finally replaced by low murmurs laden with awe and respect.
Alphonse, Arcus, and Vrischil turned their heads simultaneously.
From the doorway, five figures stepped inside, parting the sea of adventurers who automatically made way. They moved with a synchronization and confidence possessed only by veterans who had brushed with death hundreds of times. The Gilded Falcons party.
The focus of all eyes was on the leader walking at the front, Lorien Caldwell.
The blonde man wore lightweight silver armor polished to a blinding shine. Hanging at his waist was a longsword with an intricately carved scabbard.
However, what drew the most attention was a whitish-silver metal badge pinned proudly to his left chest. A Platinum Badge.
Behind Lorien walked his protective formation: a burly Knight shouldering a tower shield as tall as his body, a grey-cloaked Assassin whose footsteps were nearly soundless, a female Priest with a holy staff emitting a calming aura, and...
Alphonse's eyes narrowed from behind his monocle.
At the very back of the formation walked a female mage. Her long blonde hair was tied back neatly, contrasting with her blue robes. She had beautiful emerald eyes, a slender face, and a pair of pointed ears that she made no effort to hide in the slightest. An Elf.
"Lorien! Hahaha! You have finally returned from the northern expedition!"
A friendly, booming laugh broke the silence. From the wooden stairs on the second floor descended a muscular, middle-aged man wearing a dark brown longcoat with silver shoulder guards, clutching a book with fingerless leather gloves.
It was the Guild Master.
The man ignored the dozens of other adventurers on the ground floor and went straight to Lorien with wide, open arms, proving just how highly valued a Platinum-rank adventurer was to that guild branch.
Lorien returned the Guild Master's handshake with a warm yet calculating smile.
"An exhausting expedition, Guild Master Thorne. But we returned with worthy results. And... I also brought a new member to be registered."
Lorien stepped aside, making room for the Elf behind him to step forward. "Introduce yourselves, Aeliana Dewlight. A mage from the Silverleaf Forest."
Thorne nodded respectfully to Aeliana, his eyes sparkling at the prospect of a new member for the elite group. "It is an honor to receive a mage from Silverleaf in my branch. Come, come! I shall process her registration myself!"
From the corner of the reception desk, Alphonse observed the interaction closely. A sense of relief washed over his mind.
Elves are not only well-received in this human city, he thought. This is a guarantee of safety for Vrischil's position.
Vrischil herself, whose face was still half-covered by the shadows of his cloak's hood, accidentally locked eyes with Aeliana as the blonde Elf walked past the reception desk toward the back area.
Amidst the sea of humans, the two Elves exchanged a small, nearly imperceptible nod—a silent acknowledgment between members of the same race.
Thorne led The Gilded Falcons party toward a two-meter-tall black stone pillar located in the center of the main hall. The surface of the stone was as smooth as obsidian, adorned with ancient carvings emitting a magical glow.
"Of course, before registering, we must measure Lady Aeliana's aptitude at the Fate Monolith," the Guild Master said with a blooming smile.
Lorien chuckled softly. With an elegant motion, he reached into his belt pouch and tossed a coin onto the nearest table.
Ting!
The clinking sound of that gold coin sounded incredibly loud, heavy, and... expensive. The sound felt like a slap to the finances of Alphonse's group, who currently relied solely on the silver coins looted from thugs.
"Just take the fee out of that," Lorien said casually.
Thorne laughed harder. He pushed the gold coin back toward Lorien with a gentle declining gesture.
"Keep your money, Lorien. For a prideful party like The Gilded Falcons, my guild branch will cover the testing fee in full."
Lorien smiled in satisfaction, taking his coin back. He then signaled to Aeliana.
Aeliana stepped forward, placing her right palm exactly in the center of the Fate Monolith's surface.
Alphonse, Arcus, and Vrischil watched intently. Earlier, they had skipped the Fate Monolith test because they did not possess a single gold coin to pay the fee. However, there was something else that drew Alphonse's attention far more.
An aptitude-measuring object like the Fate Monolith had absolutely never existed in the game Orion Online.
Realizing that this was an authentic magical artifact native to this world, Alphonse's eyes narrowed from behind his monocle. He stared intently, intensely curious to see the effects and workings of this alien object.
The Fate Monolith absorbed mana from Aeliana, vibrated softly, then erupted a dense, dark blue light into the air.
The light writhed above the stone, solidified, and carved a three-dimensional visual in the air—an intricate Golden Sigil depicting crossed magical staves set against a backdrop of bright constellations.
The Guild Master's eyes widened.
His mouth fell open, his breath seemingly halting as he stared at the Golden Sigil floating in the air.
All members of The Gilded Falcons gasped, while the hundreds of adventurers in the hall held their breath.
"B-by Lumina..." the Guild Master murmured with a trembling voice. He turned to face the crowd, his face flushed with euphoria. "A Hero-tier aptitude! Lady Aeliana possesses the aptitude of an ArchMage!"