Freshly decked out in their new local attire, Josh and Brett returned to the guild hall looking far more like real adventurers and far less like travellers who’d rolled down a cliff in strange foreign cloth. Josh tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt, still not entirely used to how soft and perfectly fitted everything felt. The enchantnts woven into the fabric made the clothes self‑cleaning and self‑repairing, a fact Brett had celebrated with an actual cheer.
Inside the guild, the atmosphere was warm and loud, the kind of good‑natured chaos that only ca after a dungeon had been cleared and coin purses were full. Carcan sat at a long table near the back, cheeks rosy, a gentle smile softening her usually asured expression. A half‑finished cup of berry liquor sat in front of her.
Bheldur, on the other hand, was three drinks past reasonable and at least two past dignified. He slamd his mug down as he spotted them.
"There you are! Took you long enough!" he bellowed. "Co, sit! We’re celebrating not dying!"
Perberos gave them a small wave. "He’s been like this since his second drink. It’s entertaining."
Josh and Brett dropped into seats beside their friends. A server approached quickly, already smiling. "Drinks? Food?"
"Yes," Brett said imdiately. "All of the above."
They ordered a round and a few large platters, and soon enough the table was covered with roasted ats, crusty bread, spiced vegetables, and more varieties of ale than Josh had known existed here.
The night quickly unfurled into a colourful blend of laughter, clinking mugs, and stories traded at full volu. Other adventurers joined intermittently, so they had fought beside, others newly returned from their own journeys.
One high‑level ranger approached, raising their mug toward Josh’s group. "Heard you lot did a good job with that goblin dungeon and the stuff that broke out of it. Sure sounds like a big test for a group of newbies. Heard it was a real battle just to get to it.”
Bheldur grinned proudly. "Aye, well, we’re efficient. And handso. Mostly that’s handso though."
Carcan giggled behind her cup.
Another group, one of the parties who’d recently returned from the undead caves, slid into the nearby seats.
"So it was you," one of their warriors said, nudging Josh. "We kept hearing rumours about a party of newcors ripping through goblins like they owed you money."
Brett raised his mug. "It felt like so did. The boss definitely did." This brought a cheer and a laugh from everyone around them.
Ronald arrived not long after, greeted by cheers from several tables. He clapped Josh on the shoulder with a rare wide smile. "Good work, Guardian. Didn’t think I’d see the day you lot drank without needing dical supervision."
"We’re learning," Josh said. "Slowly."
Caistina breezed in behind him, hair slightly wind‑tossed sohow. "And what do I find here? My favourite troublemakers, already drunk."
"Not drunk," Perberos said with a calm dignity that was imdiately undermined by Bheldur falling sideways into him.
The table erupted in laughter.
The evening rolled on, warm and bright. Stories grew more exaggerated, boasts more dramatic. Brett animatedly described their first troll fight in the dungeon using bread rolls as props. Josh nearly choked on his drink when Carcan, emboldened by liquor, mimicked Brett’s panicked scream from an ambush.
Even the higher‑ranked adventurers nearby joined in, raising their mugs every ti soone toasted the dungeon, the guild, or simply being alive.
As the night wore down and the last plates were cleared, Josh leaned back with a long, contented exhale. The fire crackled. The room buzzed. His friends laughed, shouted, and teased each other.
Warmth settled into him like a blanket.
This… This felt right.
Not just surviving the dungeon. Not just levelling.
This.
Belonging.
And with his friends around him, full and loud and happy, Josh had no doubt that whatever ca next, they’d face it together.
—
The morning sun crept through the guild hall windows like an intruder with no respect for suffering. It cast warm, accusing beams straight across the disaster that had been last night’s celebration.
Josh woke first, if one could call the groan he released and the slow, pained lift of his head an awakening. He found himself half‑slumped over a table, cheek pressed against sothing sticky that he prayed was only spilled juice.
Bheldur snored loudly against the leg of a chair, one boot missing. Perberos was draped across a bench like a discarded cloak. Brett lay sprawled on the floor with his arms stretched out dramatically, as if he had died mid‑speech. Carcan who was normally the most composed, was curled neatly in a corner, hair a ss, cheeks still faintly flushed.
The hall itself was a warzone of empty mugs, plates, crumbs, and the faint sll of regret.
Josh squinted. "Brett…? You alive?"
"No," Brett croaked. "Tell my family I died bravely."
Before anyone could muster the strength to stand, angry footsteps approached, stomping with each stride.
Mich stopped beside them, arms crossed, expression one part amused and two parts unimpressed.
"Well," she said, "Rochelle isn’t happy that the five of you turned the guild into a dormitory, but she agreed to overlook it… this once. After everything you did, you earned a night to celebrate."
Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
Then Mich lifted a tal pan. And slamd it down on the table.
CLANG!
The sound hit them like a physical blow. Every mber of the party flinched violently, clutching their heads.
"This," Mich said with serene satisfaction, "is your punishnt. Consider it a reminder that even heroes need to tidy up after themselves."
Bheldur whimpered, holding his hands to his ears and driving his face into the chairs fabric. Carcan sunk further into the corner and Perberos folded like a dropped cape.
Once she was sure they were sufficiently miserable, Mich cleared her throat.
"Now then. I forgot to do sothing yesterday. Hand your guild cards. All of them."
Despite the pain, the group sat up straighter. Josh fumbled for his card, Brett squinted at his until it stopped doubling in his vision, and the others each produced theirs.
Mich gathered them up, her tone shifting from playful torntor to professional guild official, leading the group like a duck with her ducklings over to the front desk.
"You’ve all proven yourselves," she said. "A cleared dungeon, a halted mana bleed, dozens, if not hundreds of lives protected. You’ve acted with competence, bravery, and a shocking lack of restraint regarding alcohol but that part we’ll ignore for the mont."
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She placed the cards on the desk behind her and began the upgrade process, tapping small runes built into the wood. Soft light pulsed beneath her fingertips. One by one, the cards glowed, the stone‑grey colour deepening, shifting, darkening into polished iron.
Mich returned and placed each card into its owner’s hands.
"Congratulations," she said. "You’re now Iron‑Rank adventurers. Don’t make regret it."
Excitent broke through the hangover fog instantly.
Josh grinned despite the pounding in his skull. "Iron‑Rank…" he whispered, turning the card over in his hands.
Brett held his up triumphantly, then winced at the movent. "We’re moving up in the world! Ow. But still!"
Perberos’ lip flicked with barely restrained pride for a mont. Carcan smiled softly, cradling her upgraded card like sothing precious. Bheldur puffed out his chest whist trying not to jostle his head.
For a mont, none of them felt tired. None of them felt hungover. They just felt proud.
Mich smirked at their brightened expressions. "Enjoy the mont but don’t get cocky. Iron is still early days. And if you ever leave the guild hall in this state again…" She picked up the pan.
Five imdiate, pained, terrified groans left their collective mouths. Mich nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now clean up the tables before Rochelle kills for letting you stay.
Soon, the hall was cleared and the sll of freshly baked bread and sizzling at drifted through the guild hall as the group slowly recovered from their rough morning. Trays clattered, chairs scraped, and sowhere in the back a cook shouted orders, normal sounds, but they felt like hamrs pounding against tender skulls.
Breakfast helped. A little.
Josh poked at a plate of eggs until he felt human again. Brett nursed a mug of sothing warm and herbal, muttering that he might actually die. Carcan and Bhel sat slumped across from them, both looking as though they’d aged twenty years overnight.
The guild hall was lively already. Adventurers chatted, armour glinted, quests changed hands. Soone laughed way too loudly in the corner, causing all four of them to wince.
Josh eventually leaned back and rubbed his face and let out a sigh. "Alright... what’s next for us?"
Before anyone could answer, Bhel stood and wandered toward the quest board, still bleary but curious. He scanned the papers pinned across it until sothing familiar caught his eye. With a grunt, he pulled it free and returned to the table.
"This one is still up," he said, laying the quest sheet down. "The call for higher-tier adventurers to investigate the undead cave."
Josh frowned. "I thought that would’ve been sorted by now."
Bhel shrugged. "So did I. Let’s ask."
Mich was nearby, sorting paperwork with surprising energy considering the night they’d all had - she’d spent at least half an hour drinking with them.
Bhel stepped over and held out the request. "Mich, what’s going on with the undead cave? This quest hasn’t been taken down."
Mich sighed, rubbing her temple. "Because the situation isn’t resolved. Many adventurers are still there, and they're struggling with the mana in that place. They cleared the surface-level cave... but deeper inside they found sothing worse."
The group leaned in.
"A dungeon entrance," she continued. "And not a normal one. They said the portal was almost pitch black, darker than anything they’d seen in a long ti. That usually ans it’s close to a break."
Josh’s stomach tightened. Brett looked unsettled too. Carcan’s ears twitched.
"There’s been a lot of injuries," Mich went on. "Strange mana saturating everything. Undead escaping. And whatever magic is leaking has started corrupting nearby monsters. It’s… bad. It’s amazing really that there hasn’t been more sightings of undead, like with the goblins from the dungeon you found. It seems that sothing was keeping it contained until you found it Bhel.”
Bhel’s expression hardened with determination. "Would we be allowed to go there? We’d be willing to help."
Mich gave him a stern look, though not unkind. "Not yet. That dungeon has been tested and judged to be for adventurers around level twenty or higher. You’re strong, all of you, but you’re not there yet. You still have so ti before you can take on sothing like that safely."
Josh exhaled, both relieved and frustrated.
"So for now," Mich said, folding the quest sheet and setting it aside, "focus on growing stronger. Train, take manageable quests, and stay alive. When you’re ready, that dungeon won’t be going anywhere, especially in it’s current state. We’ve had to ask for help from Verentide to handle it, and Rochelle is debating asking for others help, but with everything going on it’s difficult for others to send help."
Josh took note of Mich ntioning things happening elsewhere, but didn’t have the current brain capacity to ask any further questions, but knew he’d have to ask about it at a later date. A day when his brain was not befuddled with leftover ale.
The party continued scanning the quest board, nursing their (none alcoholic) drinks and trying to ignore the dull ache behind their eyes. The wooden notice boards were crowded with parchnt sheets, each one pinned, layered, or hanging by a single stubborn tack. Most were routine, boring, even but a few caught their attention.
Bheldur leaned closer, squinting. "Alright, what's this one… 'Lost Sheep in the Eastern Fields'? Reward… a single silver and a thank-you loaf of bread. Hard pass."
Perberos snorted. "You cleared a goblin dungeon, Bhel. Try to have so pride."
"I do! Which is why I’m not spending the day chasing wool with legs," Bhel replied, swiping the notice aside.
Josh pointed at a different one further up. "How about this? ‘Clear out giant hornet nests near the orchard.’ The reward’s decent."
Carcan made a soft, uneasy noise. "Giant hornets… their venom hurts horribly. Bees were bad enough. I’d rather face goblins again."
"Sa," Brett added quickly. "Hard sa. A very hard sa."
Perberos tugged a thicker sheet free. "Here’s one, ‘Escort caravan to Willowbend.’ Two days’ travel each way, five gold per person."
Josh wrinkled his nose. "I don’t know if I’m ready to spend four days babysitting wagons while bandits stare at us from bushes."
“Also,” Brett chid in, “I feel like we’d end up walking the whole way while the rchants complain we’re not doing it fast enough.”
One by one, they examined more options:
‘Wyvern sighting west of the ridge - confirmation needed.’ The parchnt had a shaky, terrified-looking signature. Josh imdiately put it back. They weren’t suicidal.‘Herbalist needs rare mushrooms from Mossglen Hollow.’ The reward was small, and the hollow was rumoured to be crawling with slis.‘Bandit activity near the river crossing.’ But as Josh picked it another adventurer told him Ronald had already said higher-ranked adventurers were handling it.‘Help repair the palisade in East Ashenfall.’ Josh loudly refused to do this one, after his digging experience previously.
After nearly twenty minutes of flipping, sorting, and rejecting, Mich approached with a mug of sothing steaming and suspiciously thick.
“You lot look like you’re trying to find buried treasure on that board,” she said, taking a sip.
“We’re trying to find anything that fits,” Josh said. “It feels like everything’s either too small or way out of our league.”
Mich humd, then plucked a few notices off the board and slid them aside. “Most of these are scraps for new recruits or chores the village posts for convenience. You’re past that now.”
Bhel puffed up proudly, until Mich smacked him lightly with a rolled-up quest sheet. “But you’re not ready for the undead cave, so get that idea out of your heads.”
Bhel deflated. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“I could see you thinking it,” Mich replied.
Brett chuckled. “She’s not wrong.”
Mich sighed, then reached into the board’s top section, the part most newer adventurers ignored entirely.
“There’s a better option for what you need,” she said. “Levelling fast, learning teamwork, getting used to your new evolutions. And without getting yourselves killed.”
She pulled out a crimson-marked quest slip and handed it to Josh.
‘Kobold Warrens – Southern Foothills’
Recomnded Level: 12–18
Threat Level: Moderate
Reward: Scaled by proof-of-clearing and recovered materials
Josh blinked. “Kobolds? There’s a dungeon of them?”
“Small one,” Mich said. “Nesting tunnels, lots of branching paths. You won’t get rich there, but you’ll get experience faster than anywhere else nearby.”
Carcan read over Josh’s shoulder. “I’ve heard kobolds fight in packs.”
“Exactly why it’s good practice,” Mich replied. “They’re organised. Crafty. And they love setting traps. You’ll learn to think on your feet.”
Perberos nodded slowly. “Sounds… reasonable. Dangerous, but reasonable.”
“And well within your rank now that you’re Iron,” Mich reminded them, tapping the upgraded cards still sitting on the table.
Bheldur grinned wide. “So you’re saying this is basically training with pay?”
Mich smirked. “If that’s how you want to fra it. But yes. You’ll get stronger, sharper, and smarter. And the guild always needs kobold populations kept in check.”
The party spent so ti talking through their options, and looking at other quests on the board. After so debating, the party finally agreed they weren't quite ready to dive into another dungeon, not yet at least. A few days to rebuild their coin supply and ease back into familiar routines sounded perfect, as well as sleeping in a real bed for a little while.
So they gathered around the quest board while Mich leaned against the counter, arms crossed but clearly listening.
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