[POV Liselotte]
The Adventurers’ Guild of Whirikal never truly slept.
Even at dawn, when light had only just begun to filter through the tall stained-glass windows of the main hall, the building breathed with life: hurried footsteps over polished stone, the scrape of leather and tal, the constant murmur of tired yet alert voices. It was a place built for movent, for ambition and survival.
But that morning… sothing was different.
I couldn’t say exactly what gave it away first. Maybe it was how the murmurs died down too quickly whenever soone of high rank crossed the room. Or the invisible tension that seed to tighten the air, as if the guild itself were holding its breath. Even the usual rough laughter and argunts over rewards felt muted, reduced to watchful whispers.
I felt it the mont we crossed the threshold.
An uncomfortable tingling ran down my spine, and I knew—without needing to look at anyone—that we were no longer just adventurers walking in to take contracts.
“This feels different,” I murmured, almost without realizing it.
Leah walked beside , her stride steady, her back straight. From the outside, anyone would have thought she was calm, even accustod to the attention. But I knew her too well. Her shoulders were tense, just enough to betray that every gaze fixed on us was being carefully registered.
Chloé walked one step behind.
Silent, as always, but not distracted. Her white ears moved constantly, catching sounds I couldn’t even perceive. She tried to blend in, to go unnoticed… though it was impossible. Her re presence drew inevitable stares: curiosity, admiration, wariness.
I heard the whispers before I could distinguish who they ca from.
“Is that her…?”
“They say they stopped an elental…”
“That can’t be true…”
“Rank A… at their age?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t lift my head. I simply kept walking, focusing on the rhythm of my steps against the cold stone. I couldn’t allow anxiety to show on my face.
We reached the main counter.
The receptionist—the sa one who had attended us so many tis before—looked up as we approached. Her usual smile didn’t appear right away. Instead, she inclined her head slightly in a formal, asured gesture, one laden with a new kind of respect.
That simple gesture made clench my teeth.
“Good morning,” she said. “The council finished the verification an hour ago.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Leah stepped forward before I could say anything. Her voice was clear, controlled.
“The result?”
The woman took a thick docunt, bound in dark leather and sealed with several overlapping magical emblems. She placed it on the counter with both hands, as if its weight were more symbolic than physical.
“After confirming the authenticity of the enchanted plate,” she began, “reviewing the incomplete reports, and validating the mission as completed despite the casualties suffered… the guild has issued an official verdict.”
She paused.
It wasn’t long, but it was enough for silence to spread through the hall like a held tide.
“Lisellote. Leah. Chloé.”
She pronounced our nas with absolute clarity.
“From this mont on, you are officially registered as Rank A adventurers of the Guild of Whirikal.”
The murmur that swept through the room was imdiate.
It wasn’t a violent outburst, but a shockwave of surprise, disbelief, and sudden attention. So adventurers turned fully toward us. Others remained frozen, watching us as if they had just seen sothing that didn’t quite fit their understanding of the world.
I felt a strange pressure in my chest.
Relief, yes.
Disbelief.
And sothing heavier, harder to na: the certainty that we had just crossed a threshold from which there was no return.
Leah closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if she needed to anchor that mont inside herself.
“Thank you,” she said at last, her voice steady.
“The guild will organize an official ceremony this very afternoon,” the receptionist continued. “It will be public. The promotion will be formally announced, and a complete magical data registration will be conducted.”
Her gaze slid toward Leah, and for the first ti I saw sothing in her eyes beyond professionalism.
“The guild master requests your presence in his office. Imdiately.”
We nodded.
As we headed toward the central staircase, I felt the stares burning into our backs. They weren’t hostile. Nor were they warm. They were expectant. Calculating.
Rank A was not just recognition.
It was a declaration.
Ronan’s office was silent when we entered.
The guild master stood by the window, observing the city stretching beyond the walls. Whirikal was slowly waking beneath the morning light, unaware—or perhaps not—of the decisions being forged within.
“Close the door,” he said without turning around.
We obeyed.
Ronan turned then and looked at us one by one. His presence was imposing without exaggeration: straight-backed, steady hands, a gaze that seed to asure everything, even what went unsaid.
“Congratulations,” he said finally. “Not many people make it this far without losing themselves along the way.”
“Thank you, Master Ronan,” Leah replied, inclining her head slightly.
Ronan sat behind his desk and interlaced his fingers.
“What happened with the artifact and the elental has accelerated many processes,” he continued. “The kingdom is uneasy. The nobles as well.”
I leaned forward without aning to.
“What does that an for us?”
“That you are no longer just adventurers,” he replied. “You are now a political factor.”
Leah frowned.
“I didn’t ask for that.”
“No one ever does.”
Ronan sighed, weary.
“This afternoon, during the promotion ceremony, we will use the magical asurent artifact.”
Leah’s reaction was imdiate. Her body stiffened.
“In public?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ronan looked straight at her.
“Because today there is an extraordinary eting between the king and several high-ranking nobles. The asures against the demonic invasion are stalled. What’s missing is a figure that disrupts the balance.”
Silence fell heavily.
“I trust,” he continued, “that when His Majesty sees the artifact’s results… he will not be able to deny what you are.”
Leah lowered her gaze.
“And if he still does?”
“Then he will be exposed before everyone.”
Chloé spoke for the first ti, her voice low but firm.
“That’s dangerous.”
Ronan nodded.
“It is. But the kingdom is already in danger.”
We left the office with those words clinging to our skin.
The ceremony was prepared swiftly. The main hall was cleared, guild banners were placed, and military representatives, nobles, and royal envoys began to arrive one after another. This was no simple ceremony.
It was a demonstration.
When we were called forward, I felt my heart pound violently in my chest.
Ronan spoke clearly, presenting our nas, our actions, the risks we had taken. Each word was another stone laid upon the history being written.
Finally, the artifact was brought to the center.
Leah stepped forward.
She placed her hand on the crystal.
The reaction was imdiate.
The light intensified. The runes began to spin. A magical pulse rippled through the room, and I felt a chill run down my spine, as if the air itself recognized what was happening.
The crystal shifted from white to blue.
And then…
Gold.
A deep gold.
Heavy.
Silent.
The murmurs erupted.
“That’s…”
“Royal level…”
“Impossible…”
Ronan raised his hand.
“Let it be recorded,” he said. “The artifact confirms a royal magical lineage.”
Leah withdrew her hand, trembling.
I moved toward her without thinking.
“Breathe.”
She nodded, her eyes shining.
And for the first ti in a long while, I saw sothing different in her expression.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
Hope.
And I knew, with a certainty that pierced my chest, that nothing would ever be the sa again.
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