The public carriage rattled to a halt with a screech of tal on stone.
-Clank! Chreek!
I braced myself as the long wooden fra shuddered, its three massive draft horses snorting steam into the crisp morning air.
"Miiiiihehehe!"
The whole thing ran on steel tracks that laced through the city like veins, creaking and groaning as passengers climbed down in waves.
Not quite a train, not quite a carriage, this structure of magical engineering was more like soone smashed the two together and powered it with horse stamina instead of electricity.
"Efficient… ish," I muttered, hopping off the step onto the cobblestones. "But hey, at least I didn't have to sprint across half the city in heels."
The public transport of the city was amazing, so I sought the experience firsthand.
The plaza where the carriage dropped us was unlike the cozy residential district where my inn was. The air here felt brighter, heavier, buzzing with a kind of pressure that clung to the skin. And the view before … was immaculate.
"Holy hell."
The Adventurer Association.
The building wasn't just large; it was monuntal.
The white-stone fortress carved like a cathedral, its towers spearing the sky as if daring the dungeon at the center of the city to compete.
Sunlight glinted off polished marble, and banners hung proudly from the ramparts, each stitched with the sigil of Westford. Its design was halfway between castle and temple, with wide staircases leading to arched gates tall enough to let a dragon stroll in without ducking.
No civilian houses cluttered the surroundings. The wide plaza around the Association was bare of the usual chatter of families and children.
Instead, stalls hugged the periphery: lean-tos selling bundles of rope, chalk-dusted potions, whetstones, spare boots, even pre-packed rations that slled suspiciously like jerky.
Not a glamorous shopping mall. More like "Oh crap, I forgot a torch" supermarket shopping.
"Last-minute Amazon," I smirked, weaving past a stall stacked with dungeon maps. "Convenient but overpriced."
The crowd here was different, too.
Leather, steel, and monster hide dominated the street, not linen and lace.
These weren't citizens— they were adventurers. n, won, and beings with scarred faces, glowing weapons, and strange familiars padding at their heels. Their voices carried a strange rhythm: grim reports mixed with cocky boasts, tempered by exhaustion, friendly moans, and chatters of power couples.
This scenery was quite fun so I looked around as I walked towards the main castle, but then I spotted her…
'My darling pretty girl.'
Riddle stood at the foot of the grand staircase, sunlight catching on her uniform. She looked… different.
Not in appearance— she still carried herself with the crisp posture of the city's guard captain— but there was no squad trailing her, no clipboard of duties clutched in her hand. Just her this ti. Waiting just like she did last night.
And when her eyes found mine, her serious expression cracked for just a mont.
"Aria." She mouthed, a smile clinging on those lips.
I didn't walk up to her. I jogged.
"Reddy!"
As I jumped the last step between us, landing with the sa reckless energy I always carried, I threw my hands up in mock ceremony. "Ta-da! Behold: your freshly scrubbed, properly dressed Otherworldly companion has arrived~!"
Her lips parted, her composure faltered, and just like last night, her heartbeat betrayed her before she could hide it.
"You…" She sighed, cheeks coloring faintly. "You're just incorrigible."
"And you're blushing again." I grinned, again, leaning in just enough to make her fluster worse. "Seriously, Captain, if you keep reacting like this, people will think we're—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she hissed, but her ears were red, and that was victory enough for .
A few adventurers passing by chuckled. One elderly Lady even called out, "Careful, Captain, she'll steal you away!" which only deepened her flush.
I smirked. Aura farming successful.
We lingered at the base of the stairs, the Association looming above us like a fortress that had eaten too much marble for breakfast. I tilted my head toward the massive gates.
"So… the Guard Captain herself takes a day off just to guide around? What a scandal. Won't your subordinates riot?"
Riddle exhaled through her nose, half amusent, half exasperation. "Let them. The Association is not a place for you to stumble into unprepared. If guiding you prevents… an incident, then it's worth my leave."
"Aww," I clutched my chest dramatically. "Sacrificing PTO for ? I'm honored."
She gave a look that could have cut stone, but the corner of her lips twitched. Just a little.
"Co," she said, motioning toward the gate. "Let's not waste ti."
We climbed the stairs together, and with each step the sounds of the plaza faded: the hawkers yelling about half-price rations, the clatter of weapons being repaired, the grumble of carriages leaving the tracks.
All that noise dimd, until only the quiet hum of magic pressed in from the gates themselves.
The doors of the Adventurer Association lood above us, their white stone surface carved with scenes of monsters and heroes locked in eternal battle. A griffon's wings spread across the archway, while below, tiny runes glowed faintly—wards to repel violence within the hall.
Even I felt it. Like walking into an office with badge scanners that doubled as lie detectors.
I touched the nearest carving, half-expecting it to start glowing. "So… this is it. The firewall to the adventurer system."
Riddle gave a sharp glance. "Firewall?"
"Just a… taphor." I waved it off. "ans no one's supposed to break the rules inside."
Her lips quirked at that. "Correct."
We stepped inside.
And holy. Actual. Crap.
The entry hall stretched wider than a stadium. High vaulted ceilings painted with stars soared overhead, enchanted to shimr faintly with real constellations. Balconies lined the second and third floors, crowded with clerks scribbling on scrolls, runners carrying ssages, and the occasional adventurer arguing with staff.
The ground floor was chaos disguised as order.
Lines of armored n and won waited at counters staffed by grim-faced administrators. Racks of quest postings lined the walls, glowing faintly with mana to indicate freshness. A giant board at the far end displayed nas, ranks, and live updates of cleared quests—like a fantasy stock market ticker.
And everywhere, energy. That sa buzzing pressure I'd felt outside, amplified here. Adventurers laughed, argued, traded monster parts in loud voices, their auras brushing against one another in clashes of dominance and rivalry.
"Woah," I whispered. "It's like walking into a LAN party where everyone's ard."
We moved through the crowd, drawing a few stares. Not at —though I did catch more than a few appreciative glances—but at Riddle.
Adventurers bowed their heads slightly when she passed. A few straightened their backs. Respect. Fear. Maybe both.
"Remind again," I murmured, leaning closer, "what exactly is your rank here?"
"None," she replied flatly. "The Guard and the Association are separate entities. But respect carries between them."
"Translation," I smirked. "Big boss energy travels."
Her sigh could've powered windmills.
Near the back, we paused before the main counter.
An older clerk looked up from his ledger, eyes widening slightly at Riddle. "Captain Arcage. Taking leave today?"
"I'm off duty," she said, tone clipped but polite. "Here on personal ti."
His gaze flicked between us, lingering a heartbeat too long on , before he nodded. "Understood. May the dungeon be kind to you."
Dungeon be kind. A local version of "break a leg," maybe? Or maybe literal, given the murder towers around here.
We stepped aside, finding a quiet alcove where benches lined the wall. From here, the view of the hall was clearer, less chaotic. Adventurers ca and went, so striding with confidence, others limping with bloodied armor. So carried monster cores that glowed faintly, dropping them off at appraisal counters. Others shoved bags of materials toward buyers shouting about prices.
"This," Riddle said softly, her gaze steady, "is the heart of Westford. The Association coordinates everything—quests, resource flow, dungeon expeditions. Without it, the city would collapse."
I nodded, watching the flow of people like a system diagram co to life. Input, process, output. Adventurers as data packets moving through a giant network.
And ?
I was supposed to be one of the architects who built the dungeons that spat out this endless stream of blood, loot, and stories.
'Guess that makes … the ghost in their machine.'
A chill crawled down my arms, but I shook it off.
The tower outside called to .
Through the tall glass panes at the far end of the hall, I could see it—black and imnse, stabbing into the sky. The Dungeon. Eternal. Watching. Waiting.
I couldn't look away.
And as I stared, the words slipped out, quiet but firm:
"This is just the beginning."
I was supposed to be one of the architects who built the dungeons that spat out this endless stream of blood, loot, and stories.
'Guess that makes … the ghost in their machine.'
A chill crawled down my arms, but I shook it off.
The tower outside called to .
Through the tall glass panes at the far end of the hall, I could see it—black and imnse, stabbing into the sky. The Dungeon. Eternal. Watching. Waiting.
I couldn't look away.
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