Chapter 22: The Adventurer's Mark

Chapter 22: The Adventurer's Mark

The bright crimson glow from the orb began to subside, its intensity dimming to a faint shimmer. The woman stepped forward, her movements deliberate and graceful, and pressed a piece of parchment against the orb. Closing her eyes, she channeled a burst of light from her palm, illuminating the room momentarily.

"Here are your results," she said, handing me the parchment.

I glanced at it:

[Adventurer: _______]

[Level: 1]

[Magical Power: <100]

[Physical Power: 29,100]

[Estimated Rank: C-Rank]

"Is it... good?" I asked, my voice tinged with uncertainty. The weight of what this might mean, both for my future and my past, hung in the air.

She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before offering a tight-lipped smile. "Well," she began carefully, "your physical abilities are impressive, far above average for someone just starting out. But your magical aptitude... it's exceptionally low. And," she paused, her brow furrowing, "how are you still level one? That's unusual for someone with such strength."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could form an excuse, she pressed on, her tone shifting to something between curiosity and skepticism. "Unless... you're one of those pacifists?"

Her probing gaze made my pulse quicken. I couldn't afford to draw attention to myself, not yet. I nodded slowly. "Yes... that's right. I've always avoided conflict."

Her eyebrows rose, and for a moment, it seemed she might challenge my claim. But then she exhaled softly, her features relaxing. "Well, if that's your belief, it'll make adventuring more challenging for you."

"I'm a changed man now," I said firmly, forcing confidence into my voice, despite the uncertainty eating at me from within.

Her eyes lingered on me, as though weighing the truth of my words, but after a beat, she gave a small nod. "Alright," she said, though a flicker of doubt remained in her expression. She retrieved a small metal token from a nearby box and handed it to me.

The token felt cool and heavy in my palm, etched with the letters "C-Rank." My gaze lingered on it, its significance elusive. Was this the beginning of my new life as an adventurer? Or just another empty token? How would this help me earn money in a world that was so different from the one I remembered?

The woman interrupted my thoughts. "Now that you're officially registered as an adventurer, we just need to finalize your details. You'll need a name for the records."

Her words sent a jolt of panic through me. My name? What was my name? The harder I tried to recall it, the more elusive it became, like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. Was it lost to me completely? Had it ever really been mine?

She must have noticed my hesitation because she spoke again, her tone gentle. "If you'd like, you can use an alias instead. It's quite common among adventurers."

An alias... What could I choose? My thoughts churned, but nothing solidified. I couldn't afford to linger too long. My hesitation must have been obvious because she smiled, offering a suggestion. "How about 'The Crimson Swordsman'? It suits you, your crimson eyes and the sword at your side."

The name resonated with me in a way I couldn't explain. It felt like a mask I could wear, one that would shield me from the uncertainty of my identity. "Alright," I agreed, though it felt strange to take on a title that wasn't truly mine.

She handed me a quill and gestured to the parchment on the desk. "Just write your chosen name here, and you're all set."

I scrawled the alias as best I could. My handwriting was crude, nearly illegible, but she didn't comment on it.

"Congratulations," she said, her professional smile returning. "You can now select missions from the quest board in the main hall. You're limited to quests at your rank or lower."

I nodded my thanks and left the room, heading toward the bustling main hall.

"Did everything go smoothly?" the elf-like receptionist at the front desk asked, her polite smile unwavering.

"Yes, thank you," I replied quickly, my mind still reeling from the earlier exchange. "Where's the quest board?"

She gestured to her right. "You'll find it there, against the far wall."

I approached the large wooden board, its surface plastered with parchment. Each page bore details of available missions, ranging from mundane tasks to perilous undertakings. My eyes scanned the options:

[Escort Merchandise]

[Details: Serve as bodyguards for a merchant for five days, transporting goods to Khazadron.]

[Reward: 20 shillings per day.]

[Required Rank: C-B.]

The reward seemed decent, but a five-day commitment felt impractical. My gaze moved to another page:

[Retrieve Body]

[Details: Search for and retrieve the body of Alaric Ashbourne. For further details, report to the Ashbourne estate.]

[Reward: To be discussed at the estate.]

[Required Rank: C-A.]

Something about this mission called to me, an undercurrent of urgency, a hint of mystery. Without overthinking, I pulled the paper from the board and returned to the desk.

"Where can I find the Ashbourne estate?" I asked.

The receptionist chuckled softly, her amusement evident. "You really aren't from around here, are you?" Her smile remained warm as she explained, "Follow the main road to the inner gate, then take the left path. The estate is hard to miss, a grand manor at the end of the road."

I nodded, pocketing the paper. "Thank you."

"Good luck," she said, her tone sincere.

With the directions clear in my mind, I stepped out into the sunlit streets. The path ahead felt uncertain, but as the city buzzed around me, I realized something: for the first time since I woke in this world, I felt like I had a purpose, like I was finally moving toward something, something beyond just surviving.