Chapter No 11. The Guild Visit.

The guild visit.

The Adventurer's Association wasn't just an organization—it was the lifeblood of Varis. A regulatory authority, a sanctuary, and for many, a second home.

If someone needed something from the beast rims, they didn't just march into the wild lands. They submitted a request. The guild processed it, refined it into a detailed poster, and displayed it for all to see—outlining the requirements, rules, specifications, time limits, and most importantly, the reward.

A limited-time job offering. Huge payouts. Greater risks.

This was how adventurers lived.

They ventured into the rims, battled creatures, gathered resources, and returned with whatever they could claim—sometimes wealth, sometimes wounds, and sometimes, nothing at all.

Even if someone wanted to enter the rims without a request, they still had to gain approval from the guild. Whether for hunting, resource gathering, or personal reasons, their entry was processed, evaluated, and granted within minutes—sometimes an hour, depending on the details.

Time estimations were compulsory—when they'd enter, how long they'd stay, and when to expect them back. If a party failed to return on time and no message came explaining the delay, a search squadron was dispatched.

"So, can the guild refuse an adventurer's request to enter the rims?"

Lucius's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He trailed a few steps behind, struggling to keep pace, so I slowed down, allowing him to catch up before we turned the corner.

I glanced at him. "Yes and no."

His expression was expectant, waiting for more.

"No," I continued, "because Varis—and even Verdun—depend on the rims. Our economy thrives on the resources, the corpses, and the materials harvested from those lands. The guild cannot simply deny us entry. They can only regulate the flow of incomings and outgoings.

Lucius absorbed the answer, but before he could respond, I added, "And yes—under special circumstances."

I didn't elaborate.

He didn't press.

As we walked, he reached out, gripping my hand lightly—a gesture of comfort, perhaps, or reassurance. There was still time before the unavoidable, but I wanted this chapter closed—once and for all.

Then, I noticed it.

My attire wasn't appropriate for this district.

The lingering stares from a group of men confirmed it. Their gazes lingered a second too long, filled with assumptions they had no right to make. Disrespectful.

A sharp pulse of my aura sent a silent message.

They averted their eyes immediately.

Lucius, catching my faint smirk, commented innocently, "You look good when you smile."

His head lowered just as quickly as he realized what he said. A flush of red crept up his face, embarrassment washing over him.

I turned toward him, voice low and serious. "Oh? Does that mean I don't look good when I'm not smiling?"

His head snapped up. "N-No! That's not what I meant!" He scrambled for words, panicked by the unexpected accusation.

I couldn't help but enjoy his sudden flustered state.

"You're one to talk, my devilishly handsome student." I teased, watching his face burn brighter. "A better outfit, and you'd have all the princesses of Verdun flocking around you."

"What?! Stop it, please!"

He waved his hands frantically, pleading for mercy, which only made the situation more entertaining. However, as I truly looked at him, something struck me.

Something I should have noticed far earlier.

"Nothing, dear," I said softly, smiling to ease his tension.

Lucius walked ahead for a change, taking the lead as he now recognized the route. His endurance was growing. A small but notable progression.

But my mind remained elsewhere.

Lucius looked like an heir—at the very least, someone from a noble family.

His sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and structured brow were not traits found among commoners. They were rare—almost exclusively seen in children of wealth and power.

Now that I observed him from behind, I noticed something else.

His back was broad—naturally so.

Not the kind of broadness gained from training, but the innate structure that combat-oriented bloodlines often possessed.

He isn't a commoner.

He can't be.

Lucius's voice pulled me back.

"Left, right?"

He hesitated at the intersection, glancing between the straight path and the turn.

I blinked. "Yes."

He nodded, waiting for my confirmation before taking the turn.

And his eyes—

Their color was common, a shade of dark brown often seen among Varis' citizens.

But their shape?

Too small.

Set too deep into his skull, creating a natural, linear curve beneath each eye—a trait I had only seen in a handful of people before.

Something clicked in my mind.

A realization that should have come sooner.

That day… the day I found him.

His clothes had been old, covered in dust, even torn in a few places. But he wasn't starving. His body had been stable, well-fed, and clean—too clean for someone supposedly surviving in a forest alone.

And then the thought hit me, cold and sharp.

'Someone took care of him.'

No.

Someone—or something—had taken exceptional care of him.

Before abandoning him.

Or…

Was it something else?

Had his 'caretaker' been forced to abandon him?

I didn't know.

I had no way of knowing.

But one thing was clear.

Lucius, with his messed-up mana core, his unusual endurance, and his impossible survival without mana for so long—

He would need protection.

And there was only one person I trusted enough to provide it.

My husband.

***

Lucius's Pov 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." I waved a hand dismissively. "When the authorities ask about Crimson Ultima—Mr. Ragnar's sword—I'll say it was lost in battle. But what if they send an inquiry party? You mentioned it before, didn't you? Your guild has specialized officers for this kind of thing."

Truthfully, I didn't see the point in lying. Their deaths were unfortunate, but it was their own doing. The guild would find nothing incriminating against us.

But hiding Crimson Ultima? That made no sense to me.

Sia didn't seem concerned. "Yes, about that," she said smoothly. "Whenever an adventurer party returns from the beast rims, and one of their members is… missing, the guild immediately takes action. Each survivor is questioned—sometimes interrogated—by the guild officers. Simultaneously, a squad of accomplished investigators is dispatched to the exact location where the missing member was last seen."

Her tone was neutral, but I could sense the weight behind her words.

"The information gathered from the survivors is cross-checked with what the officers find at the scene," she continued. "Only after this process does the guild issue an official verdict."

I frowned. "So it's to prevent backstabbing?"

She nodded. "Exactly. Backstabbing is disgustingly common among adventurers." She scoffed, her voice laced with disdain. "If someone carries a superior weapon, armor, or enchanted artifact, others may plot against them. They lure the victim into the beast rims—where the laws of the empire and guild have no reach—kill them, and return claiming a beast attack took their life."

A brutal yet efficient method.

"So both the knights and the guild officers question survivors?" I mused aloud.

Sia gave a simple "Yes."

Fair enough. If anything, the guild might assume she was responsible for Ragnar and his team's deaths—not the S-rank monster they fought.

"Actually, in my case, they didn't dare question me," she added, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Not just because they respect me, but because of my reputation—and the condition I was in when I returned with you."

That was fair. A respected figure like Sia Machangel, bloodied and bruised, crossing the walls with me at her side, and presenting the remains of a slain Ghost Bear?

Yeah. They probably thought twice before prying too much.

"The only thing that bothers me," she admitted, "is Crimson Ultima."

There it was again. That sword.

I sighed. "Is it really that strong? I get that it's powerful, but is it worth all this trouble?"

Sia's eyes locked onto mine, the weight of her next words pressing down like an anvil.

"That 'fancy weapon' you inherited is a Special-ranked artifact."

I blinked.

"Do you realize how rare and powerful such weapons are? They're one in a million. Crimson Ultima isn't just a longsword—it has its own mana nature."

The flames.

The ones I had assumed belonged to Mr. Ragnar… they came from the sword itself.

That changed everything.

Sia exhaled. "Had Ragnar not entrusted it to you, I would have surrendered it to the guild without hesitation. He had no legacy—no surviving family. His team was his family, and they're all dead."

A grim silence settled between us.

Then a realization crept in.

"Does that mean the guild will try to take the sword if they find it?"

"Yes." Her voice was cold. "Even if they knew Ragnar passed it down to you, they'd steal it anyway. That weapon belongs to you and you alone."

Her lips curled into a smirk.

"And I'll make sure you inherit it when the time is right—per Lord Ragnar's final wish."

She rolled her shoulders, voice laced with disdain. "As for the guild? Those greedy assholes can go fuck themselves."

I grinned. Damn right, Master.

Fighting for the rights of a minor? That was rare these days.

Sia glanced ahead. "Any last questions? We're five minutes from the guild."

The walkway bustled with activity. Armored figures, swords on their hips, spellcasters in enchanted robes, rogue-like adventurers in lightweight gear. Some were in groups, laughing, chatting, exchanging battle tales. Others stood near the exit, preparing for another perilous venture into the beast's rims.

This was the Adventurer's Association in motion.

I considered my words before speaking. "Tell me more about the rank system for artifacts."

Sia hummed in approval. "There are five ranks:"

Common. Well, they're common.

Uncommon. Not as common, but still out there. Around 1 in 1,000.

Epic. Like Healer June's staff. 1 in ten to a hundred thousand.

Special. The real game-changers. 1 in a million to ten million. Weapons like Crimson Ultima and her Rare Death.

Legendary. The pinnacle. 1 in a hundred million to a billion. The rarest, most powerful, and most hidden. Many were lost or destroyed in The Great War a thousand years ago.

I whistled low. "So I'm inheriting a Special-rank weapon with an affinity?"

That was… a lot.

Sure, I was grateful, but I couldn't ignore the risk.

Carrying Crimson Ultima meant being a target.

People would covet it.

People would kill for it.

Sia must've noticed my hesitation. "We'll discuss that later."

She nudged my arm. "Heads up—we're here."

I had two functional eyes but—

Woah.

The structure before me was a monument of power.

A massive dome, surrounded by lush trees and neatly trimmed bushes, its grandeur resembling a royal palace more than a guildhall.

At its center, a colossal insignia gleamed between the layers of its architecture—something about it reminded me of the symbol of Goddess Luna on the Lunar Walls.

The brown stone walls were carved with vast rune-like inscriptions that flickered with an ethereal glow, pulsing at irregular intervals.

The entrance? Massive.

Not as towering as the Lunar Walls but large enough for a Swamp Orc to walk through comfortably.

Strangely, there were no guards.

I scanned the surroundings.

Fountains. Gardens. Training areas. A section dedicated to yoga and meditation—all spacious enough to accommodate large groups.

Sia strode forward. "Let's go in and get this over with."

Damn right.

We stepped inside.

A well-dressed receptionist greeted us from behind a tall counter, her sharp, observant eyes flickering between Sia and me.

Sia's voice took on a professional yet commanding tone. "Ms. Kiwi, we're here for additional questioning. Please inform Sir Dargan that I've brought the only other surviving witness."

Ms. Kiwi—clearly an old acquaintance—smiled politely before glancing around.

"Where is this witness?"

I opened my mouth to answer, "I'm down here," but—

I was lifted.

Like a damn puppy.

Sia hoisted me up effortlessly, holding me in front of the counter.

"Hehe," I chuckled awkwardly. "Hiya, Ms. Kiwi. I'm Lucius."

She blinked, clearly thrown off by the unexpected introduction. Then, after a pause, she gave me a knowing look—one that screamed "It's okay. I won't judge."

Good.

Because I was judging myself enough already.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Lucius. I've heard quite a bit about you, little one." The woman's voice was smooth yet carried a weight of authority. "Sia, release him, please. He looks uncomfortable… and a little embarrassed."

Master Sia turned me in her grip, her golden eyes searching mine for confirmation. Did I feel that way? Yes! I nodded hurriedly, and she let go—letting me fall flat onto the floor.

"How did you know he was uncomfortable?" Sia asked, baffled.

"Through his eyes, old friend," Ms. Kiwi replied, a knowing smile on her lips. Perhaps she was used to reading people this way.

After that slightly awkward introduction, I was asked to take a seat, while Master Sia was led away by Ms. Kiwi, leaving me with a different, older woman in her place. Now alone—surrounded by powerful adventurers—I expected to feel overwhelmed. But instead, I felt… good. Their presence, their unrestricted auras pressing down on me, should have been suffocating. Yet, there was something oddly familiar about this weight. It was like standing under a great storm, not to be crushed, but to be shaped by it.

A few adventurers glanced my way when they noticed a child sitting alone on the long, L-shaped sofa. Some looked curious, others openly disapproved of my presence here. But none approached. None questioned me. Instead, a group of four seated themselves a few meters away, choosing a [-shaped] sofa of their own.

The woman among them—likely their leader—caught my attention. Something about her posture, her demeanor, exuded authority. Her gaze lingered on me, sharp yet amused. She looked younger than I expected, likely in her early twenties. But despite her youth, there was power in her presence.

She was clad in silver armor, two medium-sized swords resting on either side of her waist, a massive shield strapped to her back, partially concealed by a dark, flowing cloak. Her long, straight black hair cascaded freely, adding another layer of concealment over her armor.

Then, suddenly, she winked.

Both of her brilliant blue eyes—like the depths of a hidden pond—closed playfully, catching me off guard. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. I stiffened, unsure how to respond, before something large blocked my view of her.

A towering figure had positioned himself directly in front of me.

I looked up. The man was tall, lean, and strikingly similar to Rey. There was something in his face, his structure, that reminded me of him. Without a word, he took a seat beside me, effectively cutting off my silent exchange with the blue-eyed woman.

I leaned slightly, still trying to maintain eye contact, unwilling to break the unspoken challenge. The woman held my gaze—unflinching, her smirk deepening—before she shifted her focus to the newcomer.

The moment the man turned his head, their silent battle ended.

He lowered his gaze and, with a small, polite bow, acknowledged her.

She, in turn, brought her fingertips to her chest and returned a shallow bow, her smirk never faltering.

Then, the man chuckled. A deep, booming laugh that drew attention from those nearby.

"You have good eyes, little one," he finally said, amusement laced in his voice. "Out of all the adventurers in this hall, you chose to lock eyes with the most dangerous one among them. That deserves some credit."

…What?

Excuse me?!

How the hell was I supposed to know that?!

Before I could spiral into overthinking, the man laughed even louder, clapping his hand on my back in a bone-rattling gesture of camaraderie.

"I'm joking, little guy, ease yourself." He grinned. "That woman you see is Jhansi, heir of a fallen noble house. One of the youngest and most promising adventurers in Varis. At nineteen, she built her own squadron of eighteen elite warriors—The Flying Daggers. She leads them, and trust me when I say this—she is the strongest in her squad."

Damn. A prodigy.

"Now then," he continued, leaning slightly toward me, his expression shifting from playful to keen. "Enough about her. Now, I'm more interested in you. Tell me, what's your story, kid?"

I blinked. First, he scared the life out of me, and now he wanted to know more about me?

What a handsome weirdo.

"There's nothing interesting about me, Mr. Kind Asshole—" I muttered, lowering my head slightly.

There was a brief silence before—

The man barked out another laugh.

"Ahahaha! Well now, that's a new one!" He clapped his hands together. "Pardon me, little guy. My name is Dargan, and I am the Guild Master of Varis."

…Guild Master?

"You?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

He grinned wider. "Me."

I exhaled, composing myself. "My name is Lucius. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dargan." I straightened my posture. "I was an orphan—technically, I still am. But since Lady Sia took me in as her student, I'm not really sure about my status anymore."

"An orphan, huh?" Dargan nodded. "And your name—Sia didn't give it to you, did she? That woman is terrible at naming things."

I froze. Master Sia… bad at naming? I could not imagine that.

"I remembered my name when Sister June asked me," I said truthfully. "It just… came to me."

Dargan hummed. "Ah, June… I remember that poor child. What a tragedy her team suffered." He sighed. "May the Almighty grant them eternal rest."

I nodded. My thoughts were the same—except for Dawn, of course.

"I heard it was a Ghost Bear. Do you know what actually happened? How did Sia and Ragnar take it down?"

Ah.

So this was an interrogation.

I carefully controlled my reaction, making sure not to give away anything. I retold the story, exactly as I planned, sharing only what was necessary—ensuring my emotions matched those of a clueless eight-year-old.

Dargan listened intently, nodding as I spoke. But then, his expression sharpened.

"And what happened to his weapon?" he asked casually. "You know—the fancy, shiny sword he must have fought with."

Ah. There it is.

So this was what he truly wanted.

I pretended to think, furrowing my brows as if trying to recall a distant memory. After a full minute of deliberate hesitation, I sighed.

"I'm sorry," I said innocently, "but I don't know. Before Master Sia killed the beast, I was forced to retreat into the forest because I couldn't withstand the mana clash—"

"What are you doing?"

A new voice cut through our conversation.

Lady Jhansi.

She stood behind Dargan, three of her squadron members flanking her. The air around her crackled with restrained energy.

Dargan stiffened. "Noth—Ahem! Nothing, Miss Jhansi. Just having a casual talk with this fine young man here—"

Jhansi's sharp gaze shifted to me, silently asking the same question.

"He was interrogating me, Ma'am," I answered plainly.

A ripple of tension passed through the group.

"As I suspected," the man behind Jhansi growled. "This is about Crimson Ultima! And you call yourself his friend?!"

Dargan turned pale.

And then—

BOOM.

A roar of mana exploded from Jhansi.

The entire hall trembled as the air grew thick—suffocating. But it wasn't physical—it was mana. She wasn't pressing Dargan down.

She was disrupting his mana circulation.

And he was choking.

…Damn.

I think I like this lady.

Dargan's body stiffened, his face turning pale as he gasped for air—or rather, for mana.

Jhansi's power didn't crush him with sheer force. No, it was more deliberate. More terrifying. She was cutting off his mana flow. The energy within him, the very thing that fueled his existence as an adventurer, was being disrupted at the source.

His hands trembled as he instinctively tried to resist. A thin layer of defensive mana flickered across his skin—only to sputter out like a candle in a storm.

Jhansi watched him struggle, her expression completely unreadable.

"You're choking me out," Dargan forced out, his voice strained.

"Am I?" Jhansi mused, tilting her head. "You mean to say you're relying on mana to breathe?"

He flinched, realizing his mistake. He wasn't physically choking—he was simply so dependent on his mana that its disruption mimicked suffocation.

Jhansi's lips curled into something close to amusement.

"Interesting."

And then—just like that, she withdrew.

The oppressive force lifted instantly, allowing Dargan to stumble forward, inhaling deeply. His hands flexed, as if testing whether his body was still his own. His mana flickered back into place, but it was clear—the experience had shaken him.

For a long, tense moment, he simply stood there.

Then, straightening his clothes, he gave a shallow, half-assed bow. "I'll take my leave."

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

I raised a brow. That's it? No retort? No attempt at saving face?

Just silence.

A part of me wanted to smirk. The other part knew that Dargan was the type to hold grudges. I'd need to be careful of him.

Around us, the guild hall barely reacted. Some adventurers looked up, but most returned to their drinks and conversations without a second thought.

...Did this kind of thing happen often here?

The three adventurers standing behind Jhansi also relaxed. The man who had called Dargan out let out a sharp breath before looking at me.

"You should've just decked him," he muttered. "Would've saved us some time."

Jhansi ignored him and took a seat beside me on the sofa, crossing her legs in a way that was almost too poised. Her movements were calculated, deliberate—like a noblewoman who had learned how to command before she learned how to walk.

I prepared to thank her.

She held up a hand, stopping me.

"Don't," she said simply.

I blinked. "Don't what?"

"Thank me." She glanced at me, blue eyes sharp. "It's a waste of breath."

I hesitated, caught off guard by the bluntness.

Then, she studied me more closely, her gaze running over my form in a way that made me feel like a puzzle she was trying to solve.

"So," she mused, "you're the kid Mercy took a risk for."

Her tone was curious. But also… skeptical.

"Mercy?" I asked.

She gave me a dry look. "Captain Merc. We call him 'Mercy.' Though after what he pulled, he might be needing some divine mercy of his own."

My brows furrowed. "...What do you mean?"

Jhansi leaned back, exhaling. "You really don't know, do you?"

I shook my head.

She studied me again, this time as if she were debating something. Then, with a small smirk, she spoke:

"The day you entered this city, from the Eastern Wall Gate, that was your first time stepping into our empire. That alone should've been enough to set off alarms. Under normal circumstances, you would've been detained immediately."

I felt my heart pause for a beat.

"But that didn't happen, obviously," she continued, watching me. "Because someone—or rather, a few individuals—prevented it."

I leaned forward slightly. "Someone stopped my arrest?"

Jhansi nodded. "To override an arrest order in this city, you need five votes from the highest-ranking individuals in Varis."

I swallowed. "And who were those five?"

"The ones who vouched for you?" She ticked them off on her fingers. "Lady Sia. Captain Merc. And three others."

Master Sia's involvement was obvious.

But Captain Merc? The guy barely knew me for five minutes.

"And those other three?" I asked carefully.

Jhansi smirked. "That, little one, is for you to figure out."

I frowned. "Why not just tell me?"

She laughed—low and amused. "Because information is earned. Not given freely."

That was… annoyingly fair.

Still, the weight of her words settled over me. Five people. Five high-ranking figures had risked their status, their power, their very reputation—to ensure that I wasn't immediately detained.

But why?

Jhansi seemed to notice my pensive expression because she leaned in, lowering her voice.

"Let me give you some advice, Lucius."

Her tone was quieter now. Sharper.

"Don't do anything stupid for the next fifteen years. Or at least, as long as you're in this city. Because the consequences of your stupidity won't just fall on you."

She tilted her head.

"They'll fall on every single person who took responsibility for you."

Her words landed with the weight of a hammer.

My throat felt dry.

Jhansi stretched slightly, rolling her shoulders. That small movement prompted her entire squadron to rise from their seats, moving toward her in unison.

My heartbeat quickened.

So this is what nervousness feels like.

She glanced down at me, smirking again. "Well then—duty calls."

With a small wave, she turned and strode away, her squad following like shadows. A few of them glanced back at me, their expressions ranging from curiosity to something more… unreadable.

But none of them said a word.

I exhaled slowly, watching them disappear into the crowd.

Then, slumping slightly into the sofa, I let out a quiet breath.

"...The other three," I muttered to myself. "Who… and more importantly, why?"

The weight of it all pressed against me.

Five people had changed my fate.

Five people had seen me—a nameless child with no past, no memories—and decided I was worth protecting.

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the couch.

I was exhausted.

A short nap wouldn't hurt.