Sam, Verified

The city gate shimmered like a polished coin, all etched silver and defensive wards. Not a mote of dust on the marble road. No moss in the mortar. No personality.

Sam presented his badge—carved silverwood, sigil inlaid with dragonbone ink, still humming faintly with old magic.

The guard blinked. Took the badge delicately, like it might be contagious.

"And this is…?"

"Guild credentials," Sam said. "Arch-strider, Third Order. Accredited, sealed, and signed by—well, by people who are probably dead now, come to think of it."

The guard squinted at the badge again, then tapped a floating slate. A few glyphs flickered to life. One of them made a sad beep.

"I'm sorry, sir, there's no record of this guild in our system."

Sam frowned. "That can't be right. I renewed these less than a century ago."

The guard gave him the look you'd give a man claiming he bought his shoes before the invention of roads. "Our records only go back sixty years, sir. Anything older is considered legacy-nonstandard."

"Legacy-nonstandard," Sam echoed. "You're calling my entire guild legacy-nonstandard?"

"Uh, yes. But I can offer you a provisional visitor's pass. It'll grant you access to non-administrative districts for seventy-two hours. Please avoid restricted zones and refrain from activating any unregistered enchantments within city limits."

He handed Sam a glowing disc. It was pink. It chirped when Sam touched it.

"Have a harmonious day," the guard said, already turning to the next traveler.

Inside the city, everything glistened like someone had cast _Illusion: Prosperity_ on the entire place. Roads adjusted elevation on the fly. Vendors wore smile-locked glamours. No one looked up. No one looked tired.

The Guildhall used to be on Firstwind Avenue. He found a smoothie bar there instead.

After two redirects and a short ride in a pneumatic cart that screamed every time it slowed down, he arrived at the new "Guild Central Resource Center (Now With SmartSigil Integration!)."

A chirpy receptionist handed him a tablet. "Please fill out your Skill Verification Profile, Historical Relevance Summary, and Personal Alignment Manifesto. If you're missing any of those documents, we can assign you a Reacquisition Counselor."

"I was a founding member of my guild," Sam said.

"Oh! We love heritage applicants. Just be sure to declare any oaths, curses, blood-pacts, or trans-planar allegiances you may still have lingering. Some of the older ones auto-renew."

Sam looked down at the forms.

NAME: Sam

Age: ???

Race: Human

He sighed.

How quickly things changed.

The city used to require a blood oath and a sponsor from the High Circle to even _speak_ to a guild official. Now it wanted him to choose between five branding colors for his profile border.

He chose "dirt."

Then got to work.

a few hours later he was invited to test.

The testing chamber was aggressively minimalist: smooth stone walls, a single scry-orb in the ceiling, and a clipboard-wielding examiner who looked like she hadn't blinked since Sam walked in.

"Please state your top three legacy skillsets," she said.

Sam scratched his chin. "Well, in no particular order: runic transmogrification, wilderness incursion operations, and applied thaumaturgy through narrative resonance."

The examiner tapped her slate. "I'll just write down 'runes, sneaking, and storytelling magic.'"

"That feels reductive."

"It's for the algorithm."

She handed him three color-coded tokens. "You'll be tested in all three. First station: rune decoding. Please proceed through the left door."

The door hissed open like it was judging him.

Station One: Rune Decoding

A wall of glowing glyphs pulsed before him, cycling every few seconds. A young man in a bright vest stood by, clearly bored.

"Okay, so the system projects a random cipher from the ArcanoNet," he said. "You just tap the glyphs in order to spell out the phrase. They'll be modern runes, obviously."

"Modern?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, streamlined post-Sigilite simplification. Easy stuff. We ditched the old trees-and-stars format—too bloated."

Sam squinted at the display. The glyphs were shaped like emojis.

"…That one's a frowny goblin?"

"Yup! It means 'hostile intent.' Much faster than the old five-stroke sigil."

Sam took a deep breath and pressed his palm to the stone. The ancient glyphs beneath the emoji-glossed wall flared to life.

A second layer of runes erupted from the foundation. Real ones. Twisting, alive, humming with purpose.

The screen exploded. The emoji glyphs curled in on themselves like burnt parchment.

The vest guy stared, eyes wide. "What did you do?"

"Decoded it," Sam said, brushing ash off his coat.

Station Two: Wilderness Incursion

He stood before a large glass enclosure labeled: "Simulated Forest Biome™ – Version 3.1.6 (Patch Pending)"

Inside was a low-poly grove. The trees bobbed gently like they were animated by a drunk apprentice. A deer stood perfectly still. Its texture hadn't loaded properly.

The test supervisor waved him forward. "Goal is to extract the hidden relic without alerting the guardians."

Sam blinked. "That deer?"

"Yep. It's programmed with maxed-out sensory nodes and a passive-aggressive kill script."

Sam sighed. "Alright."

He stepped into the simulation.

And vanished.

Twenty seconds later he reappeared behind the supervisor, holding the relic: a glowing USB stick.

"Here."

The supervisor jumped. "How did you—? That's not _possible_, we didn't even code in—"

"You left a glitch in the northwest corner. I rode a collision error through a wall."

"But that's not part of the—"

"Real forests don't pause to buffer."

Station Three: Story Magic

Final test. A glowing orb hovered in front of him.

A disembodied voice boomed, "Impress me with a tale of magic and might! Use your words to shape the world!"

The examiner tapped her slate. "The orb has a basic narrative-parser. It responds to archetypes and genre tags."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

He took a breath, held out his hand, and said:

 "Once upon a time, there was a city so advanced, it forgot what doors were for."

The orb pulsed.

 "Into this city walked a man so old, his birth certificate was still on scroll."

The orb shook.

 "He spoke, and buildings trembled. He sneezed, and three startups declared bankruptcy."

The orb _screamed_, turned purple, and spontaneously grew a mustache before combusting.

The examiner stared. "That… that wasn't supposed to happen."

Sam dusted off his hands. "Legacy skill confirmed?"

"…We'll fast-track your credentials."

Sam sat stiffly in a plush blue chair shaped like a question mark. Everything about the New Guild screamed _modern optimization_. Crystalline fixtures, floating holographic notices, and "motivational enchantments" piped in through the vents. One tried to sell him a self-updating wand every five minutes.

He was halfway through a cup of aggressively purple tea when a chipper voice cut through the air.

"Sam, right?" A fresh-faced young man bounced into view, grinning ear to ear. "I'm Peth. Guild Outreach and Legacy Liaison."

Sam blinked. "That's… a lot of title for a child."

"I'm twenty-three," Peth said proudly.

"I was the river god of Vallis Tarn when I was twenty-three."

Peth laughed like it was a joke. "You legacy types and your stories! We love it. Really adds flavor."

Sam opened his mouth. Closed it. Sipped his tea.

"Anyway!" Peth chirped, tapping a shimmering scroll. "You tested… well. There's still debate over whether the narrative orb is sentient now, but management thinks you'd be a _perfect_ candidate for our mentorship program!"

"…Mentorship?"

"Yes! We pair veterans like you with promising new recruits. You get to pass on your wisdom, they get exposure to old-world practices—it's win-win!"

"I passed the tests."

"You _melted_ the tests. Which, while impressive, indicates unstructured magical potential. The system prefers process alignment these days."

"You want to _assign_ me a mentor?"

"No, no! _You_ would be the mentor!"

"…Better."

Peth beamed. "You'll be paired with a fresh graduate, top of their class. Uses a wand-staff hybrid with voice-activated spell macros. Real prodigy."

"I look forward to teaching them how to empty their own chamber pot."

"Oh, we've got constructs for that now!"

Sam gave Peth a long, silent stare that could fossilize flowers.

Sam waited in an empty sparring ring. His mentee arrived fifteen minutes late, with hoverboots, a glowing coat, and an aura enchantment so bright it had lens flare.

"Yo! Name's Elrix. You're my mentor, huh?"

"I suppose I am."

Elrix popped gum, summoned a holographic grimoire. "So, what do you specialize in? Buff builds? AoE? I run a chaos crit meta with max overcast."

"I once silenced a volcano by convincing it it was unloved."

"…Cool, cool. You on the forums?"

Sam gave him the same stare he gave Death the last time they bumped into each other in a market. "No."

Elrix pulled out a wand with twelve buttons. "Alright, let's run a trial duel. I'll go easy on you."

"I won't."

"Haha—wait, wha—"

Elrix lay in a crater, twitching slightly.

Sam stepped over him, dusting off his coat. "Lesson one: flashy is flammable."

From the shadows, Peth gave a weak thumbs-up. "Great start, you two!"