Chapter 14: The Assessment Begins

  The hum of excitement in the Adventurer’s Guild hall reached a fever pitch as Ralkar, the Gold-level adventurer, stepped forward. The crowd parted for him, and with slow, deliberate motion, he reached up and pulled back his hood.

  A ripple of shock spread through the onlookers.

  Ralkar was no human. He was a serpent Beastfolk, his smooth, scaled skin shifting in iridescent shades of green and gold. His slit-pupiled eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, yet beneath the keen, predator-like focus, there was a surprising warmth—especially as he turned to Boruk and the others with a grin.

  “Boruk, Yara, Ragn... it has been too long,” Ralkar said, his voice smooth, laced with the faintest hiss. “It is always a pleasure to see you. Tell me, have your travels been kind, or has the road lost its challenge?”

  Boruk chuckled, his broad frame filling the space as he clapped Ralkar on the shoulder. “The road’s been good to us. But we’ve got someone here you should meet.” He gestured toward Marcus, who stood slightly off to the side, feeling the weight of Ralkar’s gaze as it settled upon him.

  “This is Marcus,” Boruk continued. “A mana user looking to join the Guild.”

  Ralkar’s eyes flickered with interest. His gaze was piercing, as if peeling away Marcus’s exterior to glimpse what lay beneath. “A mana user, you say?” His voice carried an almost lazy curiosity, though there was nothing idle about the way he studied Marcus. “Boruk would not waste my time with the ordinary. Tell me, what makes you worthy of standing here?”

  Boruk gave a satisfied nod. “He shows real promise. Already has a unique class at level eight.”

  A single brow lifted, his expression cool, unreadable. “A unique class… at level eight?” His voice carried a note of skepticism, yet something about it suggested he found the notion amusing. “That is… rare.”

  Marcus hesitated, but there was little point in lying. “I infuse mana into my strikes.”

  Ralkar’s eyes narrowed slightly. The casual amusement in his expression faded, replaced by something keener, more discerning. “That alone would not grant you a unique class.” His tone sharpened, his words taking on a weight that pressed against Marcus like an unspoken challenge. “There is more to it, is there not?”

  For a moment, the hall seemed to hold its breath.

  Marcus felt the scrutiny in Ralkar’s gaze—a silent demand for truth. It was a strange, suffocating moment, and in it, Marcus wondered if he should stop revealing anything about his class at all.

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  But Ralkar did not press further. Instead, with a casual flick of his wrist, he turned, his serpentine form swaying with effortless grace as he moved toward the center of the arena. The crowd parted instinctively, as though guided by an unseen force.

  Then, his voice rang out—low at first, but strong, cutting through the hall like a blade.

  “All who seek the mark of the Adventurer’s Guild, step forward.”

  The murmurs died.

  Hopefuls surged into the arena, their excitement palpable. Marcus felt pats on his back, encouraging words from his companions. Vira winked at him. “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

  He nodded, swallowing his nerves as he stepped forward.

  Hundreds gathered—a sea of faces from all walks of life: Beastfolk, dwarves, elves, and others. They all shared a single goal.

  Ralkar stood tall in the center, his presence undeniable, his golden eyes sweeping over the crowd. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. It was no longer just commanding—it was something greater. It was the voice of a leader, of a warrior, of one who had seen countless battles and walked away stronger.

  “Welcome, hopefuls.”

  His words were measured, deliberate, and they settled upon the crowd like a decree.

  “I am Ralkar, Gold-level adventurer, and I will be your judge in this trial. The Adventurer’s Guild is more than a gathering of fighters and spellcasters. We are the lifeblood of every city that bears our mark. We are the blades that strike before calamity falls. We are the shields that stand against the coming dark. We are protectors. We are equalizers.”

  He let the words sink in, his gaze scanning their faces, weighing them.

  “Some seek our mark for glory. Others for coin. Some come to test their mettle, to see if they are worthy. But know this: We do not carry this mark lightly. We are adventurers. And that is a title you must earn.”

  A hush fell over the hopefuls.

  “This assessment will be grueling. It will test your strength, your skill, your will. It will strip you bare, revealing the core of who you are. And when that moment comes, you will either rise… or you will fall.”

  He raised a single hand. A shimmering wave of Psycha magic rippled through the air as a scroll materialized in his grasp. The paper unfurled with an eerie smoothness, its edges glowing faintly in the dim light.

  “There will be three trials. Each more demanding than the last.”

  He lifted his gaze, his voice unwavering.

  “The first: a test of magic affinity. If you wield magic, you will prove your control. Strength is nothing without mastery.”

  A murmur swept through the crowd.

  “The second: a test of combat. Whether you wield a blade, an axe, a bow, or your own fists, you will demonstrate your skill. Not all who fight are warriors, and not all warriors are skilled.”

  This time, nods of approval followed.

  “And finally…” Ralkar’s voice darkened, his golden eyes gleaming. “A tournament. A battle to separate the worthy from the weak. Only the strongest will earn the right to join the Guild. Ten will rise. The rest will walk away empty-handed.”

  The weight of his words settled over them. The hope, the excitement—all of it sharpened into something else. Determination.

  He gestured toward two figures standing at the far end of the arena. They stepped forward—tall, imposing, their presence nearly rivaling his own.

  “These are my comrades. Korr, master of weaponry, will oversee your combat trial. Talia, a spellcaster without equal, will assess your magic. Together, we will determine who is worthy.”

  He swept his gaze over them one final time.

  “You stand here because you believe yourselves ready.” His voice was a storm, rolling through them with the weight of experience. “But belief alone will not carry you. Show me. Show me the fire that drives you. Show me your will to fight. Show me why you deserve to bear our mark.”

  A long pause.

  Then, a smile—a sharp, knowing curve of his lips.

  “Good luck. The trial begins now.”