A wave of shock swept across the room—not from the words themselves, but what happened next. Suddenly, the large man dropped to his knees, his face contorted in pain, clutching his wrist as if trying to pull the pain out of it. A pained cry escaped his throat, silencing the room once again. The jeering expressions vanished, replaced by stunned disbelief. Everyone stood frozen, like statues unable to comprehend what had just occurred.
How could a man of such strength fall so easily? How had a mocking warning turned into such an unexpected scene?
Ace's expression remained neutral, but deep inside, he felt a flicker of silent surprise. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. He hadn't used much force—certainly not enough to injure anyone. Yet the result was undeniable. He paused, thinking, and realized he might have used more strength than intended.
The man stood slowly, breathing heavily, his eyes narrowing with rage. His hand trembled, then rose into the air, ready to strike. He shouted:
"How dare you?!"
Emilia screamed, reaching out in an attempt to stop him, but his fury had blinded him. He heard nothing but the echo of humiliation.
Yet Ace didn't move. He didn't raise his hands to defend himself. He simply closed his eyes, as if accepting the blow. The punch landed hard against his cheek, echoing through the room. Everyone expected him to fall—to stumble back. But the outcome defied every expectation.
He stood firm. His body didn't budge an inch. Only his head tilted slightly from the blow. His expression remained unchanged—no sign of pain or retreat. As if the punch were no more than a passing breeze.
Silence fell once again. Faces shifted from shock to confusion. The man who had thrown the punch now looked unsettled, the rage in his eyes replaced by a disoriented awe. He stared at his fist for a few seconds before letting out a stifled groan. He staggered back, clutching his trembling hand, and collapsed violently to the floor, writhing and squeezing his palm as if it burned from within.
His lips quivered as he shouted:
"What the hell are you? Are you made of steel or what?!"
His words echoed across the crowded hall as gasps rippled through the onlookers. Whispers began to rise. Amid the chaos, Emilia stepped toward Ace, her wide eyes reflecting a blend of worry and awe. She approached slowly and asked in a trembling voice:
"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
Ace quietly raised his hand, motioning with a simple gesture as if to tell her there was no need to worry. There wasn't the slightest trace of pain on his face—no expression, no wince that might suggest he had just taken a heavy punch. Emilia studied him for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Deep inside, she couldn't find any logical explanation. How could someone take a hit like that without flinching? The question wasn't hers alone; it lingered silently in the minds of everyone around her.
Even so, this wasn't the time for answers. Without further thought, the young girl gently took his hand and pulled him away, trying to lead him out of sight before things grew more complicated. They made their way to the staff office, passing by a group of women who had been silently observing the scene, their surprised expressions poorly masked behind professional smiles.
They approached one of the staff members—a young woman, likely in her early twenties, with a bright face and intelligent brown eyes. Her wavy brown hair flowed softly over her shoulders, adding a touch of natural elegance to her presence. The two stopped in front of her as she offered them a small smile that couldn't quite hide the curiosity flickering in her eyes. She nodded slightly and spoke with a professional tone, her voice controlled and composed:
"Welcome to the Trust Adventurers Guild. How may I assist you?"
"We'd like to register a new adventurer," Emilia replied.
The clerk turned her gaze to the young man, studying him as if trying to read a page written in a foreign script. Her face betrayed no surprise or confusion, but her observant eyes suggested she was silently assessing him, testing his suitability. He didn't look like any rookie adventurer she had seen before. His appearance didn't project strength or the experience typically required to break into this field.
"We're always happy to welcome new members! The registration form fee is only 300 silver coins," the clerk said, her tone still professional. But to Ace, the words landed like a weight—his eyes widened in disbelief, a reaction he couldn't hide. Though he wasn't well-versed in local currency, even his basic instincts told him that was an excessive amount for a simple registration.
Questions raced through his mind. Was the high price a test of commitment? Or was it just a strict policy of the guild to filter out the unqualified? He'd expected a fee, yes—but not one so steep it could block entry entirely. Before he could decide what to do, Emilia reached into her purse and pulled out three gold coins, placing them on the desk with a graceful motion. The soft chime of metal snapped Ace out of his thoughts.
He turned toward her; his mind tangled between embarrassment and irritation. He hadn't expected her to step in—at least not so quickly. It was as if she'd anticipated this moment all along. Leaning closer, he whispered tensely:
"You didn't tell me the registration fee was that high!"
Emilia turned to him, her usual smile still painted on her face, and replied in a quiet voice:
"And what difference would it have made if I had? You don't have the money, do you?"
She gave him a subtle wink he couldn't quite interpret. Her words were straightforward, but they carried no cruelty or condescension. Ace felt cornered by her logic and had no good response. Emilia placed her hands on her hips and added with casual confidence:
"Don't worry about it. It's just a bit of help. You can pay me back after completing a few missions."
There was no arrogance in her voice, no trace of superiority—just calm certainty, as if the amount spent wasn't worth stressing over. Ace felt a strange mix of gratitude and confusion. Since setting foot in town, she hadn't hesitated to support him. He wondered whether her kindness was pure or if there was something else behind her warm smile.
Still, thinking that way felt unfair to her character. She had done nothing but offer sincere help. When their quiet exchange ended, the clerk, who had been silently watching them, reached out to collect the coins with calm poise. She then opened a drawer and slowly pulled out a beautifully crafted form.
She placed it gently on the desk, aligning its corners with practiced precision. The paper was a work of art, lined with intricate tables and engraved text that looked almost etched into the surface. At the top, the guild's golden emblem gleamed like a royal seal, catching the light with a sharp shimmer.
The clerk then picked up a striking crimson pen, more a piece of craftsmanship than a tool. It shimmered with a pearlescent finish and was topped with a multicolored feather, as though plucked from a rare bird. She twirled the pen between her fingers, then looked up at the young man and asked in a soft, yet serious tone:
"Alright, under whose name shall I file this application?"
Emilia answered, "Ace."
The clerk smiled slightly and began writing the name. The glossy black ink flowed smoothly, etching the letters onto the fine paper. But suddenly, her hand stopped. She looked up slowly, her eyes narrowing with intrigue, and asked in a calm voice:
"Excuse me, and the surname?"
Emilia's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Surname?"
The clerk nodded and explained:
"Yes, a family name or personal title is required for registration. It's a core part of an adventurer's identity."
The young girl hesitated—clearly unaware of that detail. She turned to Ace, her eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation, as if the answer would reveal more than just a name. Ace fell silent, as though the question had peeled back a part of him, he wasn't ready to share. After a brief pause, he made up his mind and answered with quiet hesitation:
"Farland. My name is Ace Farland."
The moment he spoke, a hush fell over the room. The clerk repeated the name softly, tasting the shape of it, trying to understand it. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, before she asked cautiously:
"I've never heard that name before. Are you a foreigner, sir?"
Emilia held her breath, while Ace remained silent for a moment, then replied calmly:
"Yes."
Another silence followed. The clerk picked up her pen again, smiling politely as she resumed writing—as though acknowledging that no matter how unusual the name, it would soon be just another entry in the registry. Meanwhile, Emilia couldn't suppress her mischievous grin. She placed a small hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, leaning slightly toward Ace and nudging him gently with her elbow as she whispered:
"I didn't know you had such a cool surname!"
Ace froze for a second, then turned away, feigning annoyance—but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him. He raised an eyebrow, trying to appear stern, but his voice came out quieter than expected:
"Sh-shut up!"