Behind the desk, the clerk looked up from her paper but said nothing, hiding a fleeting sense of amusement behind her professional demeanor. This kind of lighthearted exchange was rare at the registration desk, where applicants usually arrived with grim faces and heavy moods.
She returned to her work, carefully filling in the remaining blanks with her elegant handwriting, just as graceful as the first letters. She noted every physical detail that might help identify the applicant should he ever be found as an unrecognizable corpse: Height: average. Build: balanced. Eyes: brown-ish. Hair: black with hints of brown in some strands. She paused, then asked in a cool, formal tone laced with quiet interest:
"What is your reason for becoming an adventurer, sir?"
Ace didn't hesitate; the answer seemed to come naturally:
"I just need to earn some money."
His words were brief—almost shallow—but they carried a stark honesty, reflecting a reality where there was no room for lofty dreams or noble ambitions. His voice was steady, lacking any attempt to justify or embellish his goal.
Usually, the clerks paid little attention to applicants' motivations. For them, the question was just another formality in the process. Yet, the clerk couldn't help but glance at Emilia—a brief look, but one filled with silent inquiry about the nature of her connection to this young man, who seemed to treat adventuring not as a calling, but as a means to a simple end.
Emilia showed no disappointment. She didn't object or appear surprised—even though she had always held the profession in high regard. The clerk scribbled down his answer, then stamped the form with the guild's official seal—its emblem etched with precision. She looked up and nodded calmly:
"You may now proceed to the upper floor to complete your registration process."
Ace reached for the form, its delicate feel contrasting with the weight of what was written on it. He glanced at Emilia before the two of them headed toward the stairs. He didn't need to turn around to feel the stares boring into his back. But he ignored them all—like a passing breeze that left no mark behind.
Upon ascending to the upper floor, they found themselves in a hall vastly different from the one they had left below. It was noticeably less crowded, but not more comfortable. On the contrary, it felt submerged in a sea of silence, sorrow, and anxiety. The very air seemed saturated with invisible negative energy—heavy, like a gray cloud hanging over everyone's heads. Men and women sat on waiting chairs that filled the space; some stared blankly at the floor, others fidgeted with small pouches containing meager amounts of money, counting and recounting it as if trying to convince themselves it was enough—or even still there.
One man emptied a few silver coins into his palm, rubbing them between his fingers, as though he thought he had miscounted—or perhaps he hoped more might appear by some miracle.
Opposite the seating area stood a long wooden counter, similar to the one on the ground floor, but it was separated by a glass partition with small openings, just enough to pass money and papers through. Behind the glass, a group of female clerks worked silently and with composure, while the hands of those standing before them trembled nervously. One man waved a worn-out paper at a weary-looking clerk, seemingly trying to convince her of something. She kept her head lowered, as though apologizing for something beyond her control.
Ace felt a tightness in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. He didn't know these people's stories, but he didn't need to. The weight of their burdens was palpable. The sadness was almost visible, almost audible, embedded in the hushed whispers and the broken glances.
They took a seat, and Emilia leaned slightly toward Ace, whispering in a near-inaudible voice:
"This floor is for people submitting task requests. Each task is recorded here in detail—its danger level, estimated rank, required skills and resources. Then, the reward is determined and paid in full upfront. After that, the requests are displayed on the board downstairs."
After hearing this, Ace's eyes wandered around the room. He noticed a dark wooden door off to the side, quietly opening and closing from time to time. A few people slipped in and out discreetly, heads lowered, footsteps hesitant—like they were trying to disappear unnoticed. Emilia noticed where he was looking, and with a tone laced with irony, regret, and even irritation, said:
"That door leads to an external staircase, built specifically to give requesters an entrance and exit separate from the main hall where the adventurers gather. Many adventurers look at civilians with greed. To them, these people are just walking contracts—potential sources of more money."
She then glanced at Ace, her expression hardening, and a serious glint appeared in her eyes as she said:
"Let's focus. From this point on, you'll go through three tests that determine your eligibility to be accepted as a novice adventurer. The first is the magical test, which measures the amount and type of magical energy you possess. The second is the combat test—it doesn't just assess physical strength but also quick thinking and fighting experience. And finally, the most important of all: the interview with the Guild Master."
She lifted her head slightly, as if recalling the man's imposing figure in her mind, before continuing:
"The Guild Master is no ordinary man. They say he was once one of the greatest gold-ranked adventurers, having fought countless battles before laying down his axe and sitting behind a desk. As I remember him, he's a massive man with a commanding presence. Just looking at him is enough to instill fear and awe."
Ace tried to picture the man based on her description, but all he could imagine was a colossal shadow seated behind a large desk, surrounded by an aura of power and intimidation. Still, rather than dwell on the thought, he asked the question that intrigued him more:
"How are the adventurer ranks divided?"
Emilia gave him a sideways glance, then smiled—half amused, half curious—as though she enjoyed explaining things to a beginner. She raised her small hand, drawing invisible lines with her fingers as she spoke in a clear, eager whisper:
"Ranks aren't just titles. They reflect an adventurer's abilities and achievements. There are five main ranks, each named after a metal representing its value. At the top is the Pralinium Rank—a rare title only granted to those who alter the course of history with their deeds. Next is the Gold Rank, reserved for elite adventurers who master both combat and magic to an exceptional degree. Then comes the Silver Rank for those who have proven their skills. Below that is the Bronze Rank, the most common among adventurers. And finally…"
She paused briefly, then smiled lightly before continuing:
"The Iron Rank—the starting point for every adventurer. The first step, though not one you should linger at for long."
After finishing her explanation, Ace noticed something odd. Logically, Iron should have been the most prevalent rank, but it wasn't. Raising his eyebrows, he asked:
"But if Iron is the starting point, why aren't there more adventurers in that rank? Usually, the lowest tier has the most people, right?"
His question didn't surprise her. She tilted her head slightly, her smile fading into a sorrowful expression, as though speaking of a harsh truth.
"Most new adventurers either drop out due to how difficult this life is—or they die during their missions."
Silence fell for a moment. Then she added, in a quieter but sharper tone that Ace couldn't ignore:
"New adventurers rise quickly. But those who stay in Iron for too long are lazy and lack ambition. They simply don't deserve to advance."
Her words were harsh, but not without truth. After all that clarification, Ace asked in a steady voice, trying to gather every detail to understand how the adventurer system functioned:
"And how does one advance through the ranks?"
"Everything depends on achievements," she said, raising a hand as if weighing her words, then continued:
"Guilds have a standardized number of tasks required for each promotion. For example, to earn the Bronze Rank, you must complete 100 requests at that level. For Silver, it's 50. Gold requires 10—and those are extremely dangerous."
She paused, giving him a moment to absorb the information, then added:
"Pralinium, as I said, is different. You can't earn it just by completing tasks. Only those who serve the nation receive it, personally awarded by the King. So, it's not a career advancement you can get from a guild."
"If rank advancement is based purely on completed tasks," he asked, "doesn't that mean someone powerful could hide under a low rank?"
Once again, Emilia wasn't surprised by his question, as though she had expected him to reach that conclusion. A glint of admiration sparkled in her eyes, and she nodded:
"That's where the tests come in."
Her voice rose slightly as she gestured toward the clerks, who were still busy recording data and reviewing documents. Then she spoke confidently:
"Look over there. They may seem like ordinary administrators, but they're not. Each of them has a special ability that allows her to measure an applicant's magical energy precisely. While those with combat skills or strong bodies can be tested by seasoned fighters, those with high magical power pose a greater risk. That's why they're identified through the magical test. Even if someone tampers with the crystal stones used in the test, they can't fool the insight of those clerks."
"And what if someone strong wants to register as an adventurer—how is that handled?"
"Good question! In that case, they're registered as Iron Rank, but by taking on high-level tasks, they're promoted quickly—unless they choose to remain low-ranked. That's their choice. But and this is crucial, their true power is known to the guild."
She stopped there, furrowing her brow, raising a hand to her chin, as though retrieving some buried thought. Then she spoke, her voice low and uncertain:
"But I don't think the test system is entirely accurate."
He looked at her more intently, curiosity growing in his eyes.
"Why do you think that?"
"I've heard rumors about a group of frauds recently. They've managed to pass the guild tests. From what I heard in the capital, they look like ordinary adventurers, despite their strength and skill. They steal others' achievements and band together to cheat the guild system. They snatch up the easy missions, completing them quickly across the land. That leaves beginners with impossible choices, forcing them to either quit... or—"
She paused, casting Ace a worried glance, then continued in a low whisper, as if afraid to be overheard:
"Or they die taking on missions beyond their abilities."
Silence settled between them. Emilia's tone trembled slightly as she continued, her words nearly swallowed by the stillness:
"I also heard news... of rising adventurers disappearing under mysterious circumstances."
She fell silent again, her eyes fixed on a distant point, as if seeing echoes of the stories she'd heard. Then, realizing what she had said, she quickly tried to recover. With a shy, childlike motion, she waved her hand awkwardly and said in a voice everyone in the hall could hear:
"Sorry! Sorry! I shouldn't have worried you with that. But it's really troubling, so please—be careful."