On Zarnorak of the next month, a sharp knock jolted me from sleep. "Damn it, who's banging on my door at this ungodly hour?" I grumbled, dragging myself out of bed, half-zombified. Shuffling to the door, my eyes crusty with sleep, I yanked it open. "Who is—" The words died in my throat. Masamato stood there, his familiar A-rank aura filling the frame, a faint grin tugging at his lips. A month apart, and he still looked like he could solo a dungeon.
"Sorry, is this a bad time?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"No, no, it's fine!" I stammered, snapping awake. "So, uh, what're you doing here?" Déjà vu?
"Today's the day Liam's school opens," he said, crossing his arms.
"Don't tell me you forgot."
"Of course not, haha!" I lied, rubbing my neck. Totally forgot. Why's he gotta show up at dawn, though?
"Hang on, I'll grab my stuff.
"Since I'd be crashing in the school's dorms, I scooped up everything in my room: the Sword of Absolute Death, its red gem winking like it knew my F-rank struggles; the hefty tome, its glyphs taunting me; and my stuffed bag, coins clinking alongside Kuilan's and Marco's maps. My new charcoal tunic and burgundy vest—Suzuki's picks—felt crisp, a far cry from my singed Earth clothes, now neatly repaired. I slung the bag over my shoulder and joined Masamato at the door.
"Let's roll," I said, trying to sound less like a sleep-deprived noob.
He nodded, and we tromped downstairs to the Hkou Inn's lobby, the steps creaking under our boots. The place hummed with its usual morning rhythm, a cozy tavern cutscene dialed down from last night's chaos. The hearth glowed faintly, its embers casting a soft orange flicker across the scuffed oak floor, where faint scratches traced years of adventurer boots. The air carried a warm mix of woodsmoke, fresh bread from the kitchen, and a lingering whiff of last night's spilled ale, undercut by the cedar tang of polished beams overhead. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, unlit but swaying gently, their brass frames glinting in the dawn light streaming through rippled windows. The old man stood behind the counter, his graying mop flopping as he polished the walls now—seriously, walls? Dude's got a polishing fetish or what? His rag squeaked rhythmically, like a bard stuck on one note. Only a handful of patrons dotted the space: a bleary-eyed merchant nursing a mug, a barmaid wiping tables, her auburn braid bouncing, and a lone adventurer snoring in a corner, his axe propped against his chair. No sign of those three leather-clad loudmouths—thank the goddess what no I am not going to thank that old hag. Last night, their drunken laughter and tankard-slamming kept me up 'til midnight. Good riddance, even if it's just for this morning.
"Have you eaten yet?" Masamato asked, steering us to a scarred oak table by the hearth.
"Nope," I admitted, my stomach growling on cue.
"Alright, let's eat," he said, flagging down the barmaid.
We settled in, the chairs creaking, and Masamato ordered a pair of herb-flecked omelets, same as the fluffy ones he got on the day of my first meeting with Liam.
"Nice clothes," he remarked, eyeing my tunic and cloak.
"Thought you'd stick to that one outfit forever." He chuckled, leaning back.
"Yeah, well, I can't rock one look forever," I shot back, smirking.
"Besides, your buddy Liam torched most of my old clothes in that colosseum beatdown.
"He laughed, a deep, easy sound.
"Fair enough."
The omelets arrived, steaming and golden, with crusty bread on the side. I dug in, the savory bite waking me up.
"Btw, how's the patrol duty going?" I asked between mouthfuls.
"Not bad," Masamato said, slicing his omelet. "Tough, but manageable."
"You patrol the whole city solo?" I raised an eyebrow, picturing him stalking Solva's streets like some anime vigilante.
"Alone, yeah, but not the whole city," he clarified. "Just the outskirts, beyond the walls, and some of the shadier streets. Caught a wanted thug in an alley a few days ago—small fry, but he had a bounty."
I nodded, chewing thoughtfully. When I first landed in Solva, I thought it was some Idyllic fantasy hub, all guilds and gold coins. But the past month, digging through the tome and overhearing market gossip, flipped that script. Solva's got a dark side—underground syndicates, spiking crime, and whispers of the Hexagon, one of Kingdom Xipen's most notorious organizations. Rumor has it Solva might be their main base, though the guild's got no hard proof. Yet. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, like I'd stumbled into an endgame quest unprepared.
I hadn't even polished off half my omelet when Masamato wolfed his down, the plate practically sparkling. Seriously, how does he inhale food like that? I thought, chewing my fluffy, herb-flecked bite, the bread's crusty edge soaking up the yolk.
"So, have you read the book?" Masamato asked, leaning back, his eyes glinting with that knowing look.
"Yeah, most of it," I mumbled, stuffing my face to hide the lie. Most? Try a measly chunk. The tome's glyphs still haunted my dreams.
"Nice. So you've got a handle on this world, huh?" he said, smirking.
"I guess," I managed, mouth full, praying he wouldn't quiz me on the book.
I finally scraped my plate clean, and Masamato covered the bill—score, free breakfast! We left the Hkou Inn, its hearth's warmth fading behind us, and hopped onto a rickety cart parked outside. Masamato took the reins, his hands steady as ever, and we rolled into Solva's streets, the cobblestones rumbling under the wheels. The city buzzed with morning life, a fantasy metropolis in full swing. Shouts of vendors hawking glowing potions and fresh-baked buns mingled with the clatter of carts and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer. Colorful awnings flapped over market stalls, their fabrics dyed in bold crimsons and sapphires, while adventurers in leather and chainmail weaved through the crowd, their weapons glinting in the sun.
A whiff of roasted chestnuts and horse dung hit my nose, undercut by the faint tang of arcane energy from a nearby rune-carver's shop, its sign pulsing with faint light. Street performers juggled flaming torches near a fountain, their antics drawing cheers, but I caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure slipping into an alley, a reminder of Solva's shadier side.
We passed Bromùët, its polished façade swarming with customers as always, the aroma of spiced stew wafting out. Man, feels like eons since I ate there with the Midnight Vanguard, I thought, nostalgia hitting like a debuff. Those were simpler days, before F-rank reality and Liam's fireballs.
"Btw, Masamato," I said, gripping the cart's edge as we swayed, "I heard there's a killer hunting adventurers in Solva."
"You mean Fovos?" he replied, his tone casual, eyes on the road.
Drake, also know as Fovos In Shadow.That wanted poster from a month ago—his cold stare, 500-gold-coin bounty—still gave me chills. Anyway that man is worth Five hundred gold! That's two stellar coins, enough to buy a mansion or a dragon's hoard.
"Yeah," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Nothing to worry about," Masamato chuckled. "He only goes after high-rankers, like A-ranks. You're safe, F-rank." He said with a teasing tone.
Is he mocking me? My cheeks burned, but relief mixed with irritation. Glad I'm not on Fovos's hit list, but quit rubbing in my rank, dude.
"Good to know I'm not his prey," I muttered, crossing my arms.
"Btw, can you tell me more about him?" I pressed, curiosity overriding my pride.
"Sure," Masamato said, guiding the cart around a merchant's wagon.
"Fovos has taken out over thirty A-rank adventurers—low to high-grade, according to the guild's intel."
Over thirty? My jaw nearly hit the cart floor. That's a whole raid party!"
The guild can't pin down his exact power level," he continued, "but they figure he's among the strongest A-ranks out there, since he hasn't tangled with S-ranks yet."
"I see," I said, my mind racing. A-rank monster. "What if he targets you?" I blurted, glancing at him.
Masamato grinned, unfazed. "If that happen that would cost me a little trouble"
"But would you lose?"
"Nah, I'd win" he said, his confidence like an anime protagonist's clutch moment. Where have I heard that line before? It felt familiar, but my brain was too foggy to place it.
"You want me to get targeted?" he teased, his grin widening.
"No, I'm just worried!" I shot back, flustered.
"Ha ha!" He laughed, ruffling my hair like I was some kid NPC.
"No need to fret, Kozuki."
"Hey, watch the road!" I yelped, swatting his hand away. "You're gonna crash us!"
"You know I'm a top A-rank adventurer," he said, still chuckling, his eyes back on the street.
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, fixing my hair. We rolled on through Solva's maze, the crowd's hum a constant backdrop, until the Adventurer's Guild loomed into view. Its towering spires and gleaming stonework still hit like a critical strike, as jaw-dropping as my first day. Feels like forever since Jessie handed me that F-rank badge.
"Btw, Masamato, is Liam's school in the guild?" I asked, squinting up at the building.
"You'll find out," he said, his teasing tone back in full force.
Come on, man, just spill! I groaned internally, but his smirk said I wasn't getting answers yet. We pulled up in front of the guild, the cart creaking to a stop. I hopped off, Masamato following, and there it was—my ultimate nemesis: The Stairs. A sprawling gauntlet of stone steps stretched up to the guild's entrance, mocking my F-rank stamina. Why didn't they build this place at ground level? I whined, already dreading the climb.
After what felt like an eternity, we conquered the guild's infernal stairs, my lungs screaming for mercy. I doubled over, gasping, and shot a glance at Masamato. Not a single bead of sweat on him—what the actual hell? I'm starting to side-eye him like I did Gild. Are these A-rankers even human? Oh, right, A-rank buffs probably include "stair immunity." Groaning, I straightened up as we stepped into the Adventurer's Guild, its massive doors swinging open with a low creak.
The guild hall hit me like a critical strike of chaos, a living RPG hub cranked to eleven. Towering stone pillars loomed overhead, their carvings of wyverns and swords glinting in the torchlight, while the air buzzed with a cacophony of laughter, shouted bets, and clinking tankards. Adventurers crowded the job boards, their armor clattering as they jostled for quests, while clerks barked orders behind polished oak counters, their quills scratching like a swarm of cicadas. The scent of sweat, polished leather, and a faint metallic tang from enchanted gear mingled with the yeasty aroma of fresh ale from a nearby tavern nook. Banners of past guild victories—faded reds and golds—swayed from the rafters, casting patchy shadows on the worn marble floor, scuffed by countless boots. I spotted Jessie at the reception desk, her raven hair gleaming as she handed out forms, her emerald eyes flicking through the crowd with practiced ease. S-tier waifu, still slaying, I noted, suppressing a grin. A gaggle of teens my age wove through the throng, their nervous chatter. Guess I'm not the only one Liam's gonna torment.
Masamato led me through the bustling hall, dodging a dwarf haggling over a bounty and a mage muttering to a glowing orb. We stopped at a heavy iron door, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly. He pushed it open, and—surprise, surprise—it was the colosseum, the same arena where Liam handed my F-rank butt a flaming beatdown last month.
The vast oval stretched before us, its sandy floor scarred from countless duels, the air thick with the gritty scent of dust and old blood, undercut by a faint ozone whiff from lingering magic. Tiered stone benches rose high, their surfaces worn smooth, though only a scattering of spectators filled them today—mostly adults in high-end silks and velvet doublets, probably parents of the students, their murmurs a low hum against the echoey chamber. About thirty young recruits, my age, stood in neat formation on the arena floor, their leather tunics and practice swords marking them as newbies like me. A few glanced my way, their eyes sizing me up, but the vibe was all business, no chatter. The colosseum's walls, pocked with scorch marks and blade gashes, loomed like a silent threat, promising pain. Great, back to the torture pit, I thought, my stomach twisting at the memory of Liam's fireballs.
"Liam's giving a speech," Masamato said, nodding toward the formation. "Go line up."
"Ok," I chuckled, catching his dad-like vibe. He was practically radiating "first day of school" energy, like he'd packed my lunch or something.
"Good luck," he added, clapping my shoulder.
I nodded, trudging toward the back of the formation, my new cloak swishing.
"When's he coming?" I asked the guy next to me, a lanky kid with a too-tight tunic.
He shot me a cold glance. "In a while," he said, his tone frostier than Liam's ice spikes.
"Oh, okay, thanks," I muttered, feeling like I'd just failed a charisma check.
Minutes dragged, then Liam strode in, his presence chilling the arena like a frost spell. Decked in a rune-etched coat, his graying hair swept back, he looked every bit the Guild Master who'd nearly roasted me. I'll never forget you trying to kill me, jerk, I fumed, glaring daggers.
"Thanks for waiting!" he bellowed, his voice bouncing off the colosseum walls.
"As you know, today marks the eighth grand opening of Xyuli Academy for new recruits."
He paced, his boots kicking up sand.
"Here are the school rules—only three, so listen up. First, no fighting unless I say so. Second, never be late to training. Third, and most critical, don't break the first two. That's it."
That's it? I blinked, expecting some epic code of honor.
"This school runs for three months," he continued.
Three months?! My jaw dropped. What's the writer smoking?
Who learns sword mastery in three months? Back on Earth, we slogged through nine-month school years just for algebra, and this is combat! No wonder Suzuki said 10 gold coins per month, not per year—there is no year! I glanced around, hoping for outrage, but the other students just stood there, stone-faced, like they'd known all along. Am I the only clueless one? Thank me that Masamato's covering my tuition, or I'd be raging harder, since I now know the currency this country use. I sighed, slumping slightly.
"But don't worry," Liam continued, his voice sharp as his blade.
"Though the time is short, I'll forge you into formidable sword masters. That's all. My assistant will take over."
A round of applause erupted as he exited, all regal and smug. Applause for what?! I wanted to yell. He's fleecing you for 10 gold coins a month! I sighed, slumping in formation. Rich people logic—30 gold total for a crash course?
"I'll never get rich people" I murmur.