(~1,042 words — part 1)
The gates of Virelow creaked open with a sound like old bones stretching after a long sleep. Two guards barely glanced up from their game of dice as Nyari stepped inside the town—one of them snorting at the sight of her.
"Another lost brat lookin' to play hero," he muttered.
She didn't react.
The cobbled streets bustled with afternoon activity—merchants calling out prices, smiths hammering steel, and carts trundling past with crates of fruit and salted meat. The town wasn't large, but it was lively, with stone buildings and moss-covered roofs leaning together like old neighbors in conversation.
Nyari stood at the crossroads in the center of town and tilted her head—her white-streaked bangs drifting over one glowing eye.
Then her ears twitched. She heard it.
Laughter. Clinking mugs. And the echo of steel training in the distance.
"The guild…"
She followed the sound, weaving through crowds with smooth precision. A few children paused to stare at her unusual striped tail. One woman gasped softly and crossed herself when Nyari passed.
She could feel it already—whispers trailing behind her.
Curiosity. Suspicion. Amusement.
But she didn't stop.
🏛️ The Guildhall
The adventurer's guild sat at the edge of town like a forgotten temple—stone pillars, a wide wooden sign with faded golden letters reading:
Virelow Adventurer's Guild
"By Courage, Not Coin."
The doors stood open. Nyari stepped inside.
The interior was warm and busy. A large fireplace crackled at the far end, and tables were crowded with armored mercs, leather-clad rogues, and bow-slinging scouts. A massive mission board lined the left wall, plastered with contracts, maps, and scribbled warnings. On the right, a wooden bar served drinks and food to anyone with coin.
And in the center of it all stood a long, scratched desk. Behind it, a bored-looking girl in a blue tunic chewed on a feather quill.
She looked up—and froze.
"…Um. Hello?"
Nyari walked straight up to the desk, her golden eyes locked forward.
"I want to register," she said. "To become an adventurer."
A silence spread behind her like a wave.
Someone nearby snorted.
"Another kid trying to be a hero," muttered a man with a wolf-pelt cloak, nursing a drink. "Don't break your claws, kitty."
Nyari didn't turn. Her ears twitched once.
The receptionist blinked. "You—you want to join?"
"Yes."
"Well, uh…" She shuffled through some parchment. "We don't usually register lone minors unless they're sponsored or have a mentor. Are you part of a party? Do you have any combat credentials?"
"No," Nyari said calmly. "But I'm strong enough."
A deep laugh rolled out from behind her.
"Strong enough?" came a mocking voice.
"Alright, alright, we got ourselves a baby tiger thinkin' she's queen of the jungle!"
The speaker stepped forward—tall, armored in brassy steel, and loud. He had spiked gauntlets and a sneer like he practiced it in a mirror.
"Why don't we test that, hmm?" he grinned. "One clean strike. You land a hit on me—I'll sponsor you myself."
More laughter echoed around the hall. Someone banged a mug on the table.
"Let her try, Brusk! Maybe she'll scratch your beard off!"
The receptionist tried to intervene. "Sir, please, that's not—"
Nyari raised a hand gently.
"I accept," she said, without even looking at him.
Brusk grinned wider. "Oh? Feisty little kitty, aren't you?"
The crowd pulled back as the tables were cleared. Wooden mugs and bowls scraped aside as space opened up in the guildhall's center. Everyone gathered around in a loose circle—watching. Betting. Whispering.
Nyari stepped to the center, calm and poised. Her body relaxed, almost delicate in posture. Brusk clomped forward in heavy boots, cracking his knuckles.
"Don't worry," he said, drawing a training blade from his hip. "I won't cut deep."
Nyari didn't draw a weapon.
She just stood there, expression unreadable.
⚔️ The Confrontation
Brusk lunged.
A blur of armor and muscle—a textbook overhead swing designed to intimidate.
But Nyari was gone.
In less than a heartbeat, she vanished from his sight—no wind, no sound—and reappeared behind him, her tail gently brushing the back of his armor.
"Wha—?!"
Brusk turned fast, swinging wide.
Again, she was gone.
Three afterimages flickered in a circle—her silhouette blinking between them like a phantom. Gasps rang out. One veteran nearly dropped his mug.
She appeared behind Brusk's left leg—low, graceful—and tapped the back of his knee with a single glowing finger.
The moment her fingertip touched armor, a faint sigil lit up beneath it—like a glowing claw mark etched in light.
Brusk roared and swung backward wildly.
Nyari leapt over him—spinning midair—and landed silently on her toes behind the crowd.
Brusk staggered forward—and the mark she left suddenly pulsed.
WHUMP.
A wave of light knocked him to his knees.
He froze. Dazed. Breathless.
Nyari walked back into the circle calmly, her hands at her sides.
"You asked me to land a hit," she said. "I did."
Silence.
Then—cheers. Laughter. Applause.
🏅 Recognition
Brusk looked up, face red. Not angry. Embarrassed.
"…The hell are you?" he muttered.
Nyari tilted her head. "Just someone who wants to belong."
The receptionist leaned over the desk with wide eyes. "Th-that was incredible! You have a quirk—or magic—or something, right?"
Nyari smiled faintly. "I move fast when I care."
"Is that a quote?"
"No. That's just… how I am."
The receptionist scribbled rapidly.
"Alright, registered under: Nyari. Class: Novice. Status: Provisional. Guild title pending." She held up a small wooden badge on a leather string. "Congratulations. You're now officially part of the Virelow Adventurer's Guild!"
Nyari took the badge and tied it around her neck.
A few people approached—some with curiosity, others with cautious respect. Brusk grumbled but gave her a nod.
"You've got something, kid," he muttered. "Don't waste it."
🌙 That Night
Later, Nyari stood alone on a rooftop, badge resting against her chest, the wind tugging her hair.
She was in.
She had a path.
She belonged—if only a little.
The stars above Nyareth shimmered brighter than any she'd seen in her old life.
And she whispered to them:
"Thank you… for giving me this chance."
"I won't waste it."
To be continued in Chapter Three: "First Mission – More Than a Test"
(Nyari is assigned a seemingly small escort job… that spirals into something much bigger.)