The Adventurer's Guild was louder than Lucien expected.
Steam hissed from rusted vents in the walls. People yelled, laughed, argued. Mercenaries hovered around large wooden boards plastered with missions.
Some stood in groups recruiting team members with loud boasts and flexed mana, while others lounged in the corners drinking cheap wine and swapping "totally true" survival stories.
Lucien—inhabiting the identity of Kael—moved through the crowd like a shadow.
He scanned the room. Most of them were commoners. No one above Adept rank that he could sense. A handful of teenage hotheads trying to look tough in secondhand armor. One old man loudly snoring in a booth. A few serious ones in the back—silent, alone, watching everything.
Lucien's eyes flicked toward the registration line.
Let's get this over with.
He took his place and waited, noting the cracked tiles, the scent of oil and sweat, the casual danger that hung in the air like smog.
When it was finally his turn, he stepped up to the counter.
The woman behind it smiled politely. Mid-twenties, sharp eyes, and a voice trained to sound pleasant even when dealing with morons.
"Welcome to the Brass City Adventurer's Guild," she said. "Please fill this out for registration."
She slid a small parchment across the desk.
Lucien studied her while reaching for the quill. Beautiful, certainly, but wasted here. Another pretty face hired to make the guild more appealing to testosterone-addled recruits.
Such a waste, he thought, genuinely pitying her circumstances.
She noticed his stare and arched a brow.
"Sir?"
Lucien gave a small cough. "Right. Just—uh—one second."
He scrawled "Kael" in the name field and filled in the rest from memory—Kael's address, age, local ID number. He kept the handwriting messy on purpose. No need to draw suspicion with royal penmanship.
The girl—her nameplate read 'Mira'—accepted the form with professional efficiency.
"Thank you, Kael. Now, please place your hand on this crystal."
The detection stone gleamed with inner light, its surface worn smooth by countless touches. Lucien's jaw tightened. The device would read his Abyssal Energy signature and determine his rank.
He hesitated.
The Voice of the Void still marked him as Shallow Beast.
What if this thing detected that?
The thought sent ice through his veins. But after a moment's hesitation, he steadied himself. This was cheap guild equipment, not royal-grade detection magic. Worst case, it would show him as rank-less or malfunction entirely.
And if it does explode,he thought,at least it'll be quick for the poor girl.
Lucien sighed.
Let's roll the dice.
He placed his hand on the crystal and instinctively shielded his face with the other. The crystal pulsed once… then dimmed.
No explosion. No screaming. Just silence.
She gave him a strange look, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"...You're fine. Rank: Middle Stage Mortal. (Rank 0)."
Lucien blinked.
Middle Stage Mortal?
She handed him the freshly printed bronze-rank card without another word, already calling up the next applicant.
Lucien stepped aside, his fingers tightening around the card. He was genuinely surprised. That crystal had registered him no differently than an ordinary human.
Strange.
That shouldn't have happened.
Without a change in expression, he mentally summoned the Voice of the Void.
###
[Voice of Void]
[Name: Kael (Lucien Vex Morvain)]
[True Rune: The Mad Prince, Bearer of the Leviathan Heart]
[Race: Half-human]
[Bloodline: Morvain {Unawakened}]
[Physique: None]
[Spells:
(Rank 1) : Heat Vision, Shadow Step ]
[Familiar Beast: Carrion Kronos (Rank 7 Soul Beast)]
[Abyssal Rank: Shallow Beast (Rank0)]
[Abyssal Essence: 108/1000]
###
Still there.
He exhaled slowly.
So… the device is trash. Either too old or too weak to scan deep enough to sense what I really am.
A faint smirk touched his lips.
Good.
He pulled the bronze adventurer card from his pocket and turned it over under the flickering gaslight.
***
Brass City Adventurer's Guild — Official Identification
Name: Kael
Occupation: Smith Apprentice
Abyssal Rank: Middle Stage Mortal. (Rank 0)
Guild Rank: Bronze
Missions Completed: 0
Points: 0 /100
Remark:No prior combat experience
***
Lucien grimaced at the "remark" section.
He'd argued against it, but Mira insisted it had to be included if he couldn't prove otherwise.
Stupid system. I've killed more things than she's seen in her life. Just not in this body.
Night had already fallen. The city outside glowed with gaslamps and steam lanterns. He needed to find a mission before heading home.
At the job board, he squinted at the listings.
Only three missions were marked as eligible for Bronze-ranked newbies:
Herb Collection (Low risk, no pay worth mentioning)
Merchant Escort (Boring, high chance of walking for hours)
Hunt: Sewer Beast (Deep Beast {Rank 0} Abyssal Creatures, minor threat, decent bounty)
Lucien's eyes locked on the third.
Finally. Something with teeth.
But he'd need a team. No way he could take it solo—not in this body.
As he pondered his options, a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Oi, you looking for a team?"
Lucien turned to find a boy roughly his age—sandy hair, eager eyes, the kind of confidence that came from never having faced real danger. The youth's gear was new, probably bought with family money.
"If you don't mind joining up with us," the boy continued, "we've got five people including me. We just need someone to carry the corpses back and handle the mundane tasks."
Carry corpses. Mundane tasks ?!
The words hung in the air like a physical insult. Lucien's hand twitched toward where his sword would normally rest. In his previous life, lesser men had died for smaller slights. The Mad Prince, carrier of the Leviathan's Heart, reduced to... baggage duty.
The boy was still talking,"—decent split too, since you're just support. What do you say?"
He opened his mouth—ready to put this peasant in his place—but stopped.
He forced a tight smile.
"Sure. When do we meet?"
"Brilliant! Tomorrow, 9 AM sharp. Meet at the eastern gate." The boy grinned and stuck out his hand. "Name's Marcus, by the way. You won't regret this!"
Oh, but you might, Lucien thought, shaking the offered hand.
And just like that, the boy vanished into the crowd.
Lucien exhaled. "Desperate times…"
Before heading out, he wandered into the Guild's storehouse.
Weapons lined the walls—swords, spears, bows—but even the cheapest ones started at 1 silver. Way out of his budget.
Not that he needed one.
He smirked to himself.
I'll just borrow something from the old man's private stash.
Next, he inquired about spells.
The shopkeeper, an old man in half-moon glasses who was clearly more interested in his romance novel than customers, didn't even look up.
"Catalogue's over there," he said, thumbing a page.
Lucien picked it up and scanned through.
Disappointment.
Most were beginner-tier spells. The best on offer was a Rank 3 flame burst. And the price?
One gold.
He nearly dropped the paper.
"One gold? For this?"
That was 100 silver coins—the equivalent of nearly three years at Gareth's forge… assuming he saved every copper and spent nothing.
He handed it back with a sigh.
"Thanks for nothing, old man."
###
Steam hissed from the gutters as Lucien made his way back through Brass City's winding alleys. His coat flapped in the wind. The sweat-box he'd bought earlier still nestled in his arms.
I need money. Power. Options.
But without strength, he couldn't even steal those things. Robbing a bank or doing something shady? Out of the question—unless he wanted to get arrested on day one.
In his last life, he was royalty. Resources flowed to him like water. He had never known desperation.
Now?
Now he was just a name on a cheap bronze card. Kael the Forge Brat.
The thought twisted his mood.
As he neared the forge, he spotted something by the door—a second pair of sandals.
Elara.
She was home.
Lucien exhaled and pushed open the door, the scent of meat stew drifting into the night. He tightened his grip on the box of sweets.
Maybe the day wasn't a complete loss after all.