The capital's Adventurer's Guild wasn't just a building—it was a damn carnival.
Laughter, shouting, clinking mugs, and the faint smell of blood and ale all blended together into one messy kind of harmony. The stone hall was wide, banners of fallen guilds hanging beside trophies from monsters long extinct.
At the far corner, the tavern counter was already drowning in noise. Adventurers bickered and bet coins over who'd be the next to join the Hero's glorious new party.
"Bet it's gonna be Rylan from the Silver Hawks!"
"Hell no, they're picking from the A ranks in the Empire first."
"You kidding? I heard the Hero's recruiting his own team—no guild approval."
Kyle pushed the door open, his coat dripping faint rain, eyes scanning the chaos like a man walking through déjà vu. He'd seen guilds like this come and go a hundred times. New faces, same noise.
He stepped up to the front counter. The receptionist—young, blonde, way too bright-eyed for this job—looked up from her ledger. "Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild! Name and purpose of visit?"
Kyle fished something from his coat pocket and dropped it on the counter—a dark, worn metal card, etched with faint runes. "Renewal," he muttered. "Haven't done this in a while."
She took the card, smiled politely, then glanced down.
The smile froze.
Her voice tripped over itself. "S… S–Rank?"
That one word echoed across the guild hall like a dagger hitting stone.
A few heads turned. Then a few more.
Someone near the bar stopped mid-sip. "Wait, did she say S-Rank?"
Murmurs rose, eyes turning toward Kyle—measuring, doubting, staring.
Kyle exhaled a long sigh. Here we go again.
"Uh… Mr. Kyle?" the receptionist tried, her tone shifting between awe and panic. "Welcome back. It's been… um… quite some time since your last renewal. Should I—"
He leaned on the counter, casual as a cat. "Just do your thing, sweetheart. Don't make a parade outta it."
"R–Right!" She fumbled with the scanner crystal, the rune light sweeping over his card and flashing green. "Renewal complete, sir. Welcome back to active status."
Kyle gave her a lazy salute and pocketed the card. "Appreciate it."
By the time he turned, most of the curious stares had already faded—adventurers losing interest once they realized he wasn't gonna flex magic or start spouting hero speeches. The bar noise crawled back like nothing happened.
He found an empty table near the corner, dropped into the chair, and called for a drink.
That's when someone sat across from him.
A hooded man. Dark cloak, the faint glint of a guild sigil on his shoulder. His posture was calm, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—never left Kyle's face.
"Not every day you see an S-Ranker stroll in looking like he's half-asleep," the man said, voice smooth, faintly amused.
Kyle raised a brow. "Not every day someone tries to sit at my table without asking."
The man chuckled, lowered his hood just enough to reveal part of his face—early thirties, a jagged scar under one eye. "Recruiter. Empire-sanctioned. We're… assembling capable adventurers for a certain someone especially 'S rankers' ."
Kyle smirked faintly. "Lemme guess. The golden kid with the shiny sword?"
"Exactly."
The recruiter leaned in slightly. "Word is, they're forming the Hero's party within the week. You'd be wasted doing delivery runs and tavern hunts. We could use someone of your skill."
Kyle swirled his drink, eyes half-lidded. "You sure about that? I tend to make people nervous."
The recruiter smiled thinly. "Good. Maybe that's what the Hero needs."
Kyle tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lip. "Heh. You don't even know what you're asking for."
The recruiter didn't budge. He stayed there, calm and steady, like a man who'd done this dance too many times before.
Kyle took a slow sip of his drink, one brow raised. "You're still here. Didn't take you for the persistent type."
The man smiled faintly. "Persistence gets results. You'd be surprised how many so-called lone wolves change their tune once they see the right number of zeroes."
Kyle snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, so it's gold, huh? Thought you were gonna sell me on glory, fame, and the thrill of fighting for peace or whatever crap they feed the kids."
"That too," the recruiter said evenly. "But mostly gold. A hundred platinum upfront if you're selected. Double that once the campaign starts."
Kyle stopped mid-drink. Slowly lowered the glass.
"…A hundred platinum?"
The recruiter nodded, confident now. "You heard right."
Kyle gave a low whistle. "Did the Empire run out of fools willing to die for free?"
A chuckle rippled nearby from someone who'd overheard. The recruiter didn't react, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "We're not short on fools," he said. "We're short on survivors."
Kyle smirked, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "Cute line. You rehearse that in front of a mirror or it just come naturally?"
The man didn't answer—he just waited.
For a long second, Kyle looked at him. Then, with a half-shrug, he muttered, "Alright, fine. I'll bite."
He leaned forward, his tone dropping lower, colder. "But if I join this little party of yours, you might regret it."
The recruiter frowned slightly. "And why's that?"
Kyle's eyes flicked up. For just an instant—barely more than a blink—the faintest shimmer of darkness coiled within them. Not shadow, not magic, but something old. The kind of void that made the air heavier, the warmth dimmer.
The recruiter froze, breath catching before he could hide it.
Kyle smiled again, lazy and disarming. "'Cause I'm a bit hard to control."
That smile stayed for a heartbeat too long, before he downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down with a soft clink.
The recruiter exhaled slowly, forcing composure back into his tone. "…You'll still need to go through evaluation. They're testing everyone—skills, temperament, compatibility. Only a handful will make the final cut."
Kyle stood up, adjusting his coat. "So, I'm just a candidate. Sounds fair."
He tossed a few coins onto the table for the drink and turned for the door.
"Where can I find this… test?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Empire's Coliseum," the recruiter replied, recovering his voice. "Two days from now. Bring your weapon—and whatever that thing in your eyes was."
Kyle grinned without looking back. "Oh, that? Just a bad habit."
Then he pushed through the guild doors, leaving the noise, the gold, and the stares behind—just another ghost walking into the night.