The Adventurer's Guild branch in Stormwatch was not the grand edifice with marble pillars often depicted in heroic fairy tales.
Instead, it was a sturdy, three-story red brick building with a chimney belching black smoke and windows reinforced with iron bars.
As Elian—now assuming the identity of "Eli"—stepped inside behind Lunaria, a wave of noise and stench slapped him in the face.
The main hall was cavernous and dimly lit by flickering magic oil lamps. The wooden floor was sticky with spilled cheap ale and stains of dried blood that had never been properly scrubbed away. Hundreds of adventurers from various races—humans, dwarves, and a few low-ranking beastkin—were drinking, gambling, or haggling at the top of their lungs.
"Stay close," Lunaria whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the cacophony. Her ash-grey cloak covered her entire body, concealing her identity as an Elf.
Elian gave a small nod. He pulled his hood lower, hiding the beautiful face that was a magnet for trouble. His hand inside his cloak gripped the hilt of his steel dagger tight.
His Nature Sense was screaming in discomfort. In the forest, natural energy flowed in harmony. Here, the mana and aura of hundreds of people collided chaotically, creating a spiritual pollution that made Elian's head spin.
They walked toward the long reception desk at the far end of the room. Behind it, a middle-aged woman with heavy makeup and a pipe clenched between her teeth was serving a burly warrior.
"Next!" the woman shouted rudely after tossing a coin pouch to the warrior.
Lunaria stepped forward. "We want to register."
The receptionist, whose nameplate read 'Mara', looked at Lunaria and Elian with a bored gaze. She blew a puff of mint-scented smoke in their faces.
"Registration fee is 5 silvers a head. We don't accept children under 12 unless there's a guardian guarantee," Mara said rapidly, as if she had recited the line a thousand times.
"He is 14, just small due to malnutrition," Lunaria lied smoothly, placing ten silver coins on the counter. "And I am his guardian. My name is Lena. He is Eli."
Mara narrowed her eyes at Elian, who stood silently beside Lunaria. Elian's slender, cloaked posture did indeed make him look ambiguous.
"Lower your hood, Kid. I need to see a face for the identity sketch," Mara commanded, picking up a quill.
Elian tensed for a second. He glanced at Lunaria.
"Do it, Eli," Lunaria said softly.
Elian lowered his hood slowly.
Instantly, the raucous noise at the nearby tables died down. Several drinking adventurers turned their heads.
Elian's face, though smeared with dirt and devoid of expression, possessed a magnetic allure that was hard to ignore. His fine black hair, porcelain skin, and large dark eyes were too "clean" for this filthy place.
"What a beauty..." muttered a drunk at a table near a pillar. "Hey, Miss! Are you sure he's an adventurer? He'd fit better in the 'Red Velvet' brothel!"
Laughter broke out in several corners.
Mara clicked her tongue, unimpressed. She quickly drew a rough sketch of Elian's face on the form. "Profession?"
"Herbal Healer and Archer," Lunaria answered for herself. Then she pointed to Elian. "He is... a Scout. And he is mute."
"Mute and beautiful. A dangerous combination in this city," Mara commented cynically. She handed over two sheets of parchment. "Blood thumbprint here. Then go to the back room for the Aptitude Test."
"Test?" Lunaria interrupted. "We only want F-Rank missions for herbal gathering. Is a test necessary?"
"New regulations from the Kingdom of Noctis," Mara replied lazily. "Too many rookies died foolishly last month. The Guild Master ordered a basic physical test to filter out the trash. If you can't survive one minute against the Examiner, your registration fee is forfeited."
Elian felt the gaze of the entire room stabbing into his back. They were waiting for a show. They wanted to see the "pretty girl" (who was actually a boy) cry or get beaten to a pulp.
Lunaria looked at Elian for a moment, then nodded. "Fine."
***
They were herded into a sand arena at the back of the Guild building. The arena was surrounded by high wooden fences, and spectators began to crowd the upper balcony to watch.
In the center of the arena stood a giant man, two meters tall. He was shirtless, revealing muscles like granite covered in scars. He held a wooden practice club the size of an adult human's thigh.
A deep orange aura shrouded his body—a Peak Tier 2 Warrior.
"My name is Brutus!" the man roared, slamming his club into the ground, sending sand flying. "Who is my first victim today?!"
Lunaria stepped forward, but the test proctor stopped her.
"One by one," the proctor said. "The brat first."
Elian fell silent. This was bad. He had to fight a Tier 2 giant alone in public. He couldn't use sharp weapons (test rules), only wood. And he couldn't kill.
Elian picked up a dull wooden dagger from the weapon rack. It felt light and fragile in his hands, which now possessed the density of dragon bone.
"Hahaha! Look at that toy!" Brutus laughed thunderously. "Hey, Little Doll! If you surrender now and massage my feet, I'll pass you!"
Elian walked into the arena. His face was blank. Inside his mind, he calculated.
Opponent: Tier 2. Physical Strength: High. Speed: Low. Arrogance: Maximum.Objective: Survive 1 minute or incapacitate. Do not kill. Do not expose true strength. Look like you just got lucky.
"Begin!" shouted the proctor.
"Come here!" Brutus charged. He used no technique. He simply swung his massive club horizontally, intending to shatter Elian's ribs in a single blow.
The wind from the club's swing alone blew Elian's hair back.
To the audience, Elian was finished.
But to Elian, Brutus's movements were full of holes.
Too wide.
Just before the club smashed into his waist, Elian threw himself forward as if tripping on the sand.
"Huh?" Brutus was confused as his target vanished from his line of sight.
The club passed over Elian's back as he bowed low.
In that crawling position, Elian spun his body like a top. His leg swept Brutus's ankle.
Of course, Elian's leg strength wasn't enough to topple a sturdy Tier 2 giant. But Brutus was in full swing momentum. His balance was fragile.
THUD!
Brutus stumbled. He didn't fall, but his footing wavered.
"Slippery rat!" Brutus roared in anger. His orange aura exploded, creating wind pressure that swirled the sand. He raised his club high for a vertical strike—Earth Smash.
It was a basic Combat Art. If it hit, Elian would be paste.
Elian scrambled back with exaggerated panic, his face showing (fake) terror. He ran in a zig-zag.
BOOM!
The club smashed the spot where Elian stood a second ago. Sand exploded.
Elian was blown back by the shockwave, rolling in the sand. He coughed, looking pathetic.
"Finish him, Brutus!" the audience shouted.
Brutus grinned. He walked casually toward Elian, who was trying to stand. "Nowhere left to run."
Elian held his wooden dagger with trembling hands. He backed away until his back hit the wooden wall of the arena. Cornered.
Brutus swung his aura-coated left fist at Elian's face. He wanted to destroy that pretty face.
As the fist flew, Elian's eyes turned cold for a fraction of a second—invisible to anyone but Lunaria watching from afar.
Now.
Elian didn't dodge. He moved his head slightly to the side, letting the fist graze his cheek—intentionally allowing himself to be hurt to make it look realistic.
Smack!
Elian's cheek tore; blood flowed.
But at the same moment, Elian's right hand moved like lightning. He didn't stab. He jammed the blunt tip of the wooden dagger into Brutus's exposed armpit—the nerve cluster where the shoulder muscles met the chest.
And with a small pulse of Mana channeled from his body (not a Core), he pressed the nerve.
"ARGH!"
Brutus's left arm suddenly went numb and limp.
Brutus was shocked. "What the—"
Elian exploited the confusion. He slid under Brutus's legs, and with the tip of the wooden dagger, he struck the point behind Brutus's right knee. Another nerve point.
The giant's leg buckled uncontrollably. Brutus fell to his knees.
Now their heights were equal.
Before Brutus could react, Elian was already standing behind him, wrapping his small arm around Brutus's thick neck, and pressing the wooden dagger against the man's Adam's apple.
"..." Elian didn't speak. He just pressed the dull dagger hard enough to make breathing difficult for Brutus.
Silence.
The entire arena fell quiet.
A skinny boy had just brought a Tier 2 Warrior to his knees in less than 30 seconds.
"Enough!" shouted the proctor. "Brutus, you lose. The brat passes."
Elian immediately released Brutus and jumped back, putting his scared, trembling face back on, clutching his chest as if he had just escaped death by sheer luck.
Brutus stood up, his face beet red with shame. He wanted to beat Elian, but the proctor's cold gaze made him back down. "Tch. You just got lucky, Brat. My nerves cramped."
Elian bowed deeply, feigning apology. But in his heart, he sneered. This man is full of openings. If I had used a real knife, he would have died three times.
Lunaria smiled faintly at the edge of the arena. "Good acting," she murmured softly.
***
After Lunaria completed her test easily (simply shooting three moving targets with 100% accuracy without using aura), they returned to the reception desk.
Mara handed them two small iron plates engraved with their names.
Rank: F (Iron)
"Welcome to hell, Rookies," Mara said, handing over the plates. "My advice: Don't take missions outside the city walls yet. And you, Eli..."
Mara looked at Elian, who was wiping the blood from his cheek.
"Be careful. In this Guild, there are people who prefer preying on fellow adventurers rather than monsters. You just humiliated Brutus. He's a member of the 'Black Viper' party. They hold grudges."
Elian nodded stiffly, taking the iron plate. The cold metal felt comfortable in his hand.
By the time they walked out of the Guild, it was already night. The cold air of Stormwatch pierced the bone.
"You held back too much," Lunaria commented as they walked down a quiet alley toward the inn. "You let him hit your face?"
"A wounded face makes people less envious," Elian replied quietly, touching the cut on his cheek which was already beginning to close slowly due to his regeneration. "And this blood... tastes sweet."
Elian licked a drop of blood from the corner of his lip.
Suddenly, Elian felt something. His Nature Sense vibrated.
On the roof of the building across the street, someone was watching them. Someone radiating a killing intent far sharper and more concealed than Brutus.
Elian didn't turn his head. He continued walking with the step of a "tired boy."
They have already come, the wind whispered in his ear. Your enemies.
"Master," Elian whispered. "We are being followed."
"I know," Lunaria replied calmly, her hand inside her cloak already gripping three arrows. "Ignore it. If they attack in the city, the guards will come. Let them feel like the hunters... until we drag them into the darkness."
That night, The identity of "Eli the Mute" was born. A fragile mask hiding the small monster growing beneath it. And in his right hand, the F-Rank iron plate felt not like a membership token, but like an official license to kill.