[Six Days Earlier – Research Guild HQ]
Tondon was a simple city.
Initially, it was a trade depot connecting the lushly forested west to the rugged yet mineral-rich east. The people of those regions needed a place to barter, so they chose the open plains between the two areas. Trade flourished, turning the small hamlet into a metropolis that dominated the economics of Western Mundus. It didn’t matter that the city had no tangible resources. Its strategic location allowed for a competitive advantage that had never been considered till that point… Power.
It was a city that transformed, redefining the area and the rules of the game. Tondon’s inhabitants shifted their focus from trade to control, and in doing so, the city's simplicity gave way to complexity.
Today, nothing remains of that hamlet except for Little Street, the founding road on which the initial city was built. Quite ironically, nothing about the street is ‘little.’ Some of Tondon’s most valuable institutions have headquarters there, with the Research Guild being no different. Like the thought process behind the original trade depot, its location in the city centre allows those with influence to gain insight into the happenings around town. This information is critical, especially in dire situations like Dr. Scales.
…
It was late in the day, and a cool fall breeze was slightly flapping the curtains in a pitch-black office. From dawn till dusk, only the scratching of pen on paper could be heard, with the occasional disgruntled moan breaking the silence. Dr. Scale was busy… busier than usual.
A heap of documents lay spread on his desk, a mountain of work he had to complete. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was necessary. Since the end of the Warrior Examination, he had been couped up in this room, his mind fretting on issues surrounding the Assassination Guild and Mask. There was still so much to uncover, yet for some reason, little to no information had surfaced from the investigations. His only saving grace was capturing Crystal Vargas. She revealed much-needed information about Mollox, who seems to have disappeared alongside most of his Guild. There was also the mention of Sven Sommer, a complete wildcard addition.
A frustrated sigh escaped his chest.
When would these long days end?
He shuffled through some documents, locating the Examinee Appraisal Results Portfolio. His brittle hands quickly shifted through the papers until one turned up: Nally Stenner’s. Because the Warrior Examination ended prematurely, the Appraisal Exam was delayed. The results ended up coinciding with Ms. Stenner’s interrogation, revealing a startling fact. The girl was utterly talentless, with no affinity for any Incantations, while also possessing no Divine Arts. She only ended up passing because she scored 100 on the written and tournament exams.
“66.67%,” Dr. Scale sighed. “1.67% was the difference between success and failure. She wouldn't have passed if the tournament hadn’t ended by default. What amazing luck.”
Right underneath hers was Hitto’s, who had a passing grade of 95%.
“Him,” the Guild Master muttered. “Out of all the candidates, I don’t think there’s one with more potential than him.”
Hitto was a generational talent. He possessed a high affinity for Fire Incantations, a massive mana pool, and two Divine Arts that had never been seen before. The first was a regenerative one, healing impossibly severe injuries. The second was still unknown. More advanced machinery was needed to understand its properties. Till then, Hitto would purposely be kept in the dark. He didn’t need to know how dangerous he was.
The door to the office jarred open, blinding Dr. Scale with brightness his eyes were far from accustomed to. In came Fumie Star, clutching some papers tightly against her chest. She crept in slowly, watching her steps through the darkness.
“What are you doing?” Dr. Scale asked. “What are those papers for?”
“G-Guild Master!” she stammered with widening eyes. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize you were still in here. I was just dropping off the Anti-Incantation formulas. I’m done rigging up the room.”
Dr. Scale smiled. Though he loved it, maybe he shouldn’t work in complete darkness while dressed in all black. The poor girl looked shell-shocked.
“Good work,” he chuckled. “Everything is in place for their discussion. If things go well, Sven will be behind bars in no time while giving us a lead on Mollox.”
“…Yeah,” Fumie answered.
She looked down, tightening her grip on the papers even more. It was dark, so Dr. Scale could just about make out the solemn look in her eyes.
“Have you been visiting B15? I heard he’ll be up and running again in a few months time. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Everything turned out okay because you saved us in the end. Don’t forget that.”
“I-I know,” she stuttered. “B-But still. It was the first time in my life I was so close to death. I didn’t know what to do. I felt powerless.”
“You’re not the only one who felt that way. Trust me, I did too. So far, our investigations have revealed nothing about Mask. All we know is that they’re a serious threat. But do not fear. The Association has gone through much worse tragedies in the past yet managed to recover. We’ll be okay.”
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[Two Days After the Celebration Banquet – Research Guild HQ]
“Is it really a computer?” Hitto mumbled, taking a closer look at the miniature tower. It stood around thirty centimetres tall, it’s matte black exterior sleek but unassuming. A strange mechanical hum emitted from its base, accompanied by the soft whirring of a fan that sent a cool breeze into the air, creating sounds foreign to his ears. A single black squiggly line extended from its base, trailing across the polished table before connecting to a flat grey board on the desk with a weirdly shaped hump. “It looks different from the one you had at the receptionist’s desk.”
They were in a spacious room, bathed in a warm fluorescent glow. The walls were a dull cream, sparsely decorated with generic art pieces about the Association. Across from him was Hilda, sitting behind another receptionist’s desk. The desk was pure white, as if it had never seen a fingerprint. Hilda sat stiffly behind it, her eyes focused on the flat grey board. A frown soured her face as she glared at Hitto from the corner of her eyes, tapping her nails against the desk’s smooth surface.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” she huffed, clearly infuriated. “There are different models for different purposes. This one is a workstation, while the one you saw was a laptop. How’s that so hard to understand?”
“That’s not the point,” Hitto smiled.
He leaned forward, trying to peer at the other side of the flat grey board. All he saw was his own reflection against the black screen. Hilda’s tapping stopped without warning, her hand laying flat on the desk. Then, she swatted at him, as if trying to brush away an annoying insect. Hitto easily dodged the half-baked attempt, letting out a soft chuckle as he placed his hands on his hips.
“You see?” he laughed. “There’s nothing there, yet you keep clicking away at that ‘keyboard.’ Is it because it’s some kind of Incantation? Are you the only one able to see what it does?”
“No…” Hilda snapped, retracting her arm. “I just turned off the screen. The information is confidential. Visitors like you aren’t allowed to see that stuff.”
Her head whipped to the side, her expression softening slightly as she glanced toward the room's far corner. A plush, dark-blue couch rested against the wall, its surface so smooth it seemed barely used. There sat Nally, Rurah, and Ned. Nally was seated upright, her eyes wandering around the room. Rurah had his large hands crossed, a proud smile on his face as he watched the encounter. Ned was deep in thought, barely acknowledging what was happening.
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"Nally,” Hilda whined, her tone sharp but pleading. “Could you tell Hitto to just wait patiently?”
Nally scratched the back of her head, an awkward smile tugging at her lips. “I tried earlier,” she admitted with a sigh. “I guess he’s just too curious. Sorry about that.”
The door to the room burst open, with Dr. Scale waltzing in slowly. He was dressed in his typical all-black attire, greeting everyone present with a slight nod. Once he was done that, he approached Hilda with a smile on his wrinkly face.
“Thanks for watching over them while I was busy. You can get back to your other tasks now.”
Hilda let out a sigh. “No worries!” she answered. She stood from the desk, gathering her belongings into a purse. After finishing up, she waved goodbye to everyone except Hitto.
“Did you make her upset?” the Guild Master asked, noticing her demeanour.
“No, I just asked some questions.”
“Whatever. That’s not important. Let’s begin the meeting.”
…
Everyone present in the room was of grave importance to Dr. Scale. Seated before him was Rurah, a towering half-orc gifted with the rare Lightning Incantation. His performance during the exam had been nothing short of flawless, demonstrating not just raw power but a sense of integrity and professionalism. Then there was Nally Stenner, a peculiar young girl whose involvement in the notorious Mask fiasco overshadowed her otherwise unremarkable abilities. Though her innocence in the matter had been proven, the mystery of how Mask had controlled her loomed large.
Next to her sat Ned Sommers, the ‘victim’ of the Warrior Examination. His life had become the center of intrigue, with the Assassination Guild targeting him in an elaborate plot orchestrated, it seemed, by his own father. Finally, there was Hitto, a figure who had taken everyone by storm during the exam. His prowess was undeniable, with not just one but two rare Divine Arts at his disposal.
All four of these individuals had one crucial thing in common: they were joining the Adventurers Guild. How this arrangement had come to be wasn’t of much concern to Dr. Scale; what mattered was that they were now under his watchful eye. Almost immediately after learning of their intentions, he had begun to formulate a plan.
“Thank you all for coming,” Dr. Scale began, his tone grave. “I’ve called you here to confess the truth. Right now, the Association is facing a dire situation.”
Rurah leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’re talking about Mask and the Assassination Guild, right? We’re aware of that.”
“Yes,” Dr. Scale acknowledged. “But there’s more to it than you know. Allow me to explain.”
All eyes were on him, every individual in the room listening closely. Dr. Scale began to outline the events surrounding Ozo, the Head of the Association, detailing how he had been drugged at Unity Hotel, with suspicions that the Assassination Guild had a hand in it. From there, the pieces fell into place: the Guild’s sudden disappearance, their interference in the Warrior Examination, the Mask terrorist attack, and finally, the possible involvement of Sven Sommers and Isaac Lawt.
“I refuse to believe these are isolated incidents,” Dr. Scale concluded, crossing his arms. “They’ve incapacitated Ozo and initiated some form of attack, all while staying in the shadows. I’ve shared this confidential information with you because each of you is connected to the situation—and likely in danger.”
Nally furrowed her brow, her voice tinged with confusion. “I understand Ned being in danger because of his father, but why the rest of us? What’s the connection?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Dr. Scale replied. “By association, you’re all at risk. Nally, you were used by Mask, and that alone makes you a target. Hitto, Isaac Lawt has shown a particular interest in you. We can’t afford to ignore these risks.”
He let the weight of his words settle before continuing. “That’s why I’ve reached out to Lampart Cross, the Master of the Adventurers Guild. He’s agreed to take on a mission in the Northern Region, and I’ve arranged for the four of you to accompany him.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Nally said, running a hand through her hair. “You’re sending us to the Northern Region to keep us safe?”
Dr. Scale nodded. “Yes. Lampart is Ozo’s cousin, someone I trust. While he’s a bit eccentric, he’s more than capable of keeping you all safe. Under his guidance, you’ll not only grow stronger but also stay out of harm’s way.”
Hitto, who had been standing the whole time, walked toward the door, resting a hand on the knob. “If this means I get to fight strong people, I’m in.” Without waiting for a response, he swung open the door and left.
“Is he always like that?” Dr. Scale asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Kind of,” Nally replied with a shrug. “He’s more action than talk. As for me, I’m fine with this. Joining the Adventurers Guild was always my goal, and starting in the Northern Region works for me.”
“I’m cool with it too,” Rurah chimed in. “I’ll use the time to sharpen my skills.”
Ned let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temple as he tapped his foot on the ground. “If they’re in, I’m in. But I want one thing in return. Promise me you’ll find my siblings while I’m gone. And fill me in on what you promised already.”
“Of course,” Dr. Scale agreed. “Thank you all for your cooperation. That concludes our meeting. Ned, please stay behind. I’ll brief you further on your request.”
As Nally and Rurah stood to leave, offering their thanks, Dr. Scale turned to Ned.
“Alright,” Dr. Scale spoke, his tone more serious. “Let’s begin.”
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[The Next Day]
Trolly District was, without a doubt, the worst area in all of Tondon. Shabby storefronts lined the streets like forgotten relics, each one more run-down than the last. The air itself seemed tainted, thick with the stench of garbage and rot, while the ever-present hum of crime and drug abuse gave the place an oppressive weight. No one with any sense would voluntarily come here. And yet, here Nally was, trudging through this forsaken part of town. Why? Because, against all logic, the Adventurers Guild HQ was supposedly located here.
Luckily, she wasn’t alone in this hellhole. Ned, Hitto, and, most importantly, Rurah, flanked her, acting as makeshift bodyguards. They formed a protective perimeter as they weaved through the winding streets, eyes alert for trouble at every corner. Not that it took long to find any. Trolly was alive with dangers: men whistling lewdly at her from darkened doorways, children attempting to pit pocket them at every turn, and sham merchants offering them fake goods. If someone had warned Nally about this beforehand, she would’ve flat-out refused to come.
Finally, after what felt like hours of navigating the filth, they stopped in front of what could only be described as a shack. Like everything else in Trolly, it looked like it was barely holding itself together. The compound around it was enclosed by a broken fence, overgrown with weeds and wild vines that crawled up the cracked walls. The door, covered in patches of green moss, stood slightly ajar.
“This has to be the place,” Nally muttered, double-checking her map. Despite her better judgment, it seemed the navigation was correct.
Rurah stepped up and knocked a few times. Unsurprisingly, nobody inside responded. He glanced back at the others, shrugged, and reached for the knob. It turned easily, and the door creaked open, revealing a room cluttered with mismatched furniture covered in dust.
"LOVEEEEEEE~!" came a loud, melodramatic wail from somewhere deeper within the shack.
Nally winced. "What the hell was that?"
"Only one way to find out." Rurah muttered, leading them toward the source of the sound. He reached another door, hesitated briefly, then opened it. What greeted them was far beyond anything they expected.
Standing in the middle of the room was a scrawny, bald-headed man with a patchy beard—completely naked. His back was to them as he stretched and sang, oblivious to their presence.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” he suddenly shrieked when he noticed them, scrambling to a nearby drawer. In a panicked rush, he pulled on a pair of trousers, hopping around as he forced his legs into them. “WHO LET YOU IN HERE?!”
“We let ourselves in,” Rurah said with a grin, unfazed. “You wouldn’t happen to be Lampart Cross, would you?”
The man finally managed to get his pants on and flashed a thumbs-up, his grin as wide as it was unsettling. “Yes, I am! Lampart Cross, at your service! Apologies for the uh unusual first impression. I’m a Nudist Opera singer, you see. I perform best in my natural state. The breeze helps my voice soar. You caught me mid-rehearsal... my deepest apologies!”
Nally blinked in disbelief. “Wait, what? You’re an opera singer? I thought you were the Master of the Adventurers Guild?”
Lampart’s expression soured for a second before he stuck out his tongue playfully. “Ah, that. Well, yes, I am the leader of the Adventurers Guild, but let’s not dwell on such boring titles. Call me Lampart the Soprano!”
Nally let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yup, I’m done here. Let’s get out of this madhouse.” She spun on her heel, ready to bolt, but before she could take a step, Lampart lunged, grabbing hold of her leg.
“EW!” she screamed, jerking her leg away, only for him to tighten his grip. Rurah and Hitto were on him in an instant, prying his fingers off her as she kicked at him, desperate to escape his grasp.
“Please, don’t go!” Lampart pleaded, clinging onto whatever he could grab a hold of. “I need your help! And I swear I can help you, too!”
“Let’s hear it,” Nally sighed. “What is it.”
Lampart released his grip on Nally with a smile. “Do you know of the Lycans? The inhabitants of the Northern Region? I received a letter from one named Priita begging for help. Apparently, the Northern Region has been ravaged by endless snowstorms and dangerous beasts, with the cause of the anomaly being unknown.”
He finally stood on his feet, stretching out his hands with a firm expression on his face. “If you help me solve the Northern Regions problem, I’ll teach you all a hidden technique.”
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[Research Guild HQ]
Dr. Scale leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a brief moment of rest. His eyes flicked to the watch on his wrist. It was midday—just as he expected. By now, those kids should’ve reached Lampart Cross. He chuckled softly at the thought, shaking his head. "I hope they'll be alright," he mused to himself. "Lampart's... quite the character."
He could picture the scene in his head—Nally, Rurah, Hitto, and Ned, all encountering the eccentric Guild Master for the first time. Lampart had a way of leaving an impression, often more chaotic than pleasant. But despite the man’s peculiarities, there was no one Dr. Scale trusted more for this particular mission. Lampart’s eccentric behaviour was only matched by his incredible skills.
As he stood, stretching out his stiff muscles, a smirk crept across his face. The pieces were finally starting to fall into place. After months of being led around by foreign forces, everything was now set into motion. All the choices he made – every strategic decision – led to this moment. And with no more interference, his plan could finally begin.
"I started on the back foot," he grinned. "But now, it's time for the Association's counterattack."
The Assassination Guild. Mask. Sven Sommer. Isaac Lawt…
Nobody involved was going to get away.
The end.
Thank you for reading Volume 1: Warrior Association