The guildhall was buzzing with energy. Torches flickered along the high stone walls, casting shadows over the faces of adventurers, squires, and merchants who’d come to witness the ceremony. Reed stood among them, trying to suppress a smirk as the crowd murmured, casting occasional glances his way. His promotion was the talk of the night.
At the far end of the hall, the Guildmaster stepped onto a raised platform, his dark blue robes sweeping behind him. His presence was commanding, the room instantly quieting as he raised a hand. His eyes fell on Reed, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, as if Reed’s rise amused him.
“Tonight,” the Guildmaster began, his voice carrying across the room, “we gather to honor a man who has proven himself in ways we could not have predicted. A man who, against the odds, rose from the rank of squire, and today… risen to the rank of a captain.”
The crowd erupted into cheers and clapping, and Reed couldn’t help but bask in the attention. He held his head high, letting the sound wash over him.
“Reed, the Ra - the Slayer of the Sewer King,” people obviously caught that slight misstep but no one was going to call out the Guildmaster, the Guildmaster continued, “has achieved more than many ever will. His bravery and skill have earned him not only our respect but a place in the history of this guild. Let this be a reminder to you all—no matter where you start, it is your choices and your strength that define you.”
The applause grew louder, but Reed barely heard it now. His mind drifted as the Guildmaster's words faded into the background. People named him the Rat King and he proved his mettle by slaying the Sewer King. It was truly poetic how the Sewer King happened to be a two headed serpent.
A year ago, Reed had been nothing. Just another initiate turned squire. Just another face in the crowd. But now...
Now I’ve got power. I’ve got status. Reed’s thoughts began to spiral. This is just the beginning. They’ll all see.
As the Guildmaster continued his speech, Reed’s kept ruminating. What’s next? A harem of women, a mansion filled with riches, endless drink and pleasure at my fingertips?
His thoughts spiralled further, a grin forming on his lips. Why settle for just the guild’s work? With power like this, I could have everything—gold, women, and control. The guild’s finest initiates and squites at my beck and call, all eager to serve their Captain. Huhuhu, I'll form the first ever female only crew with me the only exception.
The thought grew into a vivid fantasy. Reed saw himself seated on a throne in a grand hall, women fawning over him, treasure chests spilling over with gold at his feet. Outside his mansion, banners with his name flew proudly, and all of the guild bowed to him, acknowledging his dominance.
His grip on his drink tightened. He could imagine a paladin of justice on his last breath asking him, "why do this?" And him answering, "Why? If it wasn't meant to be then why pray tell did “riches” rhyme so well with “bitches”?
But then, the sharp sound of the Guildmaster’s voice cut through the dream.
"Reed!" The Guildmaster’s voice boomed, dragging Reed out of his reverie. “Congratulations on your promotion. But — heed this as a warning from a fellow adventurer who's tired of all the politics.
Your rise has earned you fame, but not all are pleased by it. The kids of the noble families within the guild form a tight circle. They don’t take kindly to those who forget their place. Tread carefully, Captain Reed.”
Reed’s grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly nodded, offering a respectful bow. “Your wisdom honours me, Guildmaster. I'll be careful.”
The ceremony continued, but Reed’s mind still buzzed with anticipation, it was his first party of any kind. When the official business was over, the crowd dispersed to celebrate, and Reed made his way to the bar.
He leaned on the counter, calling out to the bartender. “How much for a drink tonight?”
The bartender, a middle-aged man with a grizzled beard, chuckled. “On the house tonight, Captain Reed. Courtesy of your promotion.”
Reed grinned, grabbing the glass and downing its contents in one long, satisfying gulp. The burn of the alcohol warmed him from the inside, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.
“Not bad, Captain,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. Reed turned to see a tall, lean man with a distinct aura of magic surrounding him — definitely a Marshal class adventurer, a whole rank above him, judging by the intricate runes stitched into his cloak. He had a calm confidence about him.
“I’ve been wanting to meet the one who took down the Sewer King,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Marven, from the next city over. Came here for some personal business but received news of someone getting promoted for taking down an evolved monster as a mundane, I’ll admit—I was curious.”
Reed shook his hand, intrigued. “Curious about what?”
“About you. Received your first revelation, haven’t you?” Marven said, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Most adventurers never manage it. And those who do… well, they’re usually on their way to other cities.”
Reed raised a brow. “Other cities?”
Marven smirked. “Yes. Mostly the capital. You have seen the state of this place after all. Anyone with ambition moves to the capital."
Reed couldn't help himself from grabbing another drink, "Are you recruiting?"
"Got caught, did I? Haha," Marven himself grabbed another drink and continued, "Since cats out of the bag, yes, I'm always on the lookout for talent. You can follow me to the capital, if you're serious about gaining strength."
Reed let those words sink in, his mind imagining piles upon piles of gold coins before recalling Lydia's face for a split second, with a sour mood he said, "In a few months I have tie up some loose ends."
Marven shook his head, "Ah, grudges. But pity, you can always find me in the capital. That being said, as a senior let me give you a free tip, since you have realised your first core. Do you know about people who are called beasts, evolved and such?"
Reed nodded, intrigued he asked, "I have.. But I haven't been fortunate enough to learn the details. Care to enlighten me, senior?"
Marven smirked, "Of course. You see, one core gives you strength. But imagine having two, or three. It’s rare, but those who achieve it... they’re the so-called evolved, the beasts. That Sewer King you killed? It had two, yes?”
Reed nodded slowly, absorbing the information, "Multiple cores, like a monster then? That's insane."
Power—there was always more to grasp.
"The capital has many people who have achieved such feats. Well, I won't force you but that's my time." Leaving the final bit of bait, Marven took his leave.
Before Reed could reflect upon the new information, a young squire approached, excitement in his eyes. “Captain Reed! Congratulations! I was wondering if I could… join your crew?”
Reed blinked, the buzz of alcohol now apparent and his hold on the [Sinful Urge] weakened. Normally, he would have been excited to find someone who wanted to join his crew but now? Without thinking, he answered, “Nah.”
The squire’s face fell. “I-Is it because I’m not good enough?”
Reed chuckled, waving him off. “Nah. My crew is for women only.” He turned around walking into another direction with another drink in hand, laughing at his own joke, but the squire stood there, stunned.
Along the way Reed met the alchemist who upon seeing him raised his glass. “Congrats, Captain! I bet on you killing half the guild with that brain-eater poison, but here you are.”
"Hahaha, yeah - Wait, what?" Reed let out a loud laugh, but then he paused,
The alchemist however had already vanished back into the crowd.
“Damn, if the Rat King became a captain then there's hope for us too!”
“Shh! You dumbass! You can’t call him that now — oh, shit!”
Holding a drink, Reed turned slowly, his golden eyes settling on the two gossiping squires. His gaze lingered, and their faces paled, gulping in unison. After a tense pause, Reed suddenly dipped into a half-squat, sending them scrambling backward with a yelp. He smirked as he strolled away, nursing his drink.
Among the revellers gathered for his promotion, Reed wore a fake smile, his jaw tight and veins pulsing at his temple. It had been a long road. A year’s worth of blood, sweat, and shit assignments had finally led here. From a squire to a captain—someone who could now command a crew and receive a steady paycheck from the guild.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He deserved this. He had earned this.
Finally, Reed was approached by Serena, the new receptionist; she held out a small card to him — a guild card, the one that bore his official title as Captain. Her eyes gleamed as she handed it to him.
“Congratulations, Captain Reed. You’ve earned it,” she said softly, her fingers brushing his as she passed him the card.
Reed took it, holding it up in the light. The word "Captain" etched in gold lettering gleamed back at him. He especially loved the golden part of it.
Slipping the guild card into his pocket, he shot Serena a sly grin, he was drunk enough to [Sinful Urge] be in full control. “Say Seri, how about you and I, go around that corner for a while? Y’know to see the stars.” Reed offered, staring into the receptionist’s Serena’s eyes as did she. Her cheeks flushed pink, looking into Reed’s own and her lips twitched into a small smile of her own.
“Sir Reed, you know I can’t, within the workplace, that being said you’re kind of my senior now.” Serena replied, her voice soft but playful.
“Oh don’t worry, I totally won’t order you around - much.” Reed said, taking her hand in his own.
Laughing, Serena shook her head as she glanced away, but not before giving Reed a quick once-over. It was common knowledge each revelation carved the receiver into a higher state of existence, which included their physical features. And since Reed hadn’t ever had the time to care about appearances it went without saying he had no idea his face had turned into a lethal weakness for the women.
So on the surface Serena might have looked as if she wanted to say no but she was just stalling to not appear easy. He’d almost sealed the deal.
Across the room, a group of noble captains sat at their own table, eyes locked on Reed. These men, born with silver spoons and family crests, sneered at him—a gutter rat that had clawed his way up through grit and blood. To them, his rise wasn’t just an insult; it was a threat.
One of them, Farran, a tall man with slick blonde hair and a perpetual sneer, muttered to his companions. They laughed, their voices low and dangerous.
Reed heard the laughter and knew who it came from, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here for them. He was here for his hard-earned promotion — and hopefully bone Serena.
He raised his glass for another swig when he heard Ferran call out, “Reed! Join us for a drink, won’t you? We should celebrate your… rise.”
Reed’s instincts flared, but he shrugged it off. What harm could a free drink do?
“Excuse me,” he said to Serena before turning to face the noblemen.
At Farran’s table, they’d already poured a drink for him. Without a word, Reed took the glass, but as he reached for it, he caught sight of the only woman at the table—Lydia. She shrank in her seat, trying to avoid eye contact, but Reed noticed the way her eyes lingered on him. There was something in her gaze—a mix of admiration and unease.
With her breath caught in her throat Lydia lost herself, noticing the changes in Reed, after receiving his first revelation he had changed, his bad boy vibe enhanced by the air of danger that emanated from him naturally, then as if realising something - her own eyes grew beady.
Reed lifted the glass and downed it in one go, slamming it onto the table with a dull thud. His eyes met Ferran’s, who leaned back with a smug grin, his arm casually draped around Lydia’s shoulders.
“Thanks for the drink, Lord Furry. But —” Reed stopped mid-sentence, a sharp pain slicing through his skull. His vision wavered.
“Ah, no worries, Reed. But tell me one thing before you go.” Farran’s grin widened as he leaned on the table, “where do rats like you always end up?”
Reed tried to retort, but the tavern tilted and blurred. The world spun wildly, the walls breathing and bending. Was I drugged?
The floor swirled beneath him, colours dancing in dizzying patterns. Reed blinked hard, but nothing made sense. Suddenly, he was floating—or maybe flying? He couldn’t tell anymore.
He landed, somehow, in a dojo. A rat in a kimono stood before him, holding a cane.
“What the f—!”
Before Reed could react, the rat smacked him over the head with the cane. “Focus,” the rat said sternly, before twirling the cane in a display of perfect control.
Around them, a group of women appeared, all armed with guns. Reed watched, slack-jawed, as the rat moved with lightning speed, deflecting every bullet with the cane.
Reed blinked. “Sensei,” he muttered, though the word felt strange on his tongue. He bowed low, hands clasped. “You must teach me.”
The rat man nodded, then launched into a lecture about disarming gunmen — the mortal enemies of all martial artists.
And so, Reed spent the next hour — day? — practising sword swings under the rat sensei’s watchful eye, each move slicing through the very air itself. The rat’s voice echoed: “Quick draw is not about speed. It’s about intent.”
By the time he was done, Reed’s arm was sore, but his form had improved. There was more - something about perseverance and getting that bread., though he could barely make sense of it, he knew it had been profound.
When the world finally stopped spinning, and reality hit him like a brick to the skull, Reed found himself frowning at the warmth of his pillow. Blinking, he stared up at the stone ceiling of the sewer. Then he noticed his pillow felt oddly furry.
Slow and cautious, he turned his head and found himself face to face with an enormous rat. It snored lightly, curled up against Reed as if they were old drinking buddies. After getting over his initial shock, slowly, very slowly, Reed disentangled himself from this rat’s embrace.
After brushing off some of the muck from his clothes, he tiptoed away, not wanting to wake up his new friend but not before saying his farewells, “Thanks for the cuddle, little - er big guy.”
As Reed navigated through the unfamiliar tunnels, he found a ladder. He hauled himself up, pushing open the manhole cover or at least he hoped to. The damn stone cover was stuck, being annoyed after a few tries he just channelled his mana through his arm shoving the damn lid.
The bright sunlight hit him like a punch to the face as the stone lid flew in the air a good few metres above the ground. Reed winced, his eyes adjusting as he pulled himself out of the ground, along with the stone cover falling to the ground with a bang,
Half-expecting to see the familiar streets of Maridholm, Reed was tongue tied when he found himself standing in the middle of an alley, right between a group of angry men and an exhausted-looking woman.
The woman — fiery hair, leather armour, definitely a mage—was slumped against the wall, clearly out of mana. She gave him a look that said, What the hell are you doing here?
The men, on the other hand, were rough-looking thugs speaking Cartencian. Reed recognized the language from border merchants.
He wasn’t in Maridholm. Hell, he wasn’t even in the same country.
This is Cartencia. How the hell did I end up in Cartencia?
Reed rubbed his temples, trying to piece it together. I was drugged… I got lost in the sewers… And somehow, in my drug-induced joyride, I crossed the border into Cartencia, the neighbouring country. The land famous for gang violence, food that makes your ass bleed, and — more importantly — a place where the guild didn’t operate. I’m alone here.
The redhead mage glared at him, her voice dry but desperate and showing the quick wittedness of a mage she spoke in Ingles, a language he understood. “As much as I’m enjoying this interruption, could you please help? My mana’s gone, and unless you’ve got a plan, we’re both screwed.”
Unlike the fiery mage the gang’s leader, a tall, scarred man, barked something in Cartencian which Reed didn’t need any translation to understand. They wanted Reed out of the way — or dead.
Reed sighed, still a bit groggy, but confident. “Help? Yeah, I got this.”
He reached for the short sword at his side, grabbed the hilt, and yanked it free—only to pull out the jagged remains of a broken blade. Barely longer than a dagger.
The thugs stared at him. Reed stared at his sword. Then, they all burst out laughing.
However, Reed wasn’t laughing, his goofy smile nowhere in sight, his inner core pumped out mana faster than his heart. “Size isn’t everything.”
The laughter stopped when one of the thugs pulled out something Reed hadn’t seen in years: a gun. The thug cocked it with a grin and fired.
Time seemed to slow down, it was a good thing Reed had already had his core working. When the bullet came, Reed’s body moved on its own. He twisted, slashing the air with his broken sword — quick draw. The bullets ricocheted off the tiny blade, pinging into the walls around them, one after another. Each deflection sent a shockwave through Reed’s body, like lightning surging from his dagger.
In the span of a heartbeat, it was over. All the bullets had been knocked away, and Reed stood there, dagger raised, the alley completely silent.
Everyone stared at him. Even Reed looked at his hand in disbelief.
“Holy shit…” he muttered under his breath. “Sensei Rat, you weren’t kidding.”
The gang, realising that guns were useless against a guy who could deflect bullets with a broken sword, hesitated. Reed could taste their fear.
The redhead mage behind blinked in disbelief, her eyes wide. “What the hell was that?!”
Reed just shrugged, casually twirling his broken sword. “Quick draw. It’s a rat thing. Don’t ask.”
The gang leader snarled and reached for his other gun. But Reed’s gaze locked onto him, stopping him in his tracks. The thug’s other partners didn’t, bringing out there weapons they charged at Reed who took a step towards the gunman with gritted teeth, “As for you - fuck boys!”
Tightening his grip on the hilt Reed moved, this time, there was no hesitation on either side. He dodged the first blow, deflected the next, and within seconds he had reached the gunman, cutting one of the man’s wrists with his dagger, sending the gunman crumpling to the ground. Making the others back away.
Two of them tried to run but Reed’s eyes landed on them next as he shouted, “Shaming a man, on the size of his sword!”
If the two runners were scared at first, now they were terrified, Reed reached them in a blink, taking them down with quick, precise strikes. His movements were instinctual, effortless, as he let mana run through his body empowering it.
Within moments, the alley was filled with groaning, defeated thugs. The last one standing looked at Reed, wide-eyed, then dropped his weapon and bolted.
“Remember it’s the motion of the motherfucking ocean!” Reed shouted at the escaping thug. Ignoring the ones groaning on the ground, hurt or cut he took a deep breath, sheathing his broken sword, he caressed it. “Don’t worry, boy. You will grow up into a big, thick and long sword. I’ll put you inside all of my enemies.”
The redhead, still catching her breath, approached him with a pinched nose. “Do you always smell like that?” she asked, squinting at him.
Reed glanced down at himself, now fully aware of the sewer stench clinging to his clothes. “Yeah, uh… I’ve had a rough night.”
“No kidding. Come on, you need a bath. And maybe a week-long soak.”