Nora sits across from me, idly swinging her feet while quietly admiring the small white card that sits in front of her.

  “You know I’m upset with you, right?” I mutter.

  “Hm—?” she says without looking up.

  “I don’t appreciate what you did.”

  “Why not?”

  It’s clear what she did, though. As I was standing bewildered at having met my own creation, Nora snuck around me and registered herself as an adventurer at a different counter. But since she was ranked in as only a Class E, she’s now required to fill a monthly quota of twenty quests in order to keep her status as an adventurer. If she doesn’t, her license will be revoked and she won’t ever be allowed back in. While disallowing her to become an adventurer would keep her safe, I’m pretty sure she’d never forgive me.

  “Never mind,” I grumble. “Nora, just put that away for now and eat your food before it gets cold.”

  Nora gently takes the end of the card and slides it to the far edge of the table, closest to the wall. She slowly begins to pick at her pan-fried fish filet, but doesn’t seem all too interested in eating.

  “We’ll be meeting with Master Leufgarde-Rosencrantz after this too, remember,” I continue. “The guild made it very clear that we have to be on time or he won’t speak with us.”

  Nora nods, playing with a little morsel on her wooden fork.

  “I’m not sure what to expect of him, but I’ll need you not to cower behind me when we meet him, alright?”

  She nods again.

  “...How are you feeling now? And don’t say ‘tired’ again. That’s not a good answer.”

  “Exhausted.”

  “I’m not allowing that, either.”

  “Sleepy.”

  “I mean on the inside. Not how you are physically,” I say. I point to my heart. “I want to know how you feel on the inside.”

  “...I don’t know,” she replies.

  I let down my head and let my elbows slide out until my face is flat against the table.

  “...Then never mind about that,” I mutter. “Finished? Let’s head out.”

  Nora nods and sets down her fork. I help her out of the red leather tavern booth, setting aside a few Jeul as a tip.

  Back in the Guild Hall, a rather formal woman greets us at the door. Her outfit is similar to those of the receptionists out front, but colored gray instead of navy blue. Her black hair is tied tightly back, and she wears a pair of rectangular spectacles over the bridge of her nose.

  “Welcome, sir,” she says, bowing. “Please, this way. The Master is expecting you.”

  “In terms of the stern-faced second-in-command kinda look, I give you three outta ten for originality,” I mutter.

  “I am not inclined to take offense to the words of one like yourself,” she replies.

  “Ooh, that comment might’ve been a four outta ten,” I reply. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I guess I’m just in a shitty mood.

  “Stand here until directed otherwise,” she says, pointing to a place before a large wooden door. She steps forward and knocks three times.

  “Who approaches?” asks a voice from beyond.

  “Lasphalia Astellaria, Sir,” the woman replies. “I have the two who requested your presence.”

  “Very well. Bring them in.”

  The woman steps forward and presses a hand against the doors. They begin to glow blue before slowly swinging open, revealing a large office-like room with several red banners of the guild sigil hanging along the walls and a grand stone desk standing at its center. Seated behind it is an older man in full silvery plate armor with pauldrons extending far past his already broad shoulders. The light coming from the windows behind him give even more of a powerful feel to the man. His gray hair is neatly swept back, and his violet eyes gaze skeptically at me. But I also notice a second figure as well, just beside him. It’s none other than Pierce himself, standing with his arms crossed and a look of disapproval on his face.

  “Welcome,” says the older man behind the grand desk. “I received word of you just this morning by my elder brother in Hilgroff. Apparently, he had the audacity to reckon you a child of promise. Not that I take wholeheartedly the reckonings of a clothier, kin or not.”

  “I was told you’d help me achieve my goals,” I say.

  “—Your imprint seems to confirm this, however,” he continues. “It is uncommon— almost unheard of to see new adventurers automatically entered into Class C.”

  To the side, I can see Pierce clench his teeth.

  “I’m just as surprised,” I reply. “The first fight I’d ever been in was only five days ago.”

  “Such is what brings me concern,” the man mutters. “Before we get any further, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Admiral Abraham Leufgarfe-Rosencrantz of the Adventurers Guild. And this at my side, is Vice-Admiral Pierce J. Fulgrem, second only to myself.”

  “Y-Yeah, we’ve met,” I say.

  “Master— I would like us to heed a sense of caution with this one,” Pierce whispers, but obviously wants to be loud enough that I hear him.

  “Young Cyrus Avette— I would like to test you,” he says, seeming to ignore Pierce altogether. “I believe it only right to test you before entrusting you with my aid. Do you accept?”

  “Depends on the kind of ‘test’ you’re referring to,” I reply.

  “Naturally, I will fight you to gauge your power,” he says.

  “Master— allow me,” Pierce interjects, stepping forward. “I will test this one.”

  “Very well,” nods Abraham. “The match will be between Cyrus Avette and Pierce J. Fulgrem.”

  The woman named Lasphalia steps forward and pushes up the bridge of her glasses with a finger.

  “Master, I do hope you aren’t planning on turning your office into a battleground again,” she says. “As your advisor, any more damages to the structure of this room are damages to both mine and your reputations alike in the eyes of our sponsors.”

  “Ready yourselves,” says Abraham.

  “Sir, allow me to repeat mys—“

  “W-Wait, we’re doing this now?!” I shout. “H-Hold on a minute—! A match?! A battleground?!”

  “With true weaponry,” says Pierce, looking coldly down on me. He begins to walk forward. “Fight like your life depends on it. Because it very well might.”

  This guy’s personality is nothing like how I’d drawn him...

  “W-Wait a second here—! I-I can't fight now—!” I holler.

  “Sir Abraham, I would appreciate it if you strove to use the perfectly good training grounds we installed specifically for such an occ—” says Lasphalia.

  “Enough!” Abraham booms, striking a fist on his desk. “Show me now, boy. I will stop this once I have seen what I need.”

  I slowly let my eyes close before nodding twice in begrudging agreement.

  “Nora, please stand back beside Lady Lasphalia,” I mutter, sticking out a hand in front of her. She does, and I take a step forward as she takes a step back.

  “Begin.”

  Pierce bursts forward with incredible speed. Whatever powers Chen gave him in that damned book of his is far from what I’d anticipated. Pierce is at the ready and in close range before I can even draw my sword. The giant heavy blade of fiery-red substance singes my brow as I sloppily leap backwards on the defensive.

  “Too slow!” Pierce bursts, shifting his weight and again launching forward at me as my feet first return contact with the ground. I’m knocked to the floor and forced to roll to the side when he jabs the blade at the ground I’d lay on less than half a moment ago. I scramble to my feet and just manage to graze the hilt of my blade with my hand before I’m again forced to spring backwards in evasion. This time Pierce doesn’t go in for the follow-up, instead spinning around in order to get behind me.

  “Draw your blade,” Pierce growls, hovering the tip of his sword over my shoulder. He swings, and I somehow manage to duck just clean of it.

  “I’d— love— to,” I groan, frantically tossing myself around the room to avoid being impaled by his consecutive jabs. “But unfortunately— it’d appear— I don’t quite have the time.”

  “Then you are unworthy of your rank,” he replies, feigning a downward slice before pivoting and landing a heavy kick to my abdomen. I’m flung backwards by the force. I land flat on my back.

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  “Cyr—!” Nora cries.

  I clutch my side as Pierce once again approaches. I feel a trickling sensation all throughout my body. It’d seem most of my stitches have come undone, causing me to bleed into my armor. I sting all over now. But this time isn’t wasted.

  “You’re pathetic,” Pierce spits. I can feel his presence right on me.

  “And you’ve let down your guard,” I say as I spring to my feet, clamping down on my sword and swinging upwards. Another wound opens up in my right arm, but I can hardly feel the difference. Pierce pushes backwards. He growls as he brings a finger to his cheek and comes back with a small bit of blood. It’s just a minuscule amount from his left cheek, but I know he’s a step closer from taking me seriously.

  ‘Wait... I don’t want him to take me seriously. He’d kill me.’

  “Well,” he says through gritted teeth. “Now you’ve drawn your blade. You may thank me for my consideration.”

  “Shove it up your ass,” I mutter. “Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve already got your massive ego up there.”

  He scoffs. “Let me see that confidence of yours be swallowed by the flames of my sword.”

  “Man, you fit a stick up there too? What else‘ve you got stashed in there?” I smirk feebly.

  Something doesn’t feel right. Suddenly, I feel a cold chill down my spine. The world slows around me until I’m the only one conscious of what’s happening. Pierce is mid-attack. I can see the intensity in his eyes. I’m seconds from being decapitated by him, and yet I’m suspended in a timeless void where those seconds could stretch to infinity.

  “Thou hast overcome thine first trial, and in turn been awarded the sigil of the Madman,” echoes a powerful voice from all around me. The voice is monotonous, almost mechanical in nature with no inflections to show it even came from anything living.

  “Who are you?” I say.

  A bright light suddenly appears above me, so intense that I’m forced to cover my eyes with an arm. But as my eyes adjust to the heavenly glow, I notice a thin rotating object floating down from above. It settles at eye-level, and only then am I able to discern what it is.

  “The card that shines before thee is a token of thine accomplishment. To call upon the temporary power of the Madman sigil, slash the card in twain. More cards shall be awarded as more enemies fall to thine blade.”

  “I’m not sure I get it, but thanks... I guess,” I say. I raise my sword with the spinning card in sight. The sound of breaking glass fills my ears as the card is sliced in half by my blade. My mind is abruptly filled with knowledge and skills of a mastery I’d never before known. My footing, my hands, my legs and my arms all automatically shift to a blocking stance as the world’s time slowly returns.

  Pierce’s sword glances off of mine. He looks to me in confusion as he is forced into the defensive. But before he can fully defend, I’m already on the prowl. I’m in his range, and yet swinging his sword would require space that he doesn’t have. So with my blade held horizontally, I push forward and—

  “Enough!” bursts Abraham, rising from his seat once more. “The winner has been decided.”

  I stomp hard to interrupt my forward motion.

  “I thank you for awarding me with this victory,” says Pierce, bowing to Abraham.

  “What? The hell do you mean?” I say.

  “Three,” says Pierce.

  “Huh?!”

  “Two.”

  A spray of hot red splashes across my face as my left shoulder erupts in a brand new gash.

  “Oh— it’d appear I was off on my timing,” says Pierce. “Oh well. You get the gist. You were out of your league the very moment you stepped through the guild doors.”

  I collapse to the floor. Frightened, Nora rushes to my side.

  “C-Cyr—! A-Are you okay—?!” she shrieks.

  My vision begins to grow fuzzy. Even so, I can’t help but smile.

  “What? What’s with that preposterous grin?!” Pierce shouts.

  “Three,” I smirk.

  “Wh-What?!”

  “Two.”

  “H-How is this possible?!”

  “One.”

  The last thing I see before losing consciousness is Pierce collapsing beside me as blood seeps from a new wound in his chest. It’s not enough to kill him, thankfully. But it is enough to make me feel satisfied with my own defeat. I close my eyes and allow myself to drift on into the peaceful dark.

  “A new card has revealed itself within thee. With the sigil of Creation, thou hast been granted temporary access to a new subset of combat. Use it wisely.”

  I open my eyes to find that I’m floating on the edge of a blank abyss. Before me are two items; a card that’s been cut in two, and another that is still full. I frown.

  “Wait, so I can only use these things once...?” I mutter.

  “Time will regenerate the broken sigils. Though, a second facet of thine power shalt surely compensate. For along with the sigil of Creation, thou hast been awarded a skill at which to use to infinity. None other than the passive skill known as Redemption now lives within thine heart.”

  “Passive skills?” I ask. “You mean it’s like... some kinda permanent stat boost?”

  The two rotating cards are suddenly switched out with a new pair. These ones are different, though. It’s like I can see them, but I can’t all the same.

  “Skills exist as the culmination of thine opponent’s innermost desire. As such, thou hast been granted the Redemption skill, allowing higher power against future encounters with foes who reigned triumphant against thee once.”

  “Huh. So you mean cutting Pierce like that made me stronger against enemies I lose to?” I ask. I look down. “And then... what’s this other one? I got it from beating that thug, right?”

  “Last Breath. Such is a skill when thou resides on the brink of death. The sigil of the Madman reinvigorates thee with new energy. However thou must be advised— The power of such a skill can take its toll on mortal bodies.”

  “A toll? Well yeah— but it’s better than being dead,” I say. “So... did Last Breath save me back in Hilgroff?”

  The cards disappear.

  “Gather strength by defeating foes. Such strength shall be tested...”

  “Tested? Tested when?” I ask. But I hear nothing else. “Hey, I’m not done with you! Who are you? Why’d you bring me here?”

  I don’t expect an answer, though. I quickly give up and allow the world around me to fade once more into an indistinguishable gray, hoping that one day all my questions will be answered.

  Nora is at my side as I slowly return to consciousness. I don’t doubt that they struggled to pry her off me for even a second. I struggle to raise my arm and set my hand atop Nora’s head, but she gets up to a start when she notices me.

  “Cyr—!” she exclaims, diving into my chest. “Y-You’re awake...! Finally...!”

  “Blood loss? That’s not enough to keep me in the grave,” I chuckle. “O-Ow, Nora. H-Hey, I’m still hurt, y’know...”

  “I was scared...” she whispers. I can feel tears land on my bandaged chest. “I was scared, and you wouldn’t wake up.”

  “How long was I out?” I ask.

  “Only a little bit,” she replies. “But I—“

  “Don’t worry now. Everything’s all good, see?”

  “I... I was so—“

  “Nora— look at me,” I say. “I’m fine. I’m alive, I’m here, and I won’t leave you.”

  “...P-Promise...?”

  “Promise,” I nod.

  Nora wipes at her good eye with the sleeves of her dress. I smile, and she smiles back.

  “Wh-What do we do now?” she asks.

  “Depends on whether my wounds have healed. If not, I might be stuck here for a while.”

  The door to the small room opens, and the woman named Lasphalia Astellaria steps through.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” she says. “Those wounds are child’s play to our healers. Save the larger scars to your back and front, of course.”

  “Hey, Nora? Can you go sit over there for a little bit?” I ask.

  She nods. Once she’s seated on the far side of the room, I turn back to Lasphalia.

  “Did I get the old man’s seal of approval?” I mutter.

  “He was impressed. The test wasn’t to see if you could best your opponent, but rather how well you could handle an opponent of significant skill.”

  “Heh, I wish I could’ve seen the look on his face.”

  “That you bested Lord Pierce is surely a sign of your prowess,” she says. “Reckless prowess. But prowess, nonetheless.”

  “Just don’t expect me to fight that hard on any normal day,” I reply. “I’m not in the business of death battles. Though, it’d seem I just can’t get away from ‘em lately.”

  “You should be free to move about now,” she continues. “The tissues surrounding the wound may be delicate, but it shouldn’t keep you from basic motor skills.”

  “Can I take on quests yet?”

  “That is not up to me,” she says. “Here, sit up. I’ve been requested to personally remove your bandages.”

  “H-Huh—? N-No, I can do it myself, th-thanks—!”

  “Oh, settle down. It’s only sex.”

  “What!?”

  “Joking, of course,” she says.

  “I don’t think I like your sense of humor.”

  “And I don’t like your pitiful squealing, yet here we are. Sit up and raise your arms.”

  As she gets closer, I begin to feel my heartbeat elevate. I mean— she’s hot. Not sure why it took me this long to figure it out. I mean, seriously— Calling her a solid eight of ten is just a conservative estimate. She has this official aura about her, like every minute action she makes is planned and well thought-out in advance. She’s incredibly well-kept, with thin trimmed eyebrows symmetrical down to their very atomic structure and the slightest of eyeliner under her long, fluttery lashes beyond the expensive-looking spectacles she wears over her button-nose.

  “I don’t know where you think you’re looking, but I do have the authority to remove you from this institution,” she says.

  “Where I’m... O-Oh—! N-No, I was just—“

  “Sit still,” she commands.

  I obey. She takes the end of the first bandage on my arm and begins to unravel the wind it made. Once it’s fully off, she tosses the bandagings aside and begins to examine my bare arm.

  “Hm— a slight lingering discoloration of the skin,” she mutters. “Must have been quite the wound.”

  “Y-Yeah.”

  “Well, I can secure the tissue once I’ve assessed the rest, so you shouldn’t have any lingering marks.”

  “You know healing magic?”

  “Who do you think got you this far?”

  “Really? O-Oh, well... Thanks then.”

  She moves for the bandage around my chest, causing me to instinctively wince.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “N-No, uh— Don’t worry about it.”

  She continues, taking the bandaging in-hand as she moves her arm around me. The movement and close proximity to her seems to diffuse her scent into the air around us. She smells like roses and recently-washed cotton.

  “You were severely wounded when you arrived for this meeting,” she says. Her eyes are focused on her hands as she folds away the bandaging. “May I ask why you chose to accept the Admiral’s duel?”

  “I wanted to prove myself, I guess,” I reply. “I just really felt like I needed a win today.”

  “I wouldn’t consider that a win.”

  “You’re tellin’ me?”

  “Even the Admiral agrees that Vice-Admiral Pierce acted out of line.”

  “Is this all because I was put in Rank C?”

  “Perhaps. No, that is the most likely reason. He is powerful, but Vice-Admiral Pierce has grown far too accustomed to his high status.” Lasphalia pauses. “Oh— But that is my personal opinion alone.”

  “How well do you know the guy?” I ask.

  “The Vice-Admiral? As well as a secretary is supposed to,” she replies. “I don’t pry into his personal life. I don’t care to.”

  “Oh.”

  She slips off the last of the bandages and has me lay down on my back.

  “The wound to your chest,” she mutters. “It seems clumsily healed by low-tier healing magic.”

  “It saved my life, at least.”

  “And left you with a scar most unsightly.”

  “Actually, I think it’s what helped me decide to become an adventurer,” I say. The mention causes me to lose heart. “U-Um, let’s not talk about that anymore, though.”

  “Very well. Then lie on your stomach and let me see the wound to your back.”

  I do as I’m asked. I begin to feel her lightly prodding the area with her fingers. The feeling sends chills down my spine.

  “This should heal better than the one on the front,” she says. “I’ll tend to this one now. Please don’t move or I may end up accidentally rearranging your organ structure.”

  “Is that a joke too?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Dead-still it is,” I mutter, abruptly tensing my stomach muscles.

  She traces a finger along the line of my back. The area she touches seems to warm to a pleasant heat, extending until it envelops most of my back. There’s a tingly sensation along with it, like my whole back has fallen asleep. The tingling turns into more of a crawling feeling after a few seconds, making it feel like my skin is steadily shifting across my body.

  “Almost finished,” she says. “I’m separating the stitching from the healed tissues now.”

  When she finally lifts the spell, I find myself filled with a new sense of vigor. The wound is gone, as is anything that may have shown it even existed.

  “Don’t get all riled up yet,” she mutters, taking my arm. “You still have more wounds that need attention.”

  She goes one after another, clearing out the traces and strengthening the bond of the skin and tissue. She steps back with a polite yet seemingly forced bow once finished.

  “I’ll be taking my leave now,” says Lasphalia.

  “Y-Yeah, sure,” I reply.

  She begins off, but I soon realize there’s something in me that doesn’t want to let her go. It’s then that I remember what Esmeralda had said to me.

  ‘In this city, in this world— treat a woman right and you just may have their heart forever.’

  “Hey— Miss Lasphalia—?”

  ‘And what if the woman treats the man before he can to her?’

  She turns. “Yes?”

  ‘—then perhaps the man would need to catch up.’

  “I’d like to thank you,” I say. “For healing my wounds, I mean.”

  “No need for it, I was simply doing my j—“

  “Please, let me do something for you,” I say.

  She looks to me with a neutral look. I’m not even remotely sure what she’s thinking.

  “You want to thank me, yes?” she says.

  “Of course,” I nod.

  “Mh. Very well. Then I accept your offer.” She folds her arms. “But be warned— I will use you in any way I see fit, and you are required to take it. Understood?”

  I nearly freeze up.

  “...Come again...?”