The city of Solva, second largest in the state of Sylvia, first only to the capital, stood as a key pillar in the kingdom of Xipen. It was a thriving commercial hub, pouring a steady flow of wealth into the kingdom through its bustling trade. Merchants flocked to Solva, trading goods like rare mountain ores, northern furs, and coastal machinery, while its markets brimmed with silk, spices, and gems. Caravans and barges kept the city alive, hauling in supplies and shipping out crafts, making it an economic powerhouse.
The sun blazed overhead, a relentless orb scorching the cloudless sky. Heat shimmered off the dusty path, the air thick and heavy, pressing down like a smothering blanket. Sweat beaded on my brow, trickling in slow, irritating streams, while the cart's wooden frame radiated warmth, baking anyone near it. The plains around Solva offered no shade, just endless stretches of dry grass wilting under the oppressive glare, the distant mountain's shadow a tease too far to matter.
"It's so hottttt" Lance groaned, his face twisted in impatience as he wiped his forehead with a sleeve. "We're A-rank adventurers—why do we have to wait in this blasted line?"
"Be patient, Lance," Masamato said, leaning against the cart with a lazy slump, though his shirt clung damply to his back.
Inside the cart, Suzuki and I huddled under the scant cover of its canopy, chatting about the city—mostly me yammering while she nodded along. Gild stood outside as always, gripping the reins of the cart hauling that massive lizard corpse, his face maddeningly dry despite the sun's assault. Did he ever sweat? Is he even human?
"I think we're in for a longer wait," Suzuki said, peering out at the line ahead, sweat beading on her neck.
"Yeah, I see that," I agreed, squinting at the queue stretching like a Black Friday mob back home—carts, travelers, and beasts all inching toward Solva's gate.
"I wonder why it's so long?" I mused, fanning myself with a hand.
"Well, like I said, Solva's a commercial city," Suzuki replied, brushing a sweaty strand from her face. "Merchants from all over Xipen—and even neighboring kingdoms—flock here to trade. It's always busy."
"Oh, I see." I paused, then perked up.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, go ahead," she said with a small smile.
"Why's the city covered with walls?" I gestured at the towering barriers ahead, their pale stone gleaming in the heat. When I'd first spotted them, my otaku brain had screamed Attack on Titan—magic edition. I'd half-expected titans to lumber out. Now, they just struck me as magnificent, too grand for this era—magic, maybe?
"Is it to fend off enemies?" Ugh, dumb question. She'd think I was an idiot.
"Yeah," Suzuki said, scratching her cheek with a faint chuckle, letting it slide.
Our talk rolled on, the heat fading to the background.
"So, the adventurer guild here," I started, "what's it like?" Suzuki lit up, explaining how Solva's guild was a powerhouse—quests flooding in from merchants needing escorts for rare ore shipments or protection from bandits on the trade roads.
"A-ranks like us get the juicy stuff," she said, "like hunting wyverns or raiding smuggler dens." I nodded, picturing myself swinging my sword—badly—at some dragon, a far cry from my current "look cool" vibe. We also talked about the world, swapping bits about life beyond the cart, until Lance's voice cut through.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we're almost at the gate," he said, reins in hand.
"Next!"
A gruff shout rang out, probably an inspector. The cart crept forward, halting beside the gatekeeper, the walls' shade a fleeting mercy from the sun's tyranny.
"Everyone, please step off the cart," the gatekeeper barked, his voice gravelly but firm.
"Let's go," Suzuki said, hopping down with a practiced ease. I hesitated, blinking at the bustling gate, before muttering, "Okay," and sliding off after her.
"Don't worry, it's routine," she assured me, her tone light as she adjusted her pack. When my boots hit the ground, I glanced around. Lance and Masamato were already huddled with a man I figured was the gatekeeper, his weathered face creased with authority. Gild loomed beside them, arms folded, statue-still as ever—his icy stare fixed ahead like he was carved from stone. The gatekeeper was deep in conversation with Masamato, so I kept quiet, not wanting to butt in.
Lance sidled over, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, Kozuki, you don't know that old guy, do you?"
"Of course I don't," I whispered back, eyeing the man.
"That's Lucian," Suzuki cut in, "chief of Solva's security department."
"Oh, I see," I said, surprised. "I thought he was just some regular gatekeeper."
"Ha, it's only natural you'd think that," Suzuki said, chuckling softly, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
"You're not the only one," Lance added, grinning. "Plenty of folks peg him as a gate grunt when they first see him."
"Glad I'm not alone," I said, stealing a glance at Lucian as he gestured sharply at Masamato.
My gaze drifted past them to our cart, where a small knot of inspectors had gathered, their movements brisk and curious. Three of them circled the weathered frame, clad in dusty gray tunics stamped with Solva's crest—a coiled serpent. One, a wiry man with a clipboard, scribbled notes as he poked at the cart's splintered side, muttering to himself about the load. Another, stockier and sunburned, crouched low, running a gloved hand along the axles, checking for smuggled goods or wear, his brow furrowed in focus.Then there was the lizard corpse—Gild's haul—sprawled across the second cart, its scales glinting dully in the sun. A younger inspector, barely older than me, gawked at it, jaw slack, his spear dangling forgotten in his hand. The beast's massive head lolled to one side, jagged teeth bared in a lifeless snarl, while its clawed limbs dangled over the edges, stiff and menacing even in death.
"What in the hells is that?" he sputtered, stepping back as if it might spring up. The stocky one abandoned the axles, drawn to the corpse, and prodded its flank with a stick, marveling at the thick, armor-like hide.
"Never seen a lizard this big," he grunted, his voice tinged with awe as he traced a claw mark gouged into its side—our handiwork, no doubt. The wiry scribe scribbled faster, peering over his clipboard with wide eyes, muttering about "guild trophies" and "market value." Their astonishment rippled through the group, heads turning as other travelers craned to gawk at the monstrous prize.
I caught Gild's cold, unblinking stare fixed on the inspectors, his presence a silent wall beside Lucian. The chief didn't flinch, still barking questions at Masamato, but the inspectors' fascination with the lizard made it clear—this wasn't just another cart check.
I was drifting in my thoughts, replaying the lizard's inspection, when Masamato's hand clapped my back, jolting me back to reality.
"This is Kozuki, the one I told you about," he said, nodding toward the man before us. Lucian's gaze settled on me—a graceful old man, his plain green tunic adorned with a few badges pinned to his right chest, glinting faintly in the light. His white hair framed a weathered face, and his ordinary black eyes held a quiet sharpness.
"Nice to meet you, Kozuki," Lucian said, extending a hand with a steady smile.
"Nice to meet you too—uh, I'm Kozuki," I replied, shaking his hand, inwardly cringing at my redundancy.
"Lucian, chief of Solva's security department," he introduced himself, his voice calm but firm. He glanced past me at the cart, where the inspectors were wrapping up.
"Looks like the inspection's nearly done," he noted, his eyes tracking the bustle.
"Masamato, swing by my office later," he added, turning to him.
"Yes, sir," Masamato replied with a crisp nod.
"Well, seems the inspection's finished," Lance chimed in, grinning as he caught an inspector flashing a thumbs-up.
"Looks like it," Masamato agreed, a hint of relief in his tone.
"Excuse me, sir," Masamato said, dipping his head respectfully to Lucian.
"Let's go, guys."
We clambered back onto the cart, Masamato taking the reins this time. The vehicle rolled forward, passing beneath the magnificent gate—a towering arch of pale stone carved with serpentine runes that hummed faintly. As we crossed the threshold into Solva, I braced for more heat, but a refreshing shift greeted me instead. The air inside was cooler, kissed by a gentle breeze that rustled through the streets, sweeping away the plains' oppressive scorch. The sun still shone, but its glare softened, filtered by wisps of cloud and the faint shimmer of a magical haze overhead—some enchantment, maybe, tempering the weather.
The city burst into life around us, a vibrant tapestry far grander than I'd pictured from beyond the walls. The main road sprawled wide—not army-wide, sure, but broad enough for three carts abreast, its cobblestones worn smooth by countless wheels and boots. Stalls lined the thoroughfare, their awnings a riot of reds, blues, and golds, flapping cheerily as vendors hawked their wares—freshly baked bread wafting warm and yeasty, skewers sizzling with spiced meat, and trinkets glinting in the light. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a lively hum of voices weaving through the clatter of hooves and the distant ring of a blacksmith's hammer. Children darted along the sidewalks, chasing each other with sticks or kicking a leather ball, their shrieks of delight cutting through the bustle. A juggler twirled flaming batons near a fountain, drawing gasps and claps from a small crowd, while a fruit seller's cry
—"Sweetest apples in Sylvia!"—rang out over the din. People thronged the streets—merchants in fine robes haggling with gruff traders, locals in simple tunics balancing baskets of goods, and adventurers swaggering with swords at their hips, their armor clinking faintly. The air buzzed with energy, a pulse of commerce and community that felt alive, like a festival caught in everyday motion. Just then, a prickling sensation crawled up my neck—someone watching me. I snapped my head toward an alleyway, its shadows pooling dark between two stone buildings. A figure seemed to flicker there, swallowed by the gloom before I could focus. My imagination again, probably.
We rolled deeper into the city, and soon the adventurer guild loomed ahead—its broad façade of weathered stone crowned with a peaked roof, banners fluttering with Solva's serpent crest. It sat there, magnificent and solid, a beacon amid the lively chaos.
"It's impressive, isn't it?"
Lance said, his voice brimming with pride as he glanced back at me.
"Yes, it is," I replied, my eyes wide. The city had already exceeded my expectations with its vibrant beauty, but the adventurer guild? It was on another level—far grander than I'd ever imagined.
We rolled to a stop in front of the guild, the cart's wheels crunching against the cobblestones. Lance hopped down, waving us out with a cheerful, "Let's go, guys!"
"Let's go!" I echoed, seizing the chance to lead. I swung off the cart first, my boots hitting the ground with a thud, and paused at the base of the wide staircase leading up to the guild's entrance. I tilted my head back, taking it all in. When I'd first heard "adventurer guild," my otaku brain had pictured a modest tavern—wooden beams, a bar, maybe a quest board. But this? This was a damn palace, a fortress of stone and splendor that mocked my humble guesses.
The guild loomed before us, its facade a masterpiece of weathered gray stone, streaked with veins of silver that caught the sunlight in subtle glints. Twin towers flanked the entrance, rising high and capped with peaked roofs of dark green tiles, their edges curling like dragon scales. The building stretched wide, its base sprawling across the street, with arched windows set deep into the walls—each pane a mosaic of stained glass depicting swords, shields, and serpents in vibrant reds, blues, and golds. Above the double doors, a massive crest of Solva's coiled serpent hung, carved from polished bronze, its eyes glinting with inset amber stones that seemed to watch the street below. Ivy clung to the lower stonework, weaving green tendrils around the base, softening the guild's imposing bulk with a touch of wild elegance.
The staircase itself was a beast—broad and steep, its steps hewn from smooth marble, worn slightly at the edges by years of boots. It climbed like a mountain, each step a small victory, and by the time we reached the top, my legs burned with the effort. We pushed through the towering doors—thick oak banded with iron—and stepped inside. The first thing that hit me was the statue dominating the hall: a towering figure of a man, chiseled from white marble, gripping a longsword thrust skyward. His stance radiated power, his stone cloak rippling as if caught in an eternal wind, and a crown rested on his brow, simple yet regal.
"Who's that?" I blurted, the question slipping out before I could stop it.Suzuki, beside me, dipped her head in a quiet gesture of respect. "He's the first king of this kingdom," she said, her voice soft with reverence, "and the founder of this guild"
Just then, Lance clapped his hands, drawing my attention.
"We're off to claim our rewards—you can look around," he said, flashing a grin.
"I'd love to show you the place, but we've got to check in first," Suzuki added, turning to me with wide, pleading eyes that hit like a puppy begging for a treat.
"That's okay," I said, coughing lightly to cover a sudden flush.
She tilted her head, those eyes narrowing with concern. "Are you really okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I insisted, glancing away to dodge her gaze, my face warming.
"Then off we go!" Lance declared, already striding toward the reception. I watched them go—Masamato and Gild were already there, the former chatting with a clerk, the latter looming silently like a granite pillar. Suzuki gave me a quick wave before hurrying after Lance.
Left to myself, I wandered into the guild's heart, soaking in the atmosphere. The hall thrummed with life, a chaotic symphony of noise and motion. The air hung thick with the scent of roasted meat and ale, mingling with the faint tang of sweat and polished steel. Long wooden tables stretched across the stone floor, scarred from years of use, where adventurers clustered—some laughing raucously over tankards, foam sloshing over the rims, others hunched over plates of steaming stew, tearing into bread with gusto. A group in dented armor swapped tales near the hearth, their voices booming with bravado about a troll they'd felled, while a lone bard strummed a lute in the corner, his melody weaving through the din. The walls, lined with trophy heads—wyverns, boars, a snarling bear—loomed overhead, their glass eyes glinting in the flickering light of iron chandeliers swaying from the vaulted ceiling. I felt eyes on me as I moved—sharp glances from grizzled veterans at the bar, curious stares from a trio of greenhorns in mismatched gear, whispering as they sized me up. Ignoring them, I roamed deeper until a broad wooden board caught my eye, bolted to a pillar near the reception. The mission board buzzed with activity, its surface plastered with parchment—some crisp and new, others yellowed and curling at the edges. Quests sprawled across it in bold ink: "Slay the Dire Wolf pack in Inbir—50 gold,"
"Guard merchant caravan to Elthar—30 silver," "Retrieve lost relic from Varnis Marshes—100 gold, guild priority." Bounties hung alongside, sketches of grim faces glaring from the wood—a scar-faced bandit worth 80 silver, a rogue mage with wild hair for 200 gold, their crimes scrawled in hasty script. Pins and knives pinned the notices, some stabbed through with force, and a small crowd jostled before it—adventurers haggling over jobs, one ripping a sheet free with a triumphant grunt, another cursing as his pick got snatched.
My eyes skimmed the bounty posters tacked to the mission board, a chaotic collage of sketches and rewards, until one snagged my attention—its design slick and striking, oozing coolness. I was staring, lost in it, when a hand clapped my shoulder, and a voice cut through. "Do you know him?"
I jolted, spinning around. "Lance! You scared the shit out of me!"
"Sorry, sorry," he said, chuckling, his grin unapologetic. "So, back to the question—do you know him?"
"Nah, I'm just staring 'cause he looks cool," I admitted, glancing back at the poster.
"He does look cool on that thing," Lance said, leaning in, "but don't let it fool you. That guy's a killer—takes down adventurers like it's nothing."
"I see," I murmured, my interest piqued, eyes tracing the poster with a curious squint.
A low groan rumbled nearby, snapping me out of it. "I'm going to kill him," a man said, his voice a gritty mix of calm and venom, aimed at the same poster we'd been eyeing. I turned toward the sound and froze. He stood a few paces off, a figure carved from raw intensity. His hair flowed long and wild, a cascade of jet-black strands streaking past his shoulders, reaching down his back like a dark highway rippling in the guild's flickering light. It framed a face sharp as a blade, weathered but unbowed, with a faint scar slashing across his left cheekbone—a jagged whisper of battles past. His eyes blazed azure, twin bolts of lightning crackling with quiet fury, piercing through the crowd like they could burn holes in steel. He wore a sleeveless tunic of deep gray, edges frayed from wear, revealing arms corded with lean muscle that flexed subtly as he shifted. A heavy cloak hung off one shoulder, its hem brushing the floor, dyed a stormy blue that shimmered faintly, as if woven with threads of electric charge. His stance was deceptively still—legs planted firm, one hand resting on the hilt of a curved sword at his hip—yet it radiated a coiled menace, a predator poised to strike. This guy wasn't someone you'd mess with, not in a million years.
He stalked off after that, his cloak trailing like a thundercloud, leaving a wake of silence. Lance and I stood there, awkwardness hanging thick, until he finally broke it. "I assume you don't know him."
"Yeah," I said, still processing.
"Figured. That's Jame—Carnival of Lightning," Lance said, his tone dipping with respect. "One of the strongest S-rank adventurers around."
I'd clocked him as S-rank the second I saw that pose—years of anime had honed my instincts for spotting the real deal. Still, hearing it confirmed sent a shiver of surprise down my spine. "Let's go now," Lance added, nudging me.
"Masamato's probably waiting."
"Okay," I said, falling into step as he led me back through the guild. We wove past the noisy tables and trophy-lined walls, arriving once more by the towering statue of the king, its marble sword gleaming under the chandeliers.
"Did you have a good look around" Masamato inquired, his tone warm yet curious.
"Yes, I did" I replied, offering a small smile.
"I'm sorry I couldn't show you around," Suzuki murmured, dipping her head in a consecutive bow as apology.
"No need, no need" I assured her quickly. A flicker of unease stirred within me—why were they treating me with such kindness? I was, after all, just a stranger they'd met four days ago.
Gild, as ever, stood motionless, his towering figure so still I nearly mistook him for a statue.
"Alright, everyone!" Lance chimed in, clapping his hands together with an irrepressible grin. "Since we've claimed our rewards, let's celebrate with a drink! By the way, Leader, how much did you get?"
"Fifty gold coins," Masamato answered, his voice steady but tinged with pride.
"Good heavens, that much?" Lance's eyes widened in exaggerated awe.
"Indeed," Masamato confirmed, his own grin mirroring Lance's infectious enthusiasm.
"Kozuki, you'll join us too, won't you?" Suzuki asked, her voice carrying a hopeful lilt.
"Of cours, why not?" I replied with a casual shrug.
"Excellent! Let's be off, then," Masamato declared, his tone decisive as he gestured toward the door.
We were on the verge of departing when Lance piped up, his eyes glinting with sudden recollection. "Kozuki, didn't you say you wanted to become an adventurer? Why don't we get you signed up right now?"
I blinked, impressed. He actually remembered that?
"That'd be fantastic" I said, a spark of excitement igniting in my chest.
Lance turned to the group with a grin.
"Hey, everyone, I'm going to help Kozuki register as an adventurer. Why don't you all head to the cart and wait for us there?"
"Works for me," Masamato agreed, nodding briskly.
With that, he ushered the party out of the guild, their footsteps fading into the hum of the bustling room. Lance clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"Alright, let's get you officially enrolled," he said, steering me toward the reception desk with an eager stride
At the reception desk, a striking young woman awaited us, her presence commanding attention with an effortless grace that could've stepped straight out of an anime OP.
She was breathtaking—raven-black hair cascaded down her back in silken waves, gleaming faintly under the guild hall's chandelier light, framing a face both sharp and alluring. Her eyes, a vivid emerald green, sparkled with an almost otherworldly clarity, catching the light like twin gemstones polished to perfection. They held a quiet intensity, warm yet piercing, as if she could see straight through to your soul—or at least your adventurer application. Her figure was elegantly curved, clad in a fitted guild uniform of deep blue with silver trim that hugged her form just right—let's say her proportions leaned toward a generous D-cup, though I'd never admit to staring long enough to confirm. A slender neck rose from her collar, adorned with a simple silver pendant that glinted as she moved, and her lips, painted a soft rose, curved into a professional yet welcoming smile. She stood with poise, one hand resting lightly on the polished oak counter, her fingers long and delicate, nails neatly trimmed—a picture of beauty with an edge of quiet authority.
"What can I assist you two gentlemen with today?" she asked, her voice smooth and melodic, carrying a faint lilt that made my ears perk up like a cat hearing a can opener.
Lance grinned, leaning casually against the counter as if he owned the place. "Hey, Jessie, it's me again—you know, the usual troublemaker. Anyway, this kid here says he wants to be an adventurer, so… yeah, hook him up."
Jessie's emerald gaze shifted to me, locking onto mine with a warmth that sent a tiny jolt down my spine. "Certainly. What's your name, sir?" she asked, her tone polite but laced with genuine curiosity.
"Kozuki," I replied, trying to sound cool and collected despite the otaku part of my brain screaming 'She's totally an S-tier waifu!'
"The name's Kozuki."
"Kozuki," she echoed, her lips testing the syllables with a faint smile. "A pleasure to meet you. Well, that's all I need for now. Let's get you evaluated—please, follow me."
"Okay," I said, falling into step behind her as she turned with a graceful sweep of her hair. I shot a quick glance back at Lance, who waved lazily from the desk. "I'll wait here," he called, "but don't worry—this is standard procedure for all the newbies."
Of course I know that, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Years of bingeing isekai anime had drilled this trope into my skull—evaluation orbs, mysterious rooms, the whole deal. But I couldn't exactly tell him, "Dude, I've seen this episode a hundred times," so I just nodded like a good little protagonist and trailed Jessie through a narrow passage behind the reception area. The corridor was dimly lit, its stone walls cool to the touch, and our footsteps echoed faintly as we wound deeper into the guild's heart.
After a short trek, we emerged into a modest chamber—mid-sized, unadorned, and almost disappointingly plain. Bare stone walls encircled us, their gray surfaces unmarked save for a few faint scratches, and the floor was a smooth slab of slate that swallowed the sound of our steps. In the center stood a simple wooden stand, its surface weathered but sturdy, cradling a single object that stole my breath: a shimmering orb, about the size of a bowling ball, perched like a crown jewel. Its surface swirled with faint tendrils of silvery mist, pulsing softly with an inner light that seemed to hum with quiet power—a relic straight out of a JRPG cutscene.
Jessie gestured toward it with a practiced flourish. "This is the 'Sphere of Revelation,'" she said, her voice taking on a reverent edge. "It unveils your true potential when you touch it."
"I see," I murmured, my inner nerd doing cartwheels. The name 'Sphere of Revelation' hit just right—mystical, ominous, way cooler than some generic 'truth' label. I stepped closer, the orb's glow casting faint reflections across the room like liquid starlight.
"To begin the evaluation, please place your hand on the sphere," Jessie instructed, folding her arms and watching me with those piercing green eyes.
I stretched out my hands, palms hovering over the orb's surface, and hesitated for a split second. Here we go—main character moment incoming. I shut my eyes, bracing for some dazzling flash or a surge of epic music like in the shows, imagining the room igniting in a blaze of golden light. My fingers brushed the sphere—cool, smooth, almost alive—and I pressed my palm down fully. A faint tingle raced up my arm, but no explosions, no choir of angels. After a few beats of silence, Jessie's voice broke through.
"It's done," she said, calm as ever.I snapped my eyes open, blinking in disbelief.
"That fast?" I blurted, my voice dripping with disappointment. Where's the dramatic wind? The glowing runes? The 'You're the chosen one' speech?
"Yep, that fast," she replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as if she'd seen this reaction a dozen times before.
Jessie ushered me out of the evaluation chamber, her silhouette a graceful shadow against the dim passage as we retraced our steps to the bustling reception area. Her raven hair swayed with each stride, a dark cascade that caught the guild's flickering light, and those emerald eyes glinted briefly as she turned to me.
"Your rank will be determined tomorrow," she said, her voice a melodic ripple, smooth yet edged with a faint formality.
"Thanks," I replied, dipping my head in a quick, awkward bow—half out of politeness, half to dodge her piercing gaze.
"No trouble at all," she said, her rose-painted lips curving into a faint smile before she returned to her post behind the counter. I pivoted toward the towering statue of the king, its marble sword thrusting defiantly skyward, where Lance lounged with casual irreverence. He leaned against the statue's base, one arm propped on the stone cloak, his golden hair glinting like a rogue prince slumming it in a tavern.
"How'd it go?" he asked, his green eyes sparking with curiosity as I approached.
"Not bad," I said, shrugging nonchalantly. "She said my rank will be evaluated tomorrow."
"Then we'll swing back tomorrow," Lance declared, pushing off the statue with a lazy stretch. "For now, let's roll—Leader's waiting."
"Got it," I nodded, falling into step beside him as we descended the guild's grand staircase. The marble steps gleamed under the midday sun, each one a polished slab that echoed faintly under our boots. Halfway down, a stray thought tugged at me, and I glanced at Lance.
"Hey, why do you think that S-rank guy—Jame—looked so pissed staring at that bounty poster?"
"Who?" Lance arched a brow, his pace slowing as he shot me a sidelong look as he didn't hear me.
"You know, the Carnival of Lightning," I said, mimicking his dramatic pose from earlier for effect.
Lance snorted, a grin tugging at his lips. "Oh, him. Well, it's just a rumor—don't quote me—but I heard Favos In Shadow iced his best friend."
"Favos?" I echoed, piecing it together. "The guy on the poster?"
"Yup." Lance nodded, his tone dipping into a conspiratorial hush. "Could explain why Jame's got murderous intent in his eyes. But then again, it's all tavern talk—maybe he's just itching for the gold."
"Probably," I mused, letting the idea simmer as we reached the bottom of the stairs. The cobblestone street sprawled before us, alive with Solva's vibrant hum, and there, by the cart, stood Masamato and Suzuki. Masamato leaned against the weathered frame, his obsidian armor glinting faintly, while Suzuki stood poised beside him, her staff resting lightly in her grip, golden hair shimmering in the breeze.
"How'd it go?" Masamato asked, straightening up as we approached, his golden eyes flicking over me with a sly grin.
"Went fine," I replied, keeping my tone flat despite the otaku fireworks popping off in my head. Masamato tilted his head, that grin widening. "So, how's it feel—knowing you've officially applied to be an adventurer?"
"Nothing special," I lied, crossing my arms like it was no big deal. Are you kidding? I'm freaking out! What if I'm SSS-rank? Or so OP the Sphere of Revelation shorts out like in Solo Leveling? But no way was I letting that slip—cool guys don't fanboy in public.
"Oh," Masamato said, his face falling into a theatrical pout, clearly expecting a bigger reaction.
"Btw, where's Gild?" Lance cut in, scanning the scene with a frown.
"He's in the cart," Suzuki replied, her voice soft as a breeze, nodding toward the vehicle where Gild's massive shadow loomed silently within.
"Oh, cool," Lance said, already clambering onto the driver's perch with a nimble hop. "So, where we headed?"
"I heard there's a new spot by the Súká Fountain," he continued, settling into the reins. "Just opened—fancy grub and all. Shall we check it out?"
"Sure," Masamato agreed, turning to Suzuki. "How about you?"
"Sounds good to me," she said, her light blue eyes crinkling with a faint smile.
"Gild, you in?" Masamato called into the cart. As always, Gild answered with a single, stoic nod—his version of enthusiasm, I guess.Masamato's gaze swung to me. "You're coming too, right?"
"Can I?" I asked, feigning hesitation, though my stomach was already growling at the thought of food.
"Of course you can," Suzuki chimed in, her gentle tone wrapping around me like a warm blanket. "You helped us snag that lizard, after all."
"If you say so, I'm in," I said, climbing aboard. This time, I didn't perch at the rear like some exiled sidekick—I slid inside, settling beside Masamato on the creaky bench. Across from me, Gild sat like a mountain carved from silence, his bulk filling the space, while Suzuki perched beside him, her staff propped against her knee, its runes faintly glowing.
Lance twisted around from the front, his grin wide and infectious. "Everyone ready to have some fun?"
"Absolutely," Masamato, Suzuki, and I chimed in unison, our voices overlapping in a rare burst of harmony. Gild, true to form, just nodded—his mute approval a quiet thunder in the chorus.
The cart lurched forward, wheels clattering over the cobblestones as we rolled toward the promise of food, laughter, and whatever chaos this world had in store.