The Frostfall guild hall was silent—not peaceful, but the kind of silence that follows a gunshot.
The air still shimmered with the ghost of Vesperion's dissolved ice spell.
Sai Ji stood at the quest desk, clutching his potato delivery slip like a lifeline.
Hundreds of eyes were on him—not with jealousy, curiosity, or even concern—but with awe.
He hadn't done anything.
He had only existed.
And yet the hall felt like it had just witnessed the collapse of physics itself.
The clerk, hands trembling, slid five copper coins across the counter. "Thank you," Sai Ji whispered.
The words sounded ridiculous even to him.
The crowd didn't part.
They gave him a wide circle, like he was a fuse about to blow, ticking slowly, inevitably.
Midnight Wolf stared, slack-jawed, eyes unblinking.
Aeliana touched his arm gently. "We should go. The air here feels… dangerous."
Nyx flanked him silently, every muscle ready.
The playful duelist had vanished; the bodyguard remained—a fortress of quiet calculation.
Sai Ji tried to suppress a sigh.
He just wanted a boring quest.
Potatoes. One copper coin. A quiet inn.
Then the heavy voice stopped them.
"Not so fast."
Guildmaster Rokan leaned against the office archway, arms crossed.
The calm in his voice was a trap, a weight pressing down on every soul in the room.
He wasn't showing power—he was holding it back. Eyes sharp, calculating.
"My office," he said.
Inside, the office was sturdy, plain, built to withstand disasters—or rulers.
Rokan didn't sit.
He leaned on the desk, studying Sai Ji like one studies a storm about to break.
"One percent," he said abruptly.
Sai Ji blinked. "Pardon?"
Rokan explained.
When new recruits show signs of anomalies, he tests them with one percent of his aura.
Enough to make seasoned adventurers sweat.
Enough to reveal cursed blood or forbidden power.
"After I saw you stop Frostfall's Kiss," Rokan continued, "I knew. One percent would be like blowing on a mountain."
Sai Ji's throat went dry. "I… I don't want trouble—"
"I believe you," Rokan interrupted.
His voice was flat, but the weight behind it suggested he understood… perhaps more than he should.
"That's the frustrating part," he continued.
"You look like a lost puppy who accidentally ate a god's heart.
Your intent is fine. The problem is… your existence."
He poured two glasses of clear liquid and handed one to Sai Ji. "Drink. Calm your hands."
Sai Ji sipped.
Warmth spread through him like sunlight after a cold night.
"That spell," Rokan said, "is complex. You didn't counter it. You didn't dispel it. It hit your personal reality… and stopped. Like gravity or time. That's not a skill. That's… a property."
Sal Vera's voice, calm and warm, added, "He is more perceptive than he looks. A presence not taught, not trained—innate."
"I'm not kicking you out," Rokan said. "But F-rank is a farce now. You need a rank that fits."
He tossed a new badge across the desk.
Bronze, bigger than the F-rank one.
A mountain wrapped in mist around the letter M.
"Mystic Bronze," he said. "Provisional.
Access to D and C-rank quests.
Report to me once a week.
If you feel pressure building, leave the city. Go scream at the sky. Do not have a magical tantrum here."
Sai Ji sagged with relief. "Thank you. You have no idea…"
"I have some idea," Rokan grunted. "Now go. Your fan club is outside."
Outside, the "fan club" was silent, staring.
Rumors were already spreading: Sai Ji had stopped Vesperion's magic with a glance, perhaps a word of unmaking.
Some whispered he was a sleeping war-god in a beautiful body.
Midnight Wolf scribbled furiously. "Pure gold," he muttered. "Bro… this is like cosmic lottery but in human form."
From the shadows, Shade Ravenveil, the masked assassin, stepped forward.
Bowed. Precise. Silent.
"The Guildmaster is wise," Shade said. "Mystic rank is a leash, yes—but it acknowledges truth."
"What do you want?" Aeliana asked.
"To serve," Shade said. "My contract is void. I exist to ensure the Silverfall scion survives long enough to understand what he is."
Nyx's lips twitched. "We are capable in the dark."
Shade tilted the mask. "…But you shine like him. I am a shadow. Consider me an advance scout."
Sai Ji blinked.
"Fine. But you follow my rules. No killing unless I say. You report to Nyx. And… take that mask off when you eat."
"…A dietary stipulation?"
"Humanity," Sai Ji said, moving on.
Back at the inn, the Mystic Bronze badge sat heavy on the table. Ordinary, yet full of weight.
"A leash," Sai Ji muttered.
"A lifeline," Aeliana said. "A path to be strong on your terms."
"Time to control it," Nyx said, staring out the window.
"Time for your enemies to act," Sal Vera added.
Sai Ji touched the badge.
Mystic Bronze. Not a king. Not a sovereign.
Just an adventurer with a strange past and unusual strength.
Maybe a story he could live inside.
He barely had time to breathe before the window rattled.
Not wind. Not storm. A deep thrum, felt in teeth more than heard.
From the Frostpeak Mountains.
All eyes shifted.
Sai Ji gripped the badge. Calm, steady.
Whispered: "Of course."
The Guild Hall remained tense.
Whispers resumed slowly—tentative, awe-tinged.
The city outside would feel the aftershocks soon.
And somewhere in the peaks, shadows stirred.
Eyes glinting with interest.
The Mystic Bronze rank was just a leash on paper.
The world had noticed Sai Ji, and now it was making its first moves.
He exhaled. Not defeated. Not fearful.
Determined.
"Let's see who shows up first," he murmured, and the future trembled around him.