That went smoother than I expected.
The guards were a bit stiff and pale, but at least they were polite.
And the orb showing no data?
That made sense.
I technically just spawned in this world, so of course I wasn't in anyone's records.
I walked inside with my hood on, my back straight and my steps calm, like a noble would.
The town was a lot more lively than it looked from outside.
Stone streets, stalls selling fruits and grilled meat, people carrying baskets, and children running around.
I walked with my hood on, pretending that I wasn't staring at everything like a tourist.
It was just like the game's capital, but everything was alive.
There were smells, noises, and the warmth of people.
It was incredible.
But there was something odd.
As I walked through the street, the noise slowly became quieter.
A woman carrying a basket of vegetables stopped mid-step.
A merchant yelling about his apples shut his mouth.
A group of kids chasing each other froze, and one of them clung tightly to his mother's skirt.
What the...?
I looked around.
Everyone stepped aside, leaving a path in the middle of the street without any words being exchanged.
Some people lowered their heads, and some looked at me and quickly looked away.
I'm at the minimum!
I checked again to be sure.
The minimum!
Why is everyone like this!?
I pretended to be calm and kept walking, but inside I was sweating like crazy.
Hmm, maybe I have to get used to it.
[Magical Aura] was a passive skill, after all.
I couldn't turn it off.
Maybe it's just that even the minimum was too strong for ordinary people.
Anyway, there was no turning back.
I needed to register with the guild first.
In the game, it was the best way to get an identity, get quests, and earn money.
The guild should also be the only place where I could find some information on how to level up.
I remembered where the guild was from the map.
Near the town square, a big building with a sword-and-shield sign hanging in front of it.
After walking for some time, I finally saw it.
The Adventurer's Guild.
It was a large stone building with two floors, wooden double doors, and a worn sign with a sword and shield.
It looked just like the one in the game, which made me feel a little nostalgic.
I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and fixed my hood.
Alright, Aurelion Frostvein.
It's showtime.
I pushed the doors open.
The noise inside, laughter, clinking mugs, and arguing adventurers around the request board, hit me all at once.
Then it stopped.
One by one, the adventurers turned their heads.
A man in the middle of a toast froze with his mug in the air.
A mage at the request board stopped mid-sentence, his mug slipping from his hand and spilling onto the floor.
Behind the reception counter, a clerk stopped writing, her pen still resting against the paper.
Hundreds of eyes were staring at me.
No one spoke.
Some adventurers had risen from their seats without realizing it, their hands resting on their weapons.
Their faces were tense, the way one's face is when something dangerous walks into the room.
A veteran with a scar across his face, who looked like he had fought a hundred battles, was gripping the table so hard that it creaked.
...Eh?
I stood at the entrance with my hand still on the door, staring back at the silent guild.
Is everyone here also roleplaying?
***
Mana is an energy everyone has.
Its wavelength, strength, and feel are unique to every living being.
But mana is also a way to know whether someone is strong.
An individual with overwhelming mana, compared to those around them, is impossible to ignore once it is felt.
Adventurers who have fought battles of life and death know the feel of a strong mana.
That is how they have survived for so long.
***
I was Gab, an A-rank adventurer, and I was drinking my beer alone at my table when the air turned cold.
It did not fall gradually, like a draft from an opened door.
It fell all at once, the way the air falls when a predator enters the room.
The hair on my arms rose.
My hand was on the hilt of my sword before I realized I had moved.
I did not turn toward the entrance.
Not yet.
Looking was a decision, and I wanted to understand what I was deciding.
In twenty years of dungeons and hunts, I had learned that fear was information.
The body understood mana long before the mind could name it.
A goblin's mana felt thin and frantic.
A wyvern's felt heavy and hungry.
An S-rank swordsman's felt like a drawn blade, sharp and aimed at something.
This was none of them.
It was not aimed at anyone.
It simply filled the doorway, and everything else in the hall became smaller by comparison.
The surface of the beer in my mug rippled.
It was not my hand shaking.
It was the pressure.
Then I looked.
A hooded man stood at the entrance with one hand still on the door.
A cloth was tied over his head, his robe was dusty, and a worn blanket hung from his arm.
By appearance alone, he was a traveler who had walked a long way.
That was what made it worse.
My eyes told me one thing, and my instincts told me another.
When the two disagree, I trust my instincts.
They are the reason I am still alive.
And I knew this feel.
It was the same wavelength as the blue mana that had pressed the entire capital to the ground earlier.
Smaller, tightly held, restrained, like a sea poured into a cup.
But the same.
Mana is unique to every living being.
No two are alike.
I would have bet my life on it.
I did not want to be right.
No one in the hall spoke.
Some had risen, and many had a hand on a weapon, but no one drew steel.
We were not cowards, and we were not fools.
Drawing a blade against something you cannot measure is how adventurers end up dead.
The man did not move.
He stood there looking at the silent hall as if he did not understand why it had gone quiet.
That frightened me more than anything else.
A predator that hunted would have been easier to understand.
This one did not even seem to know what he was.
Then he began walking toward the reception counter.
Adventurers stepped aside without being asked, and no one met his eyes.
He passed within a few paces of my table.
I did not breathe.
I felt no killing intent.
None.
If he had wanted any of us dead, no one in this hall would have been able to stop him.
If he did not, the only sensible thing to do was to give him no reason.
So I stayed seated, my hand on my hilt, and I watched.
At the counter, the clerk lifted her head.
Her fingers were pressed against the wood hard enough to turn her knuckles white, yet her voice was steady.
Whoever trained her had trained her well.
"Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild. How may I help you?"
"I wish to register."
His voice was calm and low.
That was somehow worse.