Everyone was staring at me.
I told myself that it must be normal.
New adventurers probably get stared at.
Nope.
That was definitely not normal.
But I couldn't break character now.
Aurelion Frostvein did not get embarrassed by an audience.
I walked to the reception counter with my back straight and said I wanted to register.
The clerk behind the counter was pale, but her voice was steady and professional.
I was impressed.
I would've panicked.
"Registration requires a name and a capability assessment. Your name, please?"
"Aurelion Frostvein."
She wrote it down without a pause.
"The assessment is held in the training hall. Please follow me."
I followed her.
Behind me, half the guild followed at a distance, and none of them said a word.
The training hall was a large stone room with ward markings carved into the walls.
At the far end stood a wooden training dummy, and behind it, mounted on a pedestal, a crystal ball about the size of a melon.
"Use any magic or skill you possess on the dummy."
The clerk explained.
"The gauge behind it records the output. The result is used for rank placement, not judgment."
"Understood."
I walked up to the marked line and stretched my arm toward the dummy.
Calm on the outside.
On the inside, I was praying.
I had no attack skill.
I only had [Random Skills], and with my luck equipment broken, it was a gamble.
Last time, I got Rainbow Hair.
Rainbow Hair.
In front of a guild full of adventurers who already thought I was something terrifying.
If that happened here, I would have to leave this world on the spot.
Please.
Please be something good.
"Is that all? Do you require a catalyst?"
The clerk asked.
"No."
[Random Skills activated.]
[Wind Shot (Common) activated (Lv. Max)]
Common?
My heart dropped for a second.
Then I remembered what my Magic stat was.
Compressed wind gathered in my palm without a magic circle or an incantation.
A moment later, it was gone.
The dummy did not break.
It disappeared.
There was no wood, no splinters, not even a piece of it.
The crystal ball behind it shattered into fine dust, and the ward markings on the wall flared and groaned as they absorbed what remained.
A shockwave rolled through the hall.
The windows rattled, benches slid across the floor, and adventurers raised their arms to shield their faces from the dust.
Then it was silent.
A second later, the hall erupted into noise.
"No chant, no circle, what the hell is that magic?"
"The gauge went past its limit, impressive..."
"What kind of magic was that?"
The clerk stood frozen for a moment, looking at the empty pedestal.
Then she drew a breath and straightened.
"Please remain calm."
She told the hall, her voice carrying over the noise.
"No one is hurt."
She turned to me, and I could see the effort it took to keep her expression professional.
"The gauge has exceeded its range, Mr. Frostvein. Your registration is complete. Your guild card will be issued shortly."
"Good."
I kept my poker face, as if everything had gone exactly as I had planned.
Around me, the adventurers were not screaming.
They were not running.
They had stepped back and were watching me carefully, hands near their weapons, speaking in low voices.
Wary.
Every one of them.
That was fine.
Wary was better than laughing at Rainbow Hair.
Thank you, God.
Thank you, RNG.
I will never doubt you again.
***
I'm Mirela, and I was almost done with this batch of health potions.
Almost was not the same as finished.
The cauldron still needed ten more minutes to simmer, and the last forty bottles were lined up on the table, waiting to be filled.
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my wrist.
They felt heavy and dry.
In the polished side of the cauldron, I could see my reflection.
Purple hair coming loose from its tie.
Tired eyes, with dark circles beneath them.
If not for the disturbance yesterday, I would not be working this hard.
The mana had struck while I was in the middle of several brews.
Bottles shook off the shelves, mixtures turned unstable, and I lost more potions in a single afternoon than in the previous month.
Every potion holds a little mana.
When the mana around them goes wrong, so do they.
An unknown mana outbreak usually has one of three causes.
A powerful monster leaking its mana onto ordinary people.
A powerful spell released without restraint.
Or a dungeon being born, spilling its mana into the world as it forms.
I had considered all three.
But when the mana passed over the tower, I felt something that none of them explained.
It was not a spell, because there was no intent behind it.
It was not a dungeon, because a dungeon's mana is cold and hollow and rises from the ground.
It felt like a presence.
Like a monster, but a monster that transcended anything I had ever sensed.
I could not describe it, even to myself.
I had spent most of the night thinking about it.
That was also why I was so tired.
"There is no point in thinking about it anymore."
I was curious.
Any mage would be.
But curiosity did not pay the rent.
After the broken potions, I was nearly out of money, and this batch was what would keep the shop open.
If I did not finish it, I would not be able to maintain this tower for another month.
I lifted the ladle and stirred the cauldron once more.
Then the shop's door opened.
It was a gentle movement.
No slam, no shout.
But the air in the room shifted at once, as if the whole shop had drawn a breath and was holding it.
On the shelves, every bottle began to hum.
Health potions, mana potions, the half-filled flasks on my table.
Each of them held a little mana, and each of them answered.
Glass chattered against glass.
I caught the nearest flask before it could fall, and I turned toward the entrance.
A man in a robe stood in the doorway.
A cloth covered his head, and his robe was plain and dusty.
Nothing about his clothes said anything.
But his presence did.
It filled the doorway and then the room, heavy and silent, and I understood that I was no longer looking at an ordinary customer.
"A... an archmage...?"