The tall figure strode across the library floor, his boots thudding against the polished stone. Asiel froze where he stood, heart pounding like a drum.
(I can't even raise my head to his chest… who is this giant? Is he here for me?)
The man stopped at Thalion's desk, slammed a hand down, and began to scold in a booming voice.
"Old man! Again you're late with the rent! Do you think knowledge pays for itself?"
Thalion chuckled nervously, scratching his head. "Ah, my apologies… I may have gotten carried away reading again."
The figure leaned over, grabbed the pouch of coins on the counter, and without another word turned on his heel and stormed out, cloak swaying behind him.
The moment the door shut, Asiel released the breath he'd been holding.
"Sir Thalion! You should've told me he was just here for the rent. I thought my end had come right there."
Thalion let out a belly laugh. "Oh, forgive me, boy. I always forget to pay the landlord on time. He's used to scaring me like that."
Asiel's shoulders slumped, half-relieved, half-annoyed. "You nearly scared me to death…" He paused, then his eyes narrowed with curiosity.
"Anyway… about these magic traits. How many are there right now? I mean alive in this generation. There must be more than just Azrath."
Thalion stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You're right. There are others. Just as Azrath Valenhardt—the Frozen Monarch—wields ice, our very own princess, Seraphina Ignisia Draconis, bears a magic trait as well. Her hair burns with a fiery glow, strands like living embers. She is the strongest fire user of our generation, feared and revered in equal measure."
Asiel blinked. "So she's like the flame to his frost?"
"A fitting way to put it." Thalion nodded. "Azrath is the prince of Valenhardt, and Seraphina is the pride of Ignisia Draconis. They are unmatched prodigies—two blazing stars of our age. And yes, there is a rivalry between them, a rivalry that has shaken the very air on the battlefield."
"So then…" Asiel leaned forward, voice lowering, "are their nations at war?"
Thalion shook his head firmly. "Not quite. Their personal rivalry does not spill into matters of state—not yet, at least. They clash when they meet, but trade and diplomacy remain untouched. Still…" His eyes darkened. "When they ascend the thrones, when one becomes king and the other queen, and both wield the will of their nations… then, perhaps, the world will feel the storm of fire and frost."
Asiel shivered slightly, imagining the chaos of such a future.
Thalion's eyes settled on him with sudden seriousness.
"Long story short, boy—do not reveal your magic trait. Not to a friend, not to a stranger, not to anyone. The moment you do… you step onto a path that cannot be walked back."
Asiel leaned back against one of the bookshelves, a calm smile forming on his lips.
"Sir Thalion… I neither have family nor friends here. You're the only one who knows about this little secret of mine. So I'll be careful. You don't have to worry."
Thalion's eyes softened, the weight of responsibility showing for a moment before he hid it behind a laugh. "Good boy. Still, I'll say this again—keep those glowing eyes of yours hidden."
"Oh right," Thalion suddenly added, "since you've already formed a connection with nature and shown surprising talent, you should pay a visit to the Adventurers Guild."
"The Adventurers Guild?" Asiel tilted his head.
"Yes. They have a way of testing your abilities, measuring what power level you stand upon."
Asiel's eyes lit up. "A power system? Like ranking? How do they categorize people?"
Thalion chuckled. "It's fairly simple. They use a crystal ball—when you touch it, it glows and reflects different colors depending on your strength and affinity. I don't know exactly which colors belong to which level, but I can tell you this: I may look like an old fool, but I am a D-class mage."
Asiel blinked. "D-class? So what's the lowest?"
"The ranks go like this: G, F, E, D, C, B, A… and above that… well, you'll hear about it if you live long enough." Thalion grinned knowingly. "For more details, ask at the Guild. They live for such things."
"That's… amazing." Asiel's excitement was hard to hide. "So, is there any more work in the library today?"
"No, boy," Thalion waved him off. "You've already done most of the work. Consider the rest of the day free."
"Then…" Asiel's smile widened, "I'll head to the Adventurers Guild right away."
The sun hung high as Asiel made his way through the bustling streets. The aroma of fresh bread drifted from a nearby bakery, merchants called out their prices, and children ran laughing between the crowd. The chatter and liveliness of Lagunica made the stone-paved streets feel alive.
Soon, towering above the surrounding shops and homes, stood a grand building unlike any other. The Adventurers Guild.
Its walls were carved from dark stone reinforced with golden patterns, and a massive wooden door, framed by metal studs, loomed tall. A banner fluttered above it—emblazoned with the Guild's emblem: a sword crossed with a staff beneath a winged crest.
The windows glowed warmly, the sound of laughter, shouting, and clinking mugs escaping into the street. Compared to the calm quiet of the library, this place pulsed with raw energy—chaotic, dangerous, yet somehow welcoming.
"Wow…" Asiel whispered to himself. "Truly a fantasy vibe."
Pushing open the heavy doors, he stepped inside.
A wide hall opened before him, filled with adventurers of every kind. Some were leaning on spears, others sharpening blades, a few cloaked figures muttering over maps. A group laughed loudly in the corner, tossing a sack of coins onto a table while another group argued with a receptionist about their bounty.
The air smelled of sweat, leather, and faint traces of ale. The sound of boots and voices echoed, blending into a living storm of ambition and danger.
And there, in the very center of the hall, behind a long polished counter, stood three elven women. Their beauty was striking—long, silky hair flowing like rivers of gold, silver, and obsidian; ears delicately pointed; and eyes that shimmered with the faint glow of magic. Each carried themselves with elegance, yet their stern expressions showed they were not ornaments but pillars of the Guild itself.
Asiel stood frozen, gazing at them in awe.
"So… this is the Adventurers Guild."
Asiel walked up to the counter, his eyes briefly scanning the three elves before settling on the one before him. She had emerald-green eyes that shone with gentleness, and her voice was soft yet carried authority when she spoke.
"Welcome to the Adventurers Guild," she greeted warmly, her lips curving into a smile that could melt away even the hardest day. "Hello, good sir. I believe this is your first time here?"
"Yes," Asiel replied, tilting his head slightly. "Is there some problem with that?"
Her smile deepened, and even her long silver hair seemed to shimmer in the hall's glow. "No, no, not at all. Everything is fine. It's just that, to have your power level checked, you first need to be registered with us."
"I see."
"Wait here, I'll bring the form." She turned, her light steps barely making a sound as she disappeared behind the counter. A moment later she returned, holding a parchment and quill. "Here, sir. Oh, and—" her eyes softened, almost apologetic, "do you know how to read and write? Most young adventurers come here without completing their studies."
A smile tugged at Asiel's lips. "That's fine by me. I know how to read and write."
"Good. Then please fill this out."
Asiel leaned over the counter and carefully wrote:
Name: Asiel
Date of Birth: 23rd February, 1007 (17 years old)
Type of Adventurer: Mage / Swordsman / Assassin / Fighter / Ranger
He paused, raising his head. "Can we only choose one here?"
The elf—her nameplate read Lyra—nodded. "Yes. But if you are proficient in more than one field, you may tick both. This form is simply for the Guild to keep track of adventurers' strengths."
"Understood." Asiel ticked Mage without hesitation.
"Very well. Now, may I have your citizenship card?"
"Yes." He pulled out the plate he'd received from the Church when he first arrived.
Lyra placed it on the counter, poured a small vial of water over its surface, and pressed it onto the parchment. The card left behind a faint glowing seal, merging with the paper. "All done. Now, all that's left is to assess your class. Please, come with me."
She led Asiel through a door behind the counter into a quieter back chamber. The room was dimly lit, and in the center sat a pedestal upon which rested a crystal sphere the size of a human head. It shimmered faintly, as though whispering secrets from within.
Asiel stopped in his tracks, his heart quickening. "A quick question—how exactly are the classes divided here?"
Lyra gave a patient smile, folding her hands in front of her. "Very well, I'll explain."
She detailed the ranking system from G-Class—the General-Class of ordinary survivalists—to the fabled S-Class, the Sovereign-Class, beings spoken of like walking legends.
Asiel listened intently, his chest rising with excitement. "So all I have to do is… place my hand on that crystal?"
"Yes," Lyra said gently, gesturing toward the pedestal. "Just rest your palm upon it, and it will reveal your level."
Taking a deep breath, Asiel stepped forward. He could feel the faint hum of energy radiating from the crystal, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own. His hand hovered for a moment, his thoughts racing.
(What if it doesn't glow at all? What if I'm just ordinary…?)
He pressed his palm to the cool surface.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—light surged.
The crystal pulsed with golden brilliance, filling the room with warm radiance. Intricate veins of light spiraled outward like roots, flickering with steady strength.
Lyra's eyes widened in surprise, her professional composure breaking. "Oh…"
The glow intensified, swirling until the crystal seemed to hum with power, before slowly dimming back into stillness.
"You may remove your hand now," Lyra said softly.
Asiel stepped back, blinking at his glowing palm. "So…?"
Lyra straightened, her expression a mix of surprise and admiration. "Congratulations, Sir Asiel. You are… a C-Class adventurer. And at your age, that is a rare occurrence indeed."
Asiel's eyes widened. "C-Class… already?" His chest tightened—not in fear, but in excitement.
"Yes," Lyra continued, her voice carrying more respect now. "To reach Core-Class at only seventeen… most adventurers spend half their lives before even stepping out of D-Class. Your potential is undeniable."
Asiel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Heh… I guess I did something right."
Lyra chuckled softly, though her gaze lingered on him a second too long—as though she sensed something more. She turned gracefully toward the door. "Come. We'll register your class and add you officially to the Guild's roster."
Asiel followed her out, his thoughts buzzing.
(Core-Class already…? I really am part of this world now. But if this is just the beginning… how far can I go?)
End of Chapter 7