Soren stopped in front of the massive doors.
They were completely open.
Above them, carved into dark stone, ancient words could be read:
Seekers' Guild and Associates.
Soren took a deep breath.
And stepped inside.
At that very moment, something strange happened.
For an instant, everything seemed to slow down.
The sounds of the guild grew distant, as if the world itself had lost its rhythm for a second.
The interior was immense.
So immense that the first thing he did was look up.
The ceiling was covered by a gigantic painting.
An entire sky captured in deep, vivid colors, as if it told millions of stories in silence.
Without a doubt, the first thing he saw was the work of a genius.
But that painting did not depict angels like those in the famous churches of his previous world.
No.
There were creatures.
Creatures of every possible form.
It was like looking at a bestiary painted across the sky.
And they were not mere representations.
There were colossal winged bodies, seven-headed dragons, and strange formations made entirely of eyes and feathers that seemed to watch from every direction.
Among them, one figure immediately caught Soren's attention.
An enormous fox with multiple tails.
He didn't know why, but he had the feeling that this creature represented something close to a god.
Not far from it, another figure stood in complete contrast.
A humanoid silhouette shrouded in shadows.
Its body seemed incomplete, as if it had no flesh, no voice… as if it were formed entirely of darkness.
And yet, it floated among white clouds, creating an unsettling contrast.
At another end of the ceiling, something different stretched across.
A rain of stars.
Small golden lights falling from the painted sky.
Soren felt his head spin.
That single painting made him feel small.
Insignificant.
"Incredible, isn't it?"
Soren flinched slightly.
He hadn't noticed someone had approached his side.
It was the voice of an old man.
He had a long white beard and was also looking up at the ceiling calmly.
Soren's heart tightened. He swallowed and tried to measure his words as he always did—but this time, he couldn't. Something prevented him from lying.
"It's magnificent," Soren replied without looking away.
The old man smiled.
"Hundreds of people pass through here every day and don't even bother to look up."
He made a small gesture with the cane he was holding.
"This painting holds thousands of secrets."
He pointed toward one side of the ceiling.
"Do you see that rain of stars?"
"Yes… I see it."
"That is where singularities were born," the old man said with a dry chuckle.
Soren turned his head slightly, surprised.
"Really?"
The old man shrugged.
"That's what the stories say."
He looked back at the ceiling.
"Thousands of years ago, according to legend, stars fell from the sky."
"But when they passed through the atmosphere, they didn't remain as stars… they shattered."
He raised one hand and slowly spread his fingers.
"They turned into small cores."
"Fragments of something that did not belong to this world."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"And when those cores touched the earth…"
"Singularities were born."
Soren looked again at the rain of stars painted on the ceiling.
"But of course," the old man added calmly,
"That's just a story."
He rested both hands on his cane.
"At this point… no one knows if it's truly real."
Soren responded almost without thinking, still immersed in the painted sky above.
"If that were the beginning of singularities… it wouldn't be a boring one."
The old man let out a soft laugh.
"I agree."
Then he lowered his gaze.
His eyes settled on Grim.
That was when Soren noticed Grim was staring at the old man with hostility, almost as if he were about to attack him.
"The creature you carry with you…" the old man said with interest.
"It seems to have come from something very deep."
The old man observed Grim for a few seconds longer.
"Take good care of that creature," he finally said in a calm voice.
He paused briefly before continuing.
"Some singularities… were not born from the stars."
The hairs on Soren's body stood on end.
Those words sent an immediate chill through him.
He lowered his head to look at the old man.
But the old man was gone.
Soren blinked.
At that same instant, the noise of the guild rushed back all at once.
Voices.
Footsteps.
Armor clashing.
Time had returned to normal.
Soren looked around.
Seekers moved in and out of the building.
Others argued near the mission boards.
But there was no trace of the old man.
He looked up again.
The ceiling was still there.
The creatures were still painted across the sky.
But something had changed.
The shadowy figure he had seen before…
was no longer among the clouds.
Soren shook his head.
He had barely entered the guild and hadn't even had time to observe the place calmly. He hadn't expected something like that to happen so suddenly.
"Are you alright?" he asked, looking at Grim.
The small creature now seemed much calmer.
They both took a few seconds to steady themselves.
But this wasn't the time to dwell on it.
Soren raised his gaze once more.
The Seekers' Guild stood before him.
The place was quite crowded.
There were many different areas.
One resembled a bar filled with seekers talking and laughing.
Another area was full of tables where people negotiated and exchanged items.
Further in, several doors bore metal plaques indicating private rooms.
There were also entertainment areas, and along some side corridors, doors could be seen with clear inscriptions:
Training Facilities.
The place was exquisite in its beauty.
From the center of the great hall, where Soren stood, he could see quieter spaces that resembled libraries or study rooms.
But what caught his attention the most was a specific section of the guild.
A long line of reception counters.
Soren and Grim approached.
They stood behind a few seekers waiting their turn.
But the wait lasted barely two minutes.
There were so many counters operating at the same time that the line moved quickly.
Soon, it was his turn.
Soren walked toward counter number four.
But these counters were nothing like the ones from the banks of his previous life.
There were no rows of chairs, no glass separating people.
Each counter was, in fact, a small private room.
As he stepped inside, Soren saw that the only thing separating the visitor from the receptionist was a large desk made of dark wood.
On the other side, a young woman looked up as he entered.
And smiled, professionally.