Adda ran a heavy hand over her fuzzy ears, a flash of vulnerable exhaustion crossing her face before she forcibly shook it away. She slapped her massive hands against her knees, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet room.
"But enough of the doom and gloom," Adda said, her voice shifting back to the authoritative, commanding boom of a Guild Master. "We don't sit around waiting for the Rot to take us. That is exactly why the Adventurer's Guild exists. We are the planet's immune system."
She leaned forward, locking eyes with me. "Our Charter is simple: We clear the Dungeons, we hunt the Void-Rot, and we protect the Four Empires. We aren't just local mercenaries, Noah. We operate above the laws of kings and lords. Our symbol is the Great Iron Ox. We are the stubborn, unyielding beast of burden that carries the weight of the world when the empires fail."
She tapped the heavy, horned metal crest pinned to her chest to emphasize the point. Then, she reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a smooth, polished metallic disc. She set it on the wooden bench between us and tapped the center.
A soft, golden light bloomed from the disc, projecting a hovering, breathtakingly detailed three-dimensional topographical map of the continent.
"If you're going to survive out there, you need to know who you're sharing the world with," Adda instructed, pointing a thick finger at the southern portion of the map, which glowed with a warm, fiery hue.
"Down South is my homeland," Adda said with a hint of pride. "The Beast-Men. Our empire is The Asharra Dominion. We are a fiercely proud people, watched over by our patron Cardinal Beast, the Sovereign Tiger. We are the apex predators and the shield against the southern volcanic wastes."
Her finger moved to the jagged, mountainous region in the North.
"Up North are the Dwarves. Thorek's people," Adda chuckled, a fond smile breaking through. "Don't let the stone and metal fool you. They are rowdy, loud, and downright obnoxious most of the time. But when the Void hits? They are the most stalwart defenders this realm has. They live in the massive, sprawling Undercity beneath the mountains. Their patron is the Abyssal Turtle, perfectly representing their impenetrable defenses and the deep, ancient wisdom they hide beneath their shells."
Adda's finger swept toward the dense, emerald-green forests dominating the East.
"The East belongs to the Elves," she explained. "Ancient, attuned to nature, and highly traditional. They rely on their Harmonic Resonance to sing the forests to life. Their patron is the Azure Dragon, a creature of devastating storms and deep magic."
Finally, she pointed to the sprawling, rolling plains and walled cities of the West.
"And the West is your people, kid. The Human Kingdoms," Adda finished. "Fractious, ambitious, and highly adaptable. You rely on Aura Manifestation to fight. Your patron is the Eternal Phoenix, representing your people's habit of constantly burning yourselves down in wars, only to rise from the ashes stronger than before."
I stared at the glowing map, the sheer scale of the world finally sinking in. Four massive empires. Four legendary Cardinal Beasts. The unyielding Ox of the Guild. And a creeping, radioactive Void-Rot trying to consume it all.
"A Tiger, a Turtle, a Dragon, and a Phoenix. And an Ox for your little club," Snow purred, hopping off my lap and circling the glowing map with mild amusement. "Impressive, I suppose. But none of them possess the refined, cosmic elegance of a Lunar Cat. They shall make adequate subordinates."
Adda blinked, staring at the cat, and then let out a booming, chest-deep laugh that rattled the wooden bench.
"I like her," Adda grinned, standing up and dismissing the map with a tap. The golden light folded in on itself, fading back into the metallic disc. "She's got the arrogance of a Vanguard already."
She reached down and grabbed the collar of my tunic, hauling me to my feet with terrifying, effortless strength.
"Alright, history lesson is over, Stargazer," Adda declared, ushering me back out toward the main floor of the gymnasium. "You know the lore, you know the stakes, and you've got your fancy stats all viewed. Now, it's time to get you geared up and see if you can actually throw a punch without breaking your own wrist."
She laughed a deep, rumbling laugh and started walking toward the massive weapon racks lining the far wall of the training room.
"Go ahead," she said, gesturing to the sprawling rows of steel. "Find what feels right. Try as many as you need, and hit the dummy over there if you want to test the balance. I'll give you some time while I set up your first simulation."
"Simulation?" I asked, but she just waved me off and kept walking toward a raised stone platform in the center of the room.
Snow padded over to the weapon racks, elegantly sniffing the base of a heavy iron mace before sneezing in disgust.
"I will not be able to wield any of these, Noah, so you must handle the front lines," Snow projected into my mind. "Just be careful with your squishy arms. If you sever a limb, I still need you to carry me to the tavern."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving her off as I stepped up to the racks.
It was a literal armory of magic and steel. The metal gleamed under the magical lighting, some etched with glowing dwarven runes, others forged from strange, iridescent ores I couldn't even name. There were all the traditional fantasy weapons I recognized from games, and a few bizarre, multi-bladed contraptions I didn't even understand.
I grabbed a standard longsword first, pulling it from the rack.
Clang. The tip immediately hit the floor. It was way too unwieldy, and my pathetic Strength stat of 4 groaned in protest. I put it back.
Next, I tried a katana. Because come on, obviously. But as I gave it a few practice swings, the balance just felt off in my grip. I couldn't even lift the massive claymores without pulling a muscle, and I just refused to pick up a rapier because, in my gamer heart, it wasn't a real sword.
Then, I saw them.
Resting on a velvet-lined shelf was a pair of sleek, matte-black daggers. But they weren't just standard knives. Attached to the pommel of each hilt was a compact, runic spool of ultra-fine, metallic wire. Wire daggers. They were beautifully balanced, perfectly forged for high-speed, acrobatic combat rather than brute force.