Inside the Vice Headmaster's office, a man that was the proctor of the second test stood in front of the desk.
He presented the text written on the paper.
I̵̒͜r̴̰͙̈̑ŗ̵̽͐e̶̖͚̔͐g̸͎͆ṷ̵̡͠ļ̵̠̽a̵̧͒͗r̸͇̯̍.
It was the result of Seven's technique, and the only reason the proctor blurted out '777' was he mistook Seven's tag number as the score because of the weirdness of the situation.
Cylinth, the Vice Headmaster, looked at the result document from the registration aura and mana analysis step where it displayed the same occurrence.
U̶̫͌n̶̖͝i̴̲͗d̶̨̈́e̷͍̒ṉ̴̔t̵̤͌î̸̗f̵͌ͅȉ̶̳a̶͎̓b̶̜̈l̷̤͝e̶̡̛.
'Crap…'
She clenched her hands and for a moment, it almost crumpled the paper before her.
"You may go. I'll handle this."
"As you order."
Creak.
The man left the office.
Now alone, she closed her eyes and recalled what happened during the first test, or the supposed-to-be orientation.
Some may say that all pressure was equally distributed to the students back then.
But as the one responsible for it, she definitely was focusing almost half of the pressure at Seven during that time.
"That's why he fainted, huh…?"
The amount of pressure on Seven was about five times of the amount given to the other applicants.
"Hart…"
She opened the drawer of her desk and grabbed a Sevyaki.
The same flavor—Matsa-a Sevyaki.
Munch.
"Harts are crappy monsters…"
***
The streets of the Kingdom were busy as usual as Seven walked through the crowd.
Lythian tailed as he teased him.
"Mr. Flashy who only got 777 points…"
"..."
Though again, despite scoring more than two thousand, Lythian wasn't confident that he could beat Seven in a fight.
He clutched his heart.
'Because of this oath…'
'Because of that artifact…'
Step.
Seven took a left turn, towards a stall with a bulky man as the merchant that looked more like an orc than a human.
"How much?"
"Costs a whole Sevtal, young—"
Clink.
Seven tossed a Sevtal on the flat desk of the stall. As he did, the merchant grinned and also tossed him a wolf-designed white phantom mask.
"Pleasure doing business with ya, young lad!"
Seven nodded, and walked away.
"Pleasure doing—"
"Sure."
Lythian, too, bought one right after Seven. Though he didn't know where to use it, he bought one just in case.
But what he bought was a bone-designed domino mask.
Step.
After more than a minute of walking, Seven halted before a massive building.
Mercenary Hall.
"Hey, what are we doing here?"
"Getting a side-job."
"..."
Seven stepped inside.
Immediately, his gaze swept across the vast hall
Unlike the mercenary hall that the Dukedom had, this was probably seven times its size.
It wasn't just the sheer space—it was the atmosphere.
Livelier.
Busier.
Harsher.
Rows of massive quest boards lined the walls and stretched toward the center, each one meticulously categorized by rank.
From the lowest-ranked Bronze missions—simple errands, escort duties, and basic monster exterminations—to the daunting S-rank and beyond, which were rarely taken by anyone other than the academy's elite or seasoned veterans.
At a glance, the entire hall was a system of its own.
On one side, groups of mercenaries huddled around tables, discussing contracts over drinks, their weapons resting beside them—worn but well-maintained.
On the other, rookies and independent fighters stood before the quest boards, scanning the missions in search of something within their capabilities.
At the far end, behind a long counter, clerks busily handled registrations, payments, and report submissions.
That's where they will be going.
Step.
Seven adjusted the mask over his face, ensuring it covered enough without obstructing his vision.
Lythian did the same.
"Are you sure about this?"
"I don't exactly have a choice."
His fingers played around the last few coins in his pocket.
Unlike Lythian who probably still had the purse of Sevtals, he only had eight remaining as he gave it to the old lady back then as compensation.
"This is the fastest way to make money."
"Fair point."
Step.
They walked toward the registration counter, where a middle-aged man with graying hair sat behind a wooden desk.
His nameplate read "Vance, Registration Officer."
Vance barely spared them a glance as he spoke.
"New applicants?
Seven nodded.
The officer finally looked up, his gaze scrutinizing their masked faces. He didn't seem particularly suspicious—mercenaries wore masks all the time, whether to protect their identities or to avoid unnecessary trouble.
Still, there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes before he continued.
"Name?"
Seven hesitated for only a moment before answering.
"Sev."
Lythian arched a brow at his choice but didn't comment.
Vance scribbled it down.
"And you?"
"Lyn."
Another quick scribble.
"Any prior mercenary experience?"
Seven shook his head.
"No. We're new."
Vance sighed.
"Figures. Most new recruits are."
He reached under the desk and pulled out a parchment with the standard rules and regulations of the Mercenary Guild.
"Read this. If you break any of these, you're out. If you tarnish the guild's name, you're dead. Understood?"
Seven took the parchment and skimmed through it. Most of it was common sense.
No betraying clients.
No killing fellow mercenaries.
No accepting jobs that went against the guild's regulations.
"Understood."
"Good."
Vance grunted. He then gestured toward a small metallic sphere on the counter.
"Place your hand here. It'll record your mana or aura signature and verify you're not blacklisted."
Seven placed his hand on the sphere. A faint blue glow pulsed from within, scanning his aura. It flickered for a moment before turning a steady green.
"No records. You're clear."
Vance said, then gestured for Lythian to do the same.
He did, and the result was the same.
Green.
"Alright."
Vance reached for a drawer and pulled out two thin, bronze-colored plates.
He slid the plates toward them.
"Your starting rank is Bronze. Earn points by completing quests to move up."
Seven picked his up, running a finger over the engraved letters:
Mercenary Guild – Bronze Rank – Sev.
"You'll need to pay a registration fee of ten sevtals each."
Seven's fingers twitched.
He didn't even have ten.
Lythian chuckled softly before tossing a few coins onto the counter.
"For both of us."
Seven grit his teeth. He hated this. But arguing now wouldn't change the fact that he was broke.
Vance took the coins without care.
He waved them off, already turning to the next applicant.
"You're officially mercenaries now. Take a quest, make money, and don't die."
Seven pocketed his plate.
He moved toward the quest boards, scanning the available jobs.
Without hesitation, Seven pointed to a specific pinned parchment.
❢ Request: Hunt Archduke Elias Hart Location: Hart Duchy Reward: 1 Sevzinium
"This?"
"Fucker…"
It didn't sound as bad for the idea. He could just dig the grave and bring the Archduke's head.
But as simple as it sounds, he was sure that the one behind the request was Magnus Havin, and the reward might be even more troublesome than the quest itself.
Also, the third test is scheduled tomorrow. Thus the quest they need to take now should be manageable within the day.
Seven ran his fingers over the pinned parchments.
"Escort missions, monster subjugation, item retrieval… Most of these are team-based."
Seven frowned.
Lythian plucked a quest from the lower ranks and handed it to him.
"How about this?"
Seven read it over.
❢ Request: Eliminate Lesser Howlers (3) Location: Eastern Forest Reward: 15 Sevtals per confirmed kill.
He considered it. Lesser Howlers weren't particularly dangerous, but they were fast and hunted in small packs.
"It's doable."
Snatching the paper from Lythian, Seven approached the quest counter, where another clerk verified their plates and stamped the quest.
[ Accepted. ]