Chapter 3: Into the Adventurers' Guild
The heavy oak doors of the Adventurers' Guild creaked as Malachi pushed them open, stepping into a bustling hall filled with energy. The place was massive, with high ceilings adorned with banners displaying the guild's emblem—a sword and shield crossed over a blazing sun.
Rows of wooden tables stretched across the room, where adventurers of all shapes and sizes gathered, laughing, boasting, or strategizing. Along one wall, a massive mission board displayed rows of parchment pinned in neat columns, each one marked with colorful stamps and symbols.
Behind a long counter at the far end of the hall, a receptionist stood, her auburn hair tied in a neat braid. She was scribbling something in a ledger but looked up with a practiced smile as Malachi approached.
"Welcome to the Adventurers' Guild!" she greeted warmly. "First time here?"
"Yeah," Malachi replied, glancing around the room. "I want to join. What's the process?"
Her smile widened as she set her quill aside. "Well, you're in luck. Joining the guild is free and straightforward. All we need is your name and confirmation that you accept the guild's terms."
"Terms?" Malachi raised an eyebrow.
The receptionist pulled out a small scroll and unrolled it. "Pretty standard. Don't attack other adventurers, don't commit crimes under the guild's banner, and fulfill your missions as best you can. If you break the rules, your rank can be revoked—or worse, depending on the offense."
Malachi nodded. "Fair enough. Sign me up."
She quickly wrote his name in the ledger. "Welcome, Malachi Reed. You're officially an adventurer!"
She reached under the counter and handed him a small badge made of dull gray metal. It was simple, with the guild's emblem etched into it.
"That's your Iron Rank badge," she explained. "All new adventurers start at Iron Rank, which is the lowest. As you complete missions, you'll earn credits toward your next rank. Let me break it down for you."
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Adventurer Ranks:
Iron: Entry-level. Basic missions, low risk.
Bronze: Slightly better-paying missions. Requires a bit more experience.
Silver: Mid-tier adventurers. Missions start to get dangerous here.
Gold: Elite adventurers. High-level quests and considerable rewards.
Platinum: Top-tier adventurers. Rare missions, often kingdom-sponsored.
Diamond: Legendary status. Only a handful of adventurers ever reach this level.
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"You'll move up based on the credits you earn from missions," she continued. "You can also form parties with adventurers of your rank. Parties can pool resources, take on group missions, and build their reputations together."
"Got it," Malachi said, pocketing the badge. "Anything else I need to know?"
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Just a tip—don't bite off more than you can chew. I know some new adventurers get eager, but it's better to play it safe than end up on a recovery team's casualty list."
Malachi smirked. "Appreciate the concern, but I think I'll manage."
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With his registration complete, Malachi made his way to the mission board. It was an impressive sight—rows of parchment organized by rank, each bearing the guild's emblem and a colorful stamp to indicate its difficulty.
The Iron Rank missions were clustered together near the bottom. He crouched down, scanning the options.
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Mission Board:
1. Gather Wild Herbs
Location: Oakwood Forest
Reward: 3 Silver Coins
Description: Collect 10 bundles of medicinal herbs for the village healer.
Difficulty: Easy
2. Vermin Extermination
Location: Farmer Will's Barn
Reward: 4 Silver Coins
Description: Eliminate the infestation of giant rats plaguing the barn.
Difficulty: Low
3. Escort Request
Location: Oakwood to Briar Hollow
Reward: 6 Silver Coins
Description: Escort a merchant caravan to the neighboring village.
Difficulty: Moderate
4. Strange Howls in the Forest
Location: Deep Oakwood Woods
Reward: 8 Silver Coins
Description: Investigate reports of eerie howls. Potential danger.
Difficulty: High
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Malachi's eyes lingered on the last mission. "Strange howls in the forest, huh? Sounds like trouble—and a challenge."
Before he could reach for the parchment, he felt someone's gaze on him. A group of adventurers at a nearby table was watching him with amused expressions.
"You sure about that, rookie?" one of them called out, a burly man with a scar across his cheek. "That's not the kind of job you take on your first day."
Malachi gave the man a casual glance. "Noted. Thanks for the advice."
He turned back to the board, smirking to himself. First day or not, I didn't come here to pick herbs.
After a moment of deliberation, he reached out and grabbed the mission slip. "Let's see what these howls are about."
Malachi tucked the mission slip into his pocket and turned away from the board, ready to prepare for his first task. But the sound of stifled laughter drew his attention back toward the group of adventurers who had been watching him earlier.
One of them, a wiry young man with a sly grin, elbowed the scarred adventurer who had spoken up earlier. "Hey, Ragnar, the rookie just brushed you off like you're nothing. Guess your scary mug isn't as intimidating as you thought."
Another adventurer, a woman with sharp features and a mocking smile, chimed in, "Maybe you should start charging for comedy instead of quests. That 'helpful advice' routine is golden."
Ragnar's scarred face darkened, his hand tightening around the tankard in front of him until his knuckles turned white. The mocking laughter around him only fueled his anger.
"Stupid rookies thinking they're hot stuff," Ragnar growled, standing abruptly and slamming his tankard onto the table. The hall quieted slightly as his heavy boots thudded across the floor toward Malachi.
Malachi heard him approach but didn't bother to turn around. He was still too focused on planning for the mission ahead.
"Hey, newbie!" Ragnar barked, his voice carrying an edge of menace. "You think you're better than me? Ignoring me like I'm some nobody?"
Malachi finally turned, his expression calm but unbothered. "I'm just here to do my job. Didn't think I needed to stop and chat."
Ragnar's face twisted in fury, his scar wrinkling as he snarled. "You've got a smart mouth for someone who doesn't know the first thing about this place. Let me teach you some manners."
Before Malachi could respond, a loud chime echoed through the guild hall, followed by a clock on the wall ticking to 12 noon. A cheer erupted from several adventurers in the room.
"Free-for-All time!" someone yelled, excitement buzzing through the crowd.
The receptionist's voice carried over the noise, reciting what was clearly a well-rehearsed announcement. "Attention, adventurers! From 12:00 to 12:30, all fights within the guild hall are sanctioned and legal. Use of tattoos is prohibited. All other forms of combat are permitted. Enjoy responsibly!"
Malachi's brow furrowed as he processed the announcement, but before he could fully react, Ragnar's massive fist slammed into his chest.
The impact was like a battering ram. Malachi's body was launched backward, crashing into a table and scattering tankards and plates. Pain exploded through his chest as he lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath.
A few adventurers winced at the display. "Poor guy. That's Ragnar for you," someone muttered.
Ragnar stood over Malachi, cracking his knuckles. His shirt had slipped slightly, revealing a faint gray tattoo on his chest in the shape of a charging boar. Even though tattoo abilities weren't allowed during Free-for-All, the mark of his Transformation Tattoo—a Gray-level Boar Tattoo—made his brute strength clear.
"Bronze Rank Ragnar," someone whispered nearby. "He's not top-tier, but he's no joke. Guy's mean as hell."
Malachi groaned, trying to push himself up. His entire chest throbbed with pain. "What the hell..." he muttered.
He instinctively reached out with his mind, opening his System Display, a habit ingrained from decades of gaming. The translucent screen appeared before him, and he scanned through the options frantically.
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SYSTEM DISPLAY
Settings
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He tapped on "Settings," searching for something familiar: Pain Sensitivity Adjustment. It had to be there. It always was.
But the menu was empty. No sliders, no toggles. Nothing.
The realization hit him like a second punch to the gut. "This isn't a game," he whispered, his voice trembling. "This is real. All of it."
Ragnar, meanwhile, was enjoying the moment. "What's the matter, rookie? Thought you'd just waltz in here and play hero? Here's a lesson for you: Tattooria doesn't care about your ego. It cares about strength."
Malachi's hands curled into fists as the pain in his chest burned. He forced himself to his feet, wobbling slightly but refusing to stay down. His mind raced, assessing the situation like he always had in high-pressure matches.
No tattoos allowed. Pure hand-to-hand. He's stronger, but he's not invincible. Use speed. Use his overconfidence.
Ragnar chuckled darkly, watching Malachi stand. "Still got fight in you, huh? Alright, rookie. Let's see what you've got."
The crowd circled around them, eager for a good show. Malachi straightened his posture, took a deep breath, and prepared to respond to the challenge.
"Alright, Ragnar," he said, his voice steady despite the pain. "Lesson learned. My turn."