The adventurer's guild was loud. Too loud. Between the clinking of mugs, adventurers boasting about their latest exploits, and the occasional burst of magic fireworks (was that really necessary?), I was starting to rethink my life choices. But no. This was the plan, and if there was one thing I prided myself on, it was sticking to a bad decision no matter how stupid it looked in hindsight.

"Next!"

I shuffled forward in the line, stepping over a puddle of what I hoped wasn't ale.

Behind the counter was a woman in her twenties with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue. I'd already heard her give some poor firebender a lecture about how his "passion for destruction" didn't excuse blowing up the guild's front doors. She was terrifying, but also the first step toward greatness. If I wanted to be an adventurer, I had to get past her.

The line crawled forward. The guy ahead of me—a guy with muscles the size of my head and an axe even bigger—turned and gave me a pitying look.

"First time?" he asked, his voice deep enough to rumble the floorboards.

"Is it that obvious?"

He grinned. "Just don't cry if they laugh at your stats."

"Not planning to," I said, giving him a thumbs-up. Internally, though? Crying was a distinct possibility.

As he turned back, I let my mind wander. Earth Country was a small, out-of-the-way place, and my village? Even smaller. People there didn't think about adventure or glory. They thought about soil quality and whether the chickens were laying eggs. I was the odd one out—always wondering what was beyond the hills, what life was like in the cities.

When I told my parents I wanted to leave, they'd been surprisingly supportive. Dad even gave me his old pickaxe. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was sturdy, and hey, I figured I could always mine my way out of trouble.

"Next!"

And just like that, it was my turn.

I stepped up to the counter, giving the guild worker my best "I'm totally competent" smile. She gave me a look that screamed, Another newbie. Great.

"Name?" she asked, not looking up from her parchment.

"Leo," I said.

"Just Leo?"

"Just Leo."

She wrote it down with a sigh. "Bending type?"

"Earth."

Her quill paused. She looked up, her eyes narrowing. "You're not from here, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

She gave me a once-over. "You're wearing shoes made out of rope."

"Oh. Right." I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I'm from the Earth Country. Small village. You wouldn't have heard of it."

She snorted. "Earthbenders from the countryside. Let me guess: you can do the pebble trick?"

I frowned. "What's the pebble trick?"

"You know." She flicked her hand in a lazy imitation of bending. "Flinging little rocks around, pretending it's impressive."

Okay, ouch. Not that she was wrong—I wasn't exactly a master earthbender. But still. "I'll have you know I once moved a boulder."

"Oh?"

"It was… well, it was sort of boulder-shaped. And it was downhill, so, you know, momentum helped, but—"

"Got it." She cut me off, scribbling something down. Probably "useless" in big letters.

I decided to change the subject. "So, uh, what happens now?"

"Now," she said, "you take this form and fill it out. Then we test your bending skills to see if you're worth anything."

"Sounds fair."

She handed me the parchment, and I squinted at it. Half the questions were normal—name, age, bending type. The other half? Less normal.

"How would you rate your survival instincts on a scale of 1 to 10?" I read aloud.

"Answer honestly," she said.

"Uh, 7?" I wrote it down.

The next question was worse. "If faced with a pack of wolves, what would you do? A) Fight. B) Flee. C) Attempt diplomacy."

"Is there a D) Try not to die?"

She didn't laugh.

As I filled out the rest of the form, I couldn't help but listen to the adventurers around me. Most of them were fire or waterbenders—flashy types who loved to show off. There was one guy juggling flaming daggers while his friends cheered him on. Another group was betting on who could summon the biggest water serpent. It was a lot.

Earthbenders like me? Not so flashy. Sure, the really good ones could create earthquakes or raise mountains, but that wasn't me. I was more of a "dig a trench and hope for the best" kind of guy.

"Done?" the guild worker asked, snapping me back to reality.

"Yeah." I handed her the form.

She scanned it, her expression unimpressed. "You're twelve?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Not unless you die on your first quest."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

She ignored me, stamping the form with a loud thud. "Take this to the training yard. Someone will be there to test you."

I nodded and turned to leave, clutching the form like it was my ticket to greatness. Which, okay, it kind of was.

The training yard was outside, surrounded by wooden fences and filled with various targets and obstacles. A tall, muscular man with a scar across his nose was waiting. He looked like he could bench-press a mountain.

"You the newbie?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"That's me," I said, trying not to sound nervous.

"Let's see what you've got." He gestured to a pile of rocks. "Move those."

I stared at the rocks. They weren't huge, but they weren't exactly small, either. Taking a deep breath, I stomped my foot, channeling my bending.

The rocks wobbled. One of them rolled a few inches.

"Impressive," the man said, deadpan.

"I'm just warming up," I said quickly.

He crossed his arms, waiting.

This was my chance to prove myself. I couldn't mess it up. Focusing harder, I tried again, pouring everything I had into the movement. This time, one of the rocks lifted into the air, hovering for a moment before dropping with a thud.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Not bad for a beginner."

"Really?"

"No."

I groaned.

"Look," he said, "you've got potential, but you need training. A lot of it."

"I can handle it," I said, trying to sound confident.

"We'll see."

As I walked back into the guild, my legs felt like jelly. The other adventurers barely glanced at me, too busy with their own conversations.

I sighed, collapsing into a chair. So far, my big adventure was off to a pretty rough start. But hey, at least no one had thrown me out yet. That was something, right?

And as I sat there, surrounded by people who were stronger, faster, and way more experienced than me, I made a promise to myself.

I'd prove them wrong.

Even if it killed me