Pushing open the wooden doors of the guild, Vanthelis entered. The air inside buzzed with energy. The hall was wide, filled with adventurers of all races and builds, laughing, boasting, and trading information. A massive bulletin board stood at the far wall, crowded with mission slips of every color, denoting difficulty.
He stepped toward the reception counter. The woman behind it had red hair tied neatly into a bun, eyes like sharp rubies, and a voice that balanced warmth with professionalism.
" So, are you here to register?" she asked, her gaze briefly scanning his ragged clothes and the strange energy that lingered around him.
Vanthelis nodded with a small, practiced smile. "Yes."
"Name?"
He paused for a moment. Then, remembering the pain, the loss, and the weight of the name Vanthelis carried, he quietly answered, "Ivan."
"Alright, Ivan. Powers? Skills?"
He kept his voice steady, careful. "I can use crossbows, scimitars, and swords. I also have a skill called Repel—it allows me to shield myself or an ally from debuffs or harmful skills for a short period."
The receptionist raised a brow but didn't press further. She scribbled his answers down in a book. "Alright, you'll start at F-rank. You gain points by completing missions. You can exchange points for gold, though not the other way around. Ranking up requires both points and a special review. The higher the rank, the more difficult—and rewarding—the missions become."
She extended her hand. "That'll be 5 gold for registration."
Vanthelis—now Ivan—fished five gleaming coins from his pocket, remnants of the island's treasure. The receptionist slid him a small metal badge with the letter "F" engraved in the center.
"Welcome to the Adventurer Guild."
Just then, the heavy doors of the guild slammed open.
"Make way!"
A shout echoed through the guild hall as a group of heavily armored adventurers stormed in. People parted, stepping back to allow them through. At the head of the group was a tall man clad in crimson armor etched with silver. His helm hung at his belt, revealing a sharp jaw and golden hair, eyes glowing faintly with magic.
"That's Sir Radel of the Crimson Fang," someone whispered nearby. "A Rank-A adventurer. He took down a drake with his team last month."
Vanthelis watched quietly, observing how even seasoned warriors made space for this group. Radel strode straight to the receptionist beside him.
"We're turning in the bounty on the flame ogre."
The receptionist nodded and reached for the appropriate ledger.
"And we'll be needing access to the northern wall. I hear rumors of a breach."
As Radel spoke, his eyes slid over to Ivan. For a moment, the two locked gazes. There was no animosity—only curiosity.
"New face," Radel said casually.
"Just registered," Ivan replied evenly.
"Hmph. Good luck. Not many survive their first month."
With that, Radel turned and walked off.
Ivan turned back to the board, finally able to approach it. The F-rank section was cluttered with slips of paper—deliveries, gathering herbs, killing minor monsters like goblins or wild boars. He scanned them, choosing a mission labeled:
F-Rank: Eliminate Wild Boars - Reward: 12 Silver, 1 Point
He took the slip and returned to the receptionist.
"Taking this one."
She nodded and stamped the paper. "Bring back three tails as proof. Good luck."
With that, Ivan stepped out of the guild, medal pinned beneath his cloak.
He had a goal. He had pain etched into every inch of his soul. And yet, here in this new city, among people who didn't know the weight of the dead he carried, he could walk again.
But even as he walked toward the forested area outside the city to begin his first task, flashes came unbidden.
Kristine smiling.
Dorothy teasing him.
Haben sharpening his axe while humming.
The acolytes laughing by the lake.
They were gone.
His hand gripped the hilt of his sword.
Not forgotten.
This new world would remember them through his victories, his rise, and someday, his vengeance.
He would start again.
As Ivan.
As the boy who lost everything—but still stood.
And thus, his new journey began.