The Guild

Chapter 10 — The Guild

After the day I launched the stone, I didn’t stop training.

Every day.

Whenever we could, it was me, Izuo, and Elaira.

Elaira was a second-year, so it wasn’t like she could be there all the time.

Most days, I only saw her in the evening. Sometimes in the corridors. Sometimes near the training grounds when her schedule allowed it.

Most of the daily training was with Izuo.

And studying with Izuo and Latris filled the rest of the time.

The routine became simple.

Classes.

Study.

Training.

Repeat.

At first, nothing worked the way I wanted.

Some days, the stone moved a few meters and dropped.

Some days, it barely trembled.

Some days, nothing happened at all.

Izuo still reacted like it was a victory every time.

“It moved!”

“Did you see that?”

“That was faster than yesterday!”

Even when the pebble only slid across the ground.

When it stopped halfway.

I didn’t feel pain like before.

There was pressure. Headaches. A dull ache that stayed behind my eyes.

But no blood.

That alone was progress.

I focused on small things.

Pebbles.

Chips of stone.

Bits of broken ground left behind from earlier damage.

No big targets.

Just one thing at a time.

Sometimes i tried using my sigil in others forms like making holes.

Two weeks passed like that.

Training every day.

Failing most of the time.

Succeeding just enough to keep going.

By the end of the second week, something finally changed.

Small objects moved when I told them to.

Fast.

I could send a pebble flying across the training ground in a straight line.

I could stop it midair.

I could change its direction.

My head still hurt when I pushed too hard.

But my body didn’t break anymore.

That was enough.

For now.

We walked into the classroom like any other morning.

Same cramped space. Same wooden desks packed too close together. Same noise of people talking about nothing important.

I dropped into my seat next to Izuo and let my bag slide under the desk.

My body still felt off. Not hurt—just aware. Like something inside me had learned a rule it couldn’t forget.

Latris leaned over from the row behind us.

“Did you train again last afternoon?”

“Yeah,” I said.

The door opened.

The room went quiet almost immediately.

Heavy footsteps.

The physical training instructor.

Instructor Doran walked in.

Broad shoulders. Straight posture. That same expression that made it feel like he was always judging your life choices.

Some students straightened in their seats.

Others whispered.

Doran stopped in front of the blackboard and looked around the room.

“Good. You’re all here.”

“I’ll keep this simple.”

“Up until now, the Academy has provided essentials for free. Food. Basic equipment. Access to facilities.”

A few people nodded. Others didn’t look like they were listening.

“That changes"

“Starting in ten days, the Academy will stop providing anything for free.”

The room reacted instantly.

“What?”

“Ten days?”

“Is he serious?”

Doran didn’t raise his voice.

“You will need AP for everything.”

AP.

I’d heard it before. Never thought it’d matter this soon.

“The Academy and the surrounding city use the same currency.”

Someone near the window raised their hand.

“Instructor Doran—how do we get AP?”

Doran looked at him.

“By earning it.”

That didn’t sound comforting.

“The city has a guild. Quests. Requests. Labor. Alchemy commissions. Escort work.”

My focus sharpened without me meaning to.

“From today onward, students are permitted to leave Academy grounds and interact with the city.”

That caused a stir.

Excitement. Anxiety. A lot of bad ideas forming all at once.

“You may work alone or in groups,” Doran continued.

“You may trade AP among yourselves.”

Izuo leaned toward me.

“So we’re broke in ten days.”

“Pretty much,” I whispered back.

Doran crossed his arms.

“Let me be clear.”

The room quieted again.

“This isn’t a suggestion.”

“In ten days, if you can’t feed yourself, that’s your responsibility.”

No threat in his voice.

Just fact.

"You ill be given 100 AP tomorrow morning, do what you want with it"

He turned toward the door.

“Oh—and one more thing.”

He glanced back.

“Talent won’t save you out there.”

“Thinking might.”

Then he left.

The classroom exploded into noise.

Ten days.

AP.

The city.

The guild.

I didn’t know why—but it felt like things had just started moving.

And I wasn’t sure if stopping was even an option anymore.

The next day ended faster than I expected.

And then we were walking past the academy gates.

For the first time.

The road leading down from the academy opened into the city—and it just kept going.

Buildings stacked on buildings. Streets branching in every direction. Voices everywhere.

Too many.

I slowed without noticing.

People filled the streets. Merchants shouting. Students laughing. Groups moving together like they already knew where they were going.

It didn’t feel like a normal day.

It felt loud.

Izuo looked around, eyes wide.

“…Why does it look like a festival?”

I had been wondering the same thing.

Latris didn’t seem surprised.

“My friends from second year told me, she said the first week after the academy lets students leave freely is always like this.”

She gestured around.

“New students everywhere. First time spending AP. First time seeing the city. Everyone goes a little crazy.”

That explained it.

Food stalls lined the streets. Weapons on display. Armor polished until it reflected light.

And potions.

Too many potions.

Bottles glowing faintly. Labels handwritten. Some looked cheap. Some looked dangerous.

Promotions everywhere.

“First-week discount!”

“Student special!”

“Academy-approved quality!”

I kept walking.

Eyes forward.

We were here for one thing.

“The guild should be near the center,” Latris said. “Big building. Hard to miss.”

We passed a stall selling skewered meat.

Another selling bread stuffed with something that smelled amazing.

Izuo slowed down.

Latris looked at him like she couldn't belive it.

“Just looking,” he said.

“Focus,” I replied.

He sighed but kept moving.

More stalls.

Alchemy students were already set up, selling basic healing potions, mana tonics, stamina drinks.

So that’s how they’d make AP.

Smart.

We turned a corner—and there it was.

A massive stone building, wider than anything around it.

A symbol carved above the entrance.

The Adventurer Guild.

People were coming in and out nonstop.

Students. Adults. Armed. Unarmed.

This wasn’t just for the academy.

I stopped in front of it.

So this was it.

Where AP came from.

I took a breath.

“Alright, let’s see how this works.”

The guild was louder than I expected.

Chaotic

Metal clinking. Voices overlapping. The smell of alcohol, paper, sweat, and something sharp I couldn’t identify. People coming in and out constantly, some armored, some clearly injured, some laughing like nothing in the world mattered.

We stopped in front of the counter.

A woman sat behind it, dark hair tied back, glasses resting low on her nose. She didn’t look surprised to see us. Just tired.

“Students,” she said, before any of us opened our mouths.

I nodded.

She sighed softly and pointed to a wooden plaque nailed beside the counter.

“Academy students are allowed to register as provisional adventurers."

Izuo leaned forward immediately.
“So… how does it work?”

She looked at him for a second, then started explaining like she’d done this a thousand times.

“AP stands for Achievement Points, it’s the only currency recognized by the guild, the academy, and the city.”

She tapped the counter once.

“You earn AP by completing guild-approved activities. Mostly missions. Sometimes special requests. Occasionally emergency commissions.”

She raised one finger.

“First rule: AP is earned per contribution, not per presence. If you join a mission and do nothing useful, you earn nothing.”

The receptionist tapped the desk lightly, making sure she had our attention.

“For any group mission, you’re required to submit a participation report at the end.”

Izuo tilted his head.

“A report?”

She nodded.

“Yes. A simple one. Who participated, what each person did, and how involved they were.”

She folded her hands together.

“The purpose isn’t to punish anyone. It’s to make sure AP is distributed fairly.”

She looked directly at us.

“Group missions often end with uneven contributions. Some people fight. Some gather materials. Some support, plan, heal, or create openings. All of that matters.”

I hadn’t thought about that.

“If AP were split evenly every time, it would encourage people to hide behind others or to join experienced adventurers for a free ride.”

Izuo clicked his tongue quietly.

“So you can’t just tag along.”

“Exactly,” she said calmly. “If someone barely participates, their share will reflect that.”

She slid a small booklet across the desk.

“The report doesn’t need to be dramatic. Be honest. Exaggeration is easy to spot, and false reports are penalized.”

Second finger.

“Second rule: failure has consequences. Depending on the mission, failing may result in reduced payment, zero AP, debt, or temporary suspension from the guild.”

That got my attention.

She continued.

“AP can be spent on anything officially connected to the guild or academy. Equipment. Food. Room fees. Training facilities. Potions. Information.”

Latris frowned slightly.

“Information?”

“Yes,” the receptionist replied calmly. “Maps. Monster data. Area warnings. All cost AP.”

She didn’t even pause.

“Students are allowed to trade AP between themselves. That includes buying and selling goods made by other students. Alchemy products are common.”

That explained the stalls outside.

“However all trades are taxed by the guild. Small percentage. Non-negotiable.”

Izuo clicked his tongue.

“Of course it is…”

She ignored him.

“Registration costs AP.”

“…How much?” I asked.

“Ten AP.”

That wasn’t a lot.

Then she kept going.

“Basic missions pay between five and thirty AP. Dangerous missions pay more. But you will not be allowed to take those yet.”

“Students always start at the lowest rank.”

No shortcuts.

“Most of the missions you’ll see posted here come from the Academy itself.”

“The Academy uses the guild to manage student activity outside the grounds. Patrols, monster suppression, resource gathering, escort work, field testing—things that double as training.”

So this was still part of school.

“However not all missions are academic.”

“A large portion comes directly from the city’s residents.”

“Merchants, craftsmen, nobles, farmers, even private households.”

“They can post requests just like the Academy. Deliveries, protection, investigation, hunting, repairs, retrievals.”

Latris leaned closer. “And students can take those too?”

“As long as the mission rank allows it,” the receptionist replied. “Students are adventurers here. The guild doesn’t separate you from professionals.”

That… sounded dangerous.

“There’s more."

“Some clients submit private commissions.”

“In those cases, the client can request specific adventurers or teams by name.”

Izuo blinked.

“By name?”

“Yes, if you build a reputation. If you complete jobs reliably. If people trust you.”

“They’ll come looking for you.”

Silence settled between us.

“That also affects AP,” she continued. “Private commissions usually pay more. Sometimes much more.”

She closed the booklet.

“But with higher pay comes higher expectations. Fail a private request, and it follows you.”