Chapter 51: Becoming Adventurers [1]
They waited until the adventuring party ahead of them had collected their payment and stepped aside.
The receptionist — a pretty young woman with chestnut hair tied up neatly — turned to them with a professional smile that looked like she’d practiced it hundreds of times.
"Welcome to the Valebridge Adventurers Guild," she said brightly. "Are you here to take a quest, report one, or...?"
"To register," Oliver replied.
"Ah, new adventurers!" Her smile warmed. "Very well, I’ll need some basic information. Name, place of origin, and any existing identification if you have one."
Oliver introduced himself and said he was from the Valemont Empire. Isolde did the same, giving only her first name. Neither had identification to show.
"That’s fine," the receptionist said as she reached under the counter and brought out two blank wooden tags. "Since you have no guild record, you’ll be required to take a short evaluation before we can issue your tags. This is to determine your starting rank and verify you have the ability to safely take on guild jobs."
"Evaluation?" Oliver asked, shifting nervously.
"Yes," the receptionist nodded. "First we need to measure your mana capacity, then we’ll do a basic physical assessment — some combat drills, survival skills, that sort of thing. It’s not meant to be dangerous, don’t worry."
Oliver hesitated. "Okay... so how are you going to measure my mana?"
The receptionist smiled, crouched, and brought out a perfectly polished crystal orb from beneath the desk, placing it gently in front of him.
"Just put your hand on the orb and inject all the mana you can muster. It will absorb it automatically, and the intensity of the light will determine your rank."
Oliver nodded and stepped forward. "Alright, guess I’ll go first."
He placed his hand on the orb. A strange pulling sensation shot through him, like static electricity crackling through his veins. The orb’s center lit up faintly, pulsing softly as it drank in his mana. After a few seconds, the glow stabilized and dimmed.
"You can take your hand off now," the receptionist said with a reassuring smile.
Oliver pulled back and glanced at her nervously. "So... what’s my rank?"
The receptionist checked the orb, then gave him a polite smile. "E-Rank. But don’t be disappointed. There’s still the physical assessment. If you do well there, you can rise one rank. Some adventurers have no mana but rely purely on physical strength."
Oliver sighed, scratching his cheek awkwardly. "Yeah, I figured. I already knew I didn’t have much mana to begin with."
Then Isolde stepped forward, placing her hand delicately on the orb.
At once, the orb began to glow — not faintly like with Oliver, but brightly, almost blindingly. The light pulsed stronger, then stronger still, until it shone like a miniature sun on the desk. Isolde’s mana continued to flow effortlessly, replenishing as fast as the orb could drink it.
Gasps began to ripple through the nearby adventurers.
"Whoa, look at that!"
"That’s way brighter than I’ve ever seen."
"Who the hell is she?"
"Could she be... an S-rank? Right from registration?"
The receptionist froze, staring at the orb with wide eyes. Her professional mask had completely slipped.
Isolde, feeling the growing attention on her, cut off the mana flow with a small flick of her wrist. The orb instantly dimmed.
"Hey," Isolde said impatiently, snapping her fingers in front of the stunned receptionist. "I’d rather not stand here being stared at all day. Mind telling me the result?"
"Ah! Yes, sorry!" The receptionist flinched and quickly composed herself, though her voice was still slightly breathless. "Your mana capacity is... S-rank. I’ve never seen anything like this since I started working here."
Gasps echoed louder through the hall now. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"She’s an S-rank?"
"An S-rank starting adventurer?!"
"Valebridge is going to get famous for this!"
"Imagine her taking quests with us..."
Oliver rubbed his face. "Oh great, now you’ve turned into the guild celebrity."
Isolde smirked, clearly amused by his sulky tone. "What’s the matter, master? Feeling insecure?"
"Not insecure!" Oliver said a little too quickly. "Just saying, maybe you could’ve, you know, not lit up the entire guild like a festival lantern?"
"Sorry," Isolde said, not sounding sorry at all. "Can’t help being superior."
Before Oliver could retort, the receptionist hurriedly stood. "Ahem! If you’ll follow me, we can proceed to the combat and survival assessment. The training grounds are this way."
Isolde flicked her hair and gestured grandly. "Lead the way."
Oliver rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as they followed. "Yeah, S-rank ego confirmed."
"I heard that," Isolde said sweetly, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you pass, little E-rank."
Oliver groaned. "I’m never living this down, am I?"
"Not a chance," she said with a chuckle.
The receptionist led them through a side door into a large open-air training yard. The space was busy — several rookies were lined up nervously, waiting their turn. A few swung practice weapons awkwardly, trying to psych themselves up.
The training yard was buzzing with activity, but it quieted slightly as the burly instructor strode forward. His presence was commanding — a tall man with a shaved head, crisscrossing scars on his forearms, and a leather vest that showed off his muscular frame.
"So, you’re the rookies causing a stir inside?" he rumbled, giving Oliver and Isolde a once-over. His sharp eyes lingered on Isolde for half a second longer than Oliver liked, then flicked back to his clipboard. "Mana assessment’s done, so next is combat and survival aptitude. We’ll test strength, speed, endurance, and reaction time. Then you’ll spar against a training golem. You ready?"
"Yeah," Oliver said, squaring his shoulders.
"Of course," Isolde replied with calm confidence.
The instructor nodded. "Good. We’ll start with strength."
He pointed toward a heavy-looking wooden post fitted with a dangling iron weight. "That’s a standardized impact tester. Hit it as hard as you can. The weight will swing, and I’ll measure your output."
Oliver stepped forward first. He gripped the practice sword provided and exhaled, focusing. With a clean strike, he swung hard into the post. The weight swung almost to the top.
"Good form," the instructor said with a grunt. "That’s solid strength for a rookie. Next."
Isolde lazily stepped up, looking almost bored. She didn’t even bother to grip the sword — she simply raised her hand and flicked her palm forward, unleashing a controlled burst of raw force. The weight slammed upward with a loud CLANG, reaching maximum height before swinging back.
A few of the other rookies let out low whistles.
"She didn’t even hit it..."
"That’s insane."
"Alright," the instructor said, raising a brow but saying nothing further. "Speed next. See that course?"
He gestured to a simple obstacle track — hurdles, rope climbs, and a final sprint to the end.
Oliver took his position and ran. His body had been steadily honed through his recent battles; he vaulted the hurdles, scaled the rope quickly, and landed cleanly on the other side. His time was above average for a new recruit.
When Isolde’s turn came, she didn’t even look like she was trying. She glided over hurdles effortlessly, barely using her hands to climb, and seemed to cross the course in half the time it took Oliver.
The instructor scratched something on his clipboard. "Efficient," he said simply, though his lips curved in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
Finally, he led them to the sparring ring, where a training golem stood motionless. It was roughly human-shaped but made of reinforced wood and metal, with enchantments that allowed it to move like a living opponent.
"This is the final test," the instructor said. "The golem will fight back. You don’t have to destroy it, just show you can defend yourself and land a few solid hits. If you’re ready, step in."
Oliver entered the ring first. The golem whirred to life, its wooden limbs creaking as it raised its arms into a fighting stance.
Clang!
The golem swung its arm at him, and Oliver dodged, countering with a low strike at its leg joint. The impact was solid, and the golem staggered slightly.
"Nice!" the instructor barked.
Oliver gritted his teeth and pressed the attack, using footwork Isolde had drilled into him during their journey. He landed several clean hits before the golem managed to catch his blade with its wooden arm, forcing him to switch tactics and aim for its head.
With a final heavy strike, Oliver knocked the golem backward, and it froze — assessment complete.
Oliver stepped back, panting slightly but smiling.
"Not bad, rookie," the instructor said approvingly. "That’s the kind of skill we want to see."
Then it was Isolde’s turn.
She walked into the ring with the calm air of someone who already knew the outcome. The golem charged her with a heavy swing — she sidestepped lightly, caught its arm with one hand, and with a small twist of her wrist, sent the construct crashing into the ground.
Gasps echoed around the yard.
"That was... one move," someone whispered.
Isolde looked almost bored as the golem got back up. It tried again — this time she simply tapped its chest with a controlled burst of magic. The golem skidded back several feet before freezing in place, its core deactivating.
"That’s enough," the instructor said quickly, before she could break the training dummy outright. He scribbled furiously on his clipboard.