Boran stepped out of the portal with dirt on his boots and a number in his head.
The transit wing returned around him all at once. Hard stone under his feet. Voices from every direction.
Boney was gone.
Boran still felt the absence beside him. A few seconds ago, the skeleton had been walking at his right with the improved bow over his shoulder. Now there was only empty space and a warning at the edge of Boran’s interface.
[Bound Skeleton Companion dismissed: Hub safe zone restriction.]
“I’ll call you again soon,” Boran muttered.
Then he started walking.
One thousand gold.
He repeated the number because it sounded larger every time he did.
Boran had entered the Gate to earn money for his family. That was the simple answer. His father needed care. His mother could not carry everything alone. Medicine, treatment, food, bills. None of those things stopped because Boran was fighting monsters in another world.
But almost every gold he had earned so far had gone back into staying alive.
Food. Beds. Armor. A pickaxe. Healing. Mission supplies. The Adaptive Shield did not need repairs, but Boran did. Sometimes very expensive repairs.
He opened his gold balance while walking.
[Current Gold: 332]
The number was better than it had been during his first week. Much better. It was enough that the old Boran but It was not enough to send home.
Not yet.
He could send some of it. Even a few hundred gold would become real money. His mother would use it. She would never say it was too little.
That made the thought worse.
If Boran sent everything now, he would have nothing left for equipment or healing. One bad mission would put him back in the same position as his first week. Maybe worse. If he died because he could not afford the thing that would have kept him alive, there would never be a second payment.
He closed the balance window.
“One thousand,” he said quietly.
When he had enough to send one thousand gold without leaving himself helpless, he would send it home.
His message panel chimed.
Boran stopped near the side of the transit corridor and opened it.
[William Bennet: Hello, Boran. Sorry for the late message.]
[William Bennet: I asked the Crimson Lion archivists about beta content and System version 8.0.0.]
He straightened slightly.
Another message followed.
[William Bennet: They found nothing useful. No registered version by that number.]
Boran frowned.
That was not much of an answer, but it was still more than silence.
[William Bennet: I also described what happened in Twilight Pit. None of them knew why a normal resource mission would change like that.]
[William Bennet: I don’t have any idea what it means yet. It may be an System error, an unusual personal interface, or something else entirely.]
Boran waited.
The final message appeared.
[William Bennet: When you have some free time, I would like to meet. Not urgently. I just think it will be easier to compare details in person. Let me know when you are available.]
Boran leaned one shoulder against the wall and typed back.
[Boran: Thank you for asking. I’m free later today or tomorrow.]
The reply did not come.
Boran watched the message window for several seconds, then closed it. William might be busy.
Still, Boran felt a little disappointed.
He had expected the archivists to know something. William had spoken about them like they were people who kept answers other adventurers had forgotten. Instead, Boran was still in the same place.
Version 8.0.0-beta.
He pushed away from the wall and continued through the Hub.
The route toward the Guild was crowded at this hour. New adventurers were easy to recognize once you knew what to look for. Their starter equipment was too clean. They stared at signs for too long. They moved in groups and tried not to look lost, which made them look more lost.
Boran had probably looked the same.
Maybe worse.
He passed a food stall, then a repair shop with three dented shields hanging over the entrance. Farther ahead, a group had gathered near the mouth of a narrow side street.
Boran would have walked past if he had not heard the name “Mur-Azar.”
He slowed.
A middle-aged man stood in front of four young adventurers. He wore a brown coat over light leather armor and carried a short sword at his hip. His beard was trimmed carefully, but gray had started to show around the chin. A thin scar crossed one eyebrow. He looked experienced enough to someone who did not know what experienced looked like.
The four listening to him were definitely new. Not first-day new, but close. One carried a spear, one had a bow, one held a Mage’s staff, and the last wore the pale robes of a beginner healer.
“Mur-Azar is not difficult if you know the pattern,” he said. “The problem is reaching it without wasting all your resources. I can tell you the safe route, every attack the boss uses, when the weak point opens, and where you need to stand.”
The young adventurer carrying a spear leaned forward. “You know all of it?”
“I’ve sold this guide to seven parties,” the man said. “All came back alive.”
“How much?” one of them asked.
“Fifty gold.”
All four reacted.
“Fifty?” the spear user asked.
“Split between four people, it is twelve and a half each,” the man said. “You’ll spend more than that replacing potions if you go in blind. Mur-Azar drops rare materials. Fifty gold is nothing compared to what you can make.”
The young Mage looked at the others. “Maybe we should.”
Boran stepped closer.
“You don’t need to pay fifty.”
The four young adventurers turned toward him.
The middle-aged man looked Boran up and down. His eyes stopped on the shield across Boran’s back.
“This is a private conversation,” he said.
Boran looked at the mission window again. “You’re going to Twilight Pit now?”
The spear user nodded. “Yeah.”
“What levels are you?”
“Three,” the Mage said. “All of us.”
Boran nodded slowly. His eyes moved across their equipment again.
“Which one of you is the Defender?” he asked.
“We don’t have one,” the spear user said. “I’ll stay in front.”
Boran looked at the spear, then at the light armor around the young man’s chest.
“That will make the boss harder.”
The middle-aged man stepped slightly between them. “If they want the guide, they can pay for it.”
Boran looked at him. “Did you fight Mur-Azar?”
“I know the dungeon more than you, boy.”
He turned back to the group. “Mur-Azar has four hundred and eighty HP. It is stone and bone, around four meters tall, and it carries a shield almost as large as a wall. It kneels on a platform in the middle of the room until the fight begins.”
The four adventurers stared at him.
The middle-aged man’s face changed.
Boran continued.
“Its chest has a core inside it. That is the real weak point. But don’t waste attacks trying to reach it at the beginning. The shield covers too much, and the stone around the chest stays closed until the fight progresses.”
The archer opened a small note panel immediately.
“What kind of attacks?” the healer asked.
“Sword,” Boran said. “Mostly. The first swings look slow. They are not. The sword is large enough that even the flat can throw you across the hall. Don’t stand close together. If the spear user is holding its attention and gets sent back, everyone behind needs room to move.”
They nodded carefully.
“Do not let the boss pin all of you against one wall,” Boran continued. “There are bones gathered around the edges of the hall. The center is cleaner, but the platform blocks movement. Decide which direction you retreat before you start.”
The spear user looked at their shared mission window, then back at Boran. “What about the way there?”
“Twilight Pit has Dark Crawlers, Bone Walkers, Bone Archers, and Gloomy Hunters. The Gloomy Hunters are the important part. Physical attacks pass through them.”
The archer stopped writing. “Completely?”
“Yes. Arrows too. You need magic or another attack that can affect them. They also make the area colder the longer they stay close.”
Everyone looked at the Mage.
The Mage looked unhappy. “I’m the only magic damage.”
“Then don’t waste your mana on the skeletons,” Boran said. “The archer and spear can handle those. Save as much as you can for the Hunters and the boss.”
The middle-aged man stepped closer. “That is enough.”
Boran looked at him.
The man looked him up and down. “And where did you learn all of this, boy?”
“I fought Mur-Azar,” Boran said. “And killed it.”
The man stared at him for a moment. Then he gave a loud, ugly laugh and pointed at Boran so the young adventurers would look too.
“Do you see this?” he said to them. “There are too many sick people like him in the Hub. They see new adventurers and send them to die with bad advice. He wants you to believe a story, walk into that dungeon unprepared, and never come back.”
Boran frowned. “What?”
“Anyone can say they killed a boss,” the man continued. “Maybe he wants your equipment after you die. Maybe he simply enjoys it. You never know with people like this.”
Boran reached under his shirt and pulled out the Pendant of the Eternal Guardian.
The gray crown fragment rested in its dark iron setting. Three broken points rose from its upper edge.
The item window opened in front of them.
[Pendant of the Eternal Guardian]
[Boss Drop: Mur-Azar, the Eternal Guardian]
Nobody spoke.
The healer’s eyes widened. The Mage looked from the pendant to Boran. Even the middle-aged man went quiet.
Boran let the pendant fall back under his shirt.
“I killed it,” he said again.
The man’s face reddened.
“Fuck you,” he said. Then he pointed at Boran one last time. “You’ll see. You’ll fucking see.”
He turned and pushed his way into the crowd.
Boran watched him leave, confused by how quickly the man had managed to make everything worse.
“Why is everyone here so obsessed with gold?” he muttered. “I need money too, but... fifty gold from beginners?”
He shook his head. He still could not understand how easily people here chose themselves over everyone else.
The healer cleared their throat behind him.
“Thank you.”
Boran turned back.
“You’re welcome. Be careful out there.”
They thanked him once more and started toward the supply stalls instead of the transit wing.
Boran watched them leave.
At least now they knew what was waiting.
He remained where he was after they disappeared into the crowd.
The middle-aged man had wanted fifty gold for a few sentences. The four adventurers had nearly paid because they had nowhere else to get those sentences. If Boran had walked down another street, they might have entered Twilight Pit with less money and the wrong information.
There had to be more people like them.
People without experienced friends. People whose classes did not fit the usual party formations. People who had been abandoned once and did not know whom to trust the second time. People who needed help but could not afford to pay every time they asked a question.
Boran knew what that felt like.
One person giving free advice in a street would not change anything. Tomorrow the same man—or someone exactly like him—would stand somewhere else and find another group.
Boran had thought about finding a permanent team. That was still important. But a team would only solve his own problem.
The idea that followed was not entirely new.
In Twilight Pit, after William had given him the old dagger, Boran had imagined a place where someone like him would not have to prove their worth before being allowed to stand beside others. William had even told him that if the normal doors did not open, Boran might one day build something of his own.
At the time, it had been nothing more than a thought formed in a dark tunnel.
Now four inexperienced adventurers were walking toward Mur-Azar after nearly paying fifty gold for basic information. The thought no longer felt distant.
“A guild,” Boran said.
This time, the word felt like a possibility he could no longer ignore.
A guild for new adventurers. For people who could not find teammates. For people looking for somewhere they could trust.
Not a charity. Members would still have to work, learn, and help each other. But nobody would be left in a dungeon because they were inconvenient. Nobody would have to buy basic survival information from a man in an alley.
“Maybe I could make one,” Boran said quietly.
His message panel chimed.
[William Bennet: I’m free now. If you still are, we can meet at the Endless Tavern.]
[Boran: I’m free. Send me your location.]
The marker led him away from the main hall and toward a row of wooden partitions. William sat alone in a booth near the wall. His black cloak was folded beside him rather than hanging from his shoulders. Without it, he looked less like a high-level adventurer and more like a tired person who had spent too long reading.
A dark drink sat untouched before him.
William looked up as Boran approached. “You came quickly.”
“I was nearby.”
Boran sat across from him. A menu appeared at the edge of the table, but he dismissed it. He did not want to spend more gold when he had already set himself a target that morning.
William rested one hand beside his glass. “I’m sorry the archivists found so little.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Boran said. “At least you asked.”
“I expected them to have something. The absence of a record may also be important, but until we know more, I don’t want to make guesses and worry you unnecessarily.”
Boran nodded. “The Adventurer’s Guild crystal couldn’t read me either. If the two things are connected, maybe we’ll find another clue later.”
“That is possible. For now, keep a record of any unusual messages your System gives you. Exact wording, time, and what you were doing when they appeared.”
“I will.”
For several seconds, neither spoke. Boran could hear the conversations from the other booths and the sound of cups being set down on wooden tables.
There was something else he wanted to discuss now. The encounter with the four adventurers had turned an old thought into something he could no longer ignore.
“I kept thinking about what you told me in Twilight Pit,” Boran said. “About building something of my own if the normal doors didn’t open.”
William’s attention sharpened. “The place you imagined for people who had been left behind.”
“Yes.” Boran paused. “I’ve been thinking about whether I could establish it. A guild.”
William did not look surprised. He sat quietly for a moment, taking the decision seriously.
“A guild for new adventurers, people who cannot find teammates, and people rejected because of their class or level. Somewhere they can get reliable information, train, and form parties without wondering whether everyone around them is trying to profit from their inexperience.”
“What would you expect from the members?”
“They would still work and contribute,” Boran said. “It would not be a place where people receive everything for nothing. They would pay reasonable dues when they could, follow the rules, and help newer members after gaining experience. I want support to move forward instead of stopping with one person.”
William considered that. “The purpose is clear. It also follows what we discussed before: someone spends strength on you when you have none, and you pass it forward when you can.”
Boran thought of the worn dagger William had carried for years. “Yes. Something like that.”
Boran felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.
“But wanting to meet that need and managing a guild are different matters,” William continued. “Before you take another step, you need to understand what leadership would require from you.”
Boran leaned back slightly. “What would I be responsible for?”
“A guild is not simply a larger party,” William said. “A party can separate after one bad mission. A guild leaves behind records, debts, shared property, promises, and people who depend on its decisions. If two members fight over loot, someone must hear both sides and decide what happens. If a member borrows equipment and disappears, the guild must answer to whoever provided it. If a beginner dies during a mission approved by the uild, their family and friends will want to know why that mission was considered suitable.”
“I would never knowingly send someone into a mission they couldn’t survive.”
“I believe you,” William said. “But mistakes still happen. Information can be incomplete. People hide injuries, exaggerate their ability, or ignore instructions. As the leader, you would still be expected to take responsibility.”
Boran looked down at the table. “Then I would need people who could help me evaluate the members and the missions.”
“You’ll need a few people you can count on. Someone to help run things day to day, someone to keep track of the guild’s money and payments, clear rules for shared gear, and a couple of experienced members to train beginners and tell when someone is ready. You’ll also need a simple way to bring new members in—and to remove people who cause trouble or put others at risk.”
“I don’t know how to do all of that yet.”
“No new guild leader knows everything,” William said. “It can be learned. What matters is whether you understand that you cannot manage it alone.”
“I understand.”
William nodded. “That answer gives me confidence. You ask for information when you need it, and you are willing to change your approach. You also notice people others ignore. Those are valuable qualities in a leader.”
Boran was quiet for a moment. “You really think I could lead one?”
“I do,” William said. “You lack experience, but experience can be gained. I would not be discussing this seriously if I believed you were incapable of it.”
Boran accepted the answer with a slow nod.
“Your purpose has value,” William continued. “But the System requires two items before anyone can establish a guild: a Guild Formation Certificate and a Guildmaster’s Quill.”
“A pen?” Boran asked.
“A special one,” William said. “The founder must write the guild’s name on the certificate and sign it with that quill. Once the System accepts the signature, both the certificate and the quill disappear. The creation panel then opens for the person who signed it, recognizing them as the guild’s founder.”
“How much do they cost?”
“Their official value is five thousand gold each,” William said. “Under normal conditions, the pair should cost ten thousand.”
“Should?”
“Almost none remain on the market. It is believed that only one person still controls the source they come from, and that person does not sell them openly. When a certificate or quill appears for sale, the price can reach a million gold.”
Boran stared at him. “For one item?”
“Yes,” William said. “And most of the people who own them have no intention of establishing a guild. Using the quill and certificate destroys both items. They keep them because they expect the supply to become even smaller and the price to rise. To them, these are investments, not tools.”
“So they would rather hold them and sell later.”
“Usually. That is one of the reasons so few new guilds are established now.”
Boran frowned.
“The cost does not end once the guild is established,” William continued. “Keeping it alive requires a steady flow of gold and materials.”
Boran’s eyes remained on the table. Their official value was only ten thousand gold together, but buying both on the open market could cost two million—or more. For now, there was nothing he could do about it.
“There is another possibility,” William said. “Crimson Lion wants a separate guild to operate under its protection.”
Boran looked up. “Why?”
“Crimson Lion needs large amounts of common materials,” William said. “Herbs, ore, monster parts, cores, hides, and other components. They currently leave much of that work to people outside the guild. The founders would rather place it in the hands of a group they know and trust.”
“The protected guild would collect those materials.”
“At first, yes. It would also handle other low-level work Crimson Lion needed. As its members grew, the responsibilities could grow with them. Crimson Lion would gain people it could rely on, and it would be able to watch for adventurers with the potential to join the main guild later.”
Boran’s expression tightened. “That sounds like a puppet guild.”
“It could become one if the terms were careless,” William said. “That is why the charter would matter. The guild would have its own name, leadership, rules, treasury, and members. You would decide whom to recruit, how to train them, and which members were suitable for each task. Crimson Lion would make requests to the guild, not give orders directly to individuals.”
“Could the guild refuse?”
“Not a valid directive covered by the charter. But the charter would limit what Crimson Lion could demand according to the guild’s size and ability. Anything beyond those limits would require a separate agreement.”
“And Crimson Lion would pay for the materials?”
“No,” William said. “The Guild Formation Certificate and Guildmaster’s Quill are worth close to two million gold on the current market. Crimson Lion would provide both, place the guild under its protection, and offer access to selected knowledge, instructors, and help when necessary. Materials and assignments would be what it received in return.”
“So the relationship would continue after the value of the items had been repaid.”
“Yes. It would not be a temporary debt. It would be an ongoing connection between the guilds. Crimson Lion could ask for materials or support. Your guild could ask Crimson Lion for information, training, political protection, or assistance with a problem beyond its strength.”
Boran was quiet for a moment. “That still gives Crimson Lion more power.”
“It does,” William said. “I am not offering you independence. I am telling you that this option exists if you decide the protection and resources are worth the limits.”
“What happens to members Crimson Lion wants?”
“They may receive an offer to join the main guild. You could not prevent Crimson Lion from approaching them, but nobody would be forced to leave. The choice would remain with the member.”
Boran looked down at the table. Crimson Lion would gain materials, support, and a place to find promising adventurers. In return, a new guild would begin with protection and resources almost no independent founder could obtain.
It was not an equal relationship, and it was not one he was ready to accept.
But it was an option.
“Why would you even mention me to the founders?” Boran asked. “I’m still low level, and nobody can read my System.”
“Because you understand the people this guild would need to reach,” William said. “You also learn quickly and take responsibility seriously. That is enough for me to ask whether the founders would consider you. It is not enough for them to approve you immediately.”
William advised him to gain a few more levels and take missions with different people. Boran needed more experience with party decisions, disagreements, and responsibility before deciding whether he wanted to lead anyone.
“I’m not promising to establish a guild,” Boran said.
“I know,” William replied. “I am not asking you to decide tonight. I will speak to the founders and learn whether they are open to the idea and what conditions they would require. I will not present your interest as an acceptance.”
“And if they are interested?”
“Then I will tell you. You can decide whether you even want to meet them.”
Boran nodded. That was all he wanted for now: to know whether the path existed and what it would cost him if he ever chose it.
William stood and placed the cloak over his shoulders.
“Gain some experience,” he said. “Think about what you want. I will speak to Crimson Lion.”
“All right.”
William left the booth and disappeared into the crowd.
Boran remained at the table for a while longer.
He had not decided to establish a guild. He did not know whether he wanted Crimson Lion’s protection or the obligations that came with it.
But now he knew the option existed.
Or he needed two million gold.