"So, when are you going to ask Carla out on a date?"
Gray leaned against the rough wooden post of the tavern porch, a broad grin splitting his scarred face as he took a heavy sip from his ale. He gave a boisterous laugh, elbowing the quiet boy sitting on the stone steps next to him.
"Come on, kid. Everyone in the Guild hall sees the way she stutters every time you walk up to the counter. You act cold and aloof, but underneath all that broody silence, you’re just a softie."
Iver, known to the Guild as Ares, did not respond to the teasing. His pale eyes drifted past the bustling tavern courtyard, staring out into the dusty twilight of Ravencrest.
’Has it really been two years since I came to this city?’
He turned the thought over in his mind. Two years ago, he had stepped through the gates of Nilheim as a frail, Tier 1 runaway. Today, his spirit core pulsed with the heavy, dense energy of a Tier 2 hunter, teetering right on the threshold of Tier 3, though he knew the final breakthrough was still out of reach without a high tier catalyst. Reaching Tier 2 had expanded his spirit pathways, opening two brand new skill slots on his spine alongside his refined Presence Erasure and a solid stone hardening defense skill.
Through relentless hunts, he had carefully filled those new slots. One was a vital low tier Self Healing rune harvested from a regenerative beast. The second was a stroke of pure, bloody luck, Fire Mastery, taken from a wild Wyvern he had slain while temporarily joining Gray’s veteran mercenary squad on a high tier subjugation run. That brutal fight had earned him a fierce reputation among the local hunters, who took to calling him ’Pyre’ whenever he took the field.
To the rest of Ravencrest, he was an anomaly: a cold, deadly youth who executed every enemy with terrifying precision, yet occasionally spent his downtime helping Sister Elena at the Nadia Orphanage.
"Hey. You listening to me, Pyre?" Gray tapped his shoulder with the bottom of his mug, chuckling. "Look up. Carla’s heading your way."
Iver looked up. Walking briskly across the cobblestone court was Carla, the fair skinned Guild receptionist. As she drew near, her face flushed a bright red color. She clutched her wooden ledger tightly against her chest, struggling to maintain eye contact with his sharp, pale gaze.
"A-Ares... hi," Carla stuttered, looking down at her boots before forcing herself to look back up. "The... the Guild Master is requesting your presence in his office immediately."
"Alright," Iver said, pushing himself up off the stone steps in one smooth motion.
"Don’t keep the boss waiting!" Gray called out behind him, laughing as he waved his cup. "Swing by the bench later, kid! We’re grabbing roasted boar at the hall!"
Iver gave a short, silent nod and followed Carla inside the Guild building. Leaving her at the front desk, he walked down the long stone corridor leading to the upper floor and knocked once on the heavy oak door.
"Enter," a deep, booming voice echoed from within. Iver pushed the door open. Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk was the Guild Master a hulking, broad shouldered man in his fifties with silver streaked hair and a thick beard. Even while sitting casually in his leather chair, the man radiated a heavy, suffocating spirit pressure that marked him as an elite veteran.
"Sit, Ares," the Guild Master gestured to the leather chair opposite his desk.
Iver pulled the chair back and sat down, his posture composed, eyes neutral. "Guild Master."
"I’ll cut straight to the chase," the old man said, leaning forward and resting his thick arms on the wood. "A high ranking noble from the border territories dropped a proposition on my desk today. He’s looking for a dedicated guard for his daughter, and he wants you for the job."
Iver frowned slightly. "A noble? Why me? There are dozens of higher tiered hunters in Ravencrest with far more experience."
The Guild Master chuckled, a low rumble shaking his chest. "Because unlike those grizzled old mercenaries down in the hall, you’re young, exceptionally strong for your age, and sharp as a razor. That happens to be precisely what this noble was searching for."
The Guild Master leaned back, his eyes narrowing with a touch of cynical amusement. "If I’m being honest, the noble originally came here looking to buy a good, strong slave, someone young enough to be bound by contract and grow alongside his daughter. But I shut that down and suggested you instead."
Iver’s eyes went cold for a fraction of a second. ’A slave for his daughter’, he thought dryly.
"Here are the terms," the Guild Master continued, tapping a sealed parchment on his desk. "His daughter is enrolling in the Radiant Academy in Solace. You’ll be guarding her for four years while she attends. The pay is five gold coins a month, an absolute fortune for a twelve year old with all your living, food, and training expenses fully covered by his house."
The old man smiled faintly. "Since you’re the exact same age as the girl, I insisted that the contract include your full enrollment into the Radiant Academy alongside her. The noble grumbled, but he agreed."
Iver sat in silence, his mind rapidly calculating the offer.
Five gold coins a month was a substantial sum, but the money was secondary. The real value lay in the Radiant Academy itself. Located at the very heart of the Radiant Empire in Solace, the Academy was the continent’s primary hub for elite spirit core cultivation, ancient combat manuals, high tier monster cores, and rare resources. Accessing those resources as an independent hunter in Nilheim would take a decade; accessing them as an Academy student would take days.
"I accept," Iver said cleanly.
The Guild Master laughed, clapping his large hands together. "Good! I knew you had a brain on your shoulders. You won’t regret it, kid. Report back here tomorrow morning at dawn to sign the official papers and meet the noble’s escort."
"Understood."
Iver stood up, bowed respectfully, and exited the office, pulling the heavy door closed behind him.
As he walked down the dimly lit stone staircase toward the main hall, a sudden, cold memory surfaced from the depths of his mind.
’If I hadn’t staged my death... if I hadn’t killed the maid and burned down the Vorne estate two years ago... House Vorne probably would have sent me to that very same academy as a servant or a disgraced branch heir.’
He paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking out at the noisy, bustling Guild hall where mercenaries roared over food and ale. A faint, mocking shadow touched the corner of his lips.
’But that Iver is dead. Only Ares remains.’
Shaking off the ghost of his past, Iver adjusted his coat and walked back out into the courtyard, heading toward the wooden benches where Gray and his crew were waiting.