“A name written in a ledger is just ink; a soul bound to the steel is a choice forged in fire.” — Anonymous Riven pulled the crude monster hide tighter over his good shoulder, keeping his injured arm tucked close to his ribs.
The afternoon sun beat down on the cobblestone street, casting sharp shadows between the timber-framed buildings.
The sheer number of people was staggering.
Merchants shouted prices from their stalls, travelers carried heavy packs through the streets, and guards patrolled in pairs.
Riven had never seen so many people in one place.
He needed direction, not random wandering.
Spotting an older man sitting outside a cooper’s shop, Riven cautiously approached him.
The man wore a patched canvas coat and was busy stacking wooden staves.
His weathered hands moved slowly but steadily as he worked.
“Excuse me,” Riven said, keeping his voice subdued.
“How do I get to the Adventurers’ Guild?” The man looked up.
His weathered face softened slightly when he saw the small, dust-stained child standing before him, weighed down by an oversized sword.
“The Adventurers’ Guild?” he repeated.
Riven nodded.
The man pointed down a wide cross street.
“Go straight down this lane, past the smithy, then take a left at the dry-goods square.
You can’t miss it.” “Thank you.” The man glanced at Riven’s sword and then at his bandaged shoulder.
“You look a bit young to be joining up, kid.
Watch your pockets.” Riven gave a small nod before moving on.
He followed the man’s directions, navigating the maze of bustling streets and narrow alleys.
The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with the smoke from nearby smithies.
Every few steps, he passed another shop or merchant selling goods he had never seen before.
Eventually, a sturdy stone building came into view.
A broad oak double door stood at its entrance, and above it hung a heavy wooden sign bearing the emblem of crossed swords and a shield.
The Adventurers’ Guild.
Riven stopped for a moment, studying the building.
He had heard about adventurers from the old man at the camp.
They were people who took on dangerous jobs in exchange for money.
Some hunted monsters, others guarded merchants, and a few even explored dangerous ruins.
For someone without family or connections, it seemed like one of the few ways to make a living.
More importantly, it was a place where he might be able to get stronger.
Riven pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside.
The noise hit him immediately.
A low roar of conversation filled the spacious, high-ceilinged hall.
Adventurers in various states of gear sat around long wooden tables, drinking ale and discussing their latest jobs.
Some wore battered leather armor, while others carried polished weapons and wore expensive-looking equipment.
A large bounty board covered much of the far wall, plastered with notices and requests.
To the right, a long reception counter ran along the side of the room.
Riven kept his head down and made his way toward it, trying not to draw attention to himself.
It was difficult.
He was smaller than everyone in the room, and the oversized sword hanging from his waist made him look even more out of place.
A few adventurers glanced at him as he passed, but most quickly returned to their conversations.
He reached the counter and carefully set down his belongings.
Behind it sat an elven woman with sharp features and neatly braided blonde hair.
She was writing in a large ledger when she noticed him.
Her eyes moved from his ash-stained clothes to the monster hide slung over his back.
Finally, they settled on the jagged, blood-soaked bandage covering his shoulder.
“Lost, little one?” she asked.
Her tone was professional, though there was a hint of curiosity in her voice.
“No,” Riven replied quietly.
He stepped closer to the counter and placed his belongings on the wood one by one.
First came the rough monster hide, followed by the horn.
Finally, he reached into his pocket and placed the small red magic core beside them.
“I want to sell these.
And…” He hesitated, glancing at his injured shoulder.
“I need to see about a wound.” The receptionist raised an eyebrow.
She picked up the red core and examined its faint inner glow before turning her attention to the hide and horn.
“A Horned Wolf,” she murmured, making a note in her ledger.
“The hide is badly damaged, and the horn isn’t in particularly good condition, but the core is clean.” She placed the items back on the counter.
“I can give you two silver coins and fifty-five copper pieces for the lot.” Riven considered the offer for a moment.
He had no idea how much the items were actually worth, but he needed money.
He also didn’t have the time or energy to search for another buyer.
“Deal.” The receptionist nodded and reached beneath the counter.
She returned with a small handful of coins and slid them toward him.
Riven quickly gathered them and tucked them into his pocket.
The weight of the coins was reassuring.
It was the first money he’d earned since arriving in this world.
“As for your shoulder,” the receptionist continued, tapping her pen against the counter, “our in-house cleric can treat it.
However, the Guild doesn’t provide charity.
A standard healing treatment costs three silver coins.” Riven frowned.
Three silver coins.
He had barely earned that much from selling everything he’d collected.
“However,” she continued, “if you register as an official adventurer, the Guild subsidizes basic medical treatment for active members.
The registration fee is one silver coin, and your treatment would only cost another silver.” Riven quickly did the math.
Registering would cost him one silver, and the discounted treatment would cost another.
That would leave him with a little over fifty-five copper pieces.
It wasn’t much, but it was better than spending everything on treatment.
He also needed a way to earn money.
“I’ll register,” he said.
The receptionist nodded and opened her ledger to a fresh page.
“Name?” “Riven.” She wrote it down before looking up again.
“Last name?” “I don’t have one.” She didn’t react with pity.
Instead, she gave a brief nod and continued writing.
“How old are you, kid?” “Five.” Her quill stopped moving.
“Five?” Riven nodded.
The receptionist stared at him for a moment, seemingly unsure whether he was joking.
“You’re barely past toddlerhood.
Most children your age are still…” She stopped herself and looked at him more closely.
There was something unusual about the way he stood.
Despite his small frame and injured shoulder, he carried himself with a seriousness that didn’t seem natural for a child.
After a moment, she let out a slow sigh.
“Right.
Well, Guild bylaws don’t set a minimum age.
You’ll still need to pass a competency test before you can take on jobs.” She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a smooth, fist-sized crystal ball.
Setting it on the wood between them, she gestured for him to approach.
“Place your uninjured hand on the sphere.
It will read your core level, elemental affinity, and register your soul signature.” Riven hesitated.
He had no idea what a soul signature was, but he didn’t see any reason to refuse.
He reached out with his left hand and pressed his palm against the cool, glass-like surface.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a faint blue light pulsed from deep within the crystal.
Tiny runes flickered across its surface before settling into place.
At the same time, Riven felt a faint vibration against his wrist.
He looked down.
A thin metallic band had appeared around his wrist, fitting snugly against his skin.
He stared at it in confusion.
The receptionist noticed his reaction.
“That’s your integration ring.
It’s standard issue for registered adventurers.
It links your guild registration to your status and can display basic information about you.” Riven looked back at the crystal.
A translucent window flickered into existence in the corner of his vision.
Name: Riven Age: 5 Class: Level 1 Core Affinity: Shadow Skills: None He stared at the floating text.
Level 1 Core.
So that was his current level.
He had expected as much, considering how weak his body still was.
Even so, he was slightly disappointed.
His attention shifted to the word beneath it.
Shadow.
He had heard of elemental affinities before, but he hadn’t yet learned much about them.
He knew that each person could only use one element, but he had no idea what his own would be until now.
The receptionist cleared her throat, bringing him back to reality.
The crystal dimmed, and the floating window disappeared.
“You really are Five” Riven said nothing.
He wasn’t sure whether she was complimenting him or simply stating a fact.
The receptionist closed her ledger.
“Your registration is complete.” She pointed toward a side door at the end of the counter.
“Go through there and speak to the cleric.
Tell them the Guild sent you for a light heal.
It’ll cost you one silver coin.” Riven gathered his remaining belongings and coins.
“Thank you,” he said.
The receptionist gave him a brief nod before returning to her paperwork.
Riven stepped away from the counter, looking down at the metallic ring around his wrist.
He was officially registered as an adventurer.
He had money, a weapon, and a place where he could find work.
It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d had when he first escaped the camp.
For the first time since the fire, he had a chance to build something for himself.
Still, he wasn’t going to get ahead of himself.
His shoulder was bleeding, he was exhausted, and he had no idea what awaited him outside the Guild.
He headed toward the side door.
First, he needed to get his wound treated.
After that, he could worry about finding food and somewhere to sleep.
And once he was healthy enough, he would start figuring out how to become stronger.