Ryan POV
The notification vanishes before I can read past the first line.
[HIDDEN QUEST DETECTED]
Gone. No description. No objective. Just those three words burned into my vision for half a second before the window snapped shut on its own, like something yanked it away before I could see more.
"Ryan." Emily’s voice cuts through. "What just happened?"
"Nothing," I say, too fast.
"Your face says otherwise."
I glance at Daniel, who’s still riding the high of the appraisal shop revelations, oblivious to the flicker that just passed through my vision.
I decided, in that half-second, not to say it out loud. Not yet. Not until I understand what it means myself.
"I just remembered something," I say instead. "The guild. We should rank up if we want waypoint access to Elaria. No point standing around."
Emily studies me a moment longer than I’d like, but she lets it go.
"Fine. Guild it is."
The Adventurer’s Guild is louder at night than I expected. Torches burn along the stone walls, casting warm light across a hall full of players comparing gear, trading rumors, arguing about loot splits. It feels less like a building and more like a marketplace for ambition.
The receptionist behind the main counter is an NPC I haven’t spoken to before—young-looking, composed, her voice carrying the practiced patience of someone who answers the same questions a hundred times a day.
"Welcome back," she says, recognizing Emily immediately. "Here to check rank progress?"
"For him," Emily says, nodding at me. "He’s new. F-rank, no quest history beyond the boar clearing."
The receptionist turns to me with a professional smile.
"Would you like an overview of the ranking system, or do you already understand it?"
"Overview," I say. "Please."
She pulls up a translucent panel, angling it so I can see.
"Adventurer Rank measures your standing within the guild—separate entirely from your player level. You could be level fifty and still F-rank if you’ve never completed guild quests. Rank determines what quests you’re allowed to accept, what areas you’re cleared to enter, and what privileges come with guild membership." Read this novel at novelping(.)com for the best experience.
"Like waypoint access," I say.
"Exactly. Waypoints require C-rank or higher for unrestricted use. Below that, you’re limited to city-to-city travel on foot, or paid caravan routes, which are slower and not always safe."
Daniel leans over the counter, way too invested for someone who was complaining about grinding an hour ago.
"So how do we rank up fast?"
"There’s no ’fast,’" the receptionist says, not unkindly. "Rank is earned through verified quest completion, tracked difficulty, and guild reputation. Most new adventurers take two to three weeks to reach C-rank through normal play."
"We don’t have three weeks," Emily says under her breath.
"You said a week could work if we take it seriously," I reminded her.
"I said maybe less. That assumed we weren’t also being chased by a hidden quest and a restricted item that pulls people through plazas."
The receptionist’s professional smile flickers, just slightly, like she caught the tail end of that sentence and decided not to ask.
"Rank progression can be accelerated through higher-difficulty quests. A single C-rank quest completed successfully can be worth as much reputation as a dozen F-rank ones. Riskier, obviously."
"How risky?" I ask.
"Depends on the quest. Some require dungeon clears. Some require hunting specific elite monsters. All of them are more dangerous than what you’ve likely faced so far."
Behind us, a cluster of players near the quest board breaks into laughter—two of them arguing loudly about who gets credit for a kill on some contested world boss spawn. One of them, a tall guy in polished silver armor, notices us watching and raises his voice deliberately.
"New blood," he says, loud enough to carry. "F-rank, by the look of it. Don’t worry, everyone starts somewhere."
"Ignore him," Emily mutters. "Marcus. B-rank, thinks that means something."
"It means something," Marcus calls back, clearly still listening. "It means I don’t get laughed at for asking a receptionist how ranks work."
A couple of his friends snicker. Daniel bristles beside me, already opening his mouth, but Emily’s hand on his arm stops him before he can start something.
I don’t respond to him either way. There’s something oddly grounding about the interaction—reminder that whatever strange system-level thing just happened to me thirty seconds ago, I’m still standing in a room full of people who think rank badges and bragging rights are the biggest stakes in the world. For them, maybe they are.
The receptionist clears her throat, redirecting us back to business.
"If you’re serious about accelerated progression, I’d recommend reviewing the quest board directly. Difficulty tiers are color-coded. Green for standard, yellow for elevated risk, red for high risk—those typically require a party and prior rank verification."
"Can we look?" I ask.
"Of course."
She gestures toward the boards lining the far wall, the same ones I noticed on my first visit, covered edge to edge in parchment.
Up close, the color coding is obvious now that I know what I’m looking for—most of the board is green, a handful of yellow scattered near the top, and exactly two red-stamped quests pinned deliberately apart from the rest, like even the board itself is keeping distance from them.
Emily moves straight for the yellow tier, scanning quickly, already calculating. Daniel trails behind her, reading over her shoulder, offering opinions nobody asked for.
I hang back for a second, eyes drifting past the yellow quests toward the green ones instead—simpler stuff, low risk.
That’s when one of them catches my attention.
Not because of the color. Not because of the reward.
Because of the description.
Most green-tier postings are short. A line or two. Kill count, location, reward. This one is longer than it should be for something marked standard difficulty, like whoever wrote it couldn’t help adding detail that didn’t belong in a beginner quest.
*Clear the disturbance near the eastern tree line. Local wildlife reported behaving unnaturally. Guards have declined to investigate further.*
The reward listed is modest. Gold, minor experience. Nothing that should draw attention.
But *behaving unnaturally* isn’t language I’ve seen on any other quest today. And *guards have declined to investigate* isn’t something you write about angry pigs.
I pull the parchment down before I’ve fully decided to.
"Ryan?" Emily’s voice, from a few feet away. "What’d you find?"
I don’t answer right away. I’m still reading it, the way the shopkeeper’s warning replays in my head without my permission.
*If you notice a pattern, that pattern is the answer.*