The next morning, they woke to the screech of monsters. A pack of kobolds charged through the dungeon fog, claws glinting.
Izuku didn't even blink. He scooped Sinclair by the collar and barked, "Run, kid!"
Bruce bolted for the Gate's exit, half-dragging Sinclair along. They stumbled out onto the road, breathless—but not a scratch on them.
Bruce shot a glare back into the mist. "Couldn't you have just taken care of them?"
Izuku followed at his own pace, hands buried in his pockets. "Yes. We could've. But we didn't."
Sinclair tilted her head, frowning. "Why not?"
"The moment the dungeon activates, hunters notice. They'll be here within minutes." His voice was casual, but his eyes cut sharp. "You and I are anomalies. She's a vampire. Hunters won't hesitate. They'd hunt us down on sight. Besides—" his lips curled into a smirk, "—even if we cleared them, more would spawn. Kobolds are pests. Annoying as hell."
Bruce frowned. "I don't think I've ever even seen hunters before."
Izuku shot him a flat look. "Then pray you don't. Some of them? You'd die just from making contact."
They walked until the dirt road opened into a bustling district. At its heart rose a massive mall, looming like a fortress of glass and steel.
Izuku cracked his neck. "Five minutes. Grab whatever you need. Meet me at the checkout. After that, we hit the guild."
Sinclair tugged at his sleeve. "Where can I get blood? I'm almost out."
"You'll get that at the guild," Izuku said, already walking.
Bruce wandered the aisles, picking up clothes and basic supplies. Sinclair gathered notebooks, bottles, and—strangely—ribbons. Minutes later, they regrouped and set out for the guild.
On the road, Sinclair asked, "I've never been to a guild before… what kind of place is it?"
Izuku didn't break stride. "Guilds are the backbone of this world. Since the Gates appeared, they split into two categories: Light Guilds and Dark Guilds."
Bruce raised a brow. "Light and dark?"
Izuku counted on his fingers. "The Light Guilds are the respectable ones: Hunters' Guilds, Blacksmiths' Guilds, and Temples. Most regular folk live and die working in one of these.
Hunters' Guilds locate Gates, assign teams, and regulate spoils. Hunters never keep what they find—everything goes to the guild. If they try to smuggle… they're tried under Temple law. Death, usually.
Blacksmiths' Guilds forge weapons, armor, tools—everything the world runs on. Without them, civilization collapses.
And Temples? Hospitals, orphanages, apothecaries, even religious houses. They heal, guide, and judge."
Sinclair's eyes narrowed. "And the dark ones?"
Izuku's smirk returned. "The Dark Guilds are… different. Raiders, Mercenaries, Assassins.
Raiders are illegal dungeon divers. Unlike hunters, they keep their spoils. They sell to guilds—or smugglers. But smugglers are mostly cons. Better to risk the guild.
Mercenary Guilds are the nobles' favorite toy. The Knight Order is cheaper and more reliable, but nobles hate the paperwork. So they hire mercs instead.
And assassins? They're the cleanup crew. Nobles love their dirty secrets. Someone always needs someone else erased."
They stopped in front of a small tavern tucked between a bakery and a pawn shop. Its crooked sign creaked in the wind.
Bruce blinked. "…A tavern?"
Izuku grinned. "Head office of the Dark Guilds' Association."
Inside, Bruce's expectations shattered. It wasn't grim or bloodstained—just laughter, music, and ale. Dice clattered, mugs clinked, voices roared with cheer.
At the counter stood a tall elf woman, her silver hair cascading like moonlight.
Bruce froze. "…An elf."
The woman leaned forward, amused. "Oh? Does that bother you?"
"N-No, I just—" Bruce stammered.
"Relax, kid," she chuckled. "I'm not going to bite. Genzō-san, these your grandkids? Didn't know you had children. How cute. I'd love to meet the mother someday."
Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd hate to burst your bubble, Nyx, but both their mothers are gone. If you could—please." He glanced at Sinclair's discomfort and sighed. "Anyway—I'm here to get them registered."
"Of course," Nyx said, pulling up a glowing panel of runes and symbols.
Bruce's eyes widened. "Is that… a system?"
Izuku snorted. "Nothing special. Archive stigma."
Nyx smirked. "Oh my. Do I sense jealousy from Genzō-san?"
"What nonsense," Izuku muttered, already standing. "I'll speak with the guild master. And I need to fetch blood for the girl. You two—stay here until I'm done."
Bruce and Sinclair nodded.
"Miss," Bruce asked, "how does your Archive stigma work?"
Nyx tilted her head. "You're an anomaly like Genzō-san, right?"
Bruce nodded. "Yes."
"What's your name?"
"Bruce Hanma."
The moment the words left his lips, the tavern froze. All eyes turned to him.
Meanwhile, in the back office, Genzō spoke with the Chairman.
Meiga Sōgen, an elderly man in his seventies, sat with an undeniable presence. His long white hair was tied in a topknot, irises faded to ash gray that shimmered faintly with necrotic light. Sokutai robes pooled around him like a funeral shroud, a cane resting across his lap, bone beads rattling softly as he spoke in a calm, courtly tone.
"You never take the time to dress, and end up looking like a ruffian, Genzō."
"That's no way to talk to an old friend, Sōgen."
"Why are you here? Hurry, I have incense to light."
"Minato saw me yesterday. Handed me two kids to take care of."
"Doubting yourself? You raised Minato before. It's only natural for him to trust you again. What's the big deal?"
"One's Tora's grandson. The other… his daughter."
Meiga's eyes narrowed. "Mm. A sticky situation."
"I brought them here to register."
Back in the lobby, a man approached Bruce.
"Hey—are you Tora-san's grandson?"
"Yes, I am."
The man turned to Sinclair. "And you?"
Sinclair lifted her chin. "No. My name is Sinclair Himemiya Von Carstein III."
The man blinked, dumbfounded by the mouthful. "…Did I hear you say Himemiya?"
Bruce frowned. "Wait—you're Minato's sister?"
Sinclair shook her head. "I don't have siblings."
"Then… his daughter?" Bruce pressed.
Before Sinclair could answer, the man shouted, "Unbelievable! Today must be blessed—we have Tora-san's grandson and Minato's daughter under the same roof!"
The crowd erupted with cheers.
"I, Seito Jushi, get to meet the descendants of two legends right before my eyes!" He raised his mug high. "A toast!"
The room roared with laughter and clinking glasses as Nyx muttered, "Just ignore them. Let's continue."
She tapped runes across the panel, glowing letters flowing like water.
"Bruce Hanma. Age twenty. Have you started using your stigma?"
"No. I only awakened it a few days ago. Along with the anomaly system."
Nyx's brows shot up. "So you have a constellation?"
Bruce shrugged. "Yeah. But he's stingy. The system's still stuck at the hello screen."
Nyx chuckled. "Don't worry. You'll figure it out soon enough. As for the Archive stigma—it's rare. It lets its user store information directly onto the World Tree in the elven forest. The creator of the anomaly system used Archive stigma. It's one of the oldest stigma types.
But—" she tapped the panel with a nail, "—it's written in ancient languages. Inefficient, hard to master. Only elves can use it properly. Humans had to research simplified versions. Still, in terms of speed and accuracy? Nothing compares. For information handling, it's unrivaled."
Bruce whistled. "Sounds cool."
"It is." Nyx closed the panel. "Alright, Sinclair—you're up."
"Sinclair Himemiya Von Carstein III. Sixteen. Vampire. Blood manipulation."
Nyx pressed enter, and a license printed out with a shimmer of light. She handed both of them copper-plated dog tags.
"All done."
Bruce blinked. "That's it? No tests or exams?"
Nyx smiled faintly. "Your first assignment will be your test. Until then, those are temporary licenses."
Bruce turned the tag over in his hand.
[ Bruce Hanma — 20 yrs — Temporary Dark Guild License ]