The Adventurer's Guild hall was the loudest place I'd set foot in since waking up in this world.
It looked less like a guild and more like a repurposed cathedral that had been mugged by a merchant caravan on its way to a war camp. The outer walls were stone, but someone had slapped on a dozen wooden expansions that stuck out like tumor growths. Chimneys choked out smoke from three different kitchens. And someone had carved a statue of a sword-wielding kitten into the doorframe.
Inside, it was chaos.
Voices crashed together in a wall of noise. Orders were shouted across the bar, laughter rang from a table in the corner, and something expensive broke upstairs with a very final-sounding crack. The air smelled like beer, sweat, old parchment, and roasting meat.
A long counter ran the left side of the room, manned by a pair of clerks who looked like they hadn't blinked in a decade. Past them was a quest board big enough to serve as structural support for the entire building, layered in parchment and wax seals. People crowded around it like pigeons on a bread pile.
To the right, I spotted a sparring ring enclosed by netting and... rope? Chains? Whatever it was, it wasn't ceremonial. People were actually fighting in there. Laughing, bleeding, betting.
Well, at least it wasn't one of those cliché "everyone turns and stares at the masked newbie" moments. Which made sense, considering half the people here were wearing masks of their own. Apparently some famous adventurer started the trend, and now everyone wanted to look mysterious and unapproachable. Worked out for me.
The mask I wore wasn't much of one, nothing more than a curved strip of lacquered wood, stained dark and shaped to cover the eyes and upper cheekbones. No mouthpiece, no dramatic horns or gold leaf. Just two clean-cut eyeholes and a faint shimmer along the grain where the enchantment was worked in. It wasn't meant to hide my identity so much as blur it. The moment I slipped it on, I felt the magic settle across my face like warm mist, and when I'd checked my reflection, my golden eyes had turned a perfectly ordinary brown.
The rest of my outfit had been chosen to blend in. Fine, but plain, with clean stitching, deep colors, and nothing flashy. A traveler who could afford to stay dry, but not the kind anyone would ask about. I wore a dark cloak with a reinforced collar, and strapped to my hip was a borrowed sword. It hadn't seen much use, but the scabbard was worn just enough to look like it had. Hopefully no one would ask me to prove it.
Everything I needed to vanish from court and reappear as someone no one would look at twice.
She was the one who made all of this possible. The clothes, the mask, the forged credentials—everything I needed to leave the palace unnoticed. Along with a potion to keep Ella stable for another day, she'd handed me the tools to vanish from court and reappear as someone entirely forgettable. It was becoming clear that her desire to challenge our siblings ran deeper than I'd realized.
This was my end of the bargain. A trial run. Proof that I could pay back the favor she hadn't called in yet. She made sure I understood the risk, though she clearly played it up.
I pushed through the crowd, aiming for what passed as the VIP section. My mask wasn't the only disguise, I had a token, too. A thin, bone-white badge stamped with the guild's seal. An identity badge with the authority to make an emergency commission. My undercover identity was known as "Thalian," a wealthy commoner. I didn't find the same humor in the name that Mirelle did, but I also had no choice.
The guards posted at the entry gave the token a glance and stepped aside. No questions. No formalities. Just a faint shimmer in the air as I crossed the threshold, followed by a subtle pressure in my ears. It was like descending into water. Whatever magic they used to divide this space from the rest of the hall was working. The voices outside faded to a muffled hum, the background noise slipping just beyond reach.
Booths lined the perimeter, each one ringed in soft light and illusion-shaded for privacy. In place of spilled drinks and shouted wagers, the VIP section was marked by quiet conversation, polished floors, and attendants who moved like they'd been trained in a noble court.
One of them approached.
She looked to be around my age, though the way she held herself suggested experience well beyond it. Her dark hair was braided tight along one side and draped behind her shoulder, and her uniform, deep blue with silver trim, was crisp without being ostentatious. A faint magical emblem shimmered at her collar, pulsing in rhythm with her footsteps.
"Welcome, sir," she said, voice light but carefully measured. "If you'll follow me, I can assist you from a more private booth."
"I'd prefer to conduct business immediately."
She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Of course. Right this way."
She led me to a corner booth near the far wall. It was raised slightly above the others, with cushioned benches and a small central table set with fresh parchment and a sealed ink vial. I took my seat without waiting for invitation.
She remained standing, posture composed, hands clasped neatly in front of her.
"What request are you here to place, Sir Thalian?"
"I need an escort through the Gloamreach. A full team. Today."
Her expression didn't shift, but I caught the pause in her breathing.
"The Gloamreach is designated as a five-star threat zone. Gathering a team capable of surviving, let alone navigating it, would be… ambitious on short notice. May I enquire as to why you are heading there?"
"I'm paying for the expedited rate," I said, voice steady. "And for secrecy."
A beat passed.
"In that case..." she recovered smoothly. "We may have options. I'll speak with the guild manager immediately."
She offered a respectful bow and turned to leave, her steps soundless on the polished wood. I sat back against the cushion, letting the silence settle around me.
I wasn't happy about this, throwing myself into another deadly situation with only a day of training and barely recovered. Mirelle had assured me that my unique abilities would make her request a breeze, but this place required experts.
A few minutes passed.
Then she returned.
Her stride was still graceful, still practiced, but something in the rhythm had changed. A slight tightness at the corners of her mouth. A pause as she reached the booth, just long enough to be noticed.
"There is one team," she began quietly. "Only one. If you would be willing to wait, just until tomorrow..."
"Not waiting." I didn't let her finish. "It's today. What issue is there with the available party?"
"Well... they're known as characters. I'm told they're effective, but..."
"But?"
"They have been described by prior customers as... colorful."
"Will it jeopardize the mission?"
"No, they have an appropriately high completion rate."
"Then it doesn't matter. Charge the fee to my account and have them ready as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir."
She leaned in to whisper something to a nearby attendant, then gestured for me to follow. We moved through a side door and descended into the undercroft of the cathedral, where enchantments hummed low against the stone. The teleportation circle waited at the center, etched in silver and rune-lit, the air above it warped with latent magic.
Mirelle had given me a teleportation scroll as well, though its casting was limited. One passenger. One trip. It would serve to extract the target once recovered, since I wouldn't be able to make it back in time.
The team arrived faster than I expected.
They were loud.
"Hey there," barked a woman as she strode in, muscled arms crossed over a massive curved blade strapped to her back. "Name's Rev. Captain of the Bramble Banner adventurin' party. This stick of wood is Lysander—he's our mage." She jerked a thumb toward a tall, narrow man with long brown hair and the permanent squint of someone unimpressed with the world. He didn't acknowledge her introduction in the slightest.
"And that brooding bastard over there is Kyr, scout and habitual killjoy." Her hand waved lazily toward a man in his forties, all black hair and sleepless eyes. He gave a slight nod at the introduction.
"Pleased to meet ya."
"A pleasure," I replied, voice flat. "You've been briefed?"
"Sure have," Rev said, cracking her neck. "Your skinny ass wants to wander into the Gloams for reasons we ain't allowed to know."
She grinned, like this was just another casual afternoon stroll.
"I suppose that means you're ready," I muttered. "Then let's make haste."
We crowded onto the teleportation circle. The air around us shimmered, and a thick, numbing haze fell over my thoughts. My stomach twisted once, just enough to be unpleasant, then the world snapped back into focus.
We were standing in a tent.
A guild aide gestured us off the platform with all the energy of someone who'd seen this process too many times already. I followed the others outside, blinking as the light adjusted.
The forward base was... exactly what I expected.
A scatter of tents and rough-hewn shelters stood in a loose ring, the kind of settlement built to be abandoned in a hurry. I'd been told the camp was mobile, shifting location as demon activity demanded. Only the half-finished wooden structures looked like they were meant to last more than a few days.
I reached into my coat and retrieved the compass Mirelle had given me. The needle swirled in aimless circles, refusing to settle.
"Looks like yer compass is busted," Rev said, peering over my shoulder.
"It's clearly magical, you idiot. It just hasn't locked on yet," Lysander snapped before I could respond. "It will settle once we're deeper in the forest."
He's right. Seems these things were somewhat common.
"Hey, don't look at me," Rev snorted. "We can't afford toys like that. Ain't exactly rolling in blue blood coin, are we?"
"Enough," I cut in before the exchange could spiral. "Lysander's right. Let's keep moving."
I could already see why the guild had worried about them.
Rev gave a lazy shrug and motioned for Kyr to take point. She fell in behind Lysander and me without complaint, boots crunching lightly over the worn path.
We stepped beneath the canopy of the Gloamreach, and the light changed.
It wasn't just dimmer. It was wrong.
The sun still existed somewhere overhead, but none of it made it through. The trees here were thick-limbed and bent inward like they were trying to stitch the sky shut. Moss clung to every surface, slick and dark, and the air pressed in close, heavy with moisture that tasted like rot and metal.
Fog clung low to our boots, thicker than any morning mist. This wasn't soft or gentle. It crept forward like it had teeth, yellow-grey and curling around roots and stones.
I knew the moment it touched my skin.
There was something else in the fog. A taste in the back of the throat. A weight behind the eyes.
Miasma.
It was one of the most important things I'd read about since arriving here. Mirelle had warned me that the Gloamreach was steeped in it, and the book she'd left behind filled in the rest.
Poison to anything not considered demonic. In low doses, it left you weak and feverish. In higher concentrations, it killed. Slowly. Painfully.
"This place is as creepy as ever," Rev muttered, scanning the fog ahead.
"It's not that bad," Lysander replied automatically. "Miasma feels thinner than usual."
Of course he had to disagree with her. He hadn't even paused to test it.
"Don't you have a spell to keep it off us?" I asked. One of the books mentioned that army battalions had mages assigned to create a barrier that would dispel it.
Lysander blinked at me like I'd asked him to lift a mountain.
"Were you sent here to die?" he scoffed. "One mage holding back miasma for a full party while also fighting? Maybe if you had a seven-star mage on hand. Maybe."
His tone grew sharper. "Burning off miasma drains mana constantly. The more people you're protecting, the worse it gets. I'd pass out in minutes. It's more efficient to just bear the side effects and keep moving."
"I… didn't know that."
The damn book just mentioned it like everyone always kept up the barrier.
"Maybe we should turn back," Lysander muttered. "If he's that ignorant, he's not here for anything good."
"Now, now," Rev said, not bothering to look back. "It's not our business why some noble brat wants to get himself killed. We guide him in, guide him out. That's the job."
"Your captain has the right of it, mage," I replied, letting a thread of haughty disdain slip into my voice.
Lysander grunted. "And who deals with it if the brat dies?"
Rev only laughed. "Relax. There'll be an investigation, sure, but the guild has our backs. As long as nothing shady happens, we're clear. It's not like we're escorting a prince or anything."
I scratched the back of my neck, doing my best not to react. The compass was still spinning, though slower now. Maybe that meant something.
"Halt." Kyr spoke for the first time. His voice was low and firm, not loud, but it cut through everything. He pointed forward and slightly right.
Rev immediately drew her massive slab of iron, and Lysander tugged at the necklace around his collar, summoning a staff with a flicker of magic.
I had no such tricks. My only real weapon was my birthright. The sword at my side barely counted as a formality. I'd have to be careful. I could pass my abilities off as some obscure magic, maybe. But a mage watching closely would see the truth.
Still, better to be exposed than dead.
I pushed my focus inward, toward the point in my forehead where the birthright lived. That pressure settled into place like a third eye opening.
Silence stretched around us. Only the leaves moved, shifting gently in the fog.
Then I saw it.
Not with my eyes. With something else. A sense that didn't have a name, as if the air ahead had weight, shape, and intention. Something was coming.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Rev moved first.
She stepped in front of me and brought her sword down in a single clean arc. A creature burst from the fog and was split in half before it hit the ground. The top half sailed past my shoulder and hit the dirt with a wet crunch.
It looked, for a brief moment, like a grotesque version of a chimpanzee. Thicker, feral, claws sharp and yellow. Its face was all mouth and madness.
"Clear," Kyr said, lowering his stance.
That was it?
I looked around, confused.
"Mawich're pack animals," Rev said, already pulling a blue stone from her pouch. She brushed it against the blade, and a faint glow rippled down the steel as it cleaned itself. "But they send the sick or weak ones in first, just to see what they're dealing with. That one didn't come back. Probably figured we weren't worth the risk."
She turned toward Lysander.
"Still, did you catch that? The kid spotted it before either of us. Might be new, but he's got something in there."
"Not enough to alert us without alerting the damn thing," Lysander muttered. He let his staff fade back into its compact form and hung it from his necklace. "And not enough to know we need to stop here."
"Why?" I asked. "That thing barely slowed us down, and I can't afford to lose time."
"If you keep walking, the compass won't lock on," he said, cutting me off. "You need to be still. Completely still. I can't believe whoever gave it to you didn't explain that."
I sighed deeply. Of course she didn't.
She probably assumed I just knew.