Back at the Guild
The swordswoman—Brynn, as the guild now chorused her name—charged.
Perfect form. A textbook lunge honed by a hundred battles.
The wooden practice blade in her hands blurred, aimed not to kill, but to dominate. The air itself seemed to part for her.
Sai Ji stood perfectly still.
Time didn't slow. It clarified. He saw the shift of her shoulders, the scuff of her boot, the flare of her nostrils. Predator observing prey. Cold, precise, instinctive.
A sliver, my King, Sal Vera whispered. Just a whisper of force.
"What's the metric for a whisper?" he thought, panicked. "Pascal-seconds? Newtons? The force to open a stubborn jar?"
Think of not breaking a soap bubble.
That was worse.
Brynn's wooden sword swept toward his ribs.
Sai Ji moved.
He didn't parry. He didn't dodge. He rotated. The blade passed a millimeter from his chest. Then his own practice sword tapped hers.
CRACK-THOOOM.
The sound was wrong. Wrong in every possible way. Like oak splitting under lightning. Followed by a concussive thump.
Brynn's eyes widened.
Then she was gone.
Not knocked back. Catapulted.
Across the guild hall, horizontal and perfect. Mats exploded into stuffing. Ropes snapped. Tables overturned. Ale spilled. She wedged between two kegs, legs sticking into the air. A single drip of water plinked onto her forehead.
The hall was silent. Absolute.
Someone dropped a boiled potato. It hit the floor. Thud.
Midnight Wolf squeaked. "A… a tap? That was a TAP?! Bro, you yeeted a fully-armored A-ranker with a love tap!"
Nyx sighed like a man watching a relic swat a fly. "Master… your calibration is catastrophic."
Aeliana winced. "Intent gentle… execution tectonic."
Sai Ji stared at his wooden sword, then the devastation. "I… I aimed for a parry," he whispered.
The dwarf in the back let his tobacco pouch fall. "Lad… that wasn't a parry. That was a localized weather event."
A rogue muttered a holy sign. "Sealed demon lord. Or demigod. No level one has 'accidental sonic boom.'"
Sal Vera chuckled. "Oh, splendid! You've communicated your 'otherness' quite clearly. They'll fear you bureaucratically now."
Sai Ji screamed internally. "This isn't helpful!"
Brynn groaned upright. Soaked in ale, dented armor, sawdust in her hair. Fury gone. Replaced by dazed, reverent terror.
"You…" she breathed. "You hit me… with a wooden sword… and I felt the mountain fall on me."
Sai Ji held up his hands. "I am so, so sorry! Are you okay? A healer? A moldy apple?"
Brynn just stared. "A monster." Fact, not malice.
The guild erupted.
"GENETICALLY STURDY?!"
"Dragon in a skin-suit!"
"Cursed prince!"
"Walking dungeon boss!"
"I want his autograph!"
Midnight Wolf prostrated himself. "SENPAI! IGNORE THEM! Take me as your disciple! I can fetch potions and provide comic relief!"
Sai Ji stepped around him. "I need a time machine, not a hype-man!"
Nyx noted clinically. "He is enthusiastic. Loyalty could be cultivated."
Aeliana flicked Nyx's ear. "We are not collecting strays. We are being inconspicuous."
The guild doors boomed open.
Not kicked. Presence alone.
Guildmaster Rokan entered. Broad, scarred, eyes like winter stone. The cold of Frostfall came with him. Not as chilling as his gaze.
"Guildmaster," some whispered.
Rokan ignored them. Boots echoed as he approached Sai Ji.
"You," he said. "The walking catastrophe in the cheap cloak. Explain."
Sai Ji's throat went dry. "It… was an accident. A duel. She insisted. I tried to be gentle."
Rokan's gaze sliced to Brynn. Then back to Sai Ji. "Gentle," he said. "You're not human."
Cold panic. He saw it. He knew. "I—I am! Mostly! Human-shaped!"
Rokan leaned closer. "Not human-shaped. You're too… polished. Light hits your face like a master's painting, not flesh. And it packs a punch."
Relief hit. He was just a good disguise. "I… come from an aesthetically fortunate line? And… surprising grip strength?"
Rokan snorted. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But you broke my hall." He gestured to the devastation. "And caused a spectacle, which I hate."
He addressed the room. "Show's over! Clean it up! Brynn's party, your tab doubled. Stupidity tax."
Then back to Sai Ji. "You want to be an adventurer?"
"Yes." Sai Ji said it with all he had.
"What rank?"
"Beginner," Rokan declared.
The guild lost it.
"BEGINNER?!"
"NATURAL DISASTER WITH EYELASHES!"
Rokan cut through the chaos. "No kills. No quests. No party. You start bottom. F-rank. Fetch cats. Pick herbs. Pay for repairs out of your first ten quests."
Sai Ji breathed relief. F-rank. Anonymous. Perfect.
"Thank you," he said.
Rokan grunted. "Don't thank me. You'll hate it in a day. Registration desk. Now."
A tired elf receptionist slid a form across the counter.
"Name?"
"Sai Ji."
"Level?"
"One."
"Previous combat experience?"
"Traveling. Some self-defense."
"Party affiliation?"
"Just forming one."
"Designation?"
"Moonborn Vanguard," Aeliana said.
Stamp. Badge with a carved 'F.'
Starter kit:
Moldy apple.
Dull knife.
Coil of cheap twine.
Pamphlet: So You Didn't Die on Day One: Beginner's Guide.
Sai Ji stared. Then smiled.
Finally. The starting line.
"Okay," he breathed. "Let's go find a cat."