The Frostfall guild hall was silent—not peaceful, but the kind of silence that follows a gunshot.
The air still shimmered with the ghost of Vesperion's dissolved ice spell.
Sai Ji stood at the quest desk, clutching his potato delivery slip.
Hundreds of eyes were on him—not with jealousy or curiosity, but awe.
He hadn't done anything. He'd just existed, and magic had unmade itself.
That was scarier than any fight.
The clerk, hands trembling, slid five copper coins across the counter. "Thank you," Sai Ji whispered.
The words sounded ridiculous even to him.
The crowd didn't part for him—they gave a wide circle, like he was a fuse ready to blow.
Midnight Wolf just stared, wide-eyed.
Aeliana touched his arm gently. "We should go. The air here feels… dangerous."
Nyx flanked him silently, alert. The playful duelist was gone; the bodyguard was all focus.
They almost reached the doors when a deep, rough voice stopped them.
"Not so fast."
Guildmaster Rokan leaned against the office archway.
He wasn't showing power—he was holding it back. His eyes were sharp but calm.
"My office," he said.
Inside, the office was sturdy and plain, built to withstand disasters.
Rokan didn't sit. He leaned on the desk, studying Sai Ji.
"One percent," he said abruptly.
Sai Ji blinked. "Pardon?"
Rokan explained.
When new recruits show signs of anomalies, he tests them with one percent of his aura. Enough to make veterans sweat. To see if they hide cursed blood or forbidden power.
"After I saw you stop Frostfall's Kiss," Rokan continued, "I knew. One percent would be like blowing on a mountain."
Sai Ji's throat went dry. "I don't want trouble—"
"I believe you," Rokan interrupted.
"That's the frustrating part. You look like a lost puppy who accidentally ate a god's heart. Your intent is fine. The problem is… your existence."
He poured two glasses of clear liquid and handed one to Sai Ji. "Drink. Calm your hands."
Sai Ji sipped. Warmth spread through him.
"That spell," Rokan said, "is complex. You didn't counter it.
You didn't dispel it. It hit your personal reality and… stopped. Like gravity or time. That's not a skill. That's a property."
Sal Vera's voice added, softly, "He is more perceptive than he looks."
"I'm not kicking you out," Rokan said. "But F-rank is a farce now. You need a rank that fits."
He tossed a new badge on the desk: bronze, bigger than before, with a mountain wrapped in mist around the letter M.
"Mystic Bronze," he said.
"Provisional rank. Access to D and C-rank quests. You report to me once a week. If you feel pressure building again, leave the city. Go scream at the sky. Do not have a magical tantrum here."
Sai Ji sagged with relief. "Thank you. You have no idea…"
"I have some idea," Rokan grunted. "Now go. Your fan club is outside."
Outside, the "fan club" was silent, staring, rumors already spreading: Sai Ji had stopped Vesperion's magic with a glance, or spoken a word of unmaking.
Some said he was a sleeping war-god in a beautiful body.
From the shadows, Shade, the masked assassin, stepped forward, keeping pace with the group.
"The Guildmaster is wise," Shade said. "Mystic rank is a leash, yes. But it's acknowledgment of truth."
"What do you want?" Aeliana asked.
"To serve," Shade said. "My contract is void. My mission now: make sure the Silverfall scion survives long enough to understand what he is."
Nyx's lips twitched. "We are capable in the dark."
Shade tilted the mask. "…But you shine like him.
I am a shadow. Consider me an advance scout."
Sai Ji blinked. "Fine. But you follow my rules. No killing unless I say.
You report to Nyx. And take that mask off when you eat."
"…A dietary stipulation?"
"Humanity," Sai Ji said, moving on.
Back at the inn, Sai Ji set the Mystic Bronze badge on the table. Ordinary, yet heavy.
"A leash," he repeated.
"A lifeline," Aeliana said. "A path to be strong on your terms."
"Time to control it," Nyx said, looking out the window.
"Time for your enemies to act," Sal Vera added.
Sai Ji touched the badge. Mystic Bronze.
Not a king. Not a sovereign.
Just an adventurer with a strange past and unusual strength. Maybe a story he could live inside.
"Okay," he said, quiet but firm. "Mystic Bronze it is. Tomorrow, we do our job."
Then the window rattled. Not wind, but a deep thrum, felt in teeth more than heard. Frostpeak Mountains.
All eyes went to the window.
Sai Ji gripped the badge. He didn't sigh or complain. He only whispered:
"Of course."