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JL Chapter 9 New Skills
🕑 Added 2025-09-05 20:56:56 +0000 UTCThe Adventurers Guild of Varnhelm was alive with noise and energy. The scent of roasted meat, spilled ale, and sweat mixed into an atmosphere that was half tavern and marketplace. The wide hall rang with laughter, the clatter of mugs, and the occasional boast shouted from one table to another.
Adventurers filled the long benches, their armor clinking as they leaned against one another in celebration. Some compared scars, others dumped bloody trophies on the tables to impress their companions. In the back corner, a bard strummed lazily on a lute, his song drowned out by the roar of merrymaking.
At the reception desks, the guild’s staff worked tirelessly. Receptionists in neat uniforms moved with practiced efficiency—counting coins, filing reports, and answering questions for impatient adventurers shoving monster parts across the counters. And at the far left, Sera sat upright as always, quill scratching across parchment, her expression calm and professional despite the chaos around her.
Then, the heavy oak doors creaked open.
The wave of light from the street framed a single figure as he stepped inside.
Mitchell.
He stood awkwardly in the doorway, shifting his weight as all eyes turned toward him. On his back clung Lovel, a wolf-girl slave, her arms looped gently around his shoulders, her ears flicking at the sudden wave of sound and attention.
The chatter dimmed for a heartbeat. Curious gazes lingered on them—the battered rookie adventurer with a bronze sword strapped to his side and the ragged beastkin girl clinging to him. A few whispers passed between tables. Someone snorted. Another muttered, “It’s just the rookie.”
Mitchell’s throat tightened. He felt the heat of the stares burning into him, it was a new feeling as the first time he entered the guild alone they mostly ignored him. Only now, everyone looked at him, he wondered if it was because Lovel was on his back and still recovering.
He shifted uncomfortably, muttering under his breath. ‘I’m just walking into the guild with a slave on my back. Nothing to see here.’
But as quickly as the hush had come, it faded. Adventurers turned back to their drinks, their games of dice, and their loud tales of slaying goblins and orcs. The novelty passed, swallowed by the endless tide of guild noise.
Mitchell exhaled slowly. Relief trickled in, though the knot in his stomach didn’t fully unwind.
“Don’t worry,” He whispered back to Lovel, forcing a crooked smile. “They’ll forget we even walked in. Just… let’s get this over with.”
Her golden eyes flicked around the room, assessing the crowd, but she said nothing. Instead, she held on a little tighter as Mitchell adjusted his pack and made his way toward the counter—toward the reception desk..
—---------------------
The line to the reception desks crawled forward at a snail’s pace. Mitchell shuffled along with the rest of the adventurers, rocking slightly on his heels to keep Lovel balanced on his back. Her arms were steady around his shoulders, and every so often her ears twitched at the loud guffaws or clatter of mugs behind them.
‘Man, this place really needs a take-a-number system,’ Mitchell thought, watching one adventurer argue with a receptionist about the size of a beast’s tooth. ‘I swear some of these guys spend more time bragging about their kills than actually turning them in.’
Finally, when it was his turn, he found himself—by coincidence—at Sera’s counter again. She put her quill down and looked at him with those steady, professional blue eyes.
“Was this planned?” she asked flatly.
Mitchell blinked. “What? No. Total coincidence. I swear I didn't come to your counter on purpose.”
One of her pale brows arched ever so slightly. “…Hm.”
She shook her head and straightened the papers in front of her. “Very well. What happened after you went to look for party members?”
Mitchell scratched the back of his head, giving her a sheepish grin. “Ah, about that… well, turns out nobody wanted me. Big shocker, I know.”
A few adventurers behind him snickered at the blunt honesty. Mitchell ignored them.
“So,” he continued, “I decided to, uh… make my own adventuring party.”
Sera’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Make your own?”
He adjusted Lovel on his back and gestured awkwardly over his shoulder. “Yeah. Meet Lovel. She’s… my new partner.”
Lovel lifted her head just enough to meet Sera’s gaze. “Greetings,” She said softly, ears twitching.
Sera gave her a polite nod before her gaze flicked back to Mitchell, sharp as a knife. “Why are you carrying her?”
Mitchell’s grin faltered. “…Because when I bought her, she was really sick. And starving. But my Cure skill got rid of whatever illness she had. But she’s just still too weak to walk right now.”
Sera leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing her arms. “I see. And instead of allowing her to recover, like any selfish owner, you’ve been dragging her out on dangerous quests? Endangering her life for your convenience?”
Her words hit harder than Mitchell expected. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, guilt tightening in his gut. “…I mean, when you put it like that…”
“It is true,” Sera said crisply.
Before Mitchell could fumble a defense, Lovel stirred on his back, her ears standing tall. “That is not fair,” She said, her voice steadier than before. “He saved me. Without him, I would already be dead. He did not endanger me—he gave me a chance to live.”
Mitchell froze, his throat tightening. For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he shook his head with a weak smile. “It’s fine, Lovel. She’s right. I did bring you out here when you weren’t ready. Doesn’t matter what my reasons were.”
Sera’s gaze softened just a fraction, though her tone remained firm. “…As long as you understand.”
Mitchell exhaled, then leaned his elbows on the counter. “So… I was hoping you could make a provisional license for Lovel. Y’know, so we can see what her skills are. Might help us plan things better.”
Sera nodded once, already reaching for a fresh sheet of parchment. “That can be arranged. Would you like to update your own license as well?”
Mitchell blinked. “Update mine? Why? Nothing’s changed.”
“It may have,” Sera replied, sliding the papers closer. “As you continue adventuring, your skills may improve without your notice. Or you may awaken new skills under stress. It is always wise to check.”
Mitchell frowned thoughtfully. “…Seriously? I could just… level up by accident and not even know?”
Sera gave him a pointed look. “That is precisely what I am saying.”
Mitchell rubbed his chin, then nodded slowly. “Huh. Okay, yeah. That makes sense. Better safe than sorry.”
Behind him, Lovel tilted her head, her ears twitching as if she were quietly amused at how little her master understood the basics of this world.
Sera straightened the fresh parchment in front of her, the faint glow of enchantment shimmering along the edges. She glanced up at Lovel, her tone brisk but professional.
“Let’s begin. Name, race, and age—these will appear on your license.”
Lovel’s ears twitched as she adjusted slightly on Mitchell’s back. “Lovel. Beastkin, wolf. Eighteen.”
Mitchell blinked. ‘Wait—eighteen? She’s basically my age?’ He’d never even thought to ask. For some reason, he’d just assumed she was older, hardened by life. Or maybe younger, given how frail she’d been.
Sera continued, jotting neatly with her quill. “Origin?”
“Pheras Pastures,” Lovel said softly.
Mitchell furrowed his brow. ‘Where the heck is that? Pastures? Was she… raised on some farm or something?’ Another question he realized he should’ve asked earlier. He kept his mouth shut, feeling slightly guilty that Sera, of all people, was getting to know Lovel’s background before he did.
“Very well,” Sera said, finishing the form. “That will suffice.”
She set the parchment beside Mitchell with a crisp motion. “Now. Your license, please.”
Mitchell blinked, then scrambled for his backpack. “Oh—right, right.” He fumbled through until his fingers brushed the worn parchment, pulling out the sheet of parchment that had been his badge of legitimacy since that first awkward day.
Sera set both papers side by side, her fingers glowing faintly as she activated the enchantments woven into the guild’s parchment. A low hum filled the air, and the sheets shimmered like rippling water. “A drop of blood from each of you. That will finalize the records.”
Mitchell bit his lip, pricked his finger quickly with his sword’s corner, and pressed it to the paper. Lovel did the same, calm and silent.
The glow brightened, runes dancing briefly across the surface before fading. The parchment stiffened, as though locking into place, and then settled into the faint shimmer all official guild licenses carried.
Mitchell immediately snatched his up. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve—”
His eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
—-----------------
Name: Mitchell Alvarez
Race: Human (Lost)
Age: 19
Origin: Taaren’s Outpost
Registered: Varnhelm Adventurer's Guild
Title: None
Job: Adventurer
Rank: F
Skills:
Tongue – Uncommon, Passive, C
Danger Sense – Uncommon, Passive, F
Swordsmanship – Common, Active, F
Sprint – Common, Active, D
Cure – Rare, Active, C
—--------------------
Mitchell’s jaw dropped. “Hold up—Danger Sense? That wasn’t there before!” He pointed frantically at the parchment. “And Sprint went up to D? Cure is at C now?!”
Sera gave him a calm, practiced nod, as if this happened all the time. “Skills improve through repeated use. They may also mutate into new abilities. It seems you’ve advanced.”
“Advanced?” Mitchell repeated, still gawking at the paper. He touched the license as if it might vanish. “I… actually got stronger?”
“Indeed.” Sera tapped the new entry. “Danger Sense is exactly as it sounds. A passive awareness of nearby threats. F-ranked, so faint at best, but with time it may sharpen.”
Mitchell grinned, a laugh slipping out of him. “Finally! Something cool! I’m like… half Spider-Man now!”
Sera blinked, clearly not following. Lovel tilted her head, confused, but remained silent.
Mitchell cleared his throat, cheeks coloring. “Uh… never mind. Point is—it’s awesome.”
He was still riding the high of his new powers when his gaze slid to the second parchment. Lovel’s.
He leaned over—and froze.
“…Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” He rubbed his eyes, then looked again. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
—------------------------
Name: Lovel
Race: Beastkin (Wolf)
Age: 18
Origin: Pheras Pastures
Registered: Varnhelm Adventurer's Guild
Title: None
Job: Slave, Adventurer
Master: Mitchell Alvarez
Rank: F
Skills:
Enhanced Senses — Rare, Passive, C
Herbalism — Common, Passive, E
Survival — Common, Passive, B
Danger Sense — Uncommon, Passive, C
Riding — Common, Active, D
Animal Handling — Common, Active, D
Acrobatics — Uncommon, Active D
Agility — Uncommon, Active, D
Athletics — Uncommon, Active, D
Night Vision — Uncommon, Active, C
Harvesting — Common, Active, C
Archery — Common, Active, C
Swordsmanship — Common, Active D
Mitchell blinked once. Twice. Then leaned back, staring at Lovel like she’d grown a second tail. “You’ve got… what? That’s—like—that’s twelve skills! More than double mine!”
Even Sera, the unflappable professional, allowed her brows to rise in surprise. “Remarkable,” she murmured. “With this spread, she would qualify for a C-ranked party. Perhaps even higher with proper training.”
Mitchell’s jaw worked soundlessly. C-rank? Already?
He looked at Lovel, sitting calmly on his back, her expression neutral. “You’re telling me… those slavers practically sold you for the price of a used pair of shoes?”
“Twenty coppers,” Sera said quietly, shaking her head. “Whoever handled her sale was either blind, incompetent, or had reasons they did not share.”
Mitchell groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Oh, man. Either I just pulled the luckiest deal in history… or someone’s waiting around the corner to take it back.”
Lovel, sensing his turmoil, spoke softly. “Master. Remember what I said, I used to be a hunter and had learned to survive in the wilderness at a young age.”
He looked back at her, his chest tightening at the calmness in her voice. Not boastful. Not proud. Just matter-of-fact.
Sera, hearing her explanation, nodded as this made sense. “As expected of a Beastkin from the Pheras Pastures.”
“…Still,” he muttered, looking back at the parchment. “Twenty coppers for this? What the hell is wrong with this world?” He then turned to Sera. “Can you tell me what most of these skills do?”
“…Very well,” She said finally, finger tapping against the desk. “Since you clearly don’t understand what you’re looking at, I’ll explain. Listen carefully, Mitchell. Skills like these are rare to see all at once in a novice adventurer.”
Mitchell leaned in, eyes wide. “Yeah, please. I barely know what half of mine mean. This is like looking at an RPG character sheet without a guide.”
Sera ignored the comparison and began.
“Enhanced Senses” Sera glanced at Lovel’s ears. “This is why she can smell monsters and hear movement from afar. With training, it allows detection of threats long before normal adventurers notice them. At C rank, it is already reliable—stronger than any ordinary scout.”
Mitchell nodded quickly, remembering the Razor-Badger. “Right. She knew it was coming before I even heard the bushes move. Saved my life.”
Lovel’s ears twitched faintly, but she remained quiet.
“Herbalism.” Sera tapped the paper lightly. “Basic knowledge of plants. Identifying herbs, roots, and fungi. At E rank, it’s mostly recognition of various plant life.”
Mitchell scratched his head. “So she’s basically a walking survival manual.”
“Not quite,” Sera said crisply. “That would be the next skill.”
“Survival” Her tone sharpened, impressed. “This is remarkable. Survival at B rank means she can live off the land with minimal resources—tracking, foraging, even building shelter. Most adventurers never raise this skill past D.”
Mitchell blinked at Lovel. “B rank? Are you serious? So… if I dropped you in the woods with nothing, you’d outlive me a hundred times over.”
Lovel finally spoke, her tone simple. “Yes.”
Mitchell groaned, rubbing his face. “Great. Lovel really is more qualified than me to be an adventurer. Fantastic.”
“Riding is a skill in handling mounts—horses, wolves, beasts of burden. At D rank, it’s competent, though not specialized.”
“Cool, I always wanted to ride a horse.”
“Animal Handling is related, but broader. Comforting, training, or calming animals. Useful for taming, or keeping pack animals under control.”
Mitchell rubbed his chin. “So if I buy a horse one day, she can drive while I nap?”
Sera raised a brow. “If you trust her not to leave you in the dirt, yes.”
Lovel’s tail flicked faintly behind her, unreadable.
“Acrobatics is control over balance and coordination. Dodging, rolling, climbing—all aided by this. At D rank, it’s enough to impress a novice party. Agility is a skill of overall speed and nimbleness. Reaction times in combat. You can think of it as an upgraded version of your sprint. Athletics is raw physicality. Sprinting, lifting, swimming. Despite her current malnourished state, the skill suggests her body can adapt quickly once nourished.”
Mitchell whistled low. “So basically she’s built to run circles around me.”
Lovel tilted her head, studying him. “…Yes.”
Mitchell groaned. “At least you’re honest.”
“Night Vision is highly valuable,” Sera continued. “She can see clearly in darkness where most adventurers would be blind. At C rank, her vision would extend nearly as well as in daylight.”
Mitchell’s jaw dropped. “You mean… I’ve got built-in night goggles on my team?”
Lovel blinked slowly. “Goggles?”
“Never mind,” he muttered again.
“Harvesting is the ability to extract useful parts from monsters—hides, glands, organs. At C rank, there will be little waste.
Mitchell chuckled weakly. This explains how she prepared your rabbit and Razor-Badger.”
“Archery is a solid combat skill. At C rank, she could already serve as a reliable ranged fighter, provided you secure her a bow.”
Sera finally set the parchment down, folding her hands neatly. “Do you see now, Mitchell? With this skill set, Lovel is more than capable of joining a C-rank party today.”
Mitchell stared at the paper, then at Lovel, then back at the paper. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “With all these skills. I wonder how you were even turned into a slave.”
Sera tapped her quill against the desk, her voice sharper now. “Be careful, Mitchell. Others will see her value too. You may find some would rather she be theirs than yours. Protect her, or risk losing her.”
The weight of her words settled heavily on him. He glanced back at Lovel’s quiet, steady eyes, Mitchell then cleared his throat and leaned a little closer to the counter, trying to ignore the bustle of adventurers all around. “Right, thank you for explaining this to me Sera. But there’s actually another reason I’m here.”
Her eyes flicked up from the parchment, calm and unblinking. “And that is?”
“Well,” Mitchell said, shifting his weight so Lovel adjusted more comfortably on his back, “We, uh, did a little hunting outside the city. Brought back some… stuff. Thought I’d sell it.”
“‘Stuff,’” Sera repeated flatly, though her quill was already poised to write.
Mitchell grinned sheepishly and started digging through his pack. “Yeah, you know. Monster parts. Totally legit. Don’t worry—Lovel made sure they weren’t… you know, too gross when I brought them here.”
Lovel, still resting against him, murmured, “I prepared them properly.”
Mitchell pulled the items free one by one from his backpack, setting them carefully on the counter. “Okay, so we’ve got three slime cores…” He set the cloudy marbles down with a soft clink, clink, clink. “One Horned Rabbit skin and horn…” The furred hide and curved bone joined the pile. “…and last but not least, one not-so-friendly neighborhood Razor-Badger. Skin, claws, fangs, and even the meat. Pretty sure I owed this guy rent money because he was reltless in trying to kill me.”
Sera’s eyes scanned the parts, her quill tapping softly against the parchment as she made a quick calculation in her head. Her tone was brisk when she spoke.
“Six copper for the slime cores. Four copper for the Horned Rabbit. Twelve copper for the Razor-Badger.” She looked up, meeting Mitchell’s eyes. “That makes twenty-two copper in total.”
Mitchell’s mouth dropped open, then curled into a grin. “Twenty-two?! That’s… that’s more than double what I’ve been carrying since I got here!” He almost bounced on his heels, earning an exasperated flick of Lovel’s ear against his cheek.
“I’ll take it,” he said quickly, nodding as if she might change her mind. “Deal. Sold. Whatever you call it.”
Sera wrote the figures neatly, then counted out the coins and slid them across the counter. The copper pieces clinked together in a tidy stack, their metallic shine far brighter than Mitchell remembered.
He scooped them up eagerly, feeling the solid weight in his hand. ‘Finally we’re not broke anymore. Not enough to buy a mansion, but enough to eat without panicking for once.’
Lovel, quiet against his back, tilted her head just enough to glance at the coins. She said nothing, but Mitchell felt her tail give the faintest twitch. Maybe approval. Maybe relief.
“Well,” Mitchell said, pocketing the coins, “that covers tonight at the inn. Maybe even food that doesn’t taste like cardboard rabbit.”
“Salt,” Lovel murmured softly.
Mitchell snorted. “Yeah, maybe we can buy some salt. Living the high life now.”
He turned back to Sera and offered a lopsided grin. “Thanks, Sera. You’re always so… professional. Even when you’re roasting me alive.”
“I don’t roast,” Sera replied smoothly, though there was the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.
“Sure you don’t,” Mitchell muttered under his breath.
He stepped back, adjusting Lovel on his shoulders again. “Anyway… guess that’s everything. Time to find dinner and a terrible bed.”
Lovel lifted a hand weakly and gave the receptionist a small, polite wave. “Goodbye.”
Sera inclined her head in acknowledgment, her quill already returning to her paperwork. “Stay safe. Both of you.”
Mitchell pushed through the crowd and toward the guild doors, the heavy oak shutting behind him with a thud. The rowdy voices of the hall faded into the night air, leaving only the clink of his new copper coins in his pocket and the faint sound of Lovel’s steady breathing against his back.
—---------------------------------
The door creaked shut behind them, sealing out the muffled noise of the tavern floor below. The Hollow Hearth’s inn rooms were nothing fancy but after the day Mitchell had, it looked like paradise.
He counted the coins carefully at the table, the clink of copper echoing softly in the quiet room. “Nineteen left,” He muttered, sliding the coins back into his pouch. “Not exactly a fortune, but enough for rent, food, and maybe—if the goddess doesn’t mess with me—a bath that isn’t in a freezing river.”
On the bed, Lovel sat upright, her tail curled around her legs. The flickering candlelight gave her white hair a faint golden hue, and though she still looked frail, there was more life in her posture than before.
“Alright,” Mitchell said, turning to her with a lopsided grin. “Rest up. Tomorrow we’re hitting the road again for more adventuring.”
Lovel nodded slowly. “Next time… I will help.”
Mitchell raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I don’t mind carrying you around. We make a pretty good team this way.”
Her ears twitched, and she lowered her gaze, voice firm despite its softness. “I want to move by myself and I do not want to be a burden.”
Mitchell blinked, then let out a chuckle. “A burden? Lovel, you skinned the badger, prepped the meat, kept me alive with advice… Honestly, I’m starting to think I’m the burden here.”
Her golden eyes flicked toward him, searching his face, but she didn’t reply. He waved a hand dismissively. “Still, if you want to try tomorrow, we’ll give it a shot. Just… don’t push yourself too hard, alright?”
She inclined her head once, accepting his terms.
Satisfied, Mitchell started arranging his hoodie on the floor, spreading them out like a makeshift pallet. He’d done it the past nights—nothing new. But before he could lie down, Lovel’s voice cut through the quiet.
“Why?”
He looked up, confused. “Why what?”
“Why do you prepare the floor again?” She asked, her tone even but curious. “You should just sleep with me in the bed.”
Mitchell froze. Every muscle in his body went stiff. “W-Wait, what?”
She tilted her head, ears twitching. “You are the master. This is your bed. Why not?”
Mitchell’s brain screamed a hundred different excuses, but his tongue tripped over every one of them. ‘No, I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. But also—it’s a bed. A bed. My first chance to share a bed with a girl—oh god, I’m going to explode.’
Before he could stammer out an objection, Lovel shifted to the side, scooting over and leaving space for him. Her tail brushed lightly across the sheets as if marking the empty spot.
Mitchell swallowed hard. His legs moved before his brain caught up, carrying him to the bed. He sat gingerly on the edge, testing it like it might vanish. Then, with a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, he lay down beside her.
The mattress creaked under their combined weight, far softer than the floor ever could be. For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding like a drum. Okay, Mitchell. Don’t freak out. Just two people sharing a bed. Totally normal. Nothing to panic over.
Then Lovel moved.
Without hesitation, she shifted closer and wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself snug against his side. Her warmth seeped through his clothes, her breath brushing against the back of his neck in a steady rhythm.
Mitchell’s entire body lit up like a bonfire. His face burned red, his arms frozen at his sides. ‘She’s hugging me. She’s actually hugging me. What should I do? What do I—’
“Let’s go to sleep,” Lovel murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
That single word, carried on her warm breath, broke down what little resistance he had left.
Mitchell exhaled shakily, the tension in his body melting away. His eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day crashing down on him all at once.
And for the first time in this world, he drifted into sleep without a fight—held in the gentle embrace of someone who, against all odds, trusted him.
Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.
