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PJ B2, Chapter 66.
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 02:25:53 +0000 UTCThe city called the Adventurer’s Guild was larger than I had imagined. It was a large city built around the guild, for the guild, and because of the guild.
From the moment we stepped past the guildhouse, it was clear this place wasn’t built like an ordinary city. Streets were wide, laid out in long lines meant to carry not just people but the flow of work that kept the dungeons running.
Multiple banners hung from stone towers, their crests marking every district.
The city had over thirty dungeons within reach. Some were shallow and easy, cleared often by trainees. Others were difficult and deep, descending into places so old the guild had posted permanent guards at their gates.
Each one was catalogued, mapped, and regulated by the guild itself. That was why the city bore its name. Adventurers came here, lived here, and worked here under the same roof of law.
A staff member in guild colors met us outside and walked ahead, guiding our group and several others down one of the main roads. He carried a small brass staff capped with a rune-stone, creating light. It made it easy to for everyone to follow through the bustle.
“The Adventurer’s Guild provides accommodations for all entrants,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It is optional. Some of you may choose to rent your own; but rooms, meals, and grounds have already been arranged for those who accept. Follow me, and you will be assigned your quarters.”
Mark glanced at Sarah, but she gave a small nod. Holt only shrugged, while Dain’s expression didn’t change at all. Sali said nothing, her eyes still lowered.
I was being carried by Sali as I watched the city unfold.
The roads were divided into wide lanes where small trains ran on rails. They weren’t as fast as the one we had ridden into the city, but they circled through the districts in loops, stopping at stations where crowds waited with tickets in hand.
They reminded me of the buses in my past life, always moving and carrying people where they needed to go. Steam hissed whenever one made it to a stop, followed by the ring of a bell before its doors opened.
Shops and stalls lined the side streets. Artifacts lay displayed in plain sight: swords with faint light running along their edges, rings and bracelets carved with simple runes, and charms that buzzed softly with unstable mana.
Most were low-grade, easy to buy and easier to break, but they sold quickly to tourists and passing adventurers who wanted to buy a gift or a charm.
Clerics had stalls of their own, selling trinkets blessed with prayers. Pendants, rosaries, and even small bottles of water stamped with holy seals.
And then there was food.
Smoke from roasting skewers mixed with the sharper scent of fried bread. Stew boiled in iron pots at street corners, served into bowls for a few coins. Beer and ale poured freely from casks, mugs clattering against tables where adventurers already sat laughing and drinking.
Everywhere I turned, the city was filled with adventurers. Some groups strode together, loud with jokes and boasts. Others walked alone, their expressions cold.
Our guide never slowed. He led us through two main intersections, past another station, and into a district marked by taller stone buildings. A high wall surrounded the grounds, gates opened wide.
“This is the entrants’ quarter,” the staff member announced. “You may stay here at no cost for the duration of the tournament. Meals are scheduled and beds are provided. If you choose to lodge elsewhere, inform the attendant at the gate. Otherwise, enter and you will be assigned.”
He gestured us forward before turning back to guide the next group.
Sarah and the rest looked over the entrance once, then stepped through without hesitation. Sali lingered for a moment before moving, her hand brushing against my back.
Inside the walls, the entrants’ quarters spread out across a wide square. Several stone halls faced one another, each marked with a wooden placard showing their assigned letter. The grounds between them were open, with wide paths paved in brick, a training yard to one side, and rows of benches beneath lantern poles.
Guild staff waited at the gates to direct people. Each entrant received a wooden slip with their room number and a small stamped token that allowed them to enter and leave the compound freely.
“This way,” the attendant said, handing our group our slips. We were given Hall Three, second floor. Meals were listed as scheduled: morning, midday, and evening, and lights-out marked by the ringing of the compound bell.
The rules were strict but not suffocating. No fighting within the grounds. No weapons were allowed to be drawn unless in training areas. Visitors were allowed during daylight, but only those cleared by the guild.
We walked across the yard with the rest of the new arrivals. Some groups spoke excitedly about the train ordeal, comparing notes on how they had reacted. Others kept silent, clutching their tags as though they were afraid to let them go again.
Hall Three was plain but functional. The stairs led to a corridor lined with wooden doors, each marked with a number. Inside each of our assigned rooms was a bed, already made, with a table and a washbasin against the far wall.
A small chest sat at the foot of each bed for personal belongings.
Everyone went into their rooms to freshen up.
Sali set me down gently on the bed, then sat beside me, her bow case resting across her knees.
The guild bell rang outside, announcing evening. A staff-member passed down the hall, calling that the dining hall was open. Most entrants filed out at once, the noise of boots echoing on the stairs.
When we went outside, four people were waiting for us.
Sarah looked back at us. “We’ll head out after the meal. There’re plenty of taverns worth a visit, and the city doesn’t sleep during tournament season.”
Mark raised a brow. “We’re celebrating already?”
“Of course,” Holt said. “No harm in a drink.”
Dain stood as well, nodding once.
Sarah glanced at Sali. “You’ll come?”
Sali shook her head. “No. I’ll stay.” Her voice was quiet.
Sarah studied her for a moment but didn’t press further. She simply nodded and joined the others, the three of them filing out together. Their voices faded down the hall until only silence remained.
Sali sat very still, her fingers curled over the strap of her bow case. “I did nothing in the train,” she whispered. “Nothing worth remembering.”
I tilted my head.
Her eyes stayed downcast. “They carried the fight. They protected people. I only clung to my bow and waited. If you hadn’t… if you hadn’t saved me, I would have failed.”
She unclipped her collar, setting her tag onto the table with care. “I’m starting over. I’ll focus on breathing, on Qi. If I can’t even do that, I’ll always be useless.”
I nudged her wrist with my nose, then hopped onto her lap. She smiled faintly, stroking my head, but her eyes still carried that heavy look.
The room grew quiet. Outside, laughter and music carried faintly from the streets beyond the walls.
Then I caught it.
A scent, faint but sharp enough to cut through the food smells drifting from the dining hall. It came from the open window, carried in by the evening air.
It was a very familiar scent.
****
The dark alley was secluded. Most of the Adventurer’s Guild was alive with taverns, stalls, and laughter, but here in the back alleys, there was only silence, broken by the sound of uneven footsteps.
A man stumbled forward, clutching at the wall for balance. His breath came hard, ragged with panic. He looked over his shoulder, eyes wide.
His legs gave out. He fell to his knees with a grunt, his palms scraping against the cobbles.
“No,” he gasped. “No…! What’s happening…?!”
He tried to stand, but his legs did not answer him. He slapped at his thighs, his calves, desperate, only to find numb flesh that no longer worked.
“I can’t feel them,” he screamed, voice cracking. “I can’t feel my legs!”
The rattle of metal echoed behind him.
Creak… Creak…
Wheelchair wheels sounded across the uneven stones.
The man turned on the ground, dragging himself backwards with his arms, panic breaking into tears.
“Let me go!” he begged. “I don’t even know what I did! I didn’t do anything to offend Sunmire—I swear it! Just let me go!”
The moonlight spilled across the corner of the alley. A wheelchair rolled forward, its polished arms gleaming pale beneath the silver glow. Seated within it was a young woman, her long silver hair drifting with the night breeze, her pale lips curved in a soft smile.
Her hands rested neatly on her lap, but her head tilted slightly as she faced the alley at the trembling man. The moonlight shone on her wrapped eyes.
Behind her, pushing the chair with care, was another woman. She looked older now, past her youth, the quiet confidence of her late twenties resting in her features. She moved with the calm of someone who already knew how the night would end.
The man’s lips trembled. He tried to back away further, dragging his limp legs uselessly. “Please,” he whispered. “I’ll give you coin, anything I have. Just don’t… don’t kill me.”
The woman leaned forward slightly in her wheelchair. She inhaled through her nose, softly.
“You have my brother’s scent on you,” she said. Her voice was gentle, almost playful.
The man blinked, confusion mixing with fear. “W-what? I don’t—”
The woman’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She raised a hand and gestured lightly. “Mira. Kindly check him for me.”
Mira gave a shallow bow of her head. “As you wish.”
She stepped forward, her boots quiet against the stone. The man panicked at her approach. He fumbled at his belt, pulled a dagger free, and lunged with his good arm.
The blade never reached her.
His arm fell limp halfway through the swing, dropping uselessly at his side. The dagger clattered onto the cobbles. He gasped, tried to pull back, only to collapse fully, his body no longer obeying him.
He lay flat on the stones, his chest heaving, his eyes wet. “I, I can’t move… by the lords, I can’t—”
Mira crouched beside him. Her gloved hands moved with precision, patting down his chest, his arms, his belt. She checked his boots, then his pockets, searching each fold of cloth without hurry. Her expression never changed, her movements steady, clinical.
When she finished, she stood and turned back to the woman in the wheelchair. She adjusted her gloves with a tug. “There is nothing of note,” she reported. “Nothing that would indicate a connection. However…” Her eyes flicked back to the man, lingering on his right hand. “…he has a recent wound. A finger missing.”
The man whimpered.
The woman tilted her head, her silver hair catching the moonlight as it shifted against her shoulders. The faintest smile remained on her lips, though her blindfolded eyes gave no clue to where her focus rested. Her voice was quiet, but still loud enough for the man to hear.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked softly.
The man swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. His chest rose and fell in sharp gasps. Finally, the words burst out of him in a rush.
“I only wanted coin,” he pleaded. “That’s all! I swear it! I… I’ve done this before. Every decade, when the tournament starts, I ride the trains. My resonance lets me hide in the shadows. I don’t hurt anyone! I slip through, I take what I can… trinkets, tokens, gold. Just enough to live on. I never meant to—”
His voice cracked. Tears slid down his dirt-streaked face. “Please, I didn’t mean to cross anyone important. I don’t think I offended Sunmire.”
The blindfolded woman’s head tilted the other way. “You’ve been stealing from the tournament’s entrants?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “From those who ride to the city. I always do it when the Decennial starts.”
Mira remained silent, standing behind the wheelchair, her gloved hands folded neatly in front of her. She did not interrupt.
The woman leaned forward slightly, inhaling again. “But this time,” she said, “you touched something you shouldn’t have.”
The man’s lips trembled. He nodded frantically. “The girl, the elven girl with the bow. She had a necklace. I thought it was worth something, that’s all. I only reached for it, then it was there. A little black beast, it took my finger clean.”
His words stumbled over themselves, but he forced them out. “I swear I wasn’t able to take it. I ran. I never meant to keep it. Please… please…”
The woman’s smile widened. Her shoulders shook once, and a light giggle slipped from her lips.
It was soft, lilting, entirely at odds with the man’s panic.
“Ah,” she breathed. “So that’s where you’ve been, little brother.”
The man froze, confusion flickering in his wet eyes. “What…?”
Her blindfolded gaze turned upward, as if she were looking past the alley, past the walls, to somewhere far away. The smile grew into a grin, and another giggle escaped her throat, bubbling into laughter that carried too much delight.
She whispered. “After all this time, we can finally meet again.”
Her hands folded neatly once more on her lap, and the laughter quieted to a hum.
Mira, who had returned behind the woman, leaned forward slightly, her voice as calm as ever. “Lady Rinvara.”
Rinvara’s smile never faltered. She lifted one hand, pointing idly toward the man sprawled on the ground. “You’ve heard his confession. He has nothing else we need. You may use him.”
The man’s eyes widened. He shook his head violently, his body jerking uselessly against the paralysis. “No, no, please! I told you everything! I swear I told you everything! Don’t—”
Rinvara’s voice cut through his cries, sharp with glee. “Mira’s experiments are important. You’ll serve better as a subject than as a thief.”
Mira’s gloves creaked as she tightened her fingers. She bowed her head once in acknowledgment. “As you wish.”
The man’s begging rose into a scream. He twisted, trying to drag himself across the cobbles with his head. “Don’t do this! Don’t—”
The wheelchair creaked as Rinvara leaned back comfortably, her pale lips still curved in joy. Her soft laugh echoed against the walls, mixing with the man’s ragged screams.
The moonlight framed her silver hair and pale features, and her face looked upward, as if she could already see her brother standing in the light ahead.
“Soon,” she murmured. “Very soon.”
