The guild receptionist couldn't believe her eyes: the F-rank adventurer who was supposed to arrive six months ago had suddenly shown up on a Tuesday. The knights went on to explain what had happened, and since they knew each other—and even had some paperwork to back it up—Alvar managed to avoid paying the fee to renew his adventuring license, or having it revoked. But...
"You still need to take some tests," said the guild receptionist.
"Since there's a possibility his score might get even lower than an F-rank, which would mean civilian status, limiting the range of missions he can take. Or it might even go up, although that seems quite a stretch..." she added.
It was as he had expected, and the good thing was now he had a MAGIC CORE that was 2 hours old. He could pass the test. He hoped his rank was the same though.
"First, we will go with the vitality crystals," she said while taking small, spread-out red stones from a small cloth.
He touched them, and they were dimly lit.
"Your vitality seems to have taken quite a hit, but it is barely above the needed amount, so it will work."
"Score: 4.1."
"Next—the Mind test," she whipped out a metal hat and placed it on his head.
"The measure is..."The metal hat shone brightly, to the point it dazzled everyone in the guild.
Theodore and Isolde seemed amazed and proud of this for some reason, and sad at the same time.
"Measure: 8.5. This is one of the highest scores in the guild. Congratulations."
"Thank you," he replied; it made him quite happy.
"Now, let's take the magic aptitude exam. This has two parts," she said while placing a magical orb on the table.
It was blue and quite smaller than expected; it had a metal stand that had a black robe tied to it as well.
"Put your hands on it, please."
He put his right hand on it. The moment he touched the surface, he could feel something being sucked out of him. His arm twitched.
"For all it's worth, I think I might have more mana than almost everyone in this guild after all. Having defeated all those monsters must mean I've accumulated a huge amount of mana, right?"
[Technically, yes, but have more emphasis on the word ALMOST as there are more adventurer's that you think with more mana than you!]
[For now we should lay low- the results are in our favor]
"Your mana score is 5. It is not bad for an F-rank. You can get promoted to D-rank in a few years if you are disciplined," said the huge man.
How is it only this much ?
[Only the one in your mana core is measured, which is huge amount of it for someone who literally opened it just now- It will help in laying low for a while!]
[I am sorry, you didn't have your "Wow he is so strong the orb broke!" moment]
Tsk Alvar muttered under his breath..
'I don't like to be the type of person who hides his power, but I will let it slide this time, ok system?!!!'
[...]
"The next test is to test your affinity. Put your hands on this parchment, please."
It was a parchment paper with some unknown symbols. He didn't know how to read them despite being able to read other things in this world; he guessed it was another language.
He put his index finger in the middle, and a black mist dripped from his veins and split in two directions. One side lit red and radiated heat, and the other radiated an electrical current.
The guild was so invested in his testing that they let out a singular, astonished "Ah!!!"
The huge man looked at Alvar intently. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the fact an F-rank was a dual-wielder. He guessed everyone started somewhere, but having this much affinity in two types was a great deal.
After a while: "Here is your guild card. The payment will be deducted from your next missions."
"Speaking of missions, since you are a rare breed of an adventurer, you have loads of missions to work on."
"Rare?" Alvar said.
Isolde reluctantly answered, "Well... F-ranks usually are rare since most of them get promoted after a year or two, meaning bottom jobs are usually not fulfilled. Thus, there are more missions for an F-rank than there are for an A-rank."
"So, is the pay good?" Alvar asked.
Isolde chuckled while rubbing the top of her head with her clanky armor.
"This doesn't look good." he exhaled.
"Your first mission is..."
{...} Scene Transition
"What? You're from the Adventurers' Guild?"
"Yes, sir. Alvar Walter—F-rank. I came for a mission that was issued about… uh, a year ago?"
The baker froze while kneading his fingers on his apron. "A year?" He let out a wheezy laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."
He led Alvar through a narrow alley behind the bakery. The scent of yeast faded, replaced by the sour bite of rot. They stopped before a warehouse door that looked half-digested by rust.
Clack. Clack. Clack. The hinges screamed open.
A wave of stench rolled out—thick enough to taste. Compared to this, goblin corpses were perfume.
"We gave up on this place months ago," the baker said, pinching his nose. "Built another one. Thought the Guild forgot." He handed Alvar a bundle of faded work clothes. "We were gonna hire an earth mage to collapse it next month. If you can make it a little less cursed, be my guest."
He left, locking the door behind him.
Alvar stood alone on a floating rock, the only island in a pond of green sludge. His night vision allowed him to see clearly inside the dark without the use of any magic.
The bakery had this as their warehouse a while ago, but after opening a larger shop a little distance from it, they started using it less and less and just put everything they had into a warehouse next to the bakery for convenience.It baffles him how much this place has rotted and left unattended, or hasn't become a safety hazard for the community.He was sure the pay must be high... he hoped so...
"System," he muttered, tugging his gloves tight. "Can I use my skills here?"
[IF YOU'RE USING MANA, YOU CAN. IT MAY TAKE TIME TO GET USED TO IT.]
"Good enough."
A low hum swelled around him—the sound of wings. Dozens, then hundreds."Fire Blast!"
Flame erupted from his palm, searing through the air. Insects popped like kernels, raining ash. He fired again. And again. Each blast burned cleaner, faster. The stench of char and rot clawed at his throat.
The intensity of the flames had drastically decreased; it was the same size as a blast of a single inferno lizard. It seemed using mana needed getting used to, and focus.
The pond rippled.
Something heavy stirred beneath. Scales broke the surface...
They were "Alligators," he exclaimed as he grabbed a rusted metal rod.
"Shock!"
Lightning burst through the pond, blue veins dancing across the water.
It was quite weak compared to how it used to be, but had a lesser downgrade than the fire blast skill.
The beasts got electrocuted, stopped moving, and floated still on the sludge.
For the next hour, it was the same rhythm: Shock. Fire. Shock.The air thickened until breathing felt like swallowing the sludge that covered his whole view.
It was disgusting, his stomach became twisted.
Every breath smelled like sulfuric acid or rotten eggs, and his heightened senses seemed to act against him.
When the water finally stilled, he tried to move. The rocks ahead quivered, half-submerged.
[THE FOOTING IS UNSTABLE. TRY THE PLANTS ON THE WALL. THEY CAN HOLD YOU.]
"Ok."
He leapt, catching a slick vine. The slime nearly made him lose grip, but he hauled himself across. From there, he burned and fried his way forward—Fire Blast for the insects, Shock for the lurking alligators.
The deeper he went, the thicker the air became, making taking breaks often necessary.
Then he saw it: a giant plant draped against the far wall, its wide leaves glowing faintly. Light pulsed behind it.
"Should we?" he whispered.
[YES. IT IS REASONABLE TO INVESTIGATE. I DON'T THINK THERE IS A MONSTER WE SHOULD BE SCARED OF HERE.]
He braced himself, vines wrapped around one arm, and aimed."Fire Blast!"
The explosion tore through the wet leaves. Purple liquid hissed on contact with flame. Behind the crackling fire was… nothing. Just a small room—clean and felt out of place.
Weird.
He climbed closer. That's when he felt it—the pond rising against his boots.
"Wait, what—?"
The water surged.
Instinct screamed. He jumped to where ever he thought was the safest and something huge broke the surface. A jaw, big enough to crush a cart, slammed shut where he'd been.
The shockwave threw him off balance. His hands slipped on the vine, making him fall into the pond.
Cold slime swallowed him whole.
He blasted himself out of the sludge and jumped at the rocks that were floating on the pond. It was barely enough to support his weight but gave him a foothold to propel himself toward the open room.
Just while he was in the air, its jaw opened once more, its teeth trying to sink in and catch him by his baggy clothes.
He shouted "scale armor" and let go of his clothes.
He crashed to the floor and the scale armor let him skid across the floor.
"huuuu," he exhaled, "I made it, thank god."
That is when he noticed it.
"Shit."