[POV Liselotte]

  The Adventurers’ Guild of Whirikal never truly slept.

  Even at dawn, when light had only just begun to filter through the tall stained-gss windows of the main hall, the building breathed with life: hurried footsteps over polished stone, the scrape of leather and metal, the constant murmur of tired yet alert voices. It was a pce built for movement, for ambition and survival.

  But that morning… something was different.

  I couldn’t say exactly what gave it away first. Maybe it was how the murmurs died down too quickly whenever someone of high rank crossed the room. Or the invisible tension that seemed to tighten the air, as if the guild itself were holding its breath. Even the usual rough ughter and arguments over rewards felt muted, reduced to watchful whispers.

  I felt it the moment we crossed the threshold.

  An uncomfortable tingling ran down my spine, and I knew—without needing to look at anyone—that we were no longer just adventurers walking in to take contracts.

  “This feels different,” I murmured, almost without realizing it.

  Leah walked beside me, her stride steady, her back straight. From the outside, anyone would have thought she was calm, even accustomed to the attention. But I knew her too well. Her shoulders were tense, just enough to betray that every gaze fixed on us was being carefully registered.

  Chloé walked one step behind.

  Silent, as always, but not distracted. Her white ears moved constantly, catching sounds I couldn’t even perceive. She tried to blend in, to go unnoticed… though it was impossible. Her mere presence drew inevitable stares: curiosity, admiration, wariness.

  I heard the whispers before I could distinguish who they came from.

  “Is that her…?”

  “They say they stopped an elemental…”

  “That can’t be true…”

  “Rank A… at their age?”

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t lift my head. I simply kept walking, focusing on the rhythm of my steps against the cold stone. I couldn’t allow anxiety to show on my face.

  We reached the main counter.

  The receptionist—the same one who had attended us so many times before—looked up as we approached. Her usual smile didn’t appear right away. Instead, she inclined her head slightly in a formal, measured gesture, one den with a new kind of respect.

  That simple gesture made me clench my teeth.

  “Good morning,” she said. “The council finished the verification an hour ago.”

  I felt my stomach tighten.

  Leah stepped forward before I could say anything. Her voice was clear, controlled.

  “The result?”

  The woman took a thick document, bound in dark leather and sealed with several overpping magical emblems. She pced it on the counter with both hands, as if its weight were more symbolic than physical.

  “After confirming the authenticity of the enchanted pte,” she began, “reviewing the incomplete reports, and validating the mission as completed despite the casualties suffered… the guild has issued an official verdict.”

  She paused.

  It wasn’t long, but it was enough for silence to spread through the hall like a held tide.

  “Lisellote. Leah. Chloé.”

  She pronounced our names with absolute crity.

  “From this moment on, you are officially registered as Rank A adventurers of the Guild of Whirikal.”

  The murmur that swept through the room was immediate.

  It wasn’t a violent outburst, but a shockwave of surprise, disbelief, and sudden attention. Some adventurers turned fully toward us. Others remained frozen, watching us as if they had just seen something that didn’t quite fit their understanding of the world.

  I felt a strange pressure in my chest.

  Relief, yes.

  Disbelief.

  And something heavier, harder to name: the certainty that we had just crossed a threshold from which there was no return.

  Leah closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if she needed to anchor that moment inside herself.

  “Thank you,” she said at st, her voice steady.

  “The guild will organize an official ceremony this very afternoon,” the receptionist continued. “It will be public. The promotion will be formally announced, and a complete magical data registration will be conducted.”

  Her gaze slid toward Leah, and for the first time I saw something in her eyes beyond professionalism.

  “The guild master requests your presence in his office. Immediately.”

  We nodded.

  As we headed toward the central staircase, I felt the stares burning into our backs. They weren’t hostile. Nor were they warm. They were expectant. Calcuting.

  Rank A was not just recognition.

  It was a decration.

  Ronan’s office was silent when we entered.

  The guild master stood by the window, observing the city stretching beyond the walls. Whirikal was slowly waking beneath the morning light, unaware—or perhaps not—of the decisions being forged within.

  “Close the door,” he said without turning around.

  We obeyed.

  Ronan turned then and looked at us one by one. His presence was imposing without exaggeration: straight-backed, steady hands, a gaze that seemed to measure everything, even what went unsaid.

  “Congratutions,” he said finally. “Not many people make it this far without losing themselves along the way.”

  “Thank you, Master Ronan,” Leah replied, inclining her head slightly.

  Ronan sat behind his desk and interced his fingers.

  “What happened with the artifact and the elemental has accelerated many processes,” he continued. “The kingdom is uneasy. The nobles as well.”

  I leaned forward without meaning to.

  “What does that mean for us?”

  “That you are no longer just adventurers,” he replied. “You are now a political factor.”

  Leah frowned.

  “I didn’t ask for that.”

  “No one ever does.”

  Ronan sighed, weary.

  “This afternoon, during the promotion ceremony, we will use the magical measurement artifact.”

  Leah’s reaction was immediate. Her body stiffened.

  “In public?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Ronan looked straight at her.

  “Because today there is an extraordinary meeting between the king and several high-ranking nobles. The measures against the demonic invasion are stalled. What’s missing is a figure that disrupts the bance.”

  Silence fell heavily.

  “I trust,” he continued, “that when His Majesty sees the artifact’s results… he will not be able to deny what you are.”

  Leah lowered her gaze.

  “And if he still does?”

  “Then he will be exposed before everyone.”

  Chloé spoke for the first time, her voice low but firm.

  “That’s dangerous.”

  Ronan nodded.

  “It is. But the kingdom is already in danger.”

  We left the office with those words clinging to our skin.

  The ceremony was prepared swiftly. The main hall was cleared, guild banners were pced, and military representatives, nobles, and royal envoys began to arrive one after another. This was no simple ceremony.

  It was a demonstration.

  When we were called forward, I felt my heart pound violently in my chest.

  Ronan spoke clearly, presenting our names, our actions, the risks we had taken. Each word was another stone id upon the history being written.

  Finally, the artifact was brought to the center.

  Leah stepped forward.

  She pced her hand on the crystal.

  The reaction was immediate.

  The light intensified. The runes began to spin. A magical pulse rippled through the room, and I felt a chill run down my spine, as if the air itself recognized what was happening.

  The crystal shifted from white to blue.

  And then…

  Gold.

  A deep gold.

  Heavy.

  Silent.

  The murmurs erupted.

  “That’s…”

  “Royal level…”

  “Impossible…”

  Ronan raised his hand.

  “Let it be recorded,” he said. “The artifact confirms a royal magical lineage.”

  Leah withdrew her hand, trembling.

  I moved toward her without thinking.

  “Breathe.”

  She nodded, her eyes shining.

  And for the first time in a long while, I saw something different in her expression.

  Not fear.

  Not doubt.

  Hope.

  And I knew, with a certainty that pierced my chest, that nothing would ever be the same again.