The white tower before them had a strong maritime flair—like a lighthouse on the shore.
It stood on a nearby rise; from the top, the view must have been excellent.
With people coming and going at the entrance, Gauss and the others paused a moment, then went in.
Inside, the space was bright and spacious.
Every city's Adventurers' Guild has its own flavor. In a coastal port like Sena, the décor screamed ocean.
The hall soared high, cleverly laid out in a spiral like the inside of a seashell. Gentle light shimmered from magic crystals set into the upper walls. The walls themselves weren't ordinary stone but a pale, polished rock with natural wave-like grain.
In the center stood a huge sand table of the bay, modeling the surrounding terrain, ocean textures, and island placement.
Everywhere else: yellowed sea charts marked with skull-and-bone icons for hazardous waters and routes; artful ship models, ships-in-bottles; mounted sea-beast skulls—decorating the guild's lounge areas.
A faint salty tang—some special perfume—hung in the air. Not unpleasant; just enough to mask the mingled smells of sweat, leather, and everything else adventurers bring indoors.
Beyond the nautical touches, Gauss noticed something he hadn't seen elsewhere.
Up on the second-floor gallery, a huge notice board was pinned with many half-length portraits. He stepped closer: sums of money were printed beneath each face.
Not job postings, then—bounty warrants.
Looking at the hard-faced criminals stirred memories from his previous life. Surely this world didn't have its own Pirate King and ultimate treasure…?
He shook the thought away and kept reading.
Wanted notices packed tight: pirates, nonhuman raiders, felons of every stripe—the rogues' gallery of "humanoids among the stars."
"Attacked merchantmen, killed more than fifty crew."
"Posed as a wreck in the Fog Passage; lured, robbed, and slaughtered rescuers."
"In league with sea hags; engineered shipwrecks."
"Illegal slave trade; kidnapping coastal folk and fishermen."
Many of the wanted weren't human at all but sea-folk.
Bounties ranged from 10 gold to 500 gold. He saw none below 10—too weak to merit special posting, perhaps.
But those shiny payouts were hard-earned. The 500-gold prize, for instance—the savage half-shark sea-folk called Riftscale—was estimated around Level 8. On the open sea, half-sharks come and go as they please; even if you could overpower him, just finding him would be hard.
Still—500 gold is 500 gold. And a fighter of that tier would be carrying valuable loot. All told, a single successful hunt could clear over a thousand gold.
Gauss let his eyes linger, committing faces to memory so he could ID them instantly if they ever crossed his path.
When he'd memorized them all, he went to the counter, showed his Adventurer's badge and the Blackfang commission, and gave a brief report. The receptionist's manner turned formal at once.
"I'll notify a supervisor."
"Thank you."
While he waited, Gauss glanced around the second floor at the spread of Professionals. Levels 1–5 were all present—mostly 1s, as usual—but unlike tiny Grayrock, there were lots more bodies, and plenty of Level 5s around. He also spotted a few with Black Iron badges—who didn't stop on 2 at all, but went straight up to 3.
So the third floor was where the heavier hitters worked?
It made sense. Town guilds like Grayrock or Lincrown only needed two floors; a big city had more strong adventurers and needed space that catered to them. He had no problem with that—different circles for different tiers meant fewer pointless clashes, and the jobs themselves diverged. Segregating traffic boosted efficiency.
Of course, approving of it didn't mean he wasn't a little envious. People always yearn for a better future.
While he mused, the receptionist returned with a woman from the third floor.
Tap—tap—tap.
Her heels clicked on the polished tiles, drawing eyes from the second-floor crowd. Loose hair lay over her left shoulder; a quiet gold-rimmed pair of glasses; a stack of folders in her arms. Despite the office look, Gauss sensed a banked Professional's presence about her—no mere clerk.
Under curious stares, she walked up to them.
"Mr. Gauss, this is Director Adèle of the East District branch of the Sena Adventurers' Guild."
Unlike the kindly elder in Canopy, today's liaison was a poised, youthful woman.
"Mr. Gauss. A pleasure."
"Likewise, Director Adèle."
"Let's continue in a private room."
No desire to talk in the open—she led the way, and the party followed. Only after they disappeared down a corridor did the hall erupt in murmurs.
"She came down from the third floor, right?"
"Looks like a Guild Leader. I saw her last year with Guildmaster Rachel."
"So who's the adventurer she's meeting—some big fish?"
"Shhh…"
Generally, guild staff on each floor handle the adventurers on that floor. This was unusual—and naturally drew speculation.
The door shut. Silence dropped like a curtain. The room had obviously been soundproofed; not a whisper leaked in. Two worlds.
"These are our proofs for the commission," Gauss said, taking a pouch from his bag and setting it on the table. "Would you like to review them, Director?"
Adèle let her gaze pass over each of them, then gave a small shake of her head—no move to open the bag.
"Unnecessary. In fact, we received advance notice about you, Mr. Gauss."
"Oh?" Gauss blinked—advance notice about him?
What if he'd gone to another branch—Barry's, say? Even in Sena alone there were multiple branches. That implied the guild had tracked both his route and destination. Not impossible they'd blanket-notified all nearby branches—but from her tone, that wasn't it.
"Forgive me, but if the guild's intel web is so strong, why couldn't it pin the Blackfang site for this job?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "If it's sensitive, ignore the question."
She smiled. "No secret, really. The site was inside the Jade Forest—so our divinations and reconnaissance fail. The forest is monster-held territory—naturally shielded. And for a power like Blackfang, even in monster lands they're… harder to scry. The reverse holds for them trying to read us."
"I see."
It tracked: on human turf, the guild could see more; inside actual monster control, far less—especially for well-organized factions. Lone "temps" versus "official" monster forces got treated very differently by fate.
He also finally understood why, back when he was a bottom-tier adventurer, village jobs almost always meant common monsters—rarely elites. Step outside the forest and the guild's net snared you; the hit team wasn't far behind.
Elites learned not to wander out of the Jade Forest lightly. As for why humans could keep going into the forest—maybe because the monster side had nothing like the guild—or for other reasons he hadn't learned yet.
"In truth, finishing far ahead of the two-month estimate surprised us," Adèle said.
"Luck," Gauss said with a mild smile.
In his head flashed the sprites' bright faces. After the burn, they'd escorted the sprites back home—warmly welcomed in turn. Forest natives made the search trivial; too many goblins threatened sprites, too. The chief had even given him a flower sigil—proof of sprite friendship that would earn him welcome and help wherever sprites lived.
"There isn't that much luck in the world," Adèle replied. "It seems you really are as the report says—exceptional at dealing with goblins. You slew a Level-6 goblin chieftain and over a thousand goblins."
Her eyes flicked over them again—2, 3, 4, 5—neat little badges.
If someone told that story in a tavern—this lineup wiping a Level-6 chieftain and hordes of elites and rabble—most would call it hearsay. But the guild's post-mission "anchor" scrying had consolidated Intel enough to shock more than a few staff. The day the East District branch got the digest, she'd been in Rachel's office; the chair had been curious too—and asked Adèle to receive them well.
In truth, no one had to tell her. With a record like that, anyone with sense wouldn't strut around these four.
"Just lucky," Gauss said, smiling the same faint smile. It wasn't the juicy blow-by-blow she'd hoped for. Young as he looked, he was calmer than she'd expected—nothing rash. For a feat most people would call "impossible," he was… serene. As if he'd swatted a few goblins by the roadside.
"Then straight to business," Adèle said, spreading a catalog on the table. "You're here to redeem your 'non-public' commission reward, yes?"
They leaned in—yes, even Shadow tipped forward a hair.
The list was organized by category: spells & skills; gear; magic items; mounts; inheritances; services. Pages and pages. Many entries came with diagrams and brief effect notes—someone had put real work into this.
"We can choose any of these—and receive them now?" Gauss asked, eyes brightening.
Adèle's lips quirked—at last, a flash of youth. "Yes. If you need items not on the list, we can pull from other city stores—but that takes time. Also, your selections are limited. Please choose with care."
"For spells, each of you may choose two spells or skills you need. Other items list their value points beside them."
"Understood."
Gauss scanned the list. Most "skills" meant spells—arcane and divine—with some archery and stealth arts mixed in. Mostly Level 2–Level 3 spell.
Level 2: Enlarge/Reduce, Levitate, Melf's Acid Arrow, Web…
Level 3: Fireball, Counterspell, Fly, Vampiric Touch, Dispel Magic…
The Level 3 spell list tugged at him—hard. He wanted all of them.
Shame he was only Level 4. To learn Level 3 spells normally, you needed to be Level 5 as a caster.
But that was "normally"… could he pre-learn?
He didn't know. But in raw learning speed and mastery, he outpaced most casters; what others couldn't do, he just might.
First up: Fireball. He'd had his eye on it forever. A signature spell among evokers; "the mage's calling card." The name sounds basic, beginner even—but the destructive power is extreme. A blooming sphere of fire that clears rooms. And it upcasts beautifully—power scales with the slot—which is why many casters keep it in rotation far past Level 5.
Just imagine a legendary wizard's Fireball.
Fly outclasses simple Levitate—granting true flight to the caster or a willing target. For the duration, the target can maneuver freely in the air. Downsides: it requires concentration; if it ends midair, you fall—so pair it with Feather Fall.
Vampiric Touch—Level 3 spell necromancy—is a melee-mage favorite: "hurt them, help me." Your hand fills with negative energy; on a melee spell hit, it deals necrotic damage—and steals life to heal you. Perfect for Gauss—a close-quarters caster with a brawling form. Picture him in Ironscale stance—dragon claws swinging—wreathed in Vampiric Touch. Delicious synergy.
Counterspell—Level 3 spell abjuration—lets you interrupt a spell as it's being cast; if you succeed, you fizzle it and drain the enemy's mana. Dispel Magic removes an active magical effect on a target or in an area. Both work best when power levels are comparable; a mere elite mage won't erase a legendary's magic with a wave.
They all fit him.
The more he read, the more he wanted. It felt like every spell was tailored for him. He could only choose two, and he knew that was already generous—most casters need ages to truly learn and master two spells at their tier. And he was eyeing over-tier spells.
As for the Level 2 spell, he'd pass for now. This was a rare benefit—maximize it. Even if he couldn't fully master the Level 3 spell immediately, it didn't matter—he was confident Level 5 wasn't far away. Worst case, he'd bank them till then.
~~~
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