The walk back to the Guild felt different. The air in Dustfort was the same—smelling of woodsmoke and damp stone—but I felt heavier, as if the charcoal blade at my hip had gained a soul of its own. Beside me, Tess was quiet, her fingers tracing the smooth wood of her staff. We weren't just two kids anymore; we were survivors of something that shouldn't have happened.
The Guild hall was uncharacteristically quiet when we entered. Most of the rowdy veterans were either deep in their cups or already asleep, but Aror was there. He was standing on the second-floor balcony, leaning his massive arms against the railing, watching the entrance. The moment his eyes landed on us, he didn't smile or cheer. He simply jerked his head toward his office.
"Office. Now," was all he said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the silence.
We followed him up the groaning wooden stairs. The moment the heavy oak door closed behind us, Aror didn't go to his chair. He paced to the window, looking out over the dark rooftops of the city. Finally, he sat heavily behind his desk and tossed a charcoal sketch onto the table. It was a rendering of the King we had fought, likely drawn by one of the other adventurers who had seen the beast.
"This wasn't a normal Goblin King, Rio. Not even close," Aror began, his eyes fixed on the drawing.
"What do you mean?" I asked, stepping closer to the desk.
"A standard King is large and strong, yes. But they are still just goblins. They don't grow jagged bone crowns that pulse with a sickening light, and they certainly don't have the hide density to shrug off iron like it's paper." Aror leaned forward, the lantern light casting deep shadows across his scarred face. "This thing was... an unusual boss. A mutation."
My stomach dropped. I thought about the "warm-cold" sensation I'd felt near the tracks in the forest—the way the air seemed to vibrate with a frequency I couldn't quite name. If it was a mutation, was it linked to the system? Or was the world itself starting to break?
"You two managed to kill something that should have wiped out that entire village in minutes," Aror continued, his voice dropping to a serious, guarded tone. "I've reviewed the testimonies. You held the square alone while the others retreated. I'm officially promoting you both to Guild Rank E. I'm marking it as an 'anomaly' in the records to keep the higher-ups from poking around and asking why two rookies were left to fight an Apex-class mutation."
He paused, his sharp gaze lingering on my face, then shifting to the charcoal hilt at my side.
"But don't think this stays a secret. Word travels. Other guilds, other cities... they're going to hear about the 'Ghost of Oakhaven' and the girl who held the church." Aror stood up, leaning over the desk until he was inches away. "Whatever luck or hidden talent you're using, kids... keep it under wraps. If the King was the first of these 'unusual' sightings, the road ahead is going to get a lot bloodier. The world is changing, and it isn't changing for the better."
I gripped my hilt tightly. Hidden from everyone else, my system screen remained pinned in the corner of my vision, its blue light flickering silently as if acknowledging Aror's warning.
[RANK: D+]
[GUILD RANK: E]
The gap between what I was and what the world saw was growing. We were Guild Rank E now—officially recognized, officially dangerous. But as I looked at the grim expression on the Guildmaster's face, I knew my true Rank would be the only thing that kept us alive when the next "unusual" nightmare came crawling out of the dark.