The bishop stepped forward eagerly, his robe rustling.
"Sir Kael, if you would grant me some time, I can reach out to my contacts in the capital. With their help, we could uncover more about this ability of yours. And if you don't mind—"
I cut him off smoothly, keeping my tone polite but firm as I took the Status Scroll from his hands.
"Bishop, you've already provided great aid in my awakening. That's more than enough. I wouldn't dream of troubling you further."
His eyes widened slightly before he forced another smile. "No, no, Sir Kael. It's my pleasure. Not a bother in the slightest. I would be honored to assist—"
'This man really doesn't know when to quit, huh?'
Behind that mask of piety, I could see the hunger—the same kind I'd seen countless times before regression. That glimmer of greed in his eyes wasn't for divine knowledge, but for prestige.
If word reached the capital that a supposed "Essentia-less" noble had awakened a unique ability, every scholar and church rat in the empire would descend like vultures. And this bishop wanted to be the one to feed them the carcass.
Screw you, I screamed inwardly, forcing a calm expression.
I coughed lightly, turning toward Elara, sending her a silent plea: Do something, you're here to assist me, right?
Thankfully, the girl caught on immediately. She stepped forward, her shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her tone was composed, respectful—but the authority in it could silence a crowd.
"Pardon my rudeness, Bishop," Elara said, bowing slightly. "Sir Kael is in no condition to continue this discussion. The Count has given me strict orders to prioritize his health. Given his frail constitution, the awakening ritual must have taken a toll. We need to return home immediately."
Frail constitution?! I blinked. Who's weak? I could probably lift this fat-ass bishop if I wanted to, woman!
Still, her excuse worked like magic. The bishop's expression twisted at the mention of the Count. His lips twitched as though he wanted to protest, but fear of offending the Vayne household sealed his mouth shut.
He bowed instead, the picture of reluctant respect. "Of course… I understand. Please extend my regards to Lord Count Vayne."
At least you're smart enough to stop there, I thought. Elara, you earned my respect today.
With a faint groan and a convincingly tired expression, I allowed myself to be guided back toward the carriage. I climbed in slowly, keeping up the act until the doors closed behind me.
The moment we started moving, I exhaled and leaned back against the plush seat. "You handled that perfectly," I said, my tone more genuine.
"It's my honor, sir," Elara replied smoothly, still keeping her professional demeanor.
"Good. Then, let's not head home just yet."
She blinked. "Sir Kael, your condition—"
"I know what I'm doing," I interrupted, opening the curtain and glancing at the passing streets. "Tell the driver to head to the Expedition Guild."
She hesitated for a moment, clearly debating whether to argue. Then, with a quiet sigh, she leaned forward and gave the order.
The carriage veered off from the main street, moving through the busier parts of the city until it stopped before a towering building.
The Expedition Guild—an imposing structure of dark stone and golden inlay—rose above every other building in sight. Its entrance was carved with the emblem of a roaring wyvern encircling a sword.
As I stepped down from the carriage, the familiar chatter and clamor of expeditioner filled the air. Dozens of eyes turned toward me the moment I entered, curiosity flashing in their gazes.
The moment I stepped inside, the sound of clashing ambition filled my ears—steel clinking, voices rising, boots echoing on the stone floor.
Some adventurers were huddled together near the great quest board at the center of the hall, arguing over monster hunts and dungeon expeditions.
Sheets of parchment fluttered slightly under the warm torchlight—each notice stamped with the guild's insignia and a rough sketch of the target.
To the left, a few groups were checking their equipment, oiling blades or tightening straps.
To the right, a small queue of commoners waited nervously at a side counter, holding small sacks of coins.
They were issuing private requests—monster exterminations, herb gathering, bodyguard work—each task coming with a modest reward.
I ignored the commotion and walked straight to one of the empty reception counters.
Behind the polished wooden desk stood a young woman—brown hair neatly tied back, eyes the same shade, with a touch of well-applied makeup that gave her a clean, professional look.
Her black guild uniform was perfectly pressed, trimmed with silver lines that marked her as an official guild clerk.
"Excuse me," I began. "May I know how to register myself as a new expedition trainee?"
She lifted her gaze briefly toward me, then toward Elara standing beside me. For a moment, her expression was unreadable—trained neutrality. Then she spoke, her voice steady and polite.
"To register for expeditionary training, the basic fee is 100 Lumas. That covers the course itself. If you wish for food and accommodation during the training period, there's an additional charge of 100 Lumas. Before registration, however, we need to verify that you've awakened an ability. Combat training is customized based on that verification."
I nodded, absorbing the details. "I see. Could you tell me more about the training program itself—and how one becomes a licensed expeditioner afterward?"
She seemed almost relieved by the question. Her professional smile softened slightly, as though she'd recited this speech a hundred times but still took pride in it.
"Every trainee undergoes rigorous instruction under retired expeditioners," she explained. "You'll study monster ecology, terrain navigation, survival strategies, and dungeon protocols. In addition, you'll receive hands-on training in tracking, hunting, and field tactics."
Her voice carried a faint rhythm, almost like she'd memorized it word for word. Yet there was conviction behind it.
"Some of our advanced courses even include lectures by veteran adventurers visiting from other regions. Those sessions help trainees understand how monster behavior changes across climates and environments. The duration of your training, however," she added with a faint smile, "depends entirely on your talent, discipline, and effort."
"It's not just about swinging a sword and killing monsters," I murmured.
She chuckled softly. "Hardly. After evaluation, the instructors will determine which type of expedition you're best suited for—whether solo, research, escort, or raid-based. Only when they deem you capable will you be eligible for an official expedition license."
"That's pretty thorough," I admitted with genuine appreciation.
Her smile grew a touch warmer, perhaps surprised at my interest. "It has to be. The Empire and its neighboring kingdoms rely heavily on expeditioners to suppress monster outbreaks and maintain safety in the borderlands. Not everyone who awakens chooses the path of danger. Those who do—" she paused, her brown eyes glinting faintly "—are either chasing power, wealth, and fame... or have something they must become stronger for."
The hall around us grew momentarily quieter as a few expeditioners left through the wide double doors, their cloaks fluttering in the wind.
She lowered her gaze briefly. "Many who walk this path don't return. The guild trains young aspirants to survive—to ensure they at least have a fighting chance out there."