The Adventurer's Guild was packed when they arrived the next morning.
Nolan had never seen it this crowded before. Adventurers of all ranks and races filled the main hall—some clustered around the contract boards, others arguing loudly about payment disputes, still more celebrating completed missions with entirely too much alcohol for this early in the day.
"Always like this after a quiet week," Darion explained, navigating through the crowd with practiced ease. "Everyone comes back at once to file reports and grab new contracts before the good ones are taken."
They queued at the completion desk, where the same tired clerk from before looked up with recognition.
"Warriors Four. Back already? That was quick for a three-day escort."
"We took the western route back," Selene said, sliding their completion forms across the counter. "Added time but avoided complications. Contract fulfilled—merchant and cargo delivered safely to Millhaven and returned."
The clerk reviewed the paperwork, stamping various sections. "Any incidents to report?"
"Bandit ambush, first day out. Repelled without casualties. Rock Titan encounter, second day. Beast eliminated."
The clerk's stamp paused mid-air. "Rock Titan? In contested territory?"
"About fifteen miles north of Millhaven, eastern approach road. B-rank threat, confirmed kill."
"That's... unusual. They don't normally range that far from the mountains." The clerk made additional notes. "I'll flag this for the Survey Department. They'll want to investigate." She pulled out a different form. "Titan kills qualify for bonus payment. Do you have proof?"
Darion produced a massive crystalline tooth—one of many they'd harvested from the beast's corpse. "Will this do?"
"More than sufficient." The clerk weighed it, made more notes, then counted out coins. "Standard completion: 500 silver as contracted. Titan kill bonus: 300 silver. Additional cargo fee paid by client: 200 silver. Total: 1000 silver, divided four ways is 250 each."
Nolan accepted his share with a sense of unreality. 250 silver. After his equipment debt, that left him with... he did the math quickly... 95 silver. Actual money. His own money.
"First real paycheck?" Selene asked, noticing his expression.
"Yeah."
"Feels good, doesn't it? Actually earning instead of just surviving?"
It did. It really did.
They were leaving the Guild when someone called out, "Warriors Four! Wait up!"
A young human man jogged over—maybe mid-twenties, wearing well-maintained armor and carrying himself with the confidence of someone who knew how to fight. His guild badge marked him as B-rank.
"Sorry to bother you," he said, slightly out of breath. "My team saw your Titan report. We're actually hunting unusual mana beast activity in that region. Would you mind answering a few questions about the encounter?"
Selene's expression became professionally neutral. "Depends on the questions."
"Just tactical details. How it moved, whether it showed signs of agitation or control, if there were any other unusual circumstances." He offered his hand. "Marcus Flint, by the way. I lead the Iron Hawks."
They shook. "Selene Ashford. These are my teammates—Kaida, Darion, and Nolan."
Marcus's eyes lingered on Nolan for a moment. "You're the one who fought the Venomscale Wyrm, right? Word's gotten around about that. Impressive for someone so new to the Guild."
Famous already, Diablo commented dryly. How wonderful. Nothing attracts trouble like a reputation.
"I had help," Nolan said carefully.
"Still. Most fresh registrations don't survive their first wyrm encounter, let alone contribute to the kill." Marcus turned back to Selene. "About the Titan—did it seem like it was migrating naturally, or was it agitated? Driven?"
"Agitated," Selene replied. "It was moving fast, not foraging. Almost like it was running from something or being chased."
"That matches what we've been seeing. Mana beasts acting strangely, showing up in areas they shouldn't be, displaying unusual aggression." Marcus frowned. "The Survey Department thinks something's disrupting their territories. We're trying to figure out what."
"Any theories?" Kaida asked.
"A few. Could be another, larger beast moving into the region. Could be magical disturbance from illegal rituals—we've had reports of cult activity in the area. Could even be natural mana flow changes." He shrugged. "That's what we're investigating."
"Cult activity?" Selene's tone sharpened slightly.
"The Eternal Flame, specifically. They've been more active lately—small attacks, recruitment efforts, that sort of thing. The Council's getting concerned."
Nolan felt ice settle in his stomach. The cult. Here. Active.
Of course they are, Diablo said. They're looking for you. They know you came to the capital. It's only a matter of time before they connect the dots.
But Nolan kept his expression neutral, saying nothing. No reason to draw attention or show unusual concern.
"If you encounter anything else unusual," Marcus continued, "the Iron Hawks would appreciate the information. We're based out of the eastern Guild hall if you need to reach us." He handed Selene a card. "And if you ever want to coordinate on a contract—two teams working together can tackle higher-rank threats."
"We'll keep that in mind," Selene said, pocketing the card. "Good luck with your investigation."
After Marcus left, the team exchanged looks.
"Cult activity," Darion said quietly. "Mana beasts acting strange. Anyone else connecting dots they don't like?"
"The ambush could have been normal bandits," Kaida said, but her tone suggested she didn't believe it. "But a Rock Titan being driven toward our specific route? That's harder to explain as coincidence."
"You think someone's actively targeting us?" Darion asked.
"I think we should be very careful for a while." Selene's expression was grim. "Come on. Let's get home. I want to check in with my father—he might have heard something through Council channels."
They returned to the townhouse to find Varrick already there, working in his study as usual. He looked up with a warm smile as they entered.
"Ah, you're back! I heard you returned last night but didn't want to disturb your rest. How was Millhaven?"
"Eventful," Selene said, settling into a chair. "Bandit attack, Rock Titan, the usual excitement."
"A Rock Titan? My goodness. Everyone's alright?"
"Bruised but intact. Father, have you heard anything about increased cult activity? The Eternal Flame specifically?"
Varrick's expression grew serious. "Unfortunately, yes. There was a Council session yesterday about it. Several incidents in the past two weeks—recruitment drives, small-scale attacks on travelers, reports of ritual sites being discovered in the wilderness." He sighed. "The Council is divided on how to respond. Some want immediate military action. Others think that would just drive them further underground."
"What do you think?" Nolan asked before he could stop himself.
Varrick looked at him thoughtfully. "I think cults like the Eternal Flame thrive on fear and division. They prey on people who feel marginalized or powerless, offering them a sense of belonging and purpose. Crushing them with force doesn't address the root causes—it just creates martyrs and strengthens their narrative."
"So what's the alternative?" Selene asked.
"Address the underlying issues. Improve conditions for people who feel left behind. Demonstrate that the Council cares about all citizens, not just the powerful. Make the cult's promises ring hollow by offering genuine hope." He smiled sadly. "But that's long-term thinking, and the Council wants immediate solutions."
"Meanwhile, people keep getting hurt," Darion muttered.
"Yes. That's the tragedy of it." Varrick turned to Nolan. "How are you settling in, by the way? I've been researching your grandfather but haven't found anything concrete yet. The records are frustratingly vague."
"I understand. And I'm... settling in okay. The team's been really helpful."
"Good, good. That's what I like to hear." Varrick stood, gathering papers. "I have another Council meeting this afternoon, but let's plan to have dinner together this evening. All of you. My treat—consider it a celebration of your successful mission."
After he left, Nolan found himself thinking about what Varrick had said. The cult thriving on division, preying on the marginalized. It made a twisted kind of sense—desperate people doing desperate things because they felt they had no other choice.
But the cult had killed his family. Had sent those werewolves to murder everyone he loved. Whatever their grievances, whatever legitimate complaints they might have, that didn't justify what they'd done.
Revenge, Diablo whispered. That's what you want. Don't pretend otherwise. You want to find them and make them pay.
"That's not—"
I.t is. And there's nothing wrong with that. They took everything from you. You have every right to take everything from them.
"Revenge won't bring my family back."
No. But it'll feel good.
The afternoon passed quietly. Darion went to the market to replenish supplies. Kaida disappeared into the library—apparently the townhouse had a small collection of books that she was systematically working through. Selene spent time maintaining her equipment, the rhythmic sound of whetstone on blade somehow soothing.
Nolan found himself in his room, looking at the small amount of money he now possessed. 95 silver. Not a fortune, but more than he'd had since arriving in the capital. More than his family had ever had at one time back in Lintbloom.
His family.
He pulled out the pendant his father had given him—the one that was supposed to help identify his grandfather. He'd been carrying it every day, but so far it had done nothing. No magical reaction, no special properties, just a piece of silver etched with symbols he didn't understand.
"Why did you give this to me, Pa?" he whispered to the empty room. "What was I supposed to do with it?"
No answer came. Of course not.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. Selene stood in the doorway.
"You okay? You've been quiet since we got back."
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"Everything. The Titan, the bandits, that cult Marcus mentioned." He met her eyes. "What if we just attract trouble? Like, maybe our team is cursed or something. First the wyrm, then bandits, then a Titan..."
Selene actually smiled at that. "You're not cursed. We're adventurers. Danger is literally our job description. Some weeks are quiet, some are chaotic. That's just how it goes."
"But three major fights in two weeks?"
"I've had worse stretches. There was a month last year where we fought something life-threatening almost daily. Kaida started keeping a running count just to see how absurd it got." She shook her head at the memory. "Fourteen major encounters in thirty days. We called it the Month of Bad Decisions."
"And you all survived?"
"Obviously, or I wouldn't be here telling you about it." She sat on the edge of his bed. "Look, I know this is all new and overwhelming for you. But you're doing fine. Better than fine, actually. You're learning, adapting, contributing. That's all anyone can ask."
"I just don't want to let the team down."
"Then get stronger. Train harder. Learn to control your power so well that when trouble comes—and it will—you can handle it." Her expression softened. "But until then, let us help. Let us protect you like you've been protecting us."
"I haven't—"
"You saved Kaida from the wyrm. You held the line against the bandits. You created the opening that let us kill the Titan." She counted on her fingers. "In one week, you've proven yourself valuable to this team. So stop worrying about letting us down and accept that you belong here."
After she left, Nolan felt marginally better. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did belong here, at least for now.
Or maybe, Diablo said, she's just telling you what you want to hear. Making you comfortable before everything falls apart.
"Why are you like this?"
Because I've seen this story before. Hope, belonging, happiness—they're all temporary. Better to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised than hope for the best and be devastated.
"That's a terrible way to live."
It's a realistic way to survive.
Dinner that evening was held in the townhouse's small dining room—a space Nolan hadn't even known existed. Varrick had arranged for food to be brought in from one of the better restaurants in the district: roasted chicken, vegetables in herbs, fresh bread, even wine.
"A proper celebration," the minister declared, raising his glass. "To the Warriors Four and their continued success!"
They ate and talked, the conversation flowing easily. Varrick asked about their journey, expressed appropriate amazement at the Titan fight, and told stories about Council politics that had everyone laughing.
"So then," he said, eyes twinkling, "the ambassador from Gildengar says, 'That's not a mining regulation, that's a declaration of war!' And the Thornegate representative replies, 'Perhaps your people should learn to read before negotiating trade agreements.' I thought we'd have a diplomatic incident right there in the chamber."
"How did you resolve it?" Kaida asked, smiling.
"I pointed out that both sides were reading different translations of the same document and perhaps we should work from the original text instead. Turns out it was a clerical error—someone had mixed up 'tax rate' and 'tax date' in the Thornegate translation." He shook his head. "Three hours of shouting over a copying mistake."
The evening felt warm, comfortable. Like family dinners used to feel, before everything fell apart. Nolan found himself relaxing, actually enjoying himself.
Don't, Diablo warned. Don't get comfortable. This isn't real. This isn't yours.
But maybe, just for tonight, it could be.
As dinner wound down and people began to drift away—Darion to bed, Kaida to her books, Selene to handle some administrative work—Varrick caught Nolan's arm gently.
"Could I speak with you for a moment? In my study?"
"Of course."
They climbed to the third floor, where Varrick's collection of books and papers seemed to have multiplied since Nolan's last visit.
"I wanted to check in on you, personally," Varrick said, settling behind his desk. "Selene mentioned you've been quiet since returning. Is everything alright?"
"I've just been thinking. About everything that's happened. The fighting, the danger. Sometimes it feels overwhelming."
"That's perfectly natural. You've been through tremendous trauma—losing your family, awakening power you don't understand, being thrust into a completely new life." Varrick's expression was genuinely sympathetic. "Anyone would feel overwhelmed. The important thing is that you're not facing it alone."
"I know. The team's been amazing. And you've been really helpful with the research and everything."
"I'm glad I can help." Varrick leaned forward. "You're not responsible for the dangers you've faced, Nolan. The world is simply a dangerous place, especially for adventurers. What matters is that you're learning, growing, and surrounded by people who care about you."
"Thank you. That... that means a lot."
"Good." Varrick pulled out a folder. "Now, about your grandfather. I found something interesting today."
Nolan's heart leaped. "What?"
"A property record from twenty years ago. Kaelen purchased a small building in the Scholar's Quarter—a modest place, used for private study. The ownership was never transferred, which means technically it's still his." Varrick slid a paper across the desk. "Here's the address. It might be worth investigating. If he's still in the city, he might maintain that location."
Nolan stared at the address, hope and fear warring in his chest. "You really think he might be there?"
"I don't know. But it's the strongest lead I've found yet." Varrick's smile was encouraging. "Go there tomorrow. See what you find. And Nolan? Good luck."
That night, lying in bed, Nolan clutched the paper with his grandfather's possible location. Tomorrow he might finally get answers. Finally understand what was happening to him, why his father had sealed this power, how to control it properly.
Or, Diablo said, you'll find nothing but disappointment. Empty buildings and dead ends.
"Maybe. But I have to try."
Then try. But don't say I didn't warn you when it all falls apart.
Nolan closed his eyes, letting exhaustion pull him toward sleep.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd search for his grandfather.
Tomorrow everything might change.