The walk to the back office felt like a perp walk, only the crowd was too scared to mutter insults. The dead silence of the guild hall followed me, a tangible pressure on my back. Behind a heavy oak door that looked like it had stopped an axe or two in its day was the Guild Masterâs office.
It wasn't a king's chamber. There were no plush chairs or decorations. The room smelled of old paper, oiled leather, and pipe smoke. Maps with pins stuck in them covered one wall. The desk was a slab of dark, scarred wood, and on shelves behind it sat trophiesâa chipped basilisk tooth, the skull of some kind of horned wolf, a twisted, blackened wand snapped in half. This was a workspace, not a throne room.
The Guild Master, Dak, gestured to a simple wooden chair. I sat. He didn't. He circled his desk and stood before the shelves, his back to me. Talia hovered nervously by the door, a silent witness.
"The head is genuine," Dak said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards. "Goblin Champion. Haven't seen one that big since the Iron Hills campaign twenty years ago. The ears are from hobgoblins. At least two dozen of them. Standard procedure doesn't even cover a kill like this."
He turned, his scarred eye fixing on me. He wasn't asking how I did it. That was a fool's question. He was just stating facts, trying to make them fit into a world that made sense. They didn't.
"The quest reward is two gold pieces," he said, placing a small, heavy cloth pouch on the desk. "The council posts the quest, they pay the fee." He paused, then placed a much larger, heavier pouch next to it. "The Guild, however, recognizes the elimination of a B-Rank threat. We have a discretionary fund for situations like this. Ten gold pieces. As a bonus, and a thank you for preventing what would have eventually become a full-blown horde."
I looked at the two pouches. Twelve gold. Enough for a real weapon, a full set of decent steel-laced armor, a month at the best inn in town, and still have plenty left over. It was a good starting fund for the next phase of the grind. I nodded, reaching for the coin.
"That's not all," Dak said, holding up a hand. My own hand stopped an inch from the gold. "Ordinarily, an adventurer starts as Iron-rank. They complete quests, prove their worth, and slowly climb to Bronze, then Silver. It can take years. It's a system that weeds out the lucky and the foolish from the truly skilled."
He leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk. The sheer weight of his presence was a physical force. "The system is for normal people. It is clearly not for you. We are prepared to offer you an immediate promotion. We'll forge your plate tonight. You'll be a Silver-rank adventurer by morning."
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Talia gasped softly by the door. This was clearly a big deal. The ultimate seal of approval. A fast track to the big leagues, to glory, to the high-paying, monster-slaying life every adventurer dreamed of.
In my mind, a dozen red flags went up. Fame was aggro. A high rank was a debuff that painted a target on your back. It didn't just mean more money; it meant higher expectations. It meant being sent on missions that were actually dangerous, against things that couldn't be one-shotted. It meant politics, rivals, and scrutiny. It meant the Guild Master himself watching my every move. It was, in short, a massive inconvenience that would severely impact my leveling efficiency.
"No, thank you," I said.
The silence that followed was heavier than the one in the main hall. Dak just stared, his expression unreadable. Talia looked like I had just slapped her.
"No?" Dak's voice was dangerously quiet.
"I'll take the gold," I said, my voice flat. "But I'll remain a Novice."
He straightened up, crossing his thick arms over his chest. He was trying to figure out my angle. "Explain." It wasn't a request.
I gave him the simplest, most honest version of the truth I could. "A higher rank means harder quests. I'm not interested in harder quests."
Dak's good eye narrowed. He was searching for a lie, for false modesty, for some elaborate trick. He found none. He just found a simple, baffling statement. The respect in his eyes, the awe, began to curdle into something else. Suspicion. Utter confusion. He had met arrogant prodigies, humble masters, and lucky fools. He had never met someone who had a mountain of power and no ambition to use it. He wasn't looking at a hero anymore. He was looking at a bug in the code.
"You want to keep killing goblins," he said, the statement laced with disbelief.
"If the pay is good and the numbers are high, yes," I replied.
He stared at me for a long time, the gears turning behind his scarred face. He was re-evaluating everything. He had offered me the keys to the kingdom, and I'd told him I was happy farming in the starting zone.
"Take your money," he finally said, his tone clipped. "Your registration is complete. You are an Iron-ranked adventurer of the Megiddo Guild."
I stood, picked up the two pouches, and gave a slight nod. The jingle of the coins was the only sound as I walked to the door. I didn't look back. Talia pressed herself against the wall to let me pass, her wide eyes following me with a mixture of fear and something I couldn't place.
As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard Dak's voice, low and serious.
"Talia."
"Yes, Guild Master?"
"Keep an eye on him. Don't be obvious about it. I want to know what quests he takes, where he goes, who he talks to."
"For his own safety?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
There was a long pause.
"No," Dak said. "For ours."