I am standing on one side of an arena, a sparring shortsword gripped in my right hand. Across from me is Attendant Tryss. We are surrounded by adventurers and Guild personnel. Ren is giving me a thumbs up while stealthily passing some coins to another person. The Harthes Adventurers' Guild Hall Master, everyone. An example to all.

Attendant Ania has put a sign that says 'Back in 15' on the counter. There is a doodle of me fighting Attendant Tryss under the text. The lobby of the Guild is deserted. A stray gust of wind blows a crumpled-up piece of paper across the floor.

Erysis and Nexen are politely cheering me on. I know you bet on Attendant Tryss, Erysis. No faith... Nexen, obviously, bet on me. Little rascals, all of them. The amounts are measly, more for entertainment than any profit, a somewhat crude distraction for people in a deadly serious profession. I approve.

Attendant Tryss claps his hands, the sound echoing loudly, and the audience settles down. "Alright, you know the drill. No deadly attacks, but don't hold back too much either. Victory is not a requirement. I'll be evaluating your performance as a whole." He spins his hand. "And so on. Ren, start us off."

He looks at me, a smug look. An even smugger smirk on his lips. And that shirt—super smug. Well, not really. He looks composed and determined. Nerves of steel, tested in many battles. He only has an aura of vague smugness. He knows I recently started practicing metal magic. I'd be surprised if someone in the Guild didn't know. And he thinks that I am saving it as a secret weapon. And I am. But he doesn't know that I know that he knows.

A dome shimmers around the arena for a moment and disappears into transparency again.

Ren raises his hand and starts counting down.

The countdown reaches zero, and the hand drops.

Attendant Tryss manifests a flowing shield of wind around himself. Incredibly fast currents are whipping in a cycle, protecting him from any projectiles or any other attacks.

At the same time, I focus with everything I have. He was prepared for a surprise, best to give him a real one. I imagine the outcome, visualizing every atom with perfect precision. A digital breath in, and out. With the fake air leaving my imaginary construct, I feel almost the entirety of my mana supply get pulled out of my body. The sensation nearly buckles my knees, but a flare of tempering steadies me.

In a single moment, the arena is filled with fine swarf, obscuring everything from view, muddying his mana senses.

Dashing forward, I feel wind trying to gain a pocket of visibility. I focus my control, fighting against the displacement.

Attendant Tryss shoots out two streams of air in quick succession. The attacks tunneling through the metal shavings and heading for me.

Duck, roll, dash. Two deep rumbles wash over the arena's shield, the reflecting air currents from the strikes shaking the space filled with concealing metal like a snow globe.

Infusing control into my sword, I thrust into the wind barrier. The force nearly rips the weapon from my hand, moving its trajectory and narrowly avoiding his neck.

A wave of wind expands, pushing me back and together with the floating chips. He lifts up and sends a barrage of attacks, now safely in the air.

Harden. Some of the metal forms into small platforms. Four quick jumps. Another thrust, this time at his back. The tip of my sword brushes against some cloth, and a wall of wind pushes me back again.

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I throw my sword forward. More platforms appear around the whole arena. Dodge a few attacks. Some of the metal clumps on my body, forming a thick buildup, covering me in a protective layer. Not a lot of mana left in the tank. I jump up and my sword follows, a pincer attack.

The sword makes another close thrust and is sent flying away. Nearly at the same time, I crash through the strong currents. Even such a short contact allows the sharp winds to cut deep grooves into my makeshift armor. I collide with Attendant Tryss and put him in a loose chokehold, my legs wrapping around his torso. He immediately pitches back and shoots to the ground.

The impact drives me into the sand, dispelling his shield. I let off my control of the swarf, allowing it to disperse back into mana, but still tighten my hands a bit. As the view clears up, my sword appears, hanging above his head.

I hear my left arm get tapped a few times. I jerk my hands away, unlocking the hold. My temporary armor returns back to nothingness. The sword flops on the sand.

Attendant Tryss rolls off from me and stands up. He offers me a hand. I take it, and he pulls me up from the shallow indent.

A few half-hearted cheers sound out, accompanied by a few grumbles. That's what you get. No show for you. Give me a cut next time, and we might work something out.

Attendant Tryss regards me and smiles, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "Good job, hotshot. Once you get a bit stronger, I want a rematch."

I exhale out a short laugh, my voice tired. "Of course, Attendant Tryss."

I wave to my friends, Ren giving me another thumbs up, Nexen giving me a nod, and Erysis looking both proud and disappointed at the same time. I stick my tongue out at her, earning myself a glare. Attendant Ania smiles at me and returns a small wave.

Attendant Tryss shoots the slowly dispersing crowd a glance. "Let's go somewhere more private."

I follow him to one of the Guild's inner rooms. We sit down.

"How did I do?"

"Do you even need to ask? You won and gave me a hug. That's a pass for me." He chuckles. "Nice opening move. Kinda risky to expend so much mana, but you seemed to have the control to handle it."

"Thank you, Attendant Tryss."

"Just Tryss is fine." I beam out a smile. "Any questions before we move on to the important stuff?" I shake my head. "Good choice. I've always been better at writing reports than explaining stuff." I affirm. My previous examination analysis was expertly made. "The following promotions—as I am sure you'll continue rushing head on—are even more straightforward than this one—conquer the respective grade dungeon." He snaps his fingers, giving me a cheeky smile. "And don't get killed. Easy."

"I am not that reckless." He snorts, and I continue in a mock offended tone, "I'll be prepared."

"You better be. As I said before, high grades are an entirely different beast. It's one thing to read it in books or listen to stories. Experiencing it for yourself... Just be careful."

"I will, Tryss."

He nods a few times. "On to responsibilities. As a D-ranked adventurer, you have mandated duties that need to be carried out. Failure to complete these duties—excluding unavailability due to extenuating circumstances—will garner a demotion back to E-rank. No warnings, no apologies. You will only be allowed to retake the promotion exam after a year and with the approval of the hall master. If there is a second offense, you will be banned from the Guild."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. But don't worry too much. Whatever you might be tasked with will be reasonable and entirely appropriate for someone with your strength. Power carries a heavy burden, after all." I know that all too well. "First, the Guild has the authority to assign a single mission for you to complete each month. Might be solo, might be with a party, might not even be a delve. It all depends on urgency and the danger that will be suppressed." I hum and affirm. "Second, if there is an emergency Dungeon Break, the Guild has the authority to include you in the Break Response Force raiding party. And third, if there is an unprompted attack on the Union, or an attacker targets civilians, the Guild has the authority to conscript you. Strictly defensive engagements. This one's kinda archaic, but hey, you never know. Not like you'd complain, right? Just makes everything by the book." If something like that were to happen, I'd have already failed. My inner thoughts are hidden behind a resolute confirmation. "As for the good stuff, you will be paid a monthly stipend, and, of course, you can challenge D-grade dungeons. And C-grade dungeons with the appropriate party."

"I'll do my best."

"That's it. Spiel said. You can go celebrate. I hear 'em all breathing against the door." There is a muffled crash, and Tryss palms his face.

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