By the time the last badge was handed out and the final ledger entry was stamped, the Guild Hall felt as if it had weathered a small war, not one fought with steel and blood, but one waged through decisions, pride, and inevitability.

The mercenaries stood in neat lines, each now adorned with the insignia of an Adventurer, the unfamiliar weight of their new identities settling onto their shoulders.

Licenses were tucked carefully into inner pockets, badges fastened with varying degrees of awkwardness and curiosity. Some wore expressions of irritation, others were deep in thought, while a few quietly chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Yet none chose to leave.

Sage concluded his explanations with the same calm professionalism he had maintained throughout this entire ordeal.

He covered the essentials, mission rankings, reward distribution, penalties for misconduct, and the Guild's cut, his tone even and unhurried as if he were discussing a well-rehearsed routine rather than onboarding one of the most dangerous groups in the region.

Valeria listened with her arms crossed, her expression inscrutable. Vanthrice stood slightly beside her, memorizing every detail with keen focus.

The other mercenaries absorbed Sage's words in silence; their instincts told them that these rules, irritating as they might be, would soon govern a significant portion of their lives.

When Sage finished speaking, Mina sprang forward with renewed energy, shedding days of tension like an old cloak.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Valeria's arm and tugged her toward the mission board as though nothing that had transpired earlier could shake her resolve.

"Come on," Mina said brightly while pointing excitedly. "This is where everything begins."

Valeria allowed herself to be pulled along but cast a brief glance back at Sage, a sharp look that lingered as if she were committing his posture and expression to memory.

Vanthrice followed closely behind along with the rest of the mercenaries; their boots echoed softly against the floor as they made their way across the Guild Hall.

The mission board loomed ahead of them, a seemingly unassuming structure now imbued with significance that even Valeria couldn't ignore.

This board represented work, leverage, reputation, and a path she had chosen willingly or not.

Sage observed them go from his chair, leaning back in an exaggerated stretch before letting out a wide yawn that echoed faintly in the suddenly quieter hall.

Anyone watching closely might have thought he had just finished hauling bricks or clearing rubble instead of orchestrating a pivotal moment in Greyvale's balance of power. He rolled his shoulders once more before letting his arms drop lazily to his sides.

"Exhausting," he muttered while rubbing his eyes.

His gaze drifted toward those gathered around the mission board.

Mina animatedly pointed out different mission tiers to her fellow mercenaries while explaining rewards with grand gestures.

Some of the mercenaries leaned in, intrigued despite themselves, while others stood back, assessing the board like a battlefield map. Valeria stood at the center of it all, silent and observant, her sharp eye taking in every detail.

And just like that,without fanfare or bloodshed, the most powerful mercenary group in the region had transformed into Adventurers. Sage smiled faintly.

The snowball had begun rolling.

------------

Time never slows down to appreciate moments like these; it simply moves on. Two days passed in what felt like a single breath, and Greyvale City underwent a startling transformation.

The Gryphon District, usually lively, erupted into something resembling controlled chaos.

News spread like wildfire through taverns, markets, workshops, and back alleys alike. People whispered about it over drinks, argued about it in the streets, and speculated endlessly about its implications.

The Crimson Devil had joined the Adventurer Guild. Those words alone ignited imaginations everywhere.

Of course, the speed and intensity of the rumors were largely thanks to Pax. Working quietly behind the scenes, he did what he did best—nudging conversations along, planting information strategically, and exaggerating just enough to make the truth irresistible.

By the end of day one, even the most isolated corners of Greyvale buzzed with chatter. By day two, only someone completely cut off from society could claim ignorance.

Pax didn't just spread news; he curated it. He framed the narrative to portray the Guild as legitimate and powerful, a rising force that could attract, and contain, someone like Valeria Steelheart.

The effect was immediate. Warriors flocked to the Guild in droves: some out of curiosity, others driven by ambition or fear of being left behind.

Lines formed outside the Guild Hall from dawn until well past dusk, a steady stream of hopeful Adventurers clutching coins and documents eager to register before opportunities slipped away.

Veterans who once scoffed at working under a Guild reconsidered their stance. Young fighters who dreamed of recognition saw a clear path forward. Even seasoned mercenaries from smaller groups came to observe and test their options.

Recruitment exploded. Commissioners soon followed suit. With Valeria now an Adventurer, missions posted at the Guild carried an unprecedented guarantee of completion; if the Crimson Devil accepted your request, failure was simply not an option.

Posting a mission became more than just a transaction, it became a statement of honor. Merchants, nobles' intermediaries, and even city officials began appearing at the Guild with parchment in hand, eager to associate their names with its rising reputation.

The Guild's coffers filled steadily.

Sage noticed this growth very clearly. The past two days blurred into an exhausting cycle of stamping papers, collecting fees, answering questions, and mediating disputes. He barely found time to eat or rest.

The lines never seemed to shorten; whenever one queue thinned out another formed almost immediately.

His desk was perpetually buried under a mountain of forms and ledgers, ink smudges darkening his fingers no matter how often he wiped them clean.

Late into the second night, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a polished metal plate and let out a soft laugh at the sight of his own weary eyes.

"I should've asked the system for Sun Wukong's 72 Transformations," he muttered with a hint of humor. "This is just cruel."

The joke masked the reality of his fatigue. For two full days, he hadn't trained, not once. His body ached, not from combat but from relentless overwork. Yet, despite the exhaustion, his mind felt sharper than ever, fueled by equal parts fatigue and satisfaction.

The Guild was expanding faster than he had ever imagined.

And with growth came the urgent need for infrastructure.

On that second evening, Sage finally sank into his chair behind the desk, surrounded by a hall still buzzing with activity.

Two long lines stretched from his desk nearly all the way to the entrance, Adventurers waiting patiently, or perhaps impatiently, for their turn. He leaned back, eyes half-closed, and exhaled slowly.

A smile tugged at his lips, colored by both pride and resignation.

"Well," he murmured to himself as he surveyed the chaos around him, "this is going to kill me if I keep doing it alone."

He rubbed his temples before glancing toward the mission board where Valeria and her group were already making waves simply by being present.

The snowball effect was real; it wasn't just rolling anymore, it was gaining speed downhill, gathering mass and momentum with every turn.

Sage chuckled softly and shook his head.

"Looks like it's time to hire some staff," he said quietly, mixing bitterness with amusement in his voice. "Otherwise, I might actually die from overtime."

For the first time since founding the Guild, Sage realized that survival no longer hinged solely on strength or clever schemes; it relied on delegation.

The snowball had grown too large for him to push alone.

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