The adventurer association hall buzzed quietly with life. Amukelo stood with his arms folded as he stared at the quest board in front of them.
His eyes narrowed. "Barely any quests are available that would challenge us," he muttered, almost to himself.
Bral, standing slightly behind him with his arms crossed, nodded. "I guess there aren't enough bad events lately. Which is good, I mean—for the people. But bad for us."
He tapped one of the lower-ranked quests with the back of his hand. "Especially if we want to stay in Llyn until we hit Silver Rank Seven. We need more points. More challenge."
Pao, standing between them and flipping through a notebook she kept tucked under her belt, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but we're really close. One more rank-up. That's all we need. Then we'll finally be allowed to move to different regions."
Bao nodded brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I just don't want us to get stuck doing patrol missions until we rank up. Plus, they don't offer as much growth in ranks as tougher quests."
No one responded right away. Their eyes kept scanning the postings. Most were routine work—escort jobs, beast exterminations, courier requests. Nothing that would offer a significant boost to their rank. Nothing that would test them.
Bao, who had been pacing nearby with her hands behind her head, suddenly spun around. "Hey," she said, walking over to them. "Actually, there is a quest we could partake in."
Amukelo turned to him. "Partake? What do you mean?"
Bao nodded and pointed back to a separate board near the back of the hall. "Some higher-ranked quests are available for multiple guilds, as long as no single one can take them on alone."
They followed her over, and as they reached the board, the parchment in question stood out immediately. Larger, marked with a golden emblem, and carrying the bold designation: Gold Rank One – Open for Collaboration.
Target: Organized outlaw group – Capture or Eliminate.
Details: Highly dangerous group operating in east Elandria region. Responsible for repeated attacks on caravans, merchants, and multiple homesteads. Suspected to be composed of former mercenaries and rogue adventurers.
Pao's eyes scanned the details quickly. "This… is a serious job."
Amukelo narrowed his eyes. "A gold rank quest?"
Bao nodded confidently. "Yeah, but look here—" she tapped the section at the bottom, "—it's open to joint participation. And we're not the only strong guild in Llyn. There's us and Stormhold Blades—both Silver Rank Six—and Crimson Directive, but only a small branch of them is stationed here."
Bral nodded slowly. "So if none of us can handle it solo, maybe they're expecting a cooperation quest. Makes sense."
Bao said. "If they open it to multi-guild participation, and we sign up for it, that might just be enough to meet the threshold. At the very least, we'd be in the lineup to contribute."
Bral scratched his beard. "And who knows? Maybe it won't even be that dangerous in the end. Outlaws sound bad, sure, but they might just be thugs with swords."
But Amukelo didn't answer. His eyes stayed locked on the quest notice, brow furrowed.
He didn't speak until several seconds passed. "I don't know…" he muttered finally.
The others turned toward him.
Idin stepped forward and placed a hand on Amukelo's shoulder. "Amukelo, I get it. You don't want to kill people. You've always been clear about that."
Amukelo said nothing, but the tension in his jaw gave away the truth. Idin's voice lowered, more serious now. "But you have to understand—if the adventurer association, or the city authorities, decided to list this quest at a Gold Rank One, then these people… they're worse than any beast we've fought."
He looked over the parchment again. "They're not just bandits. They're a threat to the region. Maybe not in raw power, but in chaos. Stability. Influence. They're the reason why merchants can't get through trade routes. Why farmers lose their harvests before they reach markets. They're the reason towns like this one don't grow."
Idin continued. "It's the greater good, Amukelo. Even if we end up having to kill some of them, it's for something bigger. You can't always protect everyone."
Amukelo lowered his gaze for a moment, thoughts churning. It wasn't like he didn't understand. But there was something heavy about fighting people. People who talked. Who bled the same way. Who chose to do wrong, but still had faces you might remember in dreams.
But after a few long seconds, he looked up, and the resolve returned to his eyes.
"I know," he said firmly. "If this is what we need to do, then… let's do it."
The group nodded, and for a brief moment, there was silence between them.
Then Bral stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. "Alright. I'll go to the front desk and check if any other guilds already accepted it."
The sun was still low in the sky when the gathering began. Golden light spilled across the stone plaza outside the adventurer association. The air was filled with quiet tension—boots shuffling, armor clinking, murmured conversations between adventurers who weren't used to working side by side.
Amukelo stood with his friends near the back edge of the crowd, his arms crossed as he took in the scene. Over fifty adventurers had gathered, grouped tightly within their own guilds. Stormhold Blades stood to the left. Crimson Directive had the most presence, they gathered near the center. And then there was their guild—Eternal Ember. Just five of them, standing together like always.
The sound of earth shifting interrupted the idle chatter of the plaza. A platform of stone slowly rose from the center, lifted by a ripple of earth magic that moved with deliberate force. Atop it stood a man—tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in armor that was both practical and expensive. He had greying black hair and a scar that ran from the edge of his jaw up to his temple, partially hidden beneath the sharp lines of his helmet. His posture was relaxed but commanding, like a man who had seen his fair share of battle and was used to speaking over others.
He didn't shout, but his voice carried clearly. "Attention, everyone."
After a moment the murmurs died down, and everyone turned to the man.
"I know I'm not the authority here," he began, looking across the sea of faces. "And I know we're not one organization. We're three different guilds, each with our own way of doing things. But for this quest, that doesn't matter. We are in this one quest together."
He paused again, letting the words settle.
"And I'm telling you this—not to order you around—but because it's better for everyone if we work together as one large team… rather than splitting off and getting in each other's way."
Amukelo leaned toward Bral slightly and asked under his breath, "Who is this guy?"
Bral didn't look away from the platform as he answered. "His name's Draven. He's the leader of the Llyn branch of Crimson Directive. The guild Padrin is in."
Amukelo raised an eyebrow. "He's even above him?"
"They're both Gold Rank One," Bral repli "But Draven is the veteran. Been around longer. Seen more. From what I've heard, he's not the type to show off—but he's a solid strategist. Smart. And strong."
Amukelo nodded quietly, his attention returning to Draven.
Draven continued speaking, arms folded behind his back. "Now, I've spent the past few days studying the intel. Location, movement patterns, and the structure of this outlaw group. I've come up with a plan that will maximize speed, minimize casualties, and increase our chances of completing the quest with no unnecessary risk."
He paused, letting that linger in the air. "But I'm not going to force it on you."
He stepped forward slightly on the platform, his tone still calm, but carrying more weight now. "So I'll ask plainly—do we do this together, as one coordinated unit… or does each guild go their own way and hope for the best?"
For a long moment, no one responded.
Then, from the side, the leader of Stormhold Blades stepped forward—a tall man with short brown hair, chainmail visible beneath his cloak.
"We agree," he said. "Unless it puts us in some kind of disadvantage—like you using our guild to protect your own from casualties."
Draven nodded respectfully. "That's not our intention. The plan divides risk and responsibility fairly. Each team has a role. No one's getting used as a shield."
The Stormhold Blades leader nodded once and stepped back.
Then Draven's gaze turned toward Amukelo's group.
Bral stepped forward. His tone was steady, but there was no hesitation in his words. "We agree."
He gestured toward the group. "But we have one condition. We stay together. All five of us. Eternal Ember is small—but we've reached this rank through trust, coordination, and covering each other's weaknesses. You separate us, and you break that."
Draven smiled slightly and gave a small nod. "I considered that. Your group is efficient exactly because you don't split. My plan won't disrupt that."
Draven stepped back again, surveying the gathered adventurers. "Good," he said, his voice cutting through the air once more. "Then I'll begin the briefing."