In order to register as an adventurer, one must first acquire a skill.

  Most children register on the very day they receive their skill.

  It is rare for a child to wait until the evening of the following day to do so.

  Seneca and Lucius often hunted beasts in the nearby forest and gathered medicinal herbs, which had resulted in a few acquaintances at the guild. However, when they arrived, none of their familiar faces were present at the reception, so they decided to stand in an empty line.

  When Seneca’s turn came, she stepped up to register as an adventurer.

  Her skill was noted as [Sewing]. Some people used the registration process as a form of identification rather than truly pursuing a career as an adventurer, but nothing unusual happened. The guild official simply registered her magical power on her adventurer’s card.

  Seneca was ranked Bronze, the entry-level tier for adventurers.

  Once a certain level of achievement had been attained, one could advance to the Iron tier.

  Achieving Copper rank marked a recognition of an adventurer’s worth, and their standard of living would improve.

  Silver rank was a sign of excellence. Only a handful of adventurers in the city reached this level, and they were often considered minor celebrities.

  Gold rank and above were nearly mythical. In rger cities, one might encounter them, but outside of that, such individuals were either seen only during emergencies or by mere chance.

  "Well, if it isn’t Seneca," came a voice as Seneca made to leave the guild.

  It was Nord, from the orphanage, with his usual companions—Pike and Mitz.

  "Still pnning to become an adventurer with that useless skill of yours?" Nord taunted.

  "I am," Seneca replied, unfazed. "You’ve done the same, haven’t you?"

  "Yeah, I got Swordsmanship," Nord boasted. "Pike got Spear Mastery, and Mitz got Water Magic."

  Seneca couldn’t help but think how well-banced their skills were.

  "Seems like all of you have adventurer-worthy skills," she remarked.

  "Unlike you," Nord shot back with a smirk. "What do you say, Seneca? We could let you join our party. Finding a party when you’ve got a useless skill like that must be tough, right?"

  Nord puffed out his chest, offering the suggestion as if doing her a great favour.

  "No need," Seneca replied with quiet confidence. "I’m stronger than you, Nord."

  She said it so casually that it took Nord a moment to process her words. His face flushed bright red with anger.

  "We’ve gained strength through our skills. I’ll easily surpass you, Seneca," he retorted.

  Seneca, ever the contrary spirit despite her outward appearance as a beautiful girl, took his words as a challenge.

  "If that’s the case, then let me see what you’ve got, Nord," Seneca said, her voice dripping with provocation. "Let’s head back to the orphanage."

  "Fine. I’ll accept your challenge."

  A confident smile crept across Seneca’s face. Nord, still angry, couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted by her expression.

  ...

  Back at the orphanage, the two squared off in the yard.

  Seneca would always use the wooden swords crafted from shaved tree trunks when fighting anyone other than Lucius. While they barely resembled swords, they served their purpose for sparring.

  Mitz, as always, would act as the impartial judge.

  The two opponents took their stances.

  "Begin!" Mitz’s voice rang out.

  Nord lunged at Seneca with his wooden sword raised high.

  Seneca, as she always did, attempted to deflect the strike.

  However, this time, the blow came down much sharper and faster than she had anticipated.

  Reacting quickly, Seneca stepped back to dodge the strike.

  Nord’s sword cleaved the air where she had been just moments before.

  Regaining her posture, Seneca aimed to counterattack, but Nord immediately struck again with a second, faster swing.

  The attack wasn’t particurly dangerous to Seneca, but the fact that Nord was taking such rapid actions was unprecedented. He had never fought like this before.

  Seneca, undeterred, stepped forward, smming the palm of her hand against the base of Nord’s wooden sword.

  The blow sent Nord’s weapon spiraling off course, and Seneca swiftly redirected it, rendering his attack null and void.

  Both stepped back, creating distance between them.

  "How’s that? Feel my sword now, Seneca?" Nord taunted.

  Seneca didn’t respond, but inwardly, she noted how proud his face looked. It was irritating, yet undeniable: he had grown stronger.

  Steeling herself, Seneca focused and tightened her stance.

  She read Nord’s breath, waiting for an opening.

  As he exhaled deeply, Seneca took a decisive step forward.

  In an instant, she was right before him.

  To Nord, it appeared as though Seneca’s sword was poised to strike.

  Instinctively, he raised his arm to defend, only to freeze in pce.

  Seneca slid around Nord, positioning her wooden sword against his neck.

  "That’s enough!" Mitz called out, halting the match.

  "Dammit!" Nord cursed, throwing his sword to the ground in frustration.

  Seneca’s heart raced. Though she had managed to time her moves perfectly, she recognised that, had the fight turned into a chaotic scramble, there was a real danger of a mistake occurring. Nord’s strikes were powerful enough that, if she had let her guard down, she might have lost.

  Nord stomped in frustration, his face contorted with anger.

  "To think I’ve gained the Swordsmanship skill and lost to a useless skill..." he muttered bitterly.

  The repeated mention of her "useless skill" stirred something in Seneca, and she felt her blood boil. Her fingers clenched tightly around her wooden sword.

  But just as she was about to respond, Pike, the quiet one, stepped forward.

  "Nord, there are plenty of adventurers with skills considered 'unsuitable' for combat. If you keep talking like that, you’ll make enemies of a lot of people."

  Pike’s words, calm and reasoned, caught both Nord and Seneca off guard. The two of them looked at him, and a quiet understanding passed between them. However, the directness of Pike’s comment, calling out the idea that some skills were unsuitable for adventuring, stung Seneca more than she had expected.

  "Fine! I get it!" Nord grumbled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

  With the tension defused, Seneca, feeling a bit defted, muttered a soft observation before heading back to the dormitory.

  "Nord’s really become strong."

  Without realising it, Seneca smiled faintly as she walked away, leaving the three boys standing there, gazing at the spot where she had been, lost in thought.

  ...

  As Seneca returned to her room, her mind churned. While she had been flustered earlier, she now realised that, having gauged his strength, she had no doubt that she could defeat Nord in a fight, no matter how many times they faced off.

  The gap between their abilities was clear.

  And yet, it was also undeniable that Nord had grown significantly stronger since receiving his skill.

  Seneca became aware of the arrogance she had been carrying with her.

  She had become the one being chased.

  If she allowed herself to become compcent, it wouldn’t take long before Nord caught up with her.

  And it wasn’t just Nord. Mitz and Pike had both acquired useful skills, too.

  Perhaps the gap between them wasn’t as rge as she had once believed.

  A feeling of doubt settled in Seneca’s chest. Maybe her skill truly was a useless skill.

  But what Seneca failed to realise at that moment was that, just as Nord had grown through his new skill, she, too, had the potential to develop her own.