Ascending the steps, I entered and made my way to the front desk. The young man I’d spoken to earlier was still there, writing diligently with a metallic pen, dipping it periodically into a small glass inkwell. I stood at the counter, rocking on my heels, waiting for him to notice me. After a few seconds, he glanced up, did a double take as his gaze lingered above my head, and straightened up with a much more formal demeanour.
"Hello, sir. How may I assist you?" he said, his tone brisk and professional—quite a contrast to earlier.
“I’d like to pay my stipend and join the guild,” I explained, already feeling a knot of dread forming in my stomach.
He paused, staring at me with an expression of incredulity mixed with amusement. Then, chuckling softly, he shook his head. “That’s very funny, sir. I do appreciate a joke, even at my expense, but I am quite busy. If you’re hoping to schedule a meeting with the guild secretary, I must disappoint you—she won’t be back until tomorrow.”
I frowned. “No, I’m not joking. I was here earlier, and you told me I needed 100 Crowns to join if I didn’t pick a class. Well, I have the Crowns.”
His polite smile faltered. “Guild owners cannot join another guild, sir. If there’s a message you’d like to leave for the madam secretary, I’ll ensure she receives it.”
He conjured a small screen and keyboard, his fingers poised to type, clearly prepared to record whatever "message" he thought I had.
Frustrated, I let out an annoyed grunt—mostly directed at the realization that my Crowns were gone. My thoughts raced back to the thieving little dwarf from earlier, but I forced myself to remain composed. “Never mind,” I said stiffly. “Thanks for your time.”
I left the counter, feeling both irritated and confused. Outside, a line of stone benches offered a place to sit. As I slumped onto one, I noticed the unfamiliar text in the corner of my vision. Curious, I opened the waiting notifications.
BA-DING
System Notification:
You have founded a new guild.
By redeeming a class coupon without any current affiliations, you have established a new guild and been designated as its leader.
All available currency has been moved into the guild treasury. Your compendium has been updated to include information about your duties as a guild leader.
You lack any valid party members to fill the position of guild secretary. You will be assigned a system-generated NPC to fill this position once a guild location has been established.
Guild fees will be automatically deducted from the guild treasury until a treasurer is assigned.
BA-DING
Achievement:
Moving on up!
Description:
Look at you, all grown up and starting your own guild—such responsibility! You are now tasked with running day-to-day operations and growing your guild to prominence. And to think your mother said you’d never amount to anything.
Reward:
- 10 "Join my Guild!" posters
- 3 Guild Staff Tokens
- Access to the Guild Master tab has been granted.
I stared blankly at the notification, trying to piece together exactly how I’d become a guild leader between leaving Sharla and now. Before I could make sense of it, the narrator’s voice interrupted—sultry, smoky, and unnervingly alluring.
BA-DING
New Persistent Quest!
Pay Your Dues
Mmm, I love a man who takes charge, but you’ve got to have that coin to keep a lady like me happy.
You are required to pay your guild dues to the oversight board within one week. The amount is calculated at 100 Crowns per guild member per week, plus 1,000 Crowns each month.
Total Amount: 1,100 Crowns, payable in 7 days.
Go bring home the bacon, hun!
Reward:
This quest doesn’t offer rewards. Failure to complete it will result in a collection action.
One thousand, one hundred Crowns.
My stomach churned. Sharla had received 50 Crowns as a sign-up bonus. I’d barely managed 200 from selling wolf parts. I had no idea how much quests paid, but I knew I’d need to start earning fast. The very thought of a “collection action” sent a cold shiver down my spine.
The next notification came into focus, its transparency fading as I read it.
BA-DING
Achievement:
Classy
Description:
You have gained a class. This achievement is granted to anyone who completes the registration quest, so don't let it go to your head.
Reward:
- 1 participation trophy
- 100 Crowns
I waited for the sound of clinking coins, but it never came. Instead, the newly added Guild Master tab vibrated, and an animation of coins being sucked into it played. My shoulders slumped in defeat as the disapproving voice chimed in with one last notification.
BA-BAA
Quest failed:
Back to School
Description:
Huh. Well, colour me impressed. It’s been a long time since someone failed this quest. I don’t know what you did, but I hope you’ve got a plan, smart guy, because now you’re destined to be some merchant’s bitch as you scrounge together a living. Education is important, you know!
I ran my hands through my hair and leaned back against the wall of the Adventurer’s Guild, staring at the pale blue sky.
“Well, shit,” I muttered.
A rhythmic buzzing behind my eyes pulled me from my despair. A new envelope icon blinked in my interface. I sighed, resolving to spend some time customizing the layout later—things were getting crowded with all these tabs and notifications.
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz
Sharla:
Hey, I’m at the pit. Where are you? The quest was a bust. I’ll tell you more when you’re here.
I typed out a quick reply:
Ryan:
I’ll be there in a little bit, just at the guild. See you soon.
The chat window slid neatly to the left of my vision, now accessible with a flick of my eye. Pushing aside my frustration, I made my way back to the tavern, rehearsing how I was going to break the news to Sharla. She had been insistent about me getting a class, expecting me to return triumphant with my guild registration complete.
When I arrived, a group of adventurers were exiting the tavern. One of them held the door open for me, and I nodded in thanks as I stepped inside. The Bottomless Pit was bustling as usual, its warmth and noise almost overwhelming.
Sharla was sitting in a booth this time, deep in conversation with a young woman who faced away from me. The woman’s appearance was striking: she was dressed in a mud-caked three-piece suit, the points of her heels snapped off. Her legs swung beneath the chair, not quite reaching the floor. As I approached, Sharla noticed me and waved me over.
“Ryan! Over here,” she called.
I approached, and Sharla introduced us. “Ryan, this is Milli—short for Millicent. Milli, this is Ryan. We know each other from before. Milli’s been looking for a group to team up with.”
Milli extended her hand stiffly for a handshake. I shook it, though my mind was still preoccupied with the looming mountain of guild debt.
“Nice to meet you,” I said distractedly.
Milli smiled curtly, then turned back to Sharla, her hands gesturing dramatically as she resumed their conversation.
“As I was saying,” Milli continued, her voice sharp and youthful despite her formal attire, “I would be very interested in joining up with you and your friend here. However, I must insist that we draft a contract outlining loot distribution and combat responsibilities. It’s vital to avoid future disputes.”
I glanced at Sharla, shooting her a message through my interface.
Ryan:
Are you recruiting for Tim? I don’t see him anywhere.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Sharla:
He’s not here. I left the party. Their vibes were really rancid.
Ryan:
What? I thought he saved your life. What happened?
Sharla:
It can wait a little while. Milli came up and asked me to party with her, and I just said yes. She’s... really intense.
I glanced at Milli, who was now emphasizing her point with a sharp jab of her finger against the table. Her octagonal glasses magnified her expressive brown eyes, and her full lips were tinted faintly red—lipstick long overdue for reapplication. She exuded an energy that bordered on manic, her formal suit doing little to ground her frenetic enthusiasm.
The woman cleared her throat, her sharp eyes clearly indicating she could tell we were talking in chat.
Sharla looked up, plastering on a diplomatic smile. “If you’re willing to write one up, we’d be happy to sign on the dotted line, as it were.”
Milli’s eyes lit up, practically sparkling. She brought her hands up to her chin, small fists balled with excitement. I could hear the light tap, tap, tap of her feet hitting the booth seat as she swung them excitedly.
“OKAY! I’ll have it to you before the end of business today!” she said, her voice quivering with excitement. She did a quick arm clasp with both Sharla and me before hopping out of the booth. With a brisk and almost comically determined stride, she made her way up the stairs and disappeared into a hallway.
Now alone, Sharla leaned in, her cheerful mask fading. She started relaying what had transpired while we were separated.
She had found her party a few hundred meters from the gate. They had a gnome bound, blindfolded, gagged, and on their knees. It didn’t take much to see they were “extracting” information. The gnome, she explained, was a trader in town. Oliver had seen the gnome speaking with a goblin caravan and, in his infinite wisdom, decided they must be an informant.
Sharla paused, disgust flickering across her face. “The guild has really strict rules about merchants and non-monster NPCs. You can rough them up, but killing them is strictly forbidden unless you’ve got a guild-approved quest. I left the party when Oliver started interrogating him again, I don't want anything to do with people like that."
As I was proceeding to tell her that I had a massive debt from founding a guild somehow, Sharla suddenly went rigid. A flash of light crossed her eyes, and her face dropped, the blood draining from her cheeks.
“Oh, those absolute reprobates!” she hissed, standing up so fast she nearly knocked her drink over. She punched the table, her fist trembling with anger.
Her voice grew louder, each word more venomous than the last. “They killed him! And since I was still part of their damned party when they started, I’m being held responsible too!”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. She began pacing back and forth, muttering under her breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. After a few minutes, she finally managed to string something coherent together.
“They revoked my guild membership!?” she blurted, her tone a mix of anger and disbelief. “My class is gone, too!? All because of those wankers!”
She stopped pacing and turned to me, determination blazing in her eyes.
“Can I join your guild?” she asked, leaning over the table until her face was inches from mine. “You’re a guild leader now, right? Surely you can give me a class.”
I jerked back instinctively, hands raised. “I—I don’t even know how it works! I’ve been a guild leader for, like, ten minutes! And I’m pretty sure I’m already on the verge of bankruptcy.”
She didn’t break her stare. She was clearly not going to let this drop. But before the tension could escalate further, Milli reappeared, startling both of us.
Neither of us had noticed her approach. She now stood by the table, three neatly stacked bundles of parchment clutched in her arms. With practised precision, she placed one stack in front of me and another in front of Sharla, utterly oblivious to the exchange she’d interrupted.
“Here are the contracts!” she chirped, clearly in her element. “This draft is fairly boilerplate, of course. It’ll need amendments if we move past the probationary period.”
I blinked at her, then at the wall of legal jargon now staring me in the face. “Wait a second. You were gone for, like, five minutes. Do you just keep these things under your bed or something?”
Milli gave me a perfectly serious look, adjusting her octagonal glasses. “As I said, these are mostly boilerplate. I’ve written hundreds of these at my last job. Though yes, I did prepare this particular draft after the, ah, ‘unpleasantness’ with my last party.” Making air quotes with her fingers.
She produced a sleek black-and-gold pen from her jacket pocket, the name “Millicent” etched on the cap in elegant cursive. She handed it to me with a polite but expectant smile.
Milli flipped through the pages, signing the document in multiple places with practised ease. When she finished, she handed the pen to Sharla, breaking her intense glare in my direction. Sharla hesitated but took the pen, her expression still stormy, and began signing where Milli’s small, well-manicured hands guided her. Each signature was accompanied by Milli’s meticulous double-checking, her eyes sharp and businesslike.
Finally, Milli turned to me, holding out the pen with a polite but firm smile. I stared at the stack of documents, my stomach knotting. The closest thing I’d ever dealt with was a good behaviour contract in high school—this was a whole other level of commitment. Still, I went along with it, signing my name no fewer than fourteen times. Each spot was marked with a small cross, and Milli insisted on checking every single one before giving an approving nod. With a satisfied smile, she gathered the papers, and with a small blink, the stacks disappeared into her storage.
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz
Sharla:
We are NOT done with this.
I sighed and pushed the chat box aside, feeling the weight of her lingering frustration. Milli, meanwhile, seemed unfazed, turning her attention to the drinks menu with enthusiasm.
Through a casual conversation that followed, I learned she had just turned 19 in November. She’d spent the last year working as an executive assistant for her father’s company, which explained her startling professionalism. Milli regaled us with stories of after-work gatherings and morale-building activities, speaking with the confidence of someone who had navigated corporate dynamics far beyond her years. She insisted on buying the first round, declaring it a tradition she’d upheld during many after-hours outings with her former colleagues.
The drinks worked their magic, and before long, Sharla had relaxed back into her seat, her earlier anger seemingly forgotten. Milli introduced us to a series of drinking games, each more elaborate than the last. By the third round, I found myself caught up in a game where we took turns completing a limerick. Sharla, with her deadpan delivery, had us in stitches, and Milli’s infectious energy kept the games rolling one after another.
I was well and truly drunk by the time the warm, insistent twitch in my bladder demanded attention. Excusing myself, I made my way to the restrooms. The small, white-tiled room was functional and clean, with a row of urinals, a couple of sinks, and a roll of paper towels. After finishing my business, I washed my hands and splashed some water on my face, trying to shake off the growing haze of alcohol.
When I returned, Milli was gesticulating wildly, her voice brimming with excitement as she explained yet another overly complicated drinking game to Sharla, who sat with her arms crossed, nodding along. I slid back into my seat just as Milli clapped her hands and declared the rules finalised.
The night blurred into a haze of laughter, bouncing coins into mugs, and the warm camaraderie of our little trio. I must have passed out mid-game because when I woke, the tavern was eerily quiet. The lively chatter and music had faded, leaving only the soft sounds of snoring. Sharla was curled up on the booth cushions like an oversized cat, her wild mane of hair spilling across her face. A few other patrons were scattered around, slumped over tables or sprawled in corners.
I stretched, my head pleasantly free of the splitting headache I’d expected. Whatever passive healing this world provided, it had done wonders. A soft ‘ping’ caught my attention, and I opened the waiting chat notification.
Milli:
You two are total lightweights. But I’m positively buzzing with excitement to start my role as treasurer. Don’t forget that you agreed to join Sharla and me for a quest in the morning—7 a.m. sharp!
I blinked at the message, wondering how she planned to keep track of the time so precisely. Outside, the sun had already risen, and the early bustle of the settlement was beginning. Vendors were setting up their stalls, the chatter of traders and clinking of goods filling the air. My stomach growled, reminding me how little I’d eaten.
I approached the bar, where the ever-cheerful Quokka bartender was already cleaning mugs and wiping down the counter. He slung a cloth over his shoulder and greeted me with a grin.
“Howdy, mate! What can I get you?”
“Uh, is water free?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
The Quokka made a soft squeak of amusement and fetched a pitcher, filling it with water from a tap behind the bar. I thanked him and carried it, along with a couple of cups, back to the booth. After pouring myself a drink, I pulled out a Mornin’ Hun ration pack and eagerly devoured the dense, cakey loaf. The warmth of the drink and food settled in my stomach like a comforting embrace.
Refreshed, I brushed my teeth in the restroom and returned to find Sharla awake and sitting at the bar. Her hair was a chaotic halo of tangled curls, puffing out in all directions, giving her an almost ethereal look in the morning light. She was ordering something from the Quokka bartender, who had disappeared into the back to prepare it.
“Did you also get the message from Milli? I don’t remember anything from last night,” Sharla asked in a croaky voice, her head resting heavily in one hand as she refilled her cup of water.
“Yeah, I got it,” I replied, stretching my back until I heard a satisfying crack, then bending over to touch my toes.
She gulped down her drink and rubbing her temples. “Do you remember anything we talked about?”
“Nope,” I admitted, sitting back down. “I’m just planning to go with the flow. I’ve only got six days left to pull the money together, so I’m down to try a quest.”
While Sharla nodded absently, I thought back to the hazy memory of sifting through my menus late last night. Sharla, already several drinks in, had been slurring her way through explanations of features I hadn’t fully explored yet. My class, Safety Inspector, had drawn quite a bit of confusion from both her and Milli—it wasn’t something they had ever seen or heard of before.
The class came with no weapon or armour proficiencies and offered only two unique skills:
Skill - Passive:
Flaw Finder
Description:
You have the supernatural ability to identify environmental hazards, defects in items, and structural flaws. They will glow when you enter a new location.
Skill - Passive:
Hazard Hunter
Description:
When you successfully land an attack derived from a defective item, environmental hazard, or structural flaw, you will deal double damage—provided you haven’t used that method before.
The names of the skills felt more like jokes than powers, but their utility couldn’t be denied. Even now, as I glanced around the room, I noticed a loose floorboard under a table, a chandelier swaying precariously from a rusty chain, and a wobbling chair that looked ready to collapse. It was like being inside a stealth game, with the hazards calling out to me, daring me to use them.
The bartender interrupted my thoughts as he returned with a plate of thick toasted bread, each slice topped with a perfectly fried egg. Sharla slid a few coins across the counter, and they blinked away into his interface without him touching them. She tore into the food with enthusiasm just as Milli descended the stairs, her cheerful presence brightening the room instantly.
“Morning, guild buddies!” she announced, practically skipping into the tavern. Her clothes were freshly laundered, the scent of lavender trailing behind her, and her hair was styled just enough to look effortlessly perfect. She had swapped out her ruined heels for practical leather boots, though they clashed with the rest of her professional outfit.
“Last night was fun,” she continued, balancing a bacon-and-egg muffin in one hand, “but I hope you don’t expect to be partying like that every night—not with our expenses being what they are.”
Sharla and I exchanged a glance, both fully aware we’d probably been the weak links in her late-night endurance. Milli didn’t seem fazed, though, as she reached into her inventory and produced a small green slip of paper, about the size of a business card. She handed it to Sharla with an air of ceremony.
“I put a lot of thought into this,” she said, her voice brimming with confidence. “I think this is the best fit for you, given your background.”
Sharla squinted at the card as she took it, her mouth half-full of toast and egg. “Wha—” she began, before a piece of bread lodged in her throat, sending her into a fit of coughing. I leaned over, patting her on the back.
Milli raised a brow, entirely unimpressed. “That’s why you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full. You’re a doctor—you, of all people, should know the statistics on choking deaths.”
Sharla waved me off as she recovered, her face red with embarrassment. The card read “Bible Thumper”, a class that Milli explained was a front-line tank-healer hybrid with a focus on blunt weapons. “It’s similar to what you had before,” she added, “but this class lets you heal too.”
Sharla looked at the coupon with a mix of suspicion and curiosity, finally muttering, “Huh. Not bad.”
Milli then turned to me, her tone shifting to businesslike efficiency. “Oh, and last night—when you were very drunk—you explained this whole guild leader situation. Remember that?” Her expression was one of polite exasperation as she recounted how I’d offered her the role of treasurer. Apparently, I had been incredibly enthusiastic, and Milli had accepted just as enthusiastically.
The memory came back in pieces, and I winced as I recalled her excitedly bouncing in her seat when I’d asked. She’d called it a “CFO position,” something she was more than happy to take on.
Milli had even chosen a class called Tinkerer, which allowed her to create gadgets that could buff Sharla and, with more experience, dismantle and reassemble items into new creations.
“How much did all this cost?” I finally asked, my voice tight as a cold sweat began to drip down my back.
Milli didn’t miss a beat, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, nothing we can’t handle,” she said lightly, her tone almost too casual. “You do realise we need classes if we’re going to take on quests, right?”
She refused to meet my eyes, and that only made the knot in my stomach tighten. I hesitated for a moment, then opened my Guild Leader tab, bracing myself for what I’d see.
The number hit me like a punch to the gut. My throat went dry. I sent a message to Sharla:
Ryan:
I think we’re fucked.