Harem Points System: Every Touch Counts!

"I see… You've already been verified by Captain herself," she said softly, setting the letter aside. "That saves us most of the background process, though with the aura of the mana emanating from you I can understand her decision. This have never been seen before..."

She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a thin slate embedded with runic script. A faint shimmer passed across its surface as she activated it.

"Allow me to brief you, then. The Adventurer's Guild operates under a unified system recognized by all major cities under the Alliance Treaty. Every new applicant must first complete a formal registration — name, origin, and personal weapon signature — followed by a three-stage evaluation test."

She tapped the slate, bringing up glowing symbols that hovered in the air like ethereal ink.

"The first stage tests your combat fundamentals — balance, precision, and control. The second measures your adaptability against real threats, usually in a controlled monster field outside the city. The third… well, it depends on the examiner. They choose based on what they see in you."

Her tone softened slightly. "Passing all three grants you a Bronze rank badge. Fail one, and you're advised to train and try again after a month."

He nodded, listening quietly. "And what about the badge itself?"

"The badge is linked to your mana signature," she explained. "It'll serve as identification, tracking your missions, kills, and contribution points. You'll need it to take quests, access restricted regions, and claim guild rewards. Lose it, and… well, the paperwork will make you regret it."

Xavier allowed a faint smirk. "Understood."

She looked up again, curious now. "You don't seem nervous."

"I've had worse trials," he said. "This one's just official."

That earned a small, reluctant smile from her before she turned back to her slate. "Very well, Mr. Xavier. The next test cycle starts shortly — you're in luck. We had a few other applicants this morning, but the examiner requested one more participant before closing the session. If you hurry, you can still make it."

Xavier adjusted the strap of his gauntlet, the faint gleam of runes pulsing along the metal edge. "Where?"

"The training grounds behind the guild," she said, sliding him a small card inscribed with silver ink. "Present this to the examiner. And… a word of advice — don't hold back. They don't take kindly to pretenders."

He accepted the card, glancing at it briefly before slipping it into his coat. As he turned to leave, the murmur of voices rose again — this time sharper, more curious.

A few adventurers near the wall leaned closer, whispering among themselves.

"Velmora's Defense Corps? Why's someone like that taking the guild test?"

"Maybe he's scouting… heard the guild's been losing men near the western plains."

"No, you idiot — didn't you hear the rumors about the ruins east of Velmora? They're saying an ancient seal broke last week. The higher-ups are hiding it."

"Yeah right. And next you'll tell me the Church summoned something again."

Xavier's steps paused for a fraction.

That last sentence hit closer than it should have.

He said nothing, but his eyes briefly narrowed — the faintest flicker of interest, or perhaps wariness.

Then, without a word, he pushed open the rear doors and stepped into the sunlight spilling across the courtyard — the beginning of his test, and perhaps, something more.

**

The courtyard was immense, ringed with arcane pillars and target zones. Weapon racks lined the walls, and mana formations shimmered faintly across the ground. The sky above burned in molten gold, the late sun cutting through drifting clouds.

And there she stood — the examiner.

Tall, lean, and battle-hardened, her auburn hair tied into a strict braid that fell between two narrow shoulder guards. The scar running down her cheek didn't mar her beauty — it only made her look sharper, like tempered steel.

"Another candidate?" she asked, voice calm but sharp.

The attendant bowed quickly. "Yes, Instructor Viera. Recommended for direct evaluation."

"Recommended?" Her brow arched slightly. "He doesn't look like a runaway noble… What's your weapon, boy?"

"Dagger," Xavier replied evenly, sliding a short blade from its sheath. The dagger's edge shimmered faintly — no ornamentation, no crest, only deadly purpose.

Viera crossed her arms. "Dagger users are rare these days. Most can't handle the close range."

"I manage."

Something about the way he said it made her frown. Not arrogance — just certainty. A statement of fact.

"Fine," she said finally. "We'll begin."

A crystalline pillar was brought forth, faintly humming. Veins of light pulsed inside it like a living heart.

"This is the Resonance Crystal," Viera explained, her tone becoming professional. "Channel your mana into it. It'll show your elemental alignment and level of control."

Xavier nodded, raising a single hand. His dagger gleamed faintly — then went still.

The air around him shifted. A hush swept through the courtyard. Even the faint mana wind seemed to coil around him as if drawn by instinct.

When his palm touched the crystal, it was silent for a heartbeat.

Then the world shuddered.

The crystal exploded into color — light twisting violently from gold to violet, then deep crimson, before settling into a dark, bleeding shade of scarlet threaded with silver. The vibrations rang through the ground like distant thunder.

Viera's eyes widened. "That… that's—!"

She took an involuntary step back. The crystal had never displayed two distinct resonances — let alone ones that contradicted each other. Blood and Light. One symbolized corruption and raw instinct. The other, purity and divine order. They should have repelled each other. Instead, they danced.

The readings scorched the surface of her gauge stone, smoke rising.

He stepped back, his expression calm, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

"...Results?" he asked.

Viera's mouth opened, then closed. "…You broke the crystal."

"Then I passed?"

A muscle twitched near her jaw. "You— yes. You passed."

But even as she said it, her mind was spinning.

What kind of mana reacts like that…?

Viera motioned toward the center of the yard. Arcane seals flared to life beneath the dirt as six constructs assembled — humanoid golems armed with mock weapons of various types.

"These are adaptive simulacra," she said. "They'll mirror your style and grow stronger with each exchange. Your goal is to defeat all six. You'll be graded on technique, mana control, and reaction speed."

Xavier's dagger twirled once between his fingers, the motion so fluid it almost looked lazy.

The constructs moved first — jerky at first, then faster, smoother, learning.

One swung. Xavier pivoted left. His blade flashed once. The golem's arm fell to the ground.

Another came from behind. Without even turning, Xavier twisted his wrist backward, parrying the strike and driving the dagger's pommel into its chest. The impact sent it staggering — mana flaring violently before its core shattered.

Each movement was efficient, economical — surgical.

The constructs adapted, their forms glowing as they synchronized to his rhythm. But Xavier was no longer moving at the same tempo. His steps grew unpredictable — silent yet violent, his dagger finding gaps faster than the constructs could process them.

Metal screeched. The air sparked.

In barely a minute, six broken constructs littered the ground.

The observers fell into silence again.

Viera's quill slipped from her hand. "I… I didn't even see—"

Xavier turned toward her, his dagger's edge clean, his breathing steady. "Was that sufficient?"

Her heart was pounding. "More than sufficient," she muttered, voice thin.

Then under her breath: He's not human… not entirely.

Viera exhaled slowly and unsheathed her own weapons — twin sabers glowing faintly blue with condensed mana. "The last test. You face me. Real weapons, real reaction. I'll test your instincts — not your strength."

He didn't flinch. "Understood."

"Begin."

The first strike came like lightning — she dashed forward, both blades cutting a cross arc aimed for his chest.

His dagger rose to meet her — a single deflection that carried unnatural precision. No mana flare. Just timing.

Viera spun, reversing her strike from the flank — but he was already gone. She felt the wind shift, then the lightest touch against her back — the flat of his blade.

She froze. "…Already?"

He stepped back, gaze calm. "You left an opening."

Her eyes narrowed. "Show-off."

She charged again, faster, her mana surging this time — and still, every move she made, he read.

When their blades met, the shockwave cracked the stone beneath their feet, yet his stance didn't waver. He was toying with physics — each parry not meeting force with force but redirecting it, bending her momentum like a current around a stone.

Sweat dripped down her temple. The scar on her cheek burned faintly with tension.

He stepped in close. For a second, she saw his eyes — calm, merciless, infinite — and the next heartbeat, her sabers were gone from her hands, knocked to the dirt.

His dagger hovered at her throat, the edge glinting faintly.

The fight was over.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the sound of her ragged breathing filled the courtyard.

Viera finally exhaled, straightening slowly, pride warring with disbelief. "I've tested captains, war mages, and imperial knights," she said quietly. "None of them ever gave me this kind of pressure."