"I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!"

The moment Auren stepped into the adventurer's guild, a wall of sound and warmth hit him. The place was alive with chatter, laughter, and the heavy clatter of mugs against wooden tables. The air smelled of spiced ale and sweat, the distinct musk of a hundred adventurers who had either just returned from quests or were gearing up to leave for one.

Dozens of parties filled the large hall. Some sat hunched together over maps and parchment, discussing strategies in low but urgent tones. Others leaned back on benches, their armor clinking as they laughed boisterously, mugs sloshing as they celebrated. Near the walls, loners in cloaks leaned against the shadows, watching silently, likely waiting for the right group to recruit them.

The adventurer's guild wasn't just a building. It was a hub of survival and ambition, a gateway to both glory and death. Anyone who wanted to rise in the world came here eventually. Adventurers sought dungeons to plunder, monsters to slay, and relics to uncover. The kingdom's rulers themselves, many of them, had once been young adventurers who fought their way to power through the wealth, experience, and prestige gained in places just like this.

But all that glory came at a cost. Every treasure unearthed, every dungeon cleared, was guarded by danger. One mistake could send an adventurer to the grave. Traps hidden in the dark could snap bones or slice throats. Beasts lurking in caverns could tear through a careless party in moments.

That was why party balance was everything. Scouts to detect traps, tanks to hold the line, healers to mend wounds, and ranged fighters like mages and archers to strike from afar. A party's strength wasn't just about power, but about harmony.

And yet, the moment Auren crossed the threshold of the guild hall, harmony broke. Heads turned. Conversations faltered. The hall, once filled with laughter and commotion, shifted into a hum of disbelief before bursting into open mockery.

"Bwahahahaha!" One loud voice erupted, followed by several others.

An archer with long blond hair tied back in a loose braid smirked at him from his table. He wore supple leather armor that gleamed faintly with oil and polish, showing he took pride in both his appearance and his gear. "Are you lost, mister herbalist?" he sneered. His tone dripped with derision, his eyes scanning Auren's frame as if he were an animal in a cage.

A bulky man, his face half-hidden behind a rough beard and a steel shield strapped across his back, leaned forward with his mug. "This is the adventurer's guild, not the farmer's market," he said, voice booming like a drum. "If you're looking to sell your weeds, try the merchant's guild instead." He raised his drink to the laughter of his companions.

Auren's eyes narrowed slightly, though outwardly he remained calm. As expected, herbalists are not welcomed in adventurer parties. His steps did not falter. Even with their jeers stabbing at his pride, he moved toward the counter where registration was handled.

The guild's reception desk stood beneath a polished wooden sign, its edges decorated with faint silver runes. Behind it sat a middle-aged woman, her hair dark and pinned neatly, her robes trimmed with blue fabric that glimmered faintly under the lantern light. She looked up as Auren approached, her expression instantly shifting the moment her gaze flicked over his divine frame. Her lips twitched, forming something between a smirk and a scoff.

"Hello," Auren said politely, his tone steady. "I would like to apply for an adventurer license, please."

The woman leaned on her elbows, resting her chin in one palm as she gave him a look that was equal parts pity and disbelief. "Are you certain, young man? The adventurer's guild is no place for those unsuited to battle. There are countless monsters outside these walls, and dungeons are filled with deathtraps designed to kill. You'd be better off applying to the merchant's guild. Herbalists… do not tend to live long in our line of work."

Auren forced a smile, lips curving though his eyes stayed cold. "I know what I am getting into. Thank you for your concern."

He flicked his gaze briefly to her divine frame.

Name: AnnaLevel: 36Class: Water MageTitle: Guild Sweetheart*

Guild Sweetheart? More like sourfruit, he thought dryly.

Anna returned his look with a sweet, practiced smile that never quite reached her eyes. "Well, since you insist, I won't stop you. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

She reached under the counter and brought out a slab of glowing stone, shaped like a tablet with intricate runes carved along its edges. The surface shimmered faintly as if alive. She tapped it several times, runes lighting up as she encoded his details, then placed it before him.

"Place your right hand on the registration tablet."

Auren obeyed. The stone flared, casting a pale light that danced across his face, scanning him in waves of glowing script. Anna typed more details with quick, practiced fingers, then leaned forward with a quill.

For ten minutes, she peppered him with questions. Hometown, civil status, age, elemental affinity. Auren answered without hesitation, his tone steady, though each question pressed faintly against the nerves he had learned to bury.

Finally, the stone dimmed, and Anna slid it aside. "All done. Thank you for your cooperation, Adventurer Herbon." Her voice carried a trace of mockery when she spoke his name, as if calling him an adventurer left a sour taste in her mouth. "Your license will be ready in three days. Until then, your details will be posted on the adventurer board. Perhaps, with some luck, a party will take pity on you and let you join them."

She gestured to a large wall nearby, plastered with parchments bearing the faces and details of new adventurers. At least six were pinned there now, their hopeful gazes staring out at the guild from behind ink and paper.

"I see," Auren murmured. His tone was quiet, almost flat, but his eyes scanned the board with thought.

"And there," Anna continued, pointing to the far side of the hall, "is the quest board. New adventurers may only accept Rank F quests. They are… modest tasks. Herb gathering, pest control, escorting caravans. If you wish to rise higher, you must first prove you can survive the basics."

Auren's gaze drifted toward the towering wooden board filled with fluttering parchment. A crowd of adventurers stood clustered around it, some arguing, others bartering to trade quests. He turned back to Anna. "What are the usual ranks of adventurers here?"

Anna rolled her eyes slightly, clearly annoyed at his persistence, but forced herself to answer. "The majority here are C and D ranks. Roughly ten percent are B rank, and they are the strongest we can offer locally."

"And A ranks?" Auren pressed.

At that, her lips curled into a smirk. "A ranks are directly recruited to Wha-lah Capital. They may return to take A rank quests here, but B ranks are forbidden from attempting them unless pursuing a promotion."

"I see," Auren said softly, his eyes briefly flicking to the F rank wooden emblem that awaited him. "And how long does it usually take for an F rank to reach E?"

"On average? One to two months," Anna replied, her tone matter-of-fact.

That is far too long, Auren thought. His mind worked quickly, and his next question slipped out. "Is there a way to increase rank faster aside from quests?"

Anna's carefully constructed facade cracked just slightly. A spark of excitement flickered across her painted face. She leaned forward, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "Yes. By proving your strength. You may challenge a rank promotion test."

Her words carried just far enough for others to hear. From behind Auren, heavy footsteps echoed. A shadow fell over him, and a deep voice chuckled.

"Did I hear that right? Someone wants a promotion test through strength?"

A man stepped forward, cracking his knuckles as he approached. His skin was dark and scarred, his body broad and muscled like a mountain. He carried two heavy axes strapped to his back, their blades worn yet polished, reflecting the light of the lanterns. His long, pale hair contrasted sharply with his skin, tied loosely behind him. His bare torso revealed scars that told stories of countless battles, each one a badge of survival.

"I'll be happy to test him," the man declared with a grin that showed too many teeth. "As a D rank myself, I should be enough to measure a newbie's worth."

The guild stirred, voices rising as adventurers leaned in to watch.

Jerome, Level 38, Barbarian. His reputation was well-known in this guild. He was not just strong, but seasoned, a man who had clawed his way through blood and bone to reach where he stood. His presence carried weight, and the smirk on his lips made it clear he relished the chance to humiliate Auren.

Anna's eyes gleamed with cruel delight behind her false sweetness. Good. Teach this cocky herbalist a lesson, she thought.

Jerome glared at Auren as if looking at a bug beneath his boot. His lip curled. "Herbalist, huh? Weakest class in combat. I'll crush you in seconds."

Auren, however, only smiled. His eyes shone faintly with something no one else could recognize. Excitement. His training had forged him into something far greater than they could imagine. His swordsmanship alone rivaled legends, but none of them knew. None of them could suspect.

Still, he reminded himself to stay low. The emperor is surely searching for me. I cannot reveal too much yet.

He inclined his head politely, bowing slightly before Jerome. "Thank you, Mr. Jerome. I will gladly take the promotion test through strength."

Then his lips stretched into a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he added, "Please, go easy on me."

The guild erupted into laughter, half in amusement, half in anticipation.

Some adventurers began pulling coins from their pouches, the clinking of silver echoing through the guild as bets were thrown across tables.

"I'm betting Jerome knocks the herbalist down in thirty seconds!" one man shouted, waving a handful of copper.

"I'll take that bet!" another barked, slamming coins on the table. "Jerome will put him to sleep in ten!"

A thin, sharp-eyed rogue leaned forward with a smirk, shaking his head.

"You narrowminded fools. Look at that herbalist. He's too calm, too confident. He must have an ace up his sleeve. He might make a little resistance, maybe even show us something worth remembering. But still, knowing Jerome, he won't last longer than a minute. Thirty silver, who's in?"

The crowd roared with laughter and jeers, the atmosphere thick with excitement and anticipation.

Money changed hands, voices rose, and the once-rowdy guild transformed into a stadium of hungry gamblers.

Auren, however, remained silent. His eyes studied Jerome carefully, scanning him from head to toe.

The barbarian's stance was relaxed but deadly, the kind of posture that came only with experience. His muscles rippled under scarred skin, his grin sharp and vicious.

To everyone else, Jerome was a wall of strength. To Auren, he was a puzzle already solved.

Three seconds, Auren thought. That's all it will take.

Soon, the two stood behind the guild house in a crude arena. A square platform sat at its center, its wood scarred and stained from countless duels.

Faded marks of old battles whispered of blood spilled here, victories earned, and humiliations suffered.

A woman acting as referee raised her hand. "This is only a test. No killing," she reminded firmly, her eyes darting briefly toward Jerome.

The barbarian did not reply. He only tilted his head and smirked, as if the words were nothing more than noise carried on the wind.

From the sidelines, shouts erupted again.

"Go, Jerome! Make me rich tonight!"

"Teach the weed picker a lesson!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd, sharp and mocking.

On the far side of the platform, Auren stood quietly, his expression unreadable. He ignored the noise, the insults, the heavy stench of sweat and ale. His hand brushed lightly over the hilt of his weapon, his breathing steady.

Jerome, by contrast, cracked his neck with a loud pop and grinned, baring teeth like a predator savoring the hunt.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he said, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

The referee lifted her arm, her voice cutting through the noise.

"Begin!"