Punching the Hero (5)
The moment I stepped into the Adventurer Guild building, a burly man blocked my path.
"Haven't seen you before. Got a registration card, letter of recommendation, guild symbol, or anything else to prove your visitor status?"
For a second, I thought he was some water-management clerk, leaving me a bit dumbfounded.
But realizing they operated like a membership club made sense.
"First time today. Looking to become an adventurer from here on out."
"Hmm. In that case, you'll need to register. Head over to the office building next door?"
No escort, huh.
His attitude felt vaguely condescending, too.
Well, first-timer and all—might as well play nice.
If the main building was like a bank with its grand hall, the side one resembled a modest two-story district office.
A few lines of three or four people waited, probably for guild quests.
About thirty minutes later, it was my turn.
An elderly man at the counter greeted me with a weary face.
"Let's see. From Agnes Village, eh? No letter of recommendation or sponsor?"
Letter of recommendation. No ID here, so they needed something like that.
Having lived in a country where you get a resident number at birth, this hadn't crossed my mind.
Agnes folks probably figured I wasn't seriously pursuing adventurer life, so no need.
Couldn't drag Ferio here either, after she'd just warned me to stay out of it.
"None, then."
The clerk's face screamed another rootless nobody.
No words, but the vibe was clear.
Makes sense for a guild—they had filters for riffraff.
Didn't see that coming.
"In that case, there's another process.
But first—Kirgil, right? You were carrying a weapon. Planning to take combat quests?"
"Yeah, up for anything."
"Good. Dangerous jobs are always in demand. No reason to turn away someone prepared.
But..."
"Yes?"
"Our Adventurer Guild handles challenging quests, not body counts. So we need to assess if you're fit for hazardous work.
A basic written exam on forms, and a spar close to real combat.
Do you consent?"
Sounded standard, so I agreed. He asked for five silver coins—test and registration fee.
Five silvers could cover a month's comfy lodging. Serious barrier to entry.
Layers of hurdles to keep out just anyone.
"Fill out this form first."
The "document" he handed over was more like a test paper.
"At a shop, to take five one-copper apples and five three-silver premium booze bottles, what do you do?"
...Yeah, a test disguised as paperwork.
No one writes "point a sword at the owner," right?
Hmm. Probably someone would.
Keep in mind: new world, new ideas. Blow up an apple with magic? Heal the owner's wounds?
More ethics-book morals and basic addition/subtraction followed.
SAT-era survivor like me? Textbook answers, no sweat.
Hand just moved on autopilot. Finished in under fifty minutes.
Habits die hard.
Handing back the "form," the clerk gawked.
"Ho... Not just quest-reading level—you could sit here as guild staff right now."
"Haha, thanks."
"Next, head to the training grounds outside the walls. Deputy Chief Erdia will test you.
And just in case—fail adventurer, I'll write you a guild rec for office work. Give it a shot."
"Appreciate the thought."
That test clarified this world's average education level.
I was office-job ready on the spot.
Finally feeling how elite my old world's public schools were.
With the papers, I headed out the gates.
Training grounds were shared with Prosek soldiers, not guild-exclusive.
Half tense, half excited—field training maybe?
Showed gate guards the papers; another line at the grounds.
Unlike the office, young toughs or burly types waited.
Front guy shadowboxed with his sword.
"What're you here for?"
A woman in crisp soldier garb grilled me haughtily.
Brown-skinned, taller than me, ripped. Bodybuilder believable.
Showed papers.
"Another death-wisher. I'm Deputy Chief Erdia!"
Military site, so army deputy handling tests. Prosek nobility and guild collab?
Or side gig for pocket change during downtime.
"See the line? Sequential, week's wait. Cool with that?"
What, skip it? You're the tester!
Bit my tongue.
"I'll observe and wait it out."
"Tch. Lame-ass."
...She hit the same line on the newbie behind me.
I'd seen real scraps. This kid screamed rookie—soft build, shiny new gear. Primped clothes and hair for training?
"You look talented. You first."
Erdia skipped to the punk kid.
No secret blessing or hidden mage—kid slipped her a shiny gold coin.
Shit. Open bribery from an official?
"Lame" meant that?
Almost called it out, but others saw too—including the brute ahead.
They just stood quiet.
Might be normal here. No complaints, recordings, CCTV—just alpha and beta. Folks mostly illiterate.
"Haa... a week like this?"
Sounded like "show up when bored, maybe."
Or "grease the wheels meantime."
Summon Ferio like a chaebol dad? Pop some satisfying revenge?
...Nah, not yet. Can't wear her everywhere. Better learn the social ropes firsthand.
Front sword-swinger? Desperate bid for notice, not orders.
Waited endlessly. Sun dipped.
Military wraps at dusk. Soldier dismissed us for tomorrow; line disbanded.
A week, huh.
Two golds in pocket—Agnes and villagers' gift cash.
Not blowing on bribes. One silver buys a week lodging—few days first.
Figure out buttering that bribe-happy deputy.
Trudging to gates, mulling that.
"Toll's one silver."
Guard demanded.
"Huh? Just went out to training and back."
"Exit's free. Re-entry needs toll, proof of status, or sponsor invite."
Not shaking down—just rules.
Explains no one from line heading in. Staying outside walls.
Ferio entry? Zero hassle. Unwitting perks.
No choice. Ask to fetch Ferio from guild tavern?
"Here's one silver."
...Paid up.
Begging invites red tape, prying eyes.
Like parents calling regimental kin for easy visitor pass.
Guard might threaten first.
Back to Ferio, zero progress—just tasted the absurdities.
Today's the tip of the iceberg.
No broad social consensus like my world's democracy. Rulers and ruled, no fine rules—anarchy by home standards.
Gotta adventure this world.
Missing Agnes already. No formal consensus, but people talked, understood.
"Kirgil, back?"
Ferio waved cheerily from tavern entrance.
And...
"Huh? Why're you here?"
Liard twirled his mustache with a grin.
Bad vibes already.
"Ahem. Kirgil, I know the hardships you've faced."
Ugh, again!?
"You mentioned past adventurer days."
"Yes. So I grasp your situation better than most.
Seems you haven't registered yet. Tough process.
Time, money..."
He knew every snag. Acted normal, though—no fix or punish vibe.
Absurd to me, standard here.
This isekai hits different.
"So, Kirgil. I'm offering this."
Liard pulled a small metal piece—fist-sized shield shape.
Center: white wolf with forehead scar.
Prosek crest. Seen it everywhere since arrival.
Note: white wolf, not lion.
"With this, guild skips the hassle.
No gate tolls. Shows anywhere for ID.
Works in capital too.
Need adventuring funds? Flash at guild for support.
Accept as Prosek's Hero, done."
Hero pitch? Or credit card upsell?
"Come on, Kirgil. I get it—no lord or second madam.
Won't see them. I briefed lord, got approval—hence this token.
Just take it."
Aah... resolve crumbling.
This far? Ughhh...
Slick bastard!
No rejection excuse. Temptation too sweet.
Snap out, Kirgil! Liard's a real operator!!
Ferio chimed in.
"Kirgil, take it. Best token our house can give.
See? Rare mithril."
Mithril??
Fantasy legend metal?
This... is it?
"Yes, that mithril!
Grateful if you accept."
Oh crap! Mithril curiosity—hand shot out!!
Aah, caved.
Accepted Prosek Hero.
One day post-hero-punching vow!!
Damn! I get it!
Even for today's crap, need some honor, status!
What to do? Adapt, use it!
But pissed! Feels like defeat!!
"Kirgil, toast to today!!"
Damn! Ferio's beaming—can't back out!!
Liard, scary fucker. Hate ya!
Wanna yank that smug mustache with both hands.