I hurried after him, my maps crinkling, heart pounding with a mix of F-rank dread and main-character hype. Guild Master, here we come. Time to kick this isekai arc into high gear.
The double doors groaned as Masamato barreled through like he was storming a boss fight, me trailing behind with my maps crinkling like a noob's nervous tic. The Guild Master's office hit me like a cutscene reveal—not some dusty cubicle, but a cozy stronghold that screamed "final mentor vibes." My eyes darted around, soaking it in before the dialogue kicked off.
The room was big, maybe thirty feet across, with a warmth that clashed with the guild's cold marble grandeur downstairs. Four double-pane windows dominated the space: one loomed behind a hefty oak desk, framing the Guild Master like a throne's backdrop, while three lined the right wall, their glass crystal-clear, offering a glimpse of Solva's distant castle—turrets stabbing the sky like a fantasy postcard. Sunlight streamed through, painting the floorboards in golden patches, the wood polished but scarred, like it'd seen a few rogue fireballs.
The desk was a beast, carved with subtle serpent coils along its edges, a nod to Solva's crest. Papers and a bronze inkwell sat neatly on its surface, flanked by a sheathed dagger that looked more ceremonial than stabby. To my left, three long couches—upholstered in deep green leather, worn but plush—formed a U around an antique table of dark walnut, its legs curved like dragon claws gripping the floor. A single dented candelabra sat on it, wax drippings frozen mid-drip, giving off cozy tavern vibes.
By the double door, a tall bookshelf leaned against the stone wall, stuffed with leather-bound tomes and a few rolled parchments, their spines faded but orderly, like the Guild Master ran a tight ship even with his lore stash. The air smelled of wax, old books, and a faint cedar tang, grounding the room's mix of power and comfort. I barely registered all this before two pairs of eyes locked onto me. Garrick—buff, bearded, straight outta Jouki's shop—stood by the desk, his apron swapped for a cleaner tunic. The Guild Master loomed behind it, big as a tank, his scarred face and graying hair screaming 'retired badass.'
'Both froze, like I'd just triggered a plot flag.
"Kozuki!" Garrick boomed, his grin wide as he turned to the Guild Master. "This's the lad I was tellin' ya about."
The Guild Master's gaze pinned me like a status effect, his dark eyes sizing me up. Then he shifted to Masamato, voice low and edged with authority.
"You think you can just barge in here, Masamato?"
Masamato leaned against the doorframe, smirking like a shonen rival.
"Why not? Keeps you on your toes, old man."
The Guild Master sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, but a faint twitch at his mouth betrayed amusement. "Fine. What do you want?"
Masamato grabbed my shoulder, hauling me forward like I was loot to present.
"Wanna enroll this kid in your school. He's got potential, even if he swings that sword like a wet noodle."
I shot him a mock glare—rude, but fair—as the Guild Master studied me again, his stare heavy enough to make my F-rank card feel like a scarlet letter. After a long beat, he nodded.
"We'll discuss it. Come." He gestured to a smaller table near the desk, meant for private talks.
"Kozuki, is it?" he added, voice softer now, like 'strict but soft' vibe.
"Wait on the couch."
"Yes, sir," I said, snapping to attention like a good isekai grunt. I shuffled to the nearest couch, sinking into its creaky leather, maps still clutched like a lifeline. Masamato and the Guild Master moved to the table, their voices dropping to a low murmur—probably debating if I'd survive day one of sword school.
I was barely processing my MC glow-up pending moment when Garrick plopped onto the couch across from me, the antique table between us creaking under his weight.
"So, what'cha doin' here, lad?" he asked, leaning forward, his beard practically a quest-giver's trademark.
I blinked, my otaku brain whirring. Garrick knows the Guild Master? Plot twist!
"Oh, y'know," I said, forcing a grin to mask my F-rank sulk, "just chasing that adventurer grind. You here to sell him enchanted hammers or something?"
"Who, Liam? Nah, well I try to sell him some stuffs before but he won't buy it" Garrick said, leaning back on the couch, his beard twitching with a grin.
"For now, I'm here for a little chat with him—after all, he's my friend."
I blinked, my brain hitting a lag spike. Friend?! The burly shopkeeper who'd hooked me up with a free vitality potion—outta pure gratitude, no less—was pals with the Guild Master? My otaku senses screamed plot twist, like I'd stumbled into a side quest revealing the blacksmith's secret lore. Garrick, the guy who'd called me a good sort back at Jouki, chilling with Solva's top dog? This was next-level networking for a dude slinging maps and gear.'Friend?' I echoed, my voice climbing despite the cozy vibe of the Guild Master's office. The antique table between us creaked as I leaned forward, my crinkly maps sliding slightly in my grip. Sunlight from the three windows on my right glinted off the castle in the distance, making the room's green-leather couches and scarred floorboards feel weirdly serene for such a bombshell.
"I see. What did you say his name was again?"My jaw tightened, embarrassment prickling like a status debuff.
"What, you don't know his name?" he said, raising a bushy eyebrow. "He's one of the prominent figures here in Solva."
"Well, I just arrived here yesterday," I shot back, shrugging to play off my noob status. The bookshelf by the double door loomed behind him, its tomes whispering secrets I clearly hadn't unlocked yet. Day two in Solva, and I'm already flunking the NPC name quiz.
"Ohh," Garrick said, nodding like he'd just remembered I was fresh off the isekai express.
"His name's Liam. And don't worry, lad—he's tough on the outside, soft on the inside."
I froze, a weird déjà vu tickling my brain. Tough on the outside, soft on the inside. Hadn't I heard that before? My mind flashed to Masamato or someone dropping the same line, maybe about the Guild Master himself. I shook it off, clutching my maps tighter. "Got it," I said, forcing a grin.
"Liam, huh? Sounds like a guy who'd bench-press a drakewyrm and then knit it a scarf."
Garrick's laugh echoed, loud enough to make the candelabra on the table wobble. Across the room, Masamato and Liam—the Guild Master—kept murmuring at the smaller table, their voices a low hum under the office's cedar-and-wax scent. I glanced at them, my F-rank card still burning a hole in my pocket. Garrick's friends with the boss, and I'm stuck at level one.
"Back to you aye, so what are you doin' here?" Garrick said, kicking back on the couch, his beard twitching like he was fishing for a side quest update.
I shifted on the plush green leather, my maps crinkling in my lap like a reminder of my noob inventory. The Guild Master's office felt cozier than ever, sunlight spilling through the three windows to my right, glinting off Solva's distant castle like a CG backdrop.
"Well, I'm here to have Masamato enroll me into Liam's private school," I said, tossing out the Guild Master's name like I hadn't just learned it ten minutes ago. I braced for Garrick to gawk—newbie F-rank aiming for the big leagues?—but he just nodded, chill as ever.
"I see," he said, stroking his beard, not even a flicker of shock. What, am I that predictable?
"So, I see you still got the maps I sold ya yesterday," he added, his shopkeeper hustle kicking in. "Want a bag for those? Only five copper coins!" His grin was pure merchant, like he'd already calculated my coin purse's weight.I laughed, waving him off.
"Tempting, but I'm good lugging these like a pack mule." We bantered for a bit—him joking about Solva's shady alleys, me dodging his upsell like a pro—when a voice cut through the cedar-and-wax air.
"Kozuki, come here for a sec!" Masamato waved me over from the smaller table near Liam's desk, his obsidian armor catching the window's glow. I cursed under my breath—damn, Garrick's too easy to vibe with.
"Welp, I think you're gonna get enrolled," Garrick said, giving the antique table a pat as I stood. His confidence hit like a buff spell, and I shot him a grin before weaving past the bookshelf's tome-stuffed bulk.
At the desk, Masamato beamed, all proud mentor energy, and slapped my back—ow, dude, I'm not a training dummy.
"Well, good news—you're accepted," he said, like he'd single-handedly yeeted me into the big leagues. I mean, he kinda had, so fair.
Liam, towering behind the serpent-carved desk, fixed me with a stare that could pierce dragon hide. He stood, all scarred bulk and graying hair, closing the gap until we were face-to-face—well, face-to-chest, dude was tall.
"I think we haven't fully introduced ourselves yet," he said, voice low but warm, "I'm Liam, Guild Master of Solva, and I've heard things about you from Garrick."
"I'm Kozuki," I said, heart doing a shonen jump. "Hope Garrick didn't talk bad about me." Please don't say I'm a potion mooch.Liam's lip twitched, almost a smile.
"He doesn't. Just said you saved him from poverty." For a split second, his calm cracked—disappointment? Nah, gone too fast to pin.
My brain lagged. Saved him? That free potion gratitude was getting me farther than my F-rank deserved. Before I could process, Liam kept going.
"I heard you want to study swordsmanship from me. I usually don't accept randoms into my school, but Masamato vouched for you. Welcome aboard."
He paused, eyes narrowing. "But can I test you? I wanna see what you're made of."
A test? My gut plummeted like I'd aggro'd a raid boss. I'm F-rank, man—I can barely swing my Sword of Absolute Death without tripping! Is this a trap to dodge training me for free? Or just Liam planning to yeet me into the next dimension? My inner otaku screamed, picturing a montage of me getting flattened.
"Don't worry," Liam added, catching my panic. "Whatever the outcome, I'll still accept you."
Oh, sure, if I'm not a pancake by the end. I forced an awkward smile, sweat beading. "Umm, sure. So, when's this test?"
"Now," he said, flat as a guillotine drop. My face went full anime panic—eyes bugging, forehead shaded, mental sweatdrop splashing. If this was a manga, I'd have black-and-white stress lines exploding behind me.
"What?" I croaked, aghast, my maps nearly slipping as my dreams of a chill isekai arc shattered.
Why am I doing this again I asked myself but Here I am, standing on the packed dirt of a freaking colosseum behind the Adventurer's Guild, heart pounding like I'm about to face a final boss with zero save points.
The guild's massive—big enough to hide this gladiator pit out back, apparently. Why the hell is there a colosseum here? Did they build It for newbie executions? My F-rank ass is sweating buckets, the Sword of Absolute Death dangling awkwardly at my hip, its blood-red gem glinting like it's mocking me. Liam, the Guild Master, looms across from me, all scarred bulk and graying hair, his own blade—a sleek, rune-etched monster—held loose in one hand like it weighs nothing. His dark eyes bore into me, calm but sharp, like he's already mapped out my defeat.
Masamato and Garrick stand off to the side, maybe thirty feet away, leaning against a low stone barrier. Masamato's smirking, arms crossed, his obsidian armor catching the midday sun. Garrick's got a beer in one hand, bellowing, "Go get 'im, lad!" They're cheering, but it feels like they're hyping up my funeral. Kozuki, you lived a while. Goodbye, cruel world.
Liam's voice cuts through my panic, low and authoritative, like he's narrating my doom. "Here's the rules: to win, you knock my sword outta my hand. Same goes for me."
I swallow hard, my throat drier than a desert biome. My eyes dart to a rack of wooden swords near the colosseum's entrance, their chipped edges promising a lot less bloodshed.
"Uh, can't we just use those?" I point, my voice cracking, face twisting into a nervous grimace.
"Nah," Liam says, lips twitching into a faint, terrifying smirk. "We'll use real swords." Yep, I'm cooked. An F-rank nobody with zero skills, no magic, and a fancy sword I can barely swing, up against a powerhouse who probably eats dragons for breakfast? My brain screams retreat. Maybe I should drop to my knees, grovel, and beg to skip his school entirely. Sorry, Liam, I'll stick to fetching coffee for adventurers! Before I can bolt, Liam shifts, his stance lowering like a predator about to pounce.
"Ready?" he asks, but it's not a question. He doesn't wait for an answer, charging forward with a speed that makes my stomach lurch, his boots kicking up dust clouds.
"Wait, wait, WAIT!" I yelp, fumbling to draw my sword. The blade slides free with a metallic shing, heavier than I remember, and I barely raise it in time to block. Liam's sword crashes against mine, the impact sending a bone-rattling clang through my arms. A shockwave ripples out, the force hurling me backward. My boots skid across the dirt, and I stumble, barely catching myself before I eat ground. My wrists throb, and the sword feels like it's trying to leap out of my sweaty grip.
"Are you trying to kill me?!" I shout, voice shrill, my otaku brain picturing a game-over screen. Liam doesn't answer, his face unreadable. Then his free hand snaps up, fingers tracing a quick glyph in the air that glows molten orange.
"Ignis!" he barks, and three fireballs the size of basketballs erupt, roaring toward me with trails of black smoke. The heat singes the air, and I smell burning dust.
'Is this guy CRAZY?!' I scream in my head, legs pumping as I sprint across the colosseum, dodging left and right. The first fireball grazes my cloak, searing a hole that smells like charred wool. The second slams into the ground where I was a second ago, exploding in a shower of sparks that sting my cheek. The third clips my shoulder, a glancing burn that makes me hiss, my HP bar—if I had one—definitely flashing yellow.
"ARE YOU REALLY TRYING TO KILL ME?!"
"No" Liam calls back, voice calm but edged with amusement, like he's toying with a particularly dumb slime. I zigzag like a noob in a bullet-hell game, my lungs burning, the colosseum's dirt clouding around me. Masamato's laughing now, the bastard, and Garrick raises his beer in a mock toast. They totally want me dead.
I'm halfway to dropping my sword and waving a white flag when Liam moves again, a blur of motion. He's on me in a heartbeat, sword arcing down in a silver flash. Pure instinct—or dumb luck—kicks in, and I swing my blade up, parrying with a clang that numbs my hands. The shockwave sends me skidding back again, my boots carving trenches in the dirt.
"Not bad, kid," Liam says, stepping back, his sword lowered but ready. His eyes glint with something like approval, but I'm too busy gasping for air to care. Pure Freaking Luck. My arms shake, and I'm pretty sure my sword's laughing at me. Liam's not even winded, standing there like a final boss at 99% health. I glance at Masamato and Garrick—yep, still cheering, Garrick now sloshing beer everywhere. Traitors. Liam's earlier words echo: he'll enroll me no matter the outcome. So maybe I should just surrender, save myself the near-death experience—"You thinking of surrendering?" Liam cuts in, like he's reading my damn mind. His sword twirls once, a casual flex that screams confidence.
"No, no. This match ends when one of us knocks the other's sword out. No quitting."
"WHY?!" I yell, voice cracking into the stratosphere. My legs wobble, and I'm panting like I ran a marathon. Liam doesn't answer, just tilts his head, waiting. The crowd—okay, just Masamato and Garrick—keeps up their noise, and I swear Garrick's chanting "Kozuki! Kozuki!" between gulps of beer. I'm gonna haunt you both if I die.
Liam raises his hand again, this time tracing a jagged blue rune. "Glacies!" he intones, and the air chills, frost crackling around his fingers. Ice spikes—sharp, glinting, and way too big—shoot toward me like a barrage of frozen spears. Each one hisses as it cuts through the air, leaving frosty trails. I dive behind a low stone marker in the arena, barely dodging as the first spike shatters against it, spraying icy shards that nick my arm. The second and third slam into the ground, kicking up dirt and frost that stings my eyes.
"SERIOUSLY?!" I scramble to my feet, clutching my sword like a lifeline. My cloak's torn, my shoulder's burned, and now I'm half-frozen. This is not the isekai glow-up I signed up for! But running's getting me nowhere, and I'm tired—tired of dodging, tired of looking like a coward. Something snaps, maybe my last shred of sanity, and I grip my sword tighter. Fine, Liam. You want a fight? Let's do this shonen style. I charge, roaring like an idiot, my boots pounding the dirt. The ice spikes keep coming, but I weave through them—miraculously, stupidly—my otaku reflexes kicking in. One spike grazes my thigh, tearing cloth and drawing a thin line of blood, but I keep moving, adrenaline drowning out the pain. I swing my sword at Liam, no finesse, just wild, noob-level slashes like I'm hacking at a piñata. The blade whistles, heavy and clumsy, but I put every ounce of strength into it.
Liam dodges effortlessly, stepping aside like I'm moving in slow motion. My first swing misses, air whooshing past his chest. The second clips his cloak, tearing a small gash—score!—but he parries the third with a flick of his wrist, our blades clashing in a shower of sparks. The impact jolts my arms, but I keep swinging, fueled by panic and a tiny spark of defiance. Come on, Kozuki, channel your inner Kirito!
"You lack basics," Liam says, voice calm as he sidesteps another flailing strike. He's not even trying, just dancing around me like a tutorial NPC. Then, in one fluid motion, he swings his sword—not hard, but precise, like a surgeon. The flat of his blade catches mine with a deafening clang, and my Sword of Absolute Death flies from my grip, spinning through the air. It stabs into the ground ten feet away, quivering, its red gem winking like it's saying, Nice try, loser.
I freeze, hands empty, chest heaving. Before I can blink, Liam's boot hooks my leg, sweeping it out from under me. I hit the dirt hard, air whooshing out of my lungs. His sword tip hovers at my throat, cold steel brushing my skin just enough to make me gulp. "This is the end," he says, voice low, eyes locked on mine. "I win."
"YEAH!" I blurt, grinning like an idiot despite the blade at my neck.
Liam blinks, thrown off. "Why are you happy?"
"Well, 'cause I didn't die! Hahahah!" I laugh, relief flooding me like a maxed-out health potion. My arms flop to my sides, dirt smudging my torn cloak. I'm alive, take that, Liam! You tried to yeet me into the next dimension to dodge training me for free, but I'm still here!
"Don't tell me you charged me on purpose?" he asks, disbelief cracking his stoic mask as he lowers his sword.
"Nah, not that," I say, still grinning, sprawled in the dirt like a victorious scrub. "But maybe I shoulda rushed you from the start, lol."
I'm not even mad about losing. Disappointed? Pfft, who cares? I'm breathing, my head's still attached, and I'm pretty sure I looked semi-cool for, like, two seconds. Masamato's clapping now, and Garrick's raising his beer in a sloppy salute, foam dripping down his beard. Screw you guys, I survived. Liam's school, here I come—free training, F-rank style. Let's go, isekai arc!