Odyssey of the Renegade Sovereign-Chapter 48: Adventure Guild [Edited]

The sun had barely risen when Astrael stepped out of his room, freshly bathed and dressed in a light training tunic. Today was the day he’d begin preparing for his journey into the Elderwood Forest. There was no rush—not yet, but the intent in his mind was clear. If he wanted strength, he’d have to step into danger.

But not unprepared.

He started with his gear.

The armoury wing was situated behind the training hall, its door rarely opened except for inventory checks.

Astrael stepped into the dust-laced chamber, greeted by rows of weapon racks, armour stands, and storage chests sealed with iron locks.

He moved past the larger halberds and ceremonial blades, heading straight to a shelf lined with utility items, daggers, throwing knives, light gauntlets, and reinforced boots. He chose what felt right by instinct, checking balance, weight, and sharpness.

He settled on a light leather set, flexible but thick enough to deflect claws and fangs. A pair of dark gauntlets reinforced with steel knuckles. A thigh strap that held two throwing daggers. And a black hooded cloak that blended easily with shadows.

Not flashy, but practical.

Next was the blade.

His current sword was well-balanced and sharp, but it was also quite flashy. He didn’t want unwanted attention. Human hearts were unpredictable. He needed another sword—one built for mana conduction and survival, something better, something that could endure against beasts resistant to steel.

He turned toward the family vault, a locked case near the back wall, just as his father had once mentioned. He pressed his thumb to the mana seal. The mechanism clicked. The lid opened with a creak.

Inside lay a few unused weapons. One in particular caught his eye—a single-edged longsword, slightly curved, with runes etched into the hilt. Dark grey metal, lighter than it looked. And the moment he gripped it—

The blade hummed faintly.

Perfect.

He strapped it across his back, adjusted the sheath, and stepped out of the armoury.

Back in the manor, the breakfast table was quiet. Only Luna and his mother were present. Luna had her hair tied up in a messy braid, half-asleep, poking at her eggs.

"You’re up early," their mother said, offering him a smile.

"Just preparing," Astrael replied, sitting down.

"For?"

"Training in the Elderwood Forest."

Luna looked up, suddenly awake. "Already? But you’ve only just awakened a month ago!"

"That’s why. I don’t have time to wait."

His mother frowned softly. "Elderwood is dangerous. Most adventurers avoid it unless they go in groups."

"I won’t go far. Just testing myself. Seeing what I can handle."

She studied him for a moment, her gaze searching.

Then she nodded slowly. "Take the silver whistle from the drawer. If you’re in danger, use it. It releases a pulse signal. Our guards will pick it up."

"Thank you."

Luna narrowed her eyes. "And don’t die."

He smiled faintly. "I’ll try not to."

Later that day, Astrael went down to the city.

The streets of Ravestria were lively as always—vendors shouting prices, carriages rumbling past, children chasing each other through narrow alleys—but Astrael had only one place in mind.

The Adventurer’s Guild.

It was a large guild, with branches scattered across the continent. A place where anyone with enough strength, skill, or courage could register and take on jobs—quests of all kinds.

The mortality rate was high. Far higher than in any official military or knight order.

But so were the rewards.

High risk. High reward.

Just what Astrael needed.

The capital’s branch was one of the oldest. A large, stone building that stood like a fortress in the centre of the district. A tiled roof covered the structure, its edges engraved with old emblems. Above the grand doors hung a bronze insignia: a lion holding a scroll and a sword—a symbol of both strength and contract.

The doors creaked open slowly, and as he stepped inside, the familiar scent struck him. Crowds of people, the sharp tang of blood, and the noise of bustling life.

Inside, the space was wide, with high ceilings, wooden beams, and rows of long tables where mercenaries, adventurers, and loners sat eating or discussing jobs. A large board took up almost the entire right-hand wall, covered in pinned parchment, quests, requests, hunts, escorts, and monster exterminations.

Maps were pinned up on the opposite wall. Colored pins marked areas of high activity, some green, some yellow, some black. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Another group of younger adventurers passed by, laughing with tankards in hand. One of them, a red-haired boy with a longsword, glanced briefly at Astrael, then looked away uninterested.

"Another greenhorn?" Astrael heard someone mutter near the bar.

He didn’t bother responding. Just walked past, ignoring the looks.

He made his way to the main desk. A long wooden counter stretched across the far wall, behind which sat a row of guild receptionists. Some were busy with paperwork, and others were speaking with adventurers. The one in the middle—a sharp-eyed woman with glasses and tied-up hair—spotted him first.

"You here to register?" she asked, barely looking up from the form in her hand.

"Yes."

"Name?"

"Astrael."

"Age?"

"Fifteen."

That made her look up. Her brows lifted slightly.

"You don’t look it."

"I get that a lot."

She didn’t argue. "You’ll need to undergo a basic aptitude assessment. We don’t care about bloodline, title, or noble standing. What matters here is survival. And strength."

She tapped her pen once, as if deciding something. Then she leaned forward slightly.

"Any prior combat experience?"

"Enough."

"Proof?"

He sheathed his blade, which gleamed faintly under the lantern light. He didn’t swing it. Didn’t need to.

The sharpness in his eyes, the stillness in his posture, the grip on the hilt—those said enough.

The woman studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. You’ll need to pass the aptitude test."

She pointed toward the left corridor.

"Follow that hall. You’ll be assigned an examiner. If you pass, you’re in. If not—try again next time."

Astrael gave a brief nod and walked off.

Behind him, murmurs stirred.

"Did you see that sword?"

"He’s young but... I felt something from him."

"Yeah. That kind of kid either dies quick or becomes a monster."

Astrael didn’t hear all of it, nor did he care. He moved quietly through the corridor, his steps steady. The light dimmed a little as he passed under an arched entryway.

Every few paces, he passed portraits, though some faded with time. Names were engraved beneath them—some with gold plates, some with silver or bronze. Others with cracked, rusted ones.

All of them had a thin line of black cloth tied across the corner.

He didn’t stop walking.

He stepped through the next door into a small arena, stone floor, circular, about twenty meters wide. The air carried the faint scent of sweat. The walls were reinforced with mana runes, glowing faintly blue. A protective barrier, common in testing grounds where things could go wrong fast.

Fifteen others were already present, scattered around the arena’s edge. Most were young, maybe a few years older than him. Some wore light leather armour, others carried worn blades or staves. They all turned as he entered.

A few eyes scanned him. Some looked bored, others confident. But some held that familiar gaze of disdain, like they had already decided who he was.

Astrael ignored them.

A man waited in the centre. Tall, bald, and muscular. A long, faded scar cut across his chin, and his left hand was gloved in thick leather. His bare arms were wrapped in bandages, and a large two-handed axe rested against his shoulder.

He turned as Astrael approached, eyeing him once, up and down.

"Another rookie?" the man asked, voice deep and flat.

Astrael gave a small nod and quietly joined the others.

The examiner looked at them all for a moment, then spoke louder.

"Listen up. The test is simple."

His voice echoed through the stone walls, sharp and commanding.

"One by one, each of you will walk toward me. You’ll take at least twenty steps. If you can reach me with your legs still working, you pass. If you fall, collapse, or turn back—go home. You’re not ready to be an adventurer."

Some of the recruits chuckled nervously. A few whispered.

"That’s it? Just walking?"

"This guy’s kidding, right?"

But Astrael’s eyes narrowed. No, it wasn’t that simple.

The examiner raised one hand, and suddenly, an oppressive pressure filled the arena.

A reddish mist settled into the air like invisible fog, dense, choking, heavy.

Some of the more talkative ones froze, their smirks wiped clean.

"Not laughing now, are you?" the examiner said dryly. "This is aura suppression. I’ll be releasing pressure equal to a mid-tier E-rank monster. If you can’t push through this, then you’ll never survive even a goblin horde."

"What? Mid-tier E-rank?" someone whispered from the back, voice trembling.

"Wait—wasn’t it just peak-tier F-rank last year?" another added.

"This is insane. They’ve increased the standard again?"

A few recruits exchanged nervous glances. The tension in the air wasn’t just from the pressure anymore, it was from the sudden realisation that this test might be harder than they were ready for.

"It’s because of that attack in the south," someone muttered. "Too many rookies died there, as I heard. Now, they’re tightening the rope now."

"I thought that was just a rumour..."

"Well, it’s not. And now we’re stuck with it."

Meanwhile, the examiner didn’t bother addressing the complaints. He simply crossed his arms, standing at the centre like an immovable wall, letting the aura pressure roll across the arena like a storm.

"You want to be adventurers, don’t you?" he said, voice flat but cold. "Then prove it. The world out there doesn’t care about your comfort. It won’t lower its standards for your sake."

"Now shut up and step forward when your name is called."

He looked down at the paper in his hand.

"Next—."