Leon scowled as another initiate stumbled into the small clearing before the ruins, yet another fool suited almost identically to the majority of the hopefuls around: loose leather jerkin a size too big with evident wear, a crude mace chipped from overuse and improper maintenance, and some wooden planks rimmed with iron that one could generously call a shield strapped to their arm.

  Turning his attention to the rest of those gathered, he could spot seventeen other initiates sporting the exact same outfit. Clearly, it was some sort of beginner’s gear provided by the guild for those who could not kit themselves. Seeing as there were only around twenty initiates in total, that meant more than three quarters of them found themselves lacking in any proper gear. It disgusted him.

  “Just kids playing at hero,” he sneered. As much as he might understand the allure, this was no job for the meek, for children trying their hand at achieving the feats of legends read about in their fairy tales.

  It might be enticing for those born to nothing, he supposed, but reality was far crueler than fiction. The heroes of legend could never have been of such common stock. There was more to being a hero than knowing how to handle a sharp edge. Talent and training, that was what made the heroes of legend. A commoner could train for a hundred years, but they would never be able to match the talents of noble blood.

  Once again, he turned his eyes towards the glade entrance, awaiting anyone arriving who might appear of any substance. Frankly, it was a travesty that he must attend such a farce; had he maintained his status, then he would have easily qualified for silver-tier by this point.

  Watching the hopeless slowly straggle into the clearing accomplished little more than fuel his indignation even further. Nonetheless, keeping an eye for newcomers kept him far calmer than otherwise constantly being reminded of the position he found himself in.

  Seeing no one approach, he switched his focus onto the other three who donned equipment different to the masses. None of them were particularly impressive, he felt. They, like him, sported metal for their bracers, pauldrons, and greaves in a way that would provide protection but were ultimately just additions to basic leather armor and a far cry from a shining knight's suit of armor.

  The main difference between them and him lay in their weapons and chest. They had chainmail shirts over their leather jerkin and fairly regular quality iron swords and shields.

  Leon, on the other hand, made sure to distinguish himself from the lower classes by shelling out for a proper metal chestplate, even going so far as to have his family's crest emblazoned onto the front. It had left him with precious few gold considering all his other expenses recently, but his pride demanded distinction among the unremarkable. The very notion he may be misconstrued for one of them left a bitter taste in his already soured mouth.

  According to the kingdom’s register, he may not be a noble anymore, but his mere attire was sufficient to demonstrate the difference between him and these other rabble. Then of course there was his greatsword, the only heirloom he had managed to… appropriate from his family's estate before everything was auctioned off. The weapon was made of pure rhymesteel, sung into shape by a bardsmith, and had served his mother well most of her life. Doubtless he’d be able to shatter most of the weapons he saw gathered.

  The mental berating of the commoners was paused as his eyes were caught by a new initiate entering the glade. She was a Katiine, a cat beastfolk. Two orange-colored feline ears poked out of the hair above her head while a tail flicked behind her in an almost bored fashion. Were he closer, he was sure he’d notice her distinct slited eyes and the slight coat of fur on her forearms, but from a distance, she’d almost pass as human if not for the extra appendages.

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  The fact she was a beastwoman was not what caught his eyes, however. Instead, it was the confidence she walked with that was sorely lacking from every single other initiate there. Her left hand thumbed the pommel of a shortsword strapped to her waist, a cursory glance confirming a similar shortsword on her right side. All of decent make from what he could tell.

  Her armor was mostly leather with the occasional iron plate over vital areas, but judging from her weapons, a lighter armor made sense. She had chosen her armor because it suited her style; he doubted the rest of those gathered even had a fighting style beyond ‘pointing the sharp bit forward’.

  The shortswords were the real giveaway, however. He could not see the blades through their sheaths, but the cross-guards were detailed with some sort of animal head while the pommels gleamed.

  That sort of care did not go into a weapon one did not own, and even then not unless it was made of steel at the very least.

  The fact she was at initiation told him that she had no noble backer, perhaps unsurprising for a beastwoman, and as such, they both had to ‘earn’ their positions as an adventurer instead of through an acknowledgment like most nobles did.

  No matter her past, she had potential at the very least, and he even considered approaching her and offering a position in his future party but held off. Even if she were a gem in the rough, he would be better served waiting until he could recruit a proper party of other nobles once he climbed his way up the ranks to them. An uncut gem was certainly interesting, but why settle when he was so close to working with proper diamonds.

  Still, at least there was someone else who seemed half-way competent among the initiates, it helped to alleviate some of the indignity he felt at being lumped alongside all the oafish lowborns.

  A few more initiates slowly trickled into the glade until the sun reached a third of the way through the sky and the members of the adventurers guild who had been sent to corral initiates from the gate assembled to form a small group before them. From their midst, a spokesman broke off, his expression stern as he addressed the mostly nervous initiates.

  “The initiation exam for the Torid Adventurer’s guild will now begin. Behind me is a dungeon that the guild maintains. We’ll be walking through and finding monster groups for you to face off against in teams of four to five. In order to pass, you just need to survive all your encounters—”

  He was met with a flurry of nervous chatter at the revelation but managed to quiet them down with some hand waving. “So long as you stay calm, no one will die here. The other adventurers and myself are all bronze-ranked, and the five of us will be watching over you. If a group of monsters is too big or powerful, we’ll trim them down to a reasonable level. If one of you is in danger, we’ll come in to save you. Should that happen, however, you will fail the initiation. You’ll also fail if you retreat from a fight without a valid reason. Otherwise, all you need to know is that those of you with talent might start a bit ahead of the others in the Guild. Perform well and be rewarded. That is the adventurer’s motto.”

  That got Leon’s attention. He had been angry to learn that he would be forced to work his way up from the bottom ranks of the guild along with the failures he was currently surrounded with. It would be a kindness to suggest he would be working his way up from the dirt; more aptly, he would have been working his way up from the bedrock below the dirt.

  This merit system that the initiation seemed to have was therefore a welcome surprise. It would save him months of time and needless effort rising through the ranks. Any further idle thoughts were cut off as the adventurer continued.

  “Each person will be put through four fights with a randomized team each time. You all should have given your names to an adventurer waiting here.” He looked over them in a silent question, asking if anyone was actually dumb enough to have not signed in. Thankfully, no one stepped forward.

  “Alright, then this is your last chance to bow out if you’re afraid. The life of an adventurer ain’t pretty—it’s dangerous work that’ll kill those who are unready.” Looking around, Leon was unsurprised to find no one willing to leave, most of those here were either naive or desperate. Neither were conducive to reasonable decision making, reality would begin to set in during their first real fight, he was sure.

  The adventurer nodded his head at everyone’s decision and made a gesture to the other adventurers. Half of them descended into the ruin while the other half took up a perimeter around the initiates. The spokesman turned around and waved for everyone to follow him.

  “Let’s get to it then,” he shouted as they descended into the dungeon.