A warm smile greeted the newcomer the moment he stepped into the DragonMarked Guild hall.

  The woman behind the counter inclined her head politely, though her eyes sharpened as they assessed the strange figure before her.

  Welcome, she said smoothly. My name is Mirelle. I am one of the receptionists here at the DragonMarked Guild. How may I assist you today?

  Her gaze lingered longer than usual—on the unfamiliar fabric of his clothes, the odd cut and texture unlike anything crafted in this world. Then her eyes fell to the collar fastened around his neck.

  The smile faltered.

  She blinked once, then tilted her head.

  And you are...?

  Understanding dawned slowly, accompanied by a raised brow and a soft hum of intrigue.

  Ah. I see, Mirelle murmured.

  A new slave acquisition, perhaps?

  She shifted her attention past the man and toward the women standing behind him, her tone becoming more professional.

  A fine day to you, ladies, she said.

  Who is this man with you today?

  This is the familiar we summoned.

  Tria crossed her arms, unimpressed.

  I was expecting a combat-class familiar. Something that could hold the front line, she muttered. Instead, we're stuck with... this.

  Mirelle glanced again at the collar.

  I assumed he was a slave you picked up for labor.

  The man stiffened.

  Are all women in this world narcissists?

  That was his first impression.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  At first, I was convinced the summoning had failed—that some poor peasant had simply wandered into the ritual circle by accident. But his clothes were too strange. Too foreign not something I ever seen.

  So we concluded, that he must be from another world.

  Unfortunately, that means we're stuck with him. Tria replied with a tone of disappointment.

  Another world?

  Mirelle echoed, curiosity flickering again.

  That would explain the attire. I've never seen cloth like that before.

  She tapped her quill against the desk thoughtfully.

  If he's a familiar, then he can still be of use. Even support-type summons sometimes possess... unexpected skills.

  Oh, right, Tria said flatly. I forgot about that. Maybe he'll surprise us.

  She glanced at the guild crystal display.

  But as you can see he's only level twenty.

  Mirelle winced slightly.

  Level twenty...?

  That is unusually low. Even novice parties can summon familiars above level thirty.

  She glanced toward Seraphine.

  With your mana capacity, you should have been able to summon something at least level fifty.

  Tria leaned closer and whispered sharply,

  Don't say that out loud. You'll hurt Sera's feelings.

  I'm standing right here, the man thought bitterly.

  And for the record, I'm level two hundred. I could erase this entire guild if I wanted to. He said to himself.

  Seraphine cleared her throat softly.

  Tria... we came here to ask about the quest details, she said in a low voice.

  Mirelle straightened at once.

  Ah—my apologies.

  She pulled out a parchment and spread it across the counter.

  The mission is a straightforward extermination request. The village of Thatchrun has been under attack. Livestock slaughtered. Crops ruined. Men killed. Women missing.

  A goblin hunt? Tria frowned.

  Something felt off.

  If it's only goblins, why request higher-ranked adventurers? Tria asked. And the reward is... unusually high.

  I heard rumors in the streets—something about an unknown monster, Luna added

  Mirelle exhaled through her nose. Nothing slips past you girls, does it?

  The villagers did report a monster, she admitted.

  But our scouts confirmed the presence of a pack of goblins.

  She paused.

  Their numbers are unknown. Estimates place them at forty to fifty.

  That many? Tria's expression darkened.

  A dozen would be manageable. Two dozen, risky. But fifty? That's dangerous for low-level parties.

  Mirelle leaned forward, lowering her voice.

  There's more. These goblins are... different. Organized. They've been setting crude traps. Acting with intent.

  She hesitated.

  It's possible they're being led.

  Tria gasped softly.

  Led? By what?

  That's the problem, Mirelle replied. We don't know.

  She reached beneath the counter and produced a crumpled sketch.

  One of the villagers drew this.

  Seraphine accepted it, studying the image carefully. Tria leaned in, then passed it to Luna.

  ...I've never seen anything like this, Tria said slowly.

  Luna tilted her head.

  It's bigger than a goblin, she admitted. But nothing I'd be impressed by.

  Behind them, the man stared at the sketch in silence.

  Interesting, he thought.

  Very interesting.