Você provavelmente já ouviu essa história antes.
De como grandes heróis e suas lendas começaram.
Toda alma jovem, ao atingir a idade de dezesseis anos, é considerada adulta - e com a idade adulta vem uma escolha: Que caminho eles percorrerão daquele dia em diante?
Alguns escolhem os campos, vivendo com o suor do rosto, abraçando uma vida dura, mas pacífica.
Outros partiram para as cidades movimentadas, sonhando com fortunas como comerciantes, construtores, ferreiros - e, às vezes, aventureiros.
E depois há aqueles - os sortudos, ou talvez os infelizes - que são escolhidos por uma Família. Não qualquer família, mas uma família divina.
Quando os deuses desceram a Aetas, eles trouxeram consigo suas bênçãos, concedendo aos mortais a chance de se elevarem além de seus limites, para se tornarem verdadeiros heróis.
Mas o mago que você vê agora não esperou que o destino sorrisse para ela. Não. Quando seu décimo sexto ano chegou, ela fez sua escolha, pura e simplesmente.
Ela forjaria seu próprio destino - como uma aventureira, para frente e para o fim.
Sua avó costumava dizer que a Guilda era mais velha do que os próprios deuses. Ela nunca soube se isso era verdade - mas de pé diante de seus portões, certamente parecia que sim.
A guilda foi construída com um propósito em mente: ajudar as almas corajosas conhecidas como aventureiros - pessoas comuns, à sua maneira, que podem se reunir em uma taverna e não pensar em enfrentar os monstros que vagavam pelo mundo naqueles primeiros dias.
Mas, ao contrário das outras "agências" de trabalho que pontilhavam as cidades, a Guilda era algo totalmente diferente. Era mais como um mercado de oportunidades. Um se juntaria como membro e aceitaria empregos com base em suas habilidades - suas qualificações, por assim dizer.
Na era atual, os aventureiros se tornaram algo bem diferente: mercenários, em sua maioria, fazendo qualquer trabalho que possam por moedas.
E, naturalmente, nenhum reino permitiria que tantas almas armadas vagassem livremente sem um gerenciamento cuidadoso - e, quando necessário, um uso cuidadoso.
O mago parou em frente ao imponente edifício.
Com o olhar fixo no enorme prédio à sua frente, ela não pôde deixar de notar a diferença em comparação com os lugares aos quais estava acostumada.
Aquele edifício era mais do que apenas um edifício: era como uma mansão colossal, erguida com uma grandeza que lembrava palácios que só podiam ser vistos em lendas.
Ao seu redor, várias figuras passavam apressadas, algumas armadas, outras não, todas com uma expressão de seriedade e pressa.
O prédio da Guilda não possuía portas no sentido tradicional; sua entrada era vasta, aberta, lembrando um portal que se estendia em direção ao horizonte.
Ao contrário das estruturas convencionais, que fechavam no final do dia, aqui nada fechava, pois a natureza do trabalho interno exigia liberdade de movimento, vinte e quatro horas por dia.
A entrada, imensa como os portões de uma cidade, parecia se estender sem fim.
Por dentro, o ambiente era de uma complexidade peculiar. Grandes pousadas e tabernas ocupavam vários andares do edifício, com corredores labirínticos que levavam a escritórios e, mais ainda, a uma biblioteca que, curiosamente, parecia mais um espaço de vazio do que de grande circulação.
Hardly anyone visited this place, as if it were a forgotten refuge, where knowledge was lost within pages that no one turned.
And so, as if by luck or chance, the mage found herself crossing a sea of faces and bodies of various races.
Dwarves with thick beards and heavy axes, elves with their slender and sharp bows, and even hobbits, always burdened with a mug of beer, almost larger than they themselves, wove through the continuous flow of people entering and leaving the place.
She tried, with some difficulty, to make her way through the crowd. There was something strange, something that made her question whether all of this was truly normal.
Is it like this every day?
feeling the weight of the question drag through her mind. But before she could lose herself further in thoughts, her eyes fell upon something that made her stop.
On the wall to her left, a large painting caught the attention of several adventurers. A brief moment of silence hung in the air as they gazed upon it with rapt attention. It was a painting common to many, but to her, it was something new: a "Service Letter," as the more experienced ones called it. Once, she had imagined such documents to be mere bureaucracy, but now she saw how its words could alter fates.
On the other side, a conversation began to form between two burly men, clearly seasoned adventurers.
" I heard there's a demigod in the region. "
" Really ?"
" Yes, they say they saw him at the market, asking about a cave."
" So what? Let the man work. You speak as if he's any different from us."
" Are you out of your mind?! Everyone knows that whenever a demigod appears in an area, something terrible is about to happen."
" Nonsense."
" By the gods, listen to what I'm saying! Whenever a demigod appears, it's a sign that disaster is near."
The mage furrowed her brow, absorbing the words of the conversation, while the murmurs of voices around her seemed to intensify. Her eyes fixed once more on the mission board, her mind still reflecting on those words... Demigods? What did that mean?
She had heard tales of demigods before — not just in taverns or the ramblings of drunk adventurers, but in voices that spoke with polish, in rooms that smelled of parchment and ink. Stories told by people who knew things.
Tales of heroes with divine blood, slayers of beasts, champions of gods. Of blades that sang with light and armor forged in starlight. She had devoured every story, dreamed of every battle. Not to be saved by such heroes — but to stand among them.
Even now, the memory of those quiet nights lingered. A soft chair. A crackling hearth. A voice speaking of glory as if it were possible — maybe even promised.
And what better place to chase such a promise than the Guild?
Soon, will I be among them?
The mage was not naive, or at least not foolish enough to believe that the life of an adventurer was simple or easy. She had seen, on many occasions, adventurers return home wounded when she was a child, and she knew that the road of an adventurer was often marked by scars, both external and internal.
Still, she had always longed to be someone capable of making her own decisions, someone not shaped by the circumstances. And what better place to do so than the Adventurers' Guild? There, choices were made by each individual, no matter how arduous the path might be.
The sound of the line moving around her brought the mage back to the present. She had lost herself in her own thoughts, something that rarely happened, but now it seemed inevitable. When it finally came her turn, the guild attendant looked at her with a sweet, yet clearly professional expression.
" How may I assist you today?" Asked the young woman, her voice carrying both attentiveness and efficiency.
The mage observed the attendant, who seemed not much older than herself. The girl's hair was meticulously arranged, each strand placed with almost obsessive precision, and her glasses were so clean that it was hard to tell where the lenses began and the reflection ended.
It was clear that the young woman had immense experience in her role. Although the task of attending was routine, she carried herself with the poise of someone who understood the importance of her position within the Guild.
There was no tension in her voice or body; everything about her seemed fluid, relaxed, as if she were completely in control.
The mage, still feeling a twinge of nervousness, let her lips curve gently upwards and swallowed her anxiety before speaking.
" I would like to become an adventurer"