Location: Nile Town
The outer gate of Nile Town stood tall—taller than any of its surrounding buildings—its surface was like weathered bark, etched with iron plates and strange carvings long forgotten by those who now walked beneath them. It wrapped around the city like a second skin, an aging glove meant to protect rather than comfort.
Two guards were stationed at the entrance.
One of them leaned lazily against the wall, his halberd resting at an angle, his helmet tilted just enough to shield him from the sunlight. His name was Greg, though few bothered to learn it. He looked as if he had long given up on caring about anything except when his shift ended.
The other was far less dignified.
This guard, whose helmet lay discarded beside him, was fully engrossed in a war with his own nose. His fingers waged an epic battle, rooting deep for treasure. His name was less known and more... whispered.
"Eww," Greg grimaced as he saw a particularly victorious flick of mucus fly in his direction.
"What?" the other guard asked, blinking innocently with the offending finger still raised.
"Can't you do that somewhere else?" Greg scoffed, raising a hand to shield himself from any more airborne horrors. "You disgusting filth."
The nose-picking guard just shrugged and casually returned to his noble quest. Greg glared at him, looking seconds away from using the halberd to hammer sense—or unconsciousness—into his partner.
He groaned and muttered to himself, "Of all the idiots in this town, why him?"
But before he could slip back into his internal complaints—
Tap. Tap.
His ears perked up. So did his spine. Even the nose-miner paused, his finger freezing mid-invasion.
Tap. Tap.
The sounds of deliberate footsteps echoed through the dust-laden air in front of the gate. A light fog had settled over the road that morning, unusual for Nile Town, and it clung low to the ground like a living thing. Shadows danced at the edges of the mist.
Both guards stiffened and stepped forward. Greg gripped his weapon tighter. That wasn't the thud of a monster. Monsters, even small ones, tended to make the earth tremble with every step. These were different. Soft. Rhythmic.
But...
There was one type of monster that could move like a man.
Tap. Tap.
Closer now.
The guards exchanged glances. For the first time, nose-picker's expression was serious. His hand reached for the spear resting beside him, and he pointed it directly into the fog.
"Halt!" he shouted.
The footsteps paused.
A breath of silence fell between them. Greg's heart beat louder than the steps had.
"Identify yourself!" he called out next.
Nothing.
Creak... Tap. Tap.
The footsteps began again—faster now, less hesitant.
The tension spiked. Sweat ran down the side of Greg's face. Nose-picker's hands shook.
Too close.
"Dammit!" yelled Nose-picker, and before Greg could react, the man hurled his spear into the fog with a trained flick of his wrist.
CLANK. SLASH.
A shriek of metal answered.
The spear didn't just vanish. It returned. It came flying back at them, spinning once in the air before embedding itself into the wooden wall behind Greg—an inch from his head. The force knocked a few flakes of paint off the wall.
The noise of impact echoed. Nose-picker fell back, landing hard on his rear with a squeak of terror.
Greg spun, raising his hands toward the warning bell.
If he rang it, the whole of Nile Town would flood the gate—soldiers, adventurers, even the Watchers. Chaos. But better chaos than dead.
His fingers brushed the rope when—
"Wait, wait!"
A voice emerged from the mist.
Familiar.
"I'm not an enemy!"
The guards froze. Greg blinked. That voice...
Tap. Tap.
A figure finally stepped out of the fog, both hands raised in surrender. A boy—or was he a man? Lean, with uncombed hair and clothes that clung like he'd slept in them.
"Aria the weird," Greg muttered. "It's just you."
The tension evaporated like dew under the sun.
The other guard climbed to his feet, brushing off invisible dust with fake pride. "Hah! I knew it wasn't a threat."
"Liar. You pissed yourself."
"I did not!"
Aria stood awkwardly while the two returned to their bickering. He lowered his hands.
They never learn my name right, he thought bitterly. Aria the Weird…
But he let them have their joke. It saved him the trouble of producing a citizen card he didn't own. In this kingdom, being dismissed as a joke was safer than being remembered.
He passed the gate, head low.
Nile Town opened up around him like a half-awake child. Unlike the capital's bustling madness, Nile Town was calmer—though far from sleepy. Traders barked from their booths. Shoppers bartered over peaches and herbs. Children ducked through crowds with bread in hand.
Aria didn't linger.
He passed through the main street, where shops lined both sides, each adorned with colorful fabric and makeshift signs.
"Freshest fish this side of the river!"
"Spicy buns, hot from the pot!"
He ignored them all.
His path led straight to the heart of the district—a towering wooden structure braced with iron and crowned with the horn of some unknown beast.
The Adventurer Guild.
Unlike the rest of town, the guild pulsed with tension. People came here for coin—and blood. The building's façade was worn, but not from neglect. It bore the scars of history. The door was wide open, welcoming the bold.
Aria stood at the edge of the stairs.
From the doorway burst a party of four.
"Would you stop hitting me!?"
"You're the one who lost the last two clients!"
"You call yourself a leader? Hah. Useless."
The woman with a staff berated a red-haired man with dual swords. Her voice was sharp enough to cut steel. She was a mage—blue hair, long coat, heavy hat. Her irritation was theatrical, almost rehearsed.
Their tank stepped out behind them. A walking wall of steel, taller than the door frame. His shield clinked against the wood as he moved.
And then the archer—a boy with moss-green hair and the kind of wide eyes that meant too new, too kind. He followed quietly, lost in the shadow of his party.
Four, Aria noted.
Not five. B-rank adventurers were supposed to have five. Their missing member wasn't mourned. No black bands. No tears.
Maybe they hadn't found one yet.
In this world, joining a party wasn't as simple as asking. You fought for your place. Literally. A duel, sometimes to injury, sometimes beyond. The stronger claimed the title of leader; the rest fell into line—or walked away.
It was brutal. That was the point.
The Guillotine King designed it that way.
Aria had no intention of joining a party.
He passed by the group. None of them noticed him, not even the archer. That was good. He liked it that way.
I move better as a shadow.
He pulled open the door of the guild and stepped inside.