Before heading to the Guild, Ace's first destination was the small weapon shop. There, the air was saturated with the scent of hot iron and burnt oil—a heavy blend that lingered in the atmosphere. As he pushed open the wooden door, he was met with the warmth radiating from heated metal, a stark contrast to the chill of the breeze outside.
Inside, everything was still, save for the soft whispers of flames flickering in the iron furnace at the back. Behind the counter stood Chloe, the shop owner, deeply asleep. Her head tilted slightly to one side, eyes closed, and her mouth half-open, with a thin line of silvery drool glistening under the morning light that filtered through the small window.
Exhaustion was etched into her features. The toll of sleepless nights and long hours of labor was evident in the smudges of soot on her cheeks. Even her short hair was dusted lightly with metallic particles.
Resting on the counter before her was the black sword, gleaming with a luster all its own, as if a piece of the night had crystallized into steel. It looked entirely different from the day before—reborn, as though it had been carefully reforged. There wasn't a trace of rust or a single scratch to mar its surface, only a smooth, elegant sheen that reflected light with an enchanting flow, despite its deep black hue.
Ace stepped forward cautiously, his movements light so as not to wake her. He paused briefly, taking in her peaceful expression, then turned his gaze to the sword once more. It was then he realized the extent of her effort to have it ready on time—likely at the cost of her own rest.
A deep sense of gratitude welled up within him, though he said nothing. He reached out to grasp the sword, and the moment his fingers touched the hilt, he felt its warmth—an unusual sensation for cold metal, indicating that the finishing touches had only just been completed. He lifted it slowly, admiring the finely polished surface, and noticed a slight change in its weight, as though a layer had been removed. It felt lighter, yet had lost none of its imposing presence.
Its new leather grip was smooth yet firm, crafted from dark hide that matched the blade perfectly, giving it a balance of elegance and strength.
After a moment of quiet admiration, he gently slid it into the leather sheath laid beside it, then lifted and strapped it to his back, where it rested just above the ground. It looked like an extension of his body. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch of silver coins—the agreed-upon payment.
He held the coins briefly, feeling their coolness between his fingers, then placed them gently on the counter. They clinked softly, their sound echoing faintly throughout the quiet shop, as if whispering something into the stillness. The chime of silver stirred something in the sleeping girl's consciousness. She mumbled drowsily, eyes still closed:
"Th... thank you... for shopping at my...store... I hope you...mmm…"
Her words trailed off into a soft snore, as though even in her dreams, she couldn't finish a full sentence. Ace smiled and gave a small bow, a silent gesture of thanks, before turning and leaving. He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving the shop—and its sleeping owner—behind, and continued on his way to the Adventurers' Guild.
As he approached the Guild, the usual commotion was absent. No lively debates or laughter filled the air. No clinking of mugs meeting in cheers or against wooden tables. Instead, the atmosphere was still, unusually so, as if the entire place had been wrapped in a heavy silence.
Ace didn't need an explanation. He immediately understood that this quiet was a sign—their presence had already filled the room. The members of the party were waiting inside. He reached out for the large wooden door and pushed it open. The creak of metal hinges split the silence, and as he stepped inside, every eye turned to him. It was as if time itself had paused for his arrival.
The attention wasn't drawn by the massive sword on his back, nor by his clothes, which some recognized. It was because everyone had been waiting for his decision, anticipating what was about to unfold.
The air in the hall was thick with anticipation, almost palpable. Some sat stiffly, while others clasped their hands tightly in front of them. All watched in silence, trying to read the young man's expression before he spoke a word. Amid this tension, one person appeared more anxious than the rest.
The clerk responsible for him—typically known for her professional detachment—seemed different today. Nervousness was clear in the way her fingers intertwined tightly on the desk, and in how she stood, as if trying to keep her emotions in check. Her concern wasn't just out of fear of losing a new adventurer; it was something deeper, more personal.
She watched his steady steps as he moved toward the table where the New Dawn party sat—at least three of them did. Catherine, however, was clearly no less anxious than the surrounding adventurers. In fact, even the clerk could sense greater unease in her expression, one that surpassed her own.
As Ace came to stand by the table, Margola slowly raised his head and set down his drink. The glass hit the table with a soft thud that echoed subtly in the charged silence.
He exhaled calmly and stood from his seat. His features bore a confident, almost smug smile, as if he already knew the answer he was about to hear, despite the lack of clues to support such certainty.
Ace Farland stood firmly before him, his brows slightly furrowed, yet his eyes remained steady—reflecting a quiet resolve shaped by experience and time. A moment of silence passed, thick with unspoken questions, but it didn't last long. The younger boy broke it; his voice calm yet laced with an undercurrent of challenge as he eyed the massive sword on Ace's back:
"I see you've come prepared. But let me ask you this, Ace Farland… Have you made your decision?"
The question hung in the air like a verdict, a pivotal moment that could redefine the young man's future among adventurers. Every gaze was now fixed solely on him. Ace raised his head slightly and finally spoke, his voice steady and unwavering, firm with purpose:
"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to join. I hope I can be of help in completing the mission."
The mood shifted instantly. Some faces lit up with quiet respect, while others fell into deeper worry and doubt. Not everyone was convinced that his decision came from wisdom. Some thought it reckless—an impulsiveness that could lead him to ruin. Was he truly confident? Or was this boldness just a fragile mask hiding fears he had yet to confront?
Before anyone could voice their doubts or raise a question, Ace added in a calm yet unexpectedly sharp tone:
"However, I want to make one thing clear before anything else—if things go south, I want you to know that I will choose to run rather than sacrifice myself."
Silence followed—not the silence of suspense, but one of astonishment. His words were blunt, stripped of any false heroism. That alone was enough to make some reevaluate their impression of him. Margola studied his face closely. A flicker of understanding flashed in his eyes, and then he raised his hand slowly, extending it forward with a tone free of mockery—accepting, even:
"Of course. That's the least anyone could ask of a novice adventurer."
"And I'd like to discuss the division of the reward money."
Ace's words followed quickly. His voice didn't tremble; it carried a quiet confidence that made the others fall silent for a moment, until Margola gestured toward the clerks' desk, where stacks of papers and folders sat behind a polished wooden counter.
"We'll discuss that there, when we finalize the contract."
The rest of the party members rose and walked toward the desk, where the clerk responsible for Ace waited. For a moment, her gaze seemed to pierce into his mind, silently asking, "Are you sure?" But what she saw in his eyes was something else entirely—a spark of certainty. It was clear to her that he had made his choice freely, without pressure. Unlike the girl, whose face still carried a mysterious hesitation she didn't yet understand.
The party leader didn't need to say a word. The clerk understood their intent. She reached for a small drawer and retrieved a thick sheet of fine paper, unlike the ones typically used to register adventurers. This was something else—a formal contract outlining every detail: team members' names, mission description, reward distribution, even small clauses to prevent future disputes.
Such contracts were rare among adventurers, who usually relied on verbal agreements. But this time was different. The presence of an external support member made documentation essential—to protect all parties and avoid potential conflict.
She looked up at the group and said in an official, emotionless tone:
"The total reward for eliminating the Rotten Tree Beast is 100,000 silver pieces…"
As soon as those words were spoken aloud, the adventurers' eyes widened, as if they couldn't believe the number they had just heard. The amount was enormous—large enough to cause a stir among those present. Some exchanged astonished glances, while others gave sideways smiles, as if trying to mask their delight at the surprise. The clerk continued speaking in the same monotonous tone, as though she were reading a statement that left no room for debate:
"There are five members in the team, so each person is to receive twenty thousand silver coins."
At that moment, all eyes turned to the team leader, Margola. The group watched him closely, waiting for any signal that might indicate how he felt about the distribution. Everyone knew that in most adventuring parties, the leader typically claimed the lion's share of the reward, simply by virtue of leadership. In this case, it was expected that Margola would demand more than the proposed amount—especially with Ace among them, a mere novice adventurer, wearing the humble rank of Iron, far below the levels of the rest of the team, with the exception of the hesitant girl, who held a bronze rank.
What happened next, however, was truly unexpected. With complete composure and without even a hint of negotiation or objection, Margola spoke in a steady voice, free of hesitation or contemplation:
"We accept the distribution ratios."
After he spoke, a few exchanged incredulous looks, unable to believe that a leader would accept such a division without protest. Then, with a deliberate motion, Margola turned to Ace. His eyes gleamed with a gaze that was difficult to interpret—a mix of appraisal, challenge, and perhaps even concealed curiosity. He asked in a calm voice, though it carried a deeper meaning beneath the surface:
"What about you, Ace Farland? Do you accept the distribution ratios?"
Everyone expected the young man to appear surprised, to stammer, or at least show a trace of astonishment. But Ace denied them that satisfaction. He maintained a neutral expression, even though he felt the same shock that had overtaken the room. In his mind, he had prepared a strong argument—line by line—ready to engage in a long and tense negotiation to secure a fair share for himself. Instead, he found himself in a situation he hadn't anticipated. He took a deep breath before answering in a low yet steady tone:
"It's a fair distribution—more than enough for me."
Though his words were simple, his mind was racing with questions. Something didn't add up. All along, he had expected Margola to take a large portion for himself. That man didn't seem like someone who gave anything away freely. As Ace wrestled with these thoughts, some of the adventurers around him were having different reflections altogether.
To them, Margola's action was not only surprising—it was admirable. In the adventuring profession, most teams followed a clear rule: the strongest take the most, and the weakest settle for scraps. But the New Victory team didn't do that. They didn't exploit their new member or rob him of his rights.
At that moment, a new respect began to grow among the onlookers—respect that had nearly been erased by the events of the previous day. Now, with this gesture, it became clear that this team hadn't earned their fame by chance. It wasn't just about the wealth they had accumulated, but about something far more valuable: accomplishments, unity, and the belief in the worth of every member, regardless of rank.