Thud. Thud.

Kael woke to that sound.

Morning light spilled through the curtains, and outside, birds were pecking against the window. He sat up, his room as large and comfortable as ever—a silent reminder that he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Soft carpets. A polished oak desk lined with books. A life of safety and ease. He had everything a boy could ask for.

But nothing lasts forever.

Step… step…

Kael descended the stairs.

In the middle of the hall, his father, Elandor, sat on the sofa, quietly sipping from a porcelain cup. The hall was faintly perfumed with incense—Elandor’s favorite. He glanced at Kael over the rim of his glasses, one hand still holding open a book.

Kael had his backpack slung over his shoulder, and a short sword rested snugly in its scabbard, strapped low across his waist.

“Where are you headed this early?” Elandor asked, his tone calm but sharp. “And you know my University doesn’t allow swords. If you want to play with blades, there’s Stoneveil Bastion for that…”

Kael stepped off the last stair, meeting his father’s gaze.

“I’m not going to the University, Father,” he said with a faint smile. “I’ve decided to become an adventurer.”

Elandor choked, spraying tea across the floor.

“What?” He stared at Kael, his expression tightening.

“I’m going to the guild,” Kael continued, “to enroll as an adventurer.”

“And who gave you permission?” Elandor’s voice hardened, his brows knitting together.

“No son of mine will roam the planes, butchering beasts for meat—”

“I’ve made my decision,” Kael cut in, unshaken. “I’m doing this.”

The air between them grew heavy. Father and son locked eyes.

“Go back to your room,” Elandor ordered coldly. “Change your clothes. We’re going to the University, and you’re continuing your post.”

“No, Father.” Kael’s reply was firm.

Elandor turned, his gaze fierce. “What did you just say?”

“It’s your fault, Father,” Kael said, his voice steady. “Your fault for giving me books to read.”

Elandor froze.

“Every book you gave me taught me one thing: do what you love, even if you survive on nothing but a piece of bread. You’ll still live happily if you follow your true self.’ And for the first time in my life, I know what I want.” Kael’s eyes hardened, holding a fire his father couldn’t miss. “As they say, the painter is working as a doctor… unless something fits you, you can never be whole—you will suffer.”

Elandor lowered his glasses and closed his book. He stood, towering over Kael—a big man, broader and heavier since Kael had grown thin.

“Keep one thing in mind,” Elandor said in a low voice, staring into his son’s eyes.

“You are not to go anywhere near the Spine of Zha’ath. No matter what. Do you understand?”, Elandor asked with iron in his tone.

Kael nodded his head, not wanting to overrun the boundary.

Elandor walked past Kael, heading for his cabin.

“I will assign two adventurers. They will accompany you—always. No matter where you go.”

Just with those words, Elandor disappeared behind the cabin door.

Kael glanced at the book his father had been reading—and smiled. It was the same book from which he had quoted that line.

Kael mumbled the words again, “the painter is working as a doctor… and doctor as a potter… “

With that smile still on his face, Kael stepped out of the house.

The Adventurers Guild, Valemoor

Kael stood before the towering structure, reading the sign etched in blackstone: The Adventurers Guild.

The square bustled with movement—men and women in leather armor, bearing swords, axes, bows, and things far stranger. Some laughed as they exited; others stomped in with blood-slicked boots.

Kael stepped inside.

The hall was enormous—four stories tall, loud, chaotic. Voices clashed against the stone walls as adventurers barked recruitment calls, shared stories, or argued over payment. Kael had never seen such disorder, and it both thrilled and unnerved him.

He walked straight to the front desk. A woman behind the counter glanced up from her stack of papers.

"Hello there," Kael offered.

"Hello. How may I help you?" she asked with a straight face.

"I’d like to enroll as an adventurer."

“First time enrollment?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

She handed him a form. “Please fill this out. We’ll prepare your Adventurer’s Card.”

Kael quickly wrote down his details and passed the form back. The moment she read his name, the woman’s expression froze.

“Wait… your name is Kael Vaelwyn? As in, Headmaster Vaelwyn?”

“Uh, yes. He’s my father,” Kael replied, a little too casually.

“What?” The woman looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Is there a problem? Am I not allowed to enroll?” Kael asked, confused.

“No, no—it’s fine! It’s just... why? You come from the Higher Class. Why would you even want to join the Adventurers Guild?” she asked, genuinely baffled.

“I… thought it’d be fun, I guess,” Kael laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

She stared at him a moment longer before sighing.

“Well, there’s a separate floor for those of higher standing—third floor. Not many from the upper class enroll, but that’s where you’ll be directed. Please proceed to the second floor, Mr. Vaelwyn.”

She said his name with a new tone—half respectful, half distant.

Kael, embarrassed by the sudden shift in treatment, turned toward the stairs.

“Did you hear that? She called the newbie Mr. Vaelwyn.”

“Look at his armor plate… that’s Durmara hide.”

“Headmaster’s son? What’s he doing here?”

“Did they run out of money or something? Hah!”

Their voices followed Kael as he climbed. He clenched his jaw but said nothing.

What is this? I never knew Father was such a big figure, he thought, stunned.

He had grown up in the Second Level Society—a world of well-established commoners: merchants, traders, university masters, and guild heads. Everyone he knew was educated, comfortable, and more or less equal. His father gave him everything—books, games, freedom. He was just… a curious boy who loved stories.

Kael never experienced this kind of hierarchy before. In university, everyone was treated the same. But here… this felt like something else entirely.

He reached the third floor.

It was silent.

The floors gleamed with polished stone—perhaps Aurelian Marble. Everything was clean, symmetrical, and hushed.

A woman stood behind the reception counter. She looked about twenty-five, with a gentle smile and soft amber eyes—welcoming, unlike the cold stare downstairs.

As Kael approached, she gave a formal bow.

“Welcome, sir. Forgive me—I don’t recognize you.”

“Please, you don’t need to bow” Kael said quickly. “It’s alright. I’m no noble you’re supposed to know.”

She raised her head, now curious. “May I have your name, sir?”

“Yes…. yes.. Kael… Kael Vaelwyn.”

Her eyes widened.

“My goodness. Then may I assume—you are the son of Headmaster Vaelwyn?”

“Yes.”