It was late afternoon when the trio pushed through the tall oak doors of the Adventurer’s Guild. The winter air clung to their cloaks, cold and heavy, even though the braziers lining the entryway radiated a dull warmth. Behind them, Toby followed at an unhurried pace, while Rin and Yuri trailed in with wide eyes, their faces betraying both awe and nervous excitement.

  Rin leaned closer to Yuri, her voice hushed but still carrying in the quiet hall. “It’s bigger than I imagined…”

  The high ceilings arched overhead, decorated with banners faded by smoke from years of firelight. Murals and plaques filled the walls—replicas of weapons and artifacts from past ages, each one gleaming faintly beneath enchanted lanterns. The air smelled faintly of parchment, steel, and smoke.

  Suri, cheeks faintly pink from pride, waved her arm as though she owned the place. “Over there—that’s a replica of the Spear of Riel of the famous northern hero. And that shield? The real one’s buried under the capital, but this is nearly perfect.”

  Her words spilled like a guide’s patter, and Yuri and Rin drank it all in, heads turning with every step.

  Despite the grandeur, the guild was oddly quiet. Only a few groups lingered near the noticeboards, huddled over contracts or arguing softly with one another. Fewer people than Kana had expected. She wondered if the cold had kept adventurers indoors—or perhaps it was simply the calm before something larger.

  They crossed the polished floor toward the front desk, boots clacking against the stone. Kana walked beside Toby and Boris, her thoughts already bracing for what came next.

  The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a professional smile, stood at the ready. She took the parchment Toby handed over and smoothed it flat on the counter.

  “We’re here to make a payment,” Toby said.

  The receptionist’s eyes flicked across the parchment before she nodded briskly. “Quest posted under your name. Original reward price: five hundred and fifty silver.” She looked up, her gaze resting on Toby. “Since you hold a special license, the guild’s cut will be reduced. That brings your total to five hundred silver. Or—” her smile tightened, practiced “—a single gold coin.”

  Kana’s stomach knotted.

  She’d expected it, and yet… every time coin was mentioned, it felt like claws tightening around her. She didn’t even know why. The barrier had been paid for by sponsors—the Duke’s purse from the Kingdom’s treasury. It wasn’t as though she had personally been robbed. And yet every expense tugged at her chest like it was a personal failure.

  Suri leaned casually against the counter, humming to herself, clearly unconcerned. For her, coin only mattered when they turned into dresses or scarves in bright, obnoxious colors. Boris, of course, didn’t even seem to register the cost—he was too busy glancing at a pair of burly adventurers in the corner, sizing them up for some kind of contest Kana didn’t care to imagine.

  Her fingers closed around the small leather pouch at her belt. She hated how her hand hesitated, even for an instant.

  Finally, with a sharp motion, she pulled a gleaming gold coin free. It felt heavy, heavier than its weight should have allowed. Reluctantly, she slid it across the counter.

  The receptionist’s smile brightened as the coin clinked against the desk.

  “Payment accepted.”

  Kana exhaled slowly, though the tightness in her chest refused to ease.

  …

  The market streets of the capital had changed with the season. Where once there had been bright silks and thin cottons, now the stalls overflowed with fur-lined cloaks and heavy boots, the air carrying the scent of smoke from merchant braziers. Even the sellers had changed their cries, calling less about fashion and more about warmth. Stay alive through winter first.

  Suri and Rin wove through the crowd as if the cold didn’t bother them, their laughter sharp against the dull clamor of merchants and buyers. Kana followed, arms folded, boots crunching against patches of frozen slush. Boris trudged at her side, every step exuding the air of a man sentenced to needless suffering. Toby had been smarter than either of them, slipping away with some invented excuse the moment shopping was mentioned.

  Kana caught herself frowning. She liked efficiency. This—wandering the same street three times while Suri squealed over sleeves—wasn’t efficient.

  At last, the two girls settled on their choices: thick coats dyed in bright colors, sleeves wide enough to swallow their hands. Rin clutched hers like a prize, bouncing on her toes.

  By the time they reached the academy gates, the sky was already darkening, shadows long across the girl’s dormitory. Rin paused, hugging her new coat close.

  “I’ll head up first,” she said, practically glowing. “See you tomorrow!”

  Humming on every step as she vanished to the staircase.

  Kana turned to follow on the other side—until she noticed Suri hadn’t moved. The red-haired girl tugged at Boris’s sleeve.

  Boris groaned, scrubbing at his face. “What now? Your shopping wore me out more than training with my spear.”

  Suri hesitated. Her usual grin was absent, her voice softer when she spoke. “Asha wants us to visit her as soon as we can.”

  Boris blinked, the complaint dying in his throat. “That’s it?”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Yes.” Suri’s eyes narrowed, her words clipped. “Looked serious..”

  Kana straightened, her earlier irritation dissolving. Asha wasn’t one to spook easily. If she wanted them at her place in the middle of winter’s bite… it meant something. Something important.

  The warmth of the dormitory suddenly seemed thinner, the lamps dimmer.

  They exchanged a look—Boris rubbing his jaw, Suri pulling her coat tighter, Kana’s eyes fixed on the stairwell where Rin had disappeared.

  “We can do a quick visit.” Suri grinned,”Let me inject some of my mana into your body and we’ll fly there.”

  ….

  Three hooded figures knocked at a weathered door deep in the commoner district. The winter wind howled between crooked chimneys, and frost clung to the wood.

  “We’re here! Open the door quickly,” Suri muttered through chattering teeth, her hands shoved beneath her cloak.

  The door creaked open to reveal Asha. Her face was pale, her eyes hard. She didn’t greet them, didn’t even sigh in relief—just stepped aside. The trio hurried in, grateful for the warmth.

  Inside, Opel was already setting cups on the table. Steam curled from the tea, carrying the faint scent of dried berries. The five of them gathered in silence.

  Kana shifted uneasily under Asha’s gaze. It was sharp, probing, as though she were being weighed and measured. “It looks serious,” Kana said carefully. “Did we do something wrong?”

  “It’s about the mid-high dungeon,” Asha answered at last. Her voice carried no warmth, no hesitation.

  The words thickened the air. Even Suri stopped rubbing her frozen fingers.

  “That dungeon is…” Asha paused, eyes flicking toward Opel before returning to the trio, “kinda unique. Some call it the Fruit Dungeon.”

  Kana nodded slowly. She had heard the name, read about it in dusty books from her mother’s collection. “Right. Because every time the boss is defeated, it produces a dungeon item. Without fail. Like plucking fruit from a tree.”

  “That’s the textbook answer,” Asha said, her lips tightening.

  She leaned forward, her voice dropping. “But those who’ve gone inside… those who survived… call it something else. The Rotten Fruit Dungeon.”

  The room went still. Even the fire in the small chimney seemed to dim.

  “Why rotten?” Suri asked, though her voice was quiet.

  “Because half—or more than half—always die,” Asha said flatly. “Always. No matter the party, no matter the preparation. It devours people, and still… people go. Chasing the fruit.”

  Opel’s fingers tapped against his cup, a nervous rhythm. “If Asha and I hadn’t gained new skills, we wouldn’t even consider it. And even now… it’s still not too late. You can walk away. Someone can still replace us. Many dungeon scrappers are eager to enter..”

  Silence pressed in like a weight. Boris frowned, his large hands curling into fists, but didn’t speak. Suri glanced at Kana, waiting.

  Kana reached into her pocket, her movements steady despite the cold creeping back into her bones. She placed something on the table—a folded slip of parchment, faintly glowing at its edges.

  A [Teleportation] scroll. Their one safeguard.

  “We go,” Kana said simply. “Even if things don’t go as planned… we have this.”

  ……

  The text of god hovered again in front of Leo’s eyes—letters etched in light, faintly shifting as though written in fire across the air. It pulsed, flickering in and out of focus whenever he turned his head. No matter how he tried to ignore it, it was always there. Waiting.

  He paced the length of his chamber, boots scuffing against the rug, fingers twitching as though he could swipe the words away. He’d grown up hearing about this, of course. Every noble child did. When the time came, when you were ready—when you were worthy—the third skill would present itself. That was the way of things.

  But it wasn’t supposed to come this early.

  Leo clenched his jaw, running through the raid in his mind for the hundredth time. That dungeon, those monsters—their shrieks still echoed in the back of his skull when he tried to sleep. He had swung his sword, yes, but had he truly killed anything? His strikes were shallow, his blows often parried by the others before they landed the finishing cuts. Kana, Boris, even Suri… they had carried the fight. He had been there, yes, but had he truly earned this?

  Then why the text? Why him?

  He thought of the others—soldiers, mercenaries, rumoured dungeon scrappers—people who had slain hundred more monsters than him. Men and women who bled for their lives, who still had only two skills after years of labor. And yet here it was. A glowing choice hanging before him, as though mocking his doubts.

  Leo stopped pacing. His throat felt dry. He wanted—needed—to ask someone. Someone who might know. What was the best gift to choose from the present of the god?

  His thoughts turned, unbidden, to Kana.

  Why her? Why did his mind leap to her? They had almost the same age, too young and yet… he felt she understood things about this world that no one else did. She seemed to see through them. But if he asked, what would she say?

  His hand hovered near the glow, fingers trembling. He didn’t need Kana’s voice to make the choice for him. He had the old records, the guides written by famous [Knight] class and nobles before him. They had survived this same trial.

  The first choice was always the foundation. Select the skill you most favored—the one that defined you. That was what the histories said.

  So he had. He’d chosen [Counter].

  And then the text shifted.

  The words bled into one another, characters reshaping, the glow deepening into a hue like molten metal. [Counter] burned away, replaced by something new.

  [Full Counter]

  The letters seared into his vision, demanding recognition. Stronger. He didn’t know how he knew, but he felt it. The skill was sharper, heavier, alive with something more potent than what he had chosen.

  Leo’s breath caught. The next gift. The gift of the new skill.

  [Select 1 New Knight Skill to Acquire:]

  [Reduce Armor]

  [Mental Toughness]

  [Knight Roar]

  [One-hand Sword Mastery]

  [Shield Stun]

  [Ignore Damage]

  [Shield Shackle]