We ate mostly in silence. The only sounds came from children whose table manners had not yet learned restraint, spoons scraping against bowls and the occasional muffled laugh that faded as soon as it drew notice. Even those small noises felt out of place, like echoes from a different day.
I found myself watching the others more than my food. Heads were lowered, shoulders angled forward, everyone wrapped in their own thoughts. The mess hall had always been loud and alive. Tonight, it felt contained, as if the walls themselves were listening.
When we were finished eating, Greta rested her hands on the table and spoke.
“All right,” she said, her voice carrying easily without being loud. It was the same voice she used during training, calm and assured, the kind that made people listen without realizing they were doing it. “Tomorrow, everyone who has not yet gained a core will be receiving their copper core. The medical staff will arrive in the morning, and we will get you all set up.”
A ripple of attention moved through the room. A few people straightened in their seats. Others exchanged brief looks, excitement and nerves mixing together in equal measure.
“There is something I have not gone over yet,” Greta continued. “Something you should understand before it happens.” She glanced briefly in my direction. “You have all seen Azolo as a Tin core. Tin is mostly refinement of the body, strengthening endurance, control, and overall physical capability. It sharpens what is already there. Copper is different.”
She paused and waited until every eye was on her.
“When you gain a copper core, you will also gain an ability,” she said. “It will be unique to you. There may be similarities between people, but no two are exactly alike. This ability will define what makes you distinct and what sets you apart from everyone else in this room.”
A few heads lifted higher. I felt the tension shift, curiosity pressing against unease.
“You have heard stories,” Greta went on. “Legendary warriors who can melt weapons in their hands, move like lightning, or perform feats that look like magic to anyone watching. What you receive at copper is the most basic form of that ability. It is small at first, and it manifests only once the core is fully assimilated into your body.”
Sean raised a hand, hesitating for just a moment before speaking. “What kind of ability do we get?”
Greta nodded at him. “That is a good question, Sean. The answer is simple and unhelpful.” A faint smile touched her lips. “It can be anything.”
She lifted her hand and extended a single finger. In the space of a breath, her fingernail grew into a sharp, hardened blade. The transformation was smooth and precise, as if it had always belonged there. Just as quickly, it retracted, leaving her hand unchanged.
“That was all I had at first,” she said. “It is a form of body modification. My body produces something unique. This is part of becoming. The process changes your cells from sapient cells into monster cells, and that change creates the capability.”
She lowered her hand and folded her arms loosely.
“At its origin, the ability is completely inert,” Greta said. “It takes time and training to make it useful, and it takes discipline not to rely on it too early. Azolo, when you become a copper core, you will gain one as well. We have no idea what it will be.”
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She hesitated, her expression thoughtful, before adding, “Some people believe it relates to the monster your core came from. I have not seen convincing proof of that, but it is a common superstition.”
I stared at her in horror as the words finally caught up to me. “So, you’re telling me my ability might be poop-related?”
For a heartbeat the room was silent. Then Greta laughed, the sound cutting through the tension.
“And if it did turn out that way,” she said, still amused, “then at the higher ends it would probably be the most powerful poop ability to ever exist, if only because I do not think anyone else has ever ended up with one.” She waved a hand dismissively, still smiling.
As we were all about to head to the bunks, Greta stopped me before I could follow the others out of the hall. She did not raise her voice or make a show of it. She simply said my name, quietly, in a way that made it clear she wanted a private moment and that this was not something meant for everyone to hear.
“Azolo,” she said, waiting until the rest of the group was far enough away that their voices and footsteps had faded. “I know you saw what happened earlier, with me and Myrda, and I think you deserve to understand why things unfolded the way they did.”
I turned back toward her and nodded, staying where I was. I had already felt that something was wrong, and the way she stood, shoulders tight and expression controlled, told me this was not a small thing.
“Someone attacked Rowan,” Greta said. She paused after that, she was choosing her words carefully.
“Earlier today, before Rowan left,” Greta continued, “she spoke with Myrda. It was an ordinary conversation. Rowan told her she was happy to talk to you about her experiences as a reincarnator.”
Greta’s expression tightened slightly as she went on.
“She trusted this hall,” Greta said. “She trusted that once she was here, she would be protected.”
She drew in a slow breath before continuing, steadying herself.
“On her quest,” Greta said, “Rowan was ambushed. We are still piecing together exactly how it happened, but the results are clear. She had multiple broken bones. She was stabbed several times before she managed to get away. She barely survived.”
The words settled heavily, pressing in rather than striking all at once.
“She made it into the hall,” Greta went on, her voice steady but harder now. “That should have been the end of it. This is an Adventurer’s Guildhall. Once someone crosses that threshold, they are supposed to be safe.”
She shook her head once, sharp and restrained.
“Some of her alleged attackers followed her inside,” Greta said. “They were clearly steel rank. They came in expecting to finish what they started.”
Her tone left no room for argument.
“Punching down is unacceptable,” she said. “In any situation, and especially not inside a guildhall.”
Greta exhaled slowly, as if forcing herself to remain measured rather than angry.
“Rowan was sent to the Medical Guild,” she continued. “Not the healer’s hall attached to the Adventurer’s Guild. Her injuries were beyond what could be handled there, even with the resources they have.”
She glanced back toward the mess hall, now quieter than it had been earlier, the usual noise and energy subdued.
“This isn’t a normal training hall,” Greta said. “Myrda is a gold-rank adventurer. I am as well. Randall is too, even if he’s a shithead.”
Her mouth twisted briefly before she went on.
“That level of qualification is not standard for an iron-ranked guildhall,” Greta said. “It exists because of what the Sea of Trees is. It’s a scaling dungeon, and it is far more dangerous than most people understand. The requirements here are higher because they have to be.”
She looked back at me directly, making sure I was following.
“If something goes wrong,” Greta said, “we are supposed to be able to get all of you out. There is not meant to be a situation we cannot handle. That is the entire point of staffing this place the way we do.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Myrda is beating herself up because she had to let the assailants go,” Greta said. “And the truth is, she could have killed every single one of them. She chose not to, because protecting Rowan came first.”
Greta let out a slow breath, the tension still visible in her posture.
“I’m telling you this because you’re not a child in mind,” she said. “You were already making connections. I’m sure you knew something was wrong the moment you saw what we walked into.”
She hesitated, then added more quietly,
“Myrda is not okay. I’m not okay either.”
After a brief pause, she added, dryly, “Randall is probably fine. He’s a buttmunch, and he doesn’t care about same things we do. But even he’s upset about this. A group of steel-ranked adventurers assaulted someone inside a guildhall he is supposed to help defend.”
Her gaze hardened as she finished.
“Even though neither of us was here when it happened,” Greta said, “it still happened under our watch. And that stains all of us.”
Minor update:
14 chapters ahead. The next milestone is 21 chapters, and once we hit that, we’ll officially be in backlog territory.
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7 chapters
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13 chapter/ 14 chapters (as of tomorrow releases)
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21 chapters (promised)
100K views and is officially one month old, which is honestly insane. I really think we’re going places with this one, and I’m glad you’re all here with me for the journey.
As a quick note: we’ll be getting the first bonus chapter covering what’s going on with the Usurper fairly soon. There’s also a good chance we’ll drop two bonus chapters once we hit 1,000 followers.