The second day of travel passed without incident.

  No bandits. No monsters. No dramatic revelations about Dylan's borrowed combat abilities. Just a pleasant walk through countryside that gradually transitioned from rolling hills to more cultivated farmland as they approached Millbrook.

  Dylan was deeply grateful for the monotony.

  His body had settled back into "normal traveler" mode, the combat instincts hibernating until needed. His mind, however, was still processing yesterday's fight in the background, replaying moves he didn't remember making, analyzing reflexes he didn't know he had.

  It was like discovering you could suddenly speak a language you'd never learned. Useful, but deeply unsettling.

  "You're quiet," Marcus observed as they crested a hill and spotted Millbrook in the valley below.

  "Just thinking," Dylan said.

  "About the fight?"

  "Among other things."

  Marcus nodded knowingly. "First real combat is always a head trip. Takes time to process. You did fine, though. Better than fine."

  Dylan managed a weak smile. "Thanks."

  Millbrook was larger than the previous town, proper stone walls, multiple gates, buildings that suggested actual planning rather than organic growth. The kind of settlement that had commerce, infrastructure, and probably some form of local government.

  "Nice place," Marcus said as they approached the south gate. "Been coming here for years. Good people, decent food, and the Guild Hall is well-run if you're looking for work."

  "Guild Hall?" Dylan's ears perked up under his hood.

  "Adventurers Guild. They coordinate jobs, certify qualifications, handle disputes. Standard stuff." Marcus glanced at him. "You're not registered, are you?"

  "No," Dylan admitted. "I didn't even know there was a guild."

  "Well, if you're planning to keep doing escort work or taking odd jobs, you should register. Makes everything official. Plus, registered adventurers get access to guild amenities, lodging discounts, equipment repair, that sort of thing."

  Dylan considered this. A guild meant organization. Records. Possibly people who knew things about legendary heroes named Lyriana Moonshadow.

  Also, possibly a legitimate way to earn money and not stand out as a suspicious vagrant with unclear origins.

  "I'll think about it," Dylan said, which was his default response to anything that required decisions.

  They passed through the gate, the guards barely glancing at them, and entered Millbrook proper.

  The town bustled with afternoon activity. Market stalls lined the main street. Shops displayed wares. People moved with purpose, going about their lives in a way that felt refreshingly normal after two days on the road.

  Marcus led them to a sturdy building near the town center, some kind of trading post or merchant's office. He handed over the package he'd been carrying, a sealed box that had remained mysterious throughout the journey, and collected his payment.

  "There we go," Marcus said, tucking the coin purse away. "Job complete." He turned to Dylan and offered a smaller purse. "Your share. Ten silver as promised."

  Dylan took it, feeling the weight. "Thank you."

  "Thank you. You made that trip a lot less stressful than it could have been." Marcus smiled. "You ever need a reference for guild work, mention my name. I'll vouch for you."

  "I appreciate that."

  They stood there for a moment, the awkwardness of parting settling over them.

  "Well," Marcus said eventually. "I've got to arrange my next contract. You staying in Millbrook for a while?"

  "Maybe. I'm not sure yet."

  "Fair enough. If you do register with the guild, look me up sometime. I could use a reliable guard for future runs." He offered his hand.

  Dylan shook it, the gesture feeling strangely formal and final.

  "Safe travels, Lyria."

  "You too, Marcus."

  And just like that, his first friend in this world walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

  Dylan stood there for a moment, feeling oddly bereft.

  Then he shook himself. "Okay. Guild Hall. Let's see what that's about."

  It wasn't hard to find, a large, well-maintained building near the town square with a sign depicting a sword and staff crossed over a shield. People streamed in and out, most of them armed and armored.

  Adventurers.

  Actual, real adventurers, treating this like a normal job.

  Dylan took a breath and headed inside.

  ***

  The Guild Hall's interior was organized chaos.

  A large open room dominated the space, with multiple desks along one wall staffed by harried clerks. A notice board covered an entire wall, plastered with job postings and requests. Tables filled the rest of the space, occupied by adventurers eating, planning, or arguing loudly about something.

  The noise level was significant, conversations, laughter, the occasional sound of dice hitting tables. Dylan's ears swiveled under his hood, trying to process everything at once.

  A sign near the entrance read: NEW REGISTRATIONS - DESK 3

  Dylan made his way over, weaving between tables, trying not to draw attention.

  The clerk at Desk 3 was a tired-looking human woman with ink-stained fingers and the expression of someone who'd heard every excuse and lie in existence. She looked up as Dylan approached.

  "Help you?" she asked in a tone that suggested helping was the last thing she wanted to do.

  "I'd like to register," Dylan said. "As an adventurer."

  The clerk's eyes flicked over him, taking in the travel-worn cloak, the leather armor, the sword. "First time registration?"

  "Yes."

  "Right." She pulled out a form and a quill. "Name?"

  "Lyria." Dylan hesitated. "Just Lyria."

  The clerk raised an eyebrow but wrote it down. "Species?"

  "Rabbitfolk. Tall variant."

  "Class?"

  Dylan froze. Class. In the game, he'd been omni-classed, every class maxed, every skill available. But saying that here would definitely raise questions.

  "Um. Fighter?" he tried.

  The clerk looked up. "You're not sure?"

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "I'm sure. Fighter. Definitely fighter."

  "Uh-huh." She made a note. "Specialization?"

  "Specialization?"

  "Weapons focus, combat style, that sort of thing."

  Dylan's mind raced. What had his body done during the fight? Sword work, mostly. Extreme mobility. "Sword and... acrobatics?"

  The clerk's expression suggested this was an odd combination but not impossible. "Fine. We'll put you down as a mobile fighter. Experience level?"

  "I, what?"

  "How long have you been adventuring? Any notable achievements?"

  I saved the Celestial Gardens, defeated the Void Dragon, and brought peace to the Warring Kingdoms, Dylan thought. But those technically happened in a video game, so...

  "I'm... new to professional adventuring," he said carefully. "But I have some combat experience."

  "How much?"

  "Enough to handle bandits?"

  The clerk sighed. "Everyone says that. We'll start you at Copper rank, lowest tier. You work your way up by completing jobs. Standard progression."

  She pulled out what looked like a thin metal plate, blank copper, about the size of a playing card. "This is your guild tag. It'll register your jobs, track your progress, and verify your rank. Don't lose it, replacement costs 4 silver."

  She pressed the plate against the form, and Dylan watched as letters began etching themselves into the metal. His name. His species. His rank: COPPER.

  "There's a registration fee," the clerk continued. "Ten silver."

  Dylan pulled out his payment from Marcus, still hadn't even opened the pouch, and extracted coins from his inventory instead, keeping the motion subtle.

  The clerk accepted the payment and slid the guild tag across the desk. "You're official. Copper rank adventurers can take jobs from the board marked with copper tags. You'll need to complete at least five successful jobs to qualify for promotion to Bronze."

  "Got it," Dylan said, picking up the tag. It was warm to the touch, almost alive.

  "One more thing." The clerk pulled out what looked like a clear crystal orb about the size of an apple. "Guild policy requires a basic capability assessment for new registrations. Place your hand on the orb."

  Dylan's ears flattened. "What does it do?"

  "Reads your magical signature, gives us a baseline power level. Helps match you with appropriate jobs." She said it like this was the most boring part of her day.

  Dylan stared at the orb.

  A device that measured power levels.

  For someone whose power level was, according to his status screen, an infinity symbol.

  "Is this... necessary?" he asked weakly.

  "Guild policy," the clerk repeated in a tone that suggested arguing was futile.

  Dylan looked around. Several other adventurers were watching now, curious about the new registration. Refusing would definitely draw more attention than complying.

  Maybe it would just show a normal level? Maybe the Cloak of Mundanity would hide his magical signature the way it hid his aura?

  Maybe he was about to make a spectacle of himself for the third time this week?

  "Right. Okay." Dylan placed his hand on the orb.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  The crystal remained clear and inert.

  The clerk frowned. "Did you actually touch it? Sometimes people,"

  The orb exploded with light.

  Not figuratively. It literally burst into incandescent radiance that flooded the entire room, brighter than the sun, accompanied by a high-pitched ringing that made everyone clap their hands over their ears.

  Dylan jerked his hand back, but the damage was done.

  The light faded slowly, leaving spots in everyone's vision and a profound silence in its wake.

  The orb sat on the desk, now glowing a steady, impossible gold. Cracks spider-webbed across its surface.

  The clerk stared at it.

  Then at Dylan.

  Then at the orb again.

  "What," she said very slowly, "was that?"

  "I... don't know?" Dylan offered.

  "That orb is calibrated to measure up to Master rank power levels." The clerk's voice had gone up an octave. "It's never done that before. It's not supposed to be able to do that. It shouldn't even be possible to overload it."

  Every adventurer in the hall was now staring at Dylan.

  His ears flattened completely under his hood.

  "Maybe it's broken?" he tried desperately. "Maybe it malfunctioned?"

  "It costs two hundred gold!" the clerk nearly shrieked. "It's enchanted by certified Guild mages! It doesn't malfunction!"

  A door at the back of the hall opened, and a man emerged, older, well-dressed, wearing the kind of authoritative expression that suggested management. He looked at the glowing orb, then at Dylan, then back at the orb.

  "Mira," he said to the clerk, his voice calm but carrying across the silent room. "What happened?"

  "New registration, Guildmaster Aldric," Mira said, her voice shaking slightly. "Routine capability assessment. She touched the orb and it... did that."

  Guildmaster Aldric approached the desk, his eyes never leaving Dylan. "Interesting." He picked up the cracked, glowing orb, examining it. "In twenty years of guild management, I've never seen this particular outcome." He set it down carefully. "Young lady, would you mind telling me your name again?"

  "Lyria," Dylan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "Just Lyria?"

  "Just Lyria."

  "And you're registering as a Copper rank adventurer."

  "I was trying to, yes."

  Aldric's expression was impossible to read. "With power levels that apparently exceed our measuring equipment."

  "That... seems to be the case."

  "But you claim to be new to professional adventuring."

  "I am! I really am!" Dylan's ears were trying to disappear into his hood. "I just, I'm just starting out. I don't want to cause trouble. I just wanted to register normally."

  Aldric studied him for a long moment. The entire hall held its breath.

  "Mira," he said finally, not looking away from Dylan. "Register her as Copper rank as requested. Make a note about the assessment anomaly. We'll... address it later."

  "But Guildmaster,"

  "Later, Mira." His tone suggested the discussion was over. "Miss Lyria clearly wishes to start at the bottom and work her way up. Who are we to deny her that experience?"

  He said it with the kind of dry amusement that suggested he knew exactly what was happening but was choosing not to make an issue of it.

  Mira looked between them, clearly wanting to argue, but eventually just made a note on Dylan's form. "Registered as Copper rank. Assessment noted as... inconclusive."

  "Excellent." Aldric turned to address the hall. "Show's over, everyone. Back to your business."

  The adventurers slowly resumed their activities, though Dylan could feel eyes tracking him as he stood there.

  Aldric gestured toward his office. "Miss Lyria, if you have a moment? I'd like to have a word."

  It wasn't really a request.

  Dylan followed him, his heart sinking, wondering how exactly he was going to explain himself out of this one.

  ***

  Guildmaster Aldric's office was surprisingly cozy, bookshelves lined the walls, a desk covered in paperwork, comfortable chairs positioned near a small fireplace.

  He gestured for Dylan to sit, then settled behind his desk.

  "So," he said pleasantly. "You broke my assessment orb."

  "I'm really sorry about that," Dylan said miserably. "I'll pay for a replacement. I have money, I can,"

  Aldric waved a hand. "Don't worry about the orb. I'm more curious about you." He leaned back in his chair. "I've been running this guild hall for two decades. I've seen powerful adventurers. I've seen prodigies who could fight above their apparent level. I've even seen a dragon in disguise once,long story, involved a very apologetic transformation accident."

  He steepled his fingers. "But I've never seen someone deliberately register at the lowest rank when they clearly possess exceptional power. Usually, people with your level of ability are eager to advertise it. So, the question becomes: why are you hiding?"

  Dylan's ears drooped. "I'm not trying to cause problems."

  "I didn't say you were. I'm simply curious." Aldric's expression was kind but piercing. "Are you in trouble? Running from something?"

  "No. Nothing like that. I just..." Dylan struggled to find words. "I'm trying to figure things out. I don't really know what I'm doing yet. Starting at the bottom seemed... safer."

  "Safer for whom?"

  "Everyone, maybe? Including me."

  Aldric nodded slowly. "That's... surprisingly self-aware." He pulled out a ledger and made a note. "Here's what I'm going to do. Your registration stands as Copper rank. You'll take copper-tier jobs, you'll progress normally, and I won't advertise your little light show to anyone who wasn't already present."

  "Really?" Dylan looked up, hopeful.

  "Really. On one condition."

  "What condition?"

  "If you ever feel ready to operate at your actual capability level, you come talk to me first. I don't need accidental catastrophes because someone powerful was trying to lay low and a situation got out of hand. Agreed?"

  Dylan nodded quickly. "Agreed. Thank you."

  "Don't thank me yet. You might find that hiding your abilities is harder than you think." Aldric smiled slightly. "But you seem like someone who needs to learn that lesson herself. So go ahead. Take your copper-rank jobs. Pretend to be normal. Just... try not to break anything else?"

  "I'll do my best."

  "Good enough." Aldric stood, indicating the meeting was over. "Welcome to the Guild, Lyria. Try not to make my job too interesting."

  Dylan fled the office, his face burning, his ears flat against his skull.

  The main hall had returned to its normal chaos, but he could still feel occasional glances directed his way. The story of the exploding orb would definitely make the rounds.

  So much for being inconspicuous.

  Dylan made his way to the notice board, trying to blend in, looking for the simplest, most mundane job posting he could find.

  Something that definitely wouldn't involve combat or magic or accidentally revealing that he was approximately one bad decision away from being outed as a legendary hero.

  "Copper rank jobs," he muttered, scanning the postings. "Copper rank. Nice, safe, boring copper rank jobs."

  His eyes landed on a posting near the bottom:

  HELP WANTED: Gather 20 medicinal herbs from Clearwater Meadow. Payment: 2 silver. Rank: Copper.

  Perfect. Peaceful. No combat involved.

  Dylan pulled the notice from the board and headed back to Desk 3.

  Mira looked up as he approached, her expression still suspicious. "Yes?"

  "I'd like to take this job," Dylan said, handing over the notice.

  She examined it, made a note, and stamped his guild tag. "Job logged. Clearwater Meadow is two hours north of town. Herbs should be in bloom this time of year. Return them to the guild for payment."

  "Got it. Thank you."

  Dylan turned to leave, relieved to have something simple to focus on.

  "Hey," Mira called after him. "Word of advice?"

  Dylan turned back.

  "Whatever you're hiding? Whatever that power actually is?" Mira's expression softened slightly. "You're not going to be able to hide it forever. This world has a way of forcing people to be what they actually are."

  Dylan managed a weak smile. "Yeah. I'm starting to figure that out."

  He left the guild hall, stepping out into the afternoon sun, and took a deep breath.

  One simple herb-gathering quest. No fighting, no drama, no accidentally revealing his power level.

  How hard could it be?

  His reflection in a shop window showed Lyriana's face, hood shadowing her features, ears drooping with resignation.

  "Famous last words," Dylan muttered to himself.

  But he headed north anyway, toward Clearwater Meadow and whatever new chaos awaited him there.

  Because apparently, that was his life now.

  One absurd situation after another, connected by brief moments of thinking things might actually be okay.

  At least the herb gathering would be peaceful.