CHAPTER 47: CHAPTER 47: DRA’KESH WITHOUT MERCY

The Adventurers Guild dominated an entire city block, its three-story façade a masterwork of functional architecture that managed to convey both welcome and warning. Carved reliefs depicting heroic deeds covered the massive oak doors, while the constant flow of people in and out spoke to the organization’s central role in the capital’s economy.

Inside, barely controlled chaos reigned. The main hall buzzed with activity as adventurers studied job postings, negotiated contracts, and shared tales of recent exploits. Notice boards covered every available wall space, their surfaces hidden beneath layers of quest announcements, monster warnings, and official proclamations.

Yomi took it all in with the calculating gaze of someone assessing a potential battlefield. The hierarchy was visible in how people moved and spoke, veteran adventurers commanded respect through presence alone, while newer faces pressed against the walls like nervous prey animals.

"First time?" The receptionist who greeted them was a middle-aged woman with the efficient manner of someone who had processed thousands of applications. Her name plate read ’Mira,’ and her smile was professional but genuine. "You’ll want basic registration, I assume?"

"Yes," Lirien answered when Yomi remained silent, still studying the room’s dynamics.

"Standard process," Mira explained, pulling out a leather folder thick with forms. "Personal information, background verification where possible, skill assessment, and evaluation combat. Once that’s complete, you’ll receive your G-class credentials and can begin accepting appropriate contracts."

Yomi’s attention sharpened. "Evaluation combat?"

"Guild policy," Mira said with practiced ease. "We need to assess your actual capabilities for safety reasons. Too many new adventurers overestimate their abilities and end up as monster food." Her expression softened slightly. "Don’t worry, it’s not meant to be overwhelming. Just a demonstration of basic competence."

The paperwork proved tedious but manageable. Personal information, emergency contacts, next of kin , most of which Yomi had to improvise, drawing on the identity he was slowly constructing in this world. When they reached the evaluation phase, Mira led them through a maze of corridors toward the guild’s training facilities.

"Your opponent will be Gareth Thorne," she explained as they walked. "B-class warrior, fifteen years experience. He’s... enthusiastic about these evaluations, but he knows to hold back appropriately."

The training room was spartanly furnished, padded floors, weapon racks along the walls, and a large observation window that currently stood empty. Gareth Thorne was already waiting, and Yomi immediately understood Mira’s diplomatic phrasing.

The man was a walking advertisement for the adventuring life’s harsh realities. Scars crisscrossed his exposed arms and neck, while his weathered face spoke of countless battles survived through skill and stubborn resilience. His equipment was quality but practical, a well-maintained broadsword and a shield that had clearly seen extensive use.

But it was his expression that told the real story. The moment Gareth’s eyes fixed on Yomi’s features, the distinctive bone structure, the storm-grey eyes, the subtle markers that identified him as Dra’kesh, his face twisted with undisguised revulsion.

"So," Gareth said, his voice dripping with contempt as he studied Yomi’s approach. "Another piece of slave-blood thinks it can play at being human." His lips curled into a sneer that revealed yellowed teeth. "Tell me, boy, did your masters teach you to hold a sword, or are you planning to fight with your bare hands like the animal you are?"

Yomi said nothing, simply moving to the center of the padded area and settling into a stance that looked deceptively casual. His weight was perfectly balanced, hands loose at his sides, but there was something in his posture that made Kira unconsciously step closer to Lirien.

"Look at it," Gareth continued, his voice rising with cruel amusement. "Standing there like it belongs among real warriors. I’ve put down rabid low-life monsters with more dignity than your kind deserves."

The racist venom in his words made Mira shift uncomfortably, but her training kept her from intervening. This was supposed to be a professional evaluation, not a venue for personal prejudices.

"Whenever you’re ready," Mira called out, though her tone suggested she hoped this would end quickly.

What happened next shocked everyone in the room.

Instead of settling into a defensive stance to evaluate Yomi’s basic competence, the standard protocol for these assessments, Gareth exploded into motion with the fury of someone intent on proving a point through violence.

"Let me show you where animals belong!" he roared, charging forward with his broadsword raised high.

The attack came with considerable strength, far beyond what was appropriate for an evaluation. Gareth’s muscles bulged with effort as he brought his blade down in a devastating arc that would have cleaved an ordinary opponent in half.

"Gareth, no!" Mira shouted, realizing too late that the veteran had abandoned all pretense of restraint.

The sword carved through the air with lethal intent, its edge singing as it descended toward Yomi’s head. But at the last possible moment, something impossible happened.

Yomi’s feet left the ground in a movement so fluid it seemed to defy gravity itself. He landed lightly on the flat of Gareth’s blade, his balance perfect as he perched on the weapon like a cat on a fence post.

Gareth’s eyes went wide with shock and rage. "What..how did you..."

Before he could finish the question, Yomi simply vanished.

Not the blur of rapid movement that skilled fighters sometimes achieved, but a complete disappearance that left Gareth swinging at empty air. The veteran warrior spun frantically, his head whipping back and forth as he tried to locate his opponent.

He sensed it too late.

A presence behind him, radiating such pure, concentrated bloodlust that the air itself seemed to thicken with malevolent intent. It was the kind of killing aura that spoke of mountains of corpses, of battles fought on scales beyond ordinary comprehension.

Gareth had just begun to turn when Yomi’s fist connected with his face.

The impact sent the veteran flying backward, his feet leaving the ground as he sailed through the air before crashing into the far wall with enough force to crack the reinforced padding. He hit the floor hard, rolled twice, then somehow managed to find his footing and stand.

Blood trickled from his nose, and his left eye was already beginning to swell, but Gareth Thorne was still standing. Still conscious. Still defiant.

Yomi looked down at his own hand with mild disappointment, flexing his fingers as though testing their responsiveness.

This body is still too weak, he thought with clinical detachment. In my prime, that strike would have shattered every bone in his skull.