"The guild is pulling a scam again."

"Be quiet. What if they hear you?"

"But how else do you explain this? Only one person passed, and that guy doesn't even look strong. I bet he's all skin and bones under that armor."

Rusty didn't turn his head as the whispers continued around him. The moment had come for him to step into the spotlight. He moved forward, the sound of his armored boots pressing into the dead grass surrounding the makeshift arena. The murmuring began to die down. Bets had already been placed, and clearly not many believed he had a real chance at victory.

His opponent, a man named Melville, stood off to the side holding a half-eaten piece of bread. After every fight, he would wander away and grab something to eat. His build was lanky, which didn't make much sense. With the amount of food he consumed, he should have been much heavier, yet somehow he stayed thin.

" ( •̀⤙•́ ) "

"I agree. They aren't taking us very seriously, but that's a good thing, Gleam."

His ant companion was perched on his shoulder and jumped to the ground for the time being. This challenge wasn't only about personal fighting skills, and using tamed monsters was perfectly acceptable. Not everyone excelled at solo combat, which made this test feel somewhat odd. A person specializing in a support class would certainly struggle against a close-range fighter, but perhaps those individuals were undergoing a different kind of assessment. From what he had seen, every participant in the combat test so far had been some type of fighter.

"He has a class that I haven't seen before…"

While observing from a distance, he decided to take a closer look at the man's class. Since the man was not currently engaged in combat, he felt confident that no one would notice he was gathering information about his next opponent.

table class="chapter-table"

tbody

tr

td

pstrongClassification:/strong/p

/td

td

pstrongMartial Artist L 9/strong/p

/td

/tr

tr

td

pstrongType: /strong/p

/td

td

pstrongHuman/strong/p

/td

/tr

/tbody

/table

The humanoid inhabitants of this world operated under a different power structure than monsters. Monsters evolved through ranks and changed not only in strength but also in form. A human like the one he was currently facing did not transform outwardly. Their growth occurred internally, and to his knowledge, they couldn't advance on their own. Instead, they needed some kind of divine artifact or specialized skill, usually found within the temples of this world. Once someone reached a certain level threshold, they could acquire a new class, but they had to visit a temple to complete the process.

What made this even more intriguing was that they had some degree of choice in their progression, something most monsters did not enjoy. Gleam, who was bonded to him through a contract, could also benefit from this system, but was not restricted by it, as recent events showed. Most natural monsters evolved randomly, and creatures like him, who could choose their next form, were exceedingly rare.

Surprisingly, this person's class was not that of a beast tamer. The monster dog that followed him appeared to be a companion, similar to Gleam. Instead, he was a Martial Artist, a fighter expected to rely on his hands, yet for some reason, he wielded a dull training sword. His body movements were clearly unusual, but having the opportunity to observe him from a distance, Rusty managed to understand the pattern behind them.

Rusty was no longer at E rank, and his senses had sharpened to some degree. Even so, he remained unsure of what the man was hiding, since he had yet to take anyone seriously. From what Rusty knew, there was a structure to how humanoids acquired their classes. The first two class stages were capped at twenty-five levels each. A level twenty-five fighter could then advance to a better class, one considered equivalent in strength to an E rank monster.

While this new class had its own level system, there was also a concept known as cumulative level. For example, a fighter who became a sword fighter and reached the cap of twenty-five levels in both classes would have a cumulative level of fifty. At that point, they could qualify for a more powerful class, one that took both previous classes into account and offered much greater strength.

This was one of the key differences between humans and monsters. There could come a point when a person failed to qualify for a higher-tier class. To keep advancing, they had to meet certain requirements, which could include leveling specific skills to a threshold, earning special titles, or unlocking hidden achievements.

Guild records explained that those who chose easily accessible classes often reached an unbreakable plateau. True advancement required striving for excellence. Choosing the weakest options might allow for rapid early progress, but this approach often trapped adventurers at C rank. Reaching B rank and beyond was much harder, and those who did were considered elite. Their numbers were far smaller compared to the broader adventurer population.

The person Rusty was about to face was in his third class, someone who could be considered nearly a veteran adventurer. Rusty stepped fully into the ring, his halberd resting lightly in his hands. The weight meant nothing to him. Though the weapon looked similar to his previous model, it now had magical circles engraved in several places, containing the enchantment he had gained from his battle with the lightning tiger. One enchantment had been placed on his helmet to protect his core, while the other had been embedded into the weapon itself.

The experience talismans he had received were now fully used, allowing him to reach level two of D-rank instantly. He was finally ready for battle, but his opponent was still not taking the whole thing seriously.

"Let's get this over with… I'm getting hungry."

His hair was a mess and he scratched his unshaven chin. As he yawned and slowly walked toward the center of the arena, he gave the impression of someone uninterested and sluggish. Rusty had seen this act nine times before and knew it was nothing more than a ruse. The man always appeared lazy and unimpressive, but he was consistently prepared. He would expose himself to attacks on purpose to manipulate how his opponents fought.

Rusty was not going to fall for it. Before the man could pull the same trick again, Rusty charged forward. He could not use skills like Twilight's Embrace to boost his stats, but he still had others. Fury, a skill he had absorbed from a monster, was one of them. He combined it with the dash skill to close the distance in an instant. The match had officially begun the moment they stepped into the arena, so it was not considered a cheap shot.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

For the first time, Melville's eyes widened in genuine surprise as a halberd came hurtling toward his face.

"Woah!"

This time it was not an act. He barely managed to raise his dull sword in time to block. His body reacted on instinct, dodging to the side and parrying the blow. The moment he did, the sheer force behind the strike became clear. His sword trembled under the pressure, and a sharp sound rang out from the clash, followed by an eruption of gasps and shouts from the watching crowd.

The man who looked like an invincible examiner was now being pushed back. The halberd moved forward at strange angles that didn't match any formal technique. It twisted and danced, as though Rusty was wielding a snake. Melville backpedaled, his half-eaten bread long forgotten on the ground behind him. His relaxed posture was gone. The faintest flicker of amusement at the corner of his lips was replaced with a frown.

"Hey now… h-hold on for a…"

Rusty could still hear him talking while he struck again. The man seemed to be using his voice as a tactic, an intentional effort to provoke the other adventurers and test their composure. It was likely an attempt to see if anger would override their focus. This could have worked on humanoids, but Rusty was not one of them. He was simply living enchanted twilight steel.

Soon, the blade that had been used to parry the heavy halberd strikes shattered into pieces, drawing looks of astonishment from the other adventurers. Although Rusty appeared to be gaining the upper hand, he still could not finish the fight. Even after his opponent lost the blade and Rusty continued attacking, his strikes failed to land cleanly. His opponent was adapting, finding a rhythm, and gradually revealing his true fighting style.

"Not bad. Maybe it's time I use a quarter of my strength now."

After dodging several powerful blows, Melville flipped backward, landing several meters away from the clash. Rusty had to stop himself as he neared the edge of the arena. He glanced behind and noticed the examiner inspecting the hilt that remained from the broken practice sword.

"They won't charge me for this, right?"

The man scratched his head and eventually tossed the loose strands of hair aside. His green shirt was torn in several places, though no blood had been drawn. As he continued speaking about how he was still holding back his true strength, so was Rusty. It was frustrating that he couldn't unleash his full power against such a powerful opponent, but retreat was not an option. Both men quickly took up battle stances and the fight resumed.

Melville was the one pressing forward now. He unleashed a barrage of rapid kicks and punches. Rusty knew that his halberd gave him a range advantage against an unarmed opponent, but if the fight got too close, he would be at a disadvantage. He relied on quick thrusts and fast swings to keep the examiner at a distance, though it was clear he was being pushed back.

"They're really going at it. What was that guy's name again?"

"I think it was Edmund."

"If he's giving Melville this much trouble, he must be strong. Should I ask him to join our party?"

"Join yours? He should join mine."

The adventurers around them began to talk among themselves. It was clear that Rusty was starting to stand out. His halberd swept through the air with devastating force, carving deep grooves into the dirt. Melville moved along the edges of those arcs, his body weaving in and out like flowing water.

'It feels like I'm a step behind. If I could only use all of my skills.'

The battle was becoming increasingly frustrating. His opponent kept raising the pace, and he couldn't keep up. A large portion of his abilities had to remain sealed if he wanted to avoid drawing attention. But if this continued, he would lose. He searched through every tactic he had learned, trying to find any path to victory that wouldn't make the adventurers start asking questions.

To make matters worse, he did not even have a chance to activate his lightning enchantment. The man was moving so quickly that he was forced onto the defensive with no opportunity for a proper counterattack. Even if he had activated it, he knew it would only waste a charge. Just as Melville's strike was about to crash into his helmet and he was finally preparing to activate the enchantment in a last-ditch effort to defend himself, a loud chime echoed through the arena. The instant he heard it, the examiner's expression shifted, and a familiar woman's voice followed.

"That's enough! Isn't it?"

Although the voice was not very strong, the examiner looked at the woman in glasses with an awkward, sheepish smile. It resembled a mother scolding her child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Rusty froze the moment he saw the man lose all desire to fight. The woman named Thelma, who appeared entirely unthreatening, somehow made this powerful man lower his head as if he had done something wrong.

"Mr. Melville, hasn't this gone on long enough?"

She adjusted her large glasses and raised an eyebrow, which made the man shrink back even more.

"Yes, I suppose it has."

"Mhm."

She nodded and waited. Several seconds passed before the man realized he had not said what he was supposed to. He turned toward Rusty, who raised his weapon again, expecting another attack, but instead received praise.

"You pass."

Melville said, finally straightening his back and brushing dust off his pants.

"I was gonna say it earlier, but things got… interesting."

The murmurs in the crowd erupted again. People were craning their necks to get a better view of Rusty, or rather his metal armor, since none of his actual body was visible. A few glimpses of his pale, possessed face had flashed behind the visor earlier, but that was all. Now that he had finally achieved the rank of D-rank adventurer, which was the goal he had come here for, he felt strangely hollow.

Rusty slowly lowered his halberd. He was supposed to feel proud. This moment should have marked a personal victory. Instead, frustration weighed heavily against his chestplate. He hadn't truly won. Not in any meaningful sense. He had pushed Melville harder than most ever had, perhaps even forced him to take the duel seriously, but he had never landed a decisive blow.

"That was a good warm-up."

Melville said, making Rusty feel even angrier than before.

"It's been a while since someone made me sweat a little."

Rusty said nothing. He had no words for this hollow achievement. Eventually, he turned away and walked toward the edge of the field where Thelma waited. The duel might have been over, but a few formalities still needed to be handled.

"Well then."

She said as he approached.

"Give me your card. You can pick it up in a few hours, Mr. Edmund. The process won't take long."

Rusty nodded. Only one other person had passed the strange exam, and with just two cards to prepare, the wait time would likely be short. He reached into his pocket and handed over the thin identification card. Thelma took it and turned to head back into the guild hall.

"Congratulations on your victory, Rusty."

Alexander congratulated him, but Rusty didn't feel much like celebrating.

"...Yeah."

For a brief moment, he considered what to do next. With a few hours to spare, he could head home and check in on the kids, or he could wait at the guild and then head into the dungeon for another expedition. But before he could decide, he felt a tap on his shoulder. After turning around, he was surprised to find not just one person but a small crowd of adventurers standing behind him.

"Hey, want to join my party? We could use someone like you."

"No, join ours instead!"

"Back off, I asked first."

"Too bad, get in line."

A growing line of adventurers had formed behind him. For reasons he couldn't quite understand, they all wanted the same thing: for Rusty to join their team. He had apparently gained some fame, although he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.