CHAPTER 341: BLACK DRAGONS GUILD

A few minutes later, Harry finally set the boulder down with a dull thud that echoed faintly through the trees.

His arms were loose at his sides, his breathing even, and a thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead.

He felt a slight strain in his muscles, but then, it wasn’t anything too serious so it didn’t nothing except to remind him of how much work he had done.

He then made his way out of the forest, brushing past the rocky paths and trees until he reappeared in the city.

As his boots pressed against the softer ground beyond the treeline, he drew in a deep breath of relief.

The stale weight of the forest lifted from his shoulders, and with a slow exhale, he let the air carry the tension out of him.

"Finally..." he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m done."

It wasn’t like any skill had leveled up, nor did the system bombard him with new achievements.

Yet, he felt something stir inside him—a grounded satisfaction. Strength didn’t always roar in sudden bursts.

Sometimes, it grew quietly, seeping into his bones, his flesh, his will, until one day it simply was there. And that was enough for now.

Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled out his phone.

The device barely lit up before the screen exploded with a flood of notifications.

Messages stacked on top of one another, filling the display with banners and alerts. Guild emblems, bold fonts, promises—one after another.

He scrolled through them with a flick of his thumb, his eyes narrowing as the words bled together.

’We’ll give you resources.’ ’Access to rare dungeons.’ ’Elite mentors.’ ’Financial backing.’

Every line in the messages dressed itself in silk, promising him heaven and earth if only he’d extend his hand.

But they all carried the same poison underneath.

Hidden in the fine print, lodged at the end of each offer, were the shackles.

Minimum five years of membership required.

Some didn’t even bother with subtlety, claiming he had to remain in the guild for at least seven years.

Harry scoffed, his lip curling in disdain.

This wasn’t surprising to him in the slightest, and was how guilds were known to function.

Adventurer Guilds weren’t charity. They invested only when they could claim the rewards later.

They feared wasting potions, training, and equipment on a rising star who might eventually decide to leave the guild after only a few months.

In order to prevent this, and make sure they earn back the full interest of their investment, they add clauses within the contracts to bind the adventurer in place.

This way, they wouldn’t have to worry about other guilds snatching their talents away.

They would also be able to control the adventurer to an extent, and in case they ended up slacking, they could simply fine or report them to the AMO.

Even the AMO, who were supposed to stand above such tricks, weren’t exempt.

Their message pulsed on his screen with a seal of authority, the words clipped and professional: Three years minimum service required.

His thumb hovered over the message, his eyes hardening.

"Tch." He scoffed under his breath. ’I don’t plan on staying and doing any guild’s bidding for years.’

He had no patience for politics or obligations that stretched into chains.

His path was already chosen, and it didn’t allow for years of bowing to orders that weren’t his own.

He had to focus on investigating the demons, then the celestials.

Currently, all he had was the information from Leon’s life, which was now a non-existing timeline.

His brows furrowed into a frown when he thought about this.

However, he eventually decided to simply take it one at a time, since he couldn’t be too rash with his decisions.

Harry was just about to slide the phone back into his pocket when one notification at the very bottom of the stacked list caught his eye.

It was faint, almost buried beneath the avalanche of banners and alerts, but something about the name stopped his hand midway.

His thumb hovered still, the corner of his eye twitching slightly before he scrolled back down, looking at it carefully.

What caught his attention wasn’t just the message, but the sender’s name.

Black Dragons Guild

Harry’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed again in sharp focus.

For a heartbeat he thought he might have misread it, but as he tapped the notification open, the name only grew clearer against the stark glow of the screen.

"...Black Dragons?" he muttered under his breath.

He tilted the phone closer, scanning the guild emblem that was stamped at the top of the message—an obsidian dragon’s head coiled in a half-circle, its fangs bared and eyes glinting a faint crimson.

A memory tugged at him, and his expression hardened.

’Black Dragons Guild... isn’t that the guild of the Blackheart family?’ he thought.

The guild was currently a platinum-ranked guild, but then, they had once being untouchable, standing among the titans of the world.

At their peak, they had been a force no adventurer dared dismiss, one of the legendary guilds that every continent treated with wary respect.

And at the heart of that towering power had been none other than the Blackheart family.

But then—everything changed.

The death of Alaric Blackheart, the man who had been both the guild’s iron pillar and blazing torch, had shattered that foundation.

Harry remembered the way the world had reacted back then.

Alaric wasn’t just a guild master. He was a legend—one of those figures who seemed untouchable, immortal, a name destined to echo forever. His fall had sent ripples across continents.

And with his death came the unraveling.

The Blackheart family, once revered as both protectors and conquerors, fractured.

Internal disputes, power struggles, betrayal from supposed allies—all of it tore at the Black Dragons from within.

Without Alaric’s shadow looming over them, the enemies they had suppressed for years finally crawled out from the dark, eager to take their piece of flesh.

The decline wasn’t immediate, but it was unstoppable.

Slowly, year after year, the Black Dragons Guild slipped from their throne.

Their influence weakened, their numbers thinned, their victories dwindled until the world no longer looked at them with awe but with pity.

Harry let out a low hum, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"From Mythril... all the way down to Platinum," he whispered, almost to himself.

Once, that title "Platinum Rank" might have seemed prestigious.

To common adventurers, it was a dream—a level most guilds never even touched. But compared to where the Black Dragons had once stood, it was nothing short of disgrace.

Harry’s mind turned briefly to the guild ranking system itself.

Guilds, like adventurers, were measured. But unlike individual ranks, guilds bore the weight of collective strength, resources, and influence.

At the bottom was Copper rank—the entry level, filled with countless small guilds that were barely organized enough to manage low-tier dungeon raids.

Then came Bronze rank, the stepping stone where guilds proved they could handle consistency, where they began to polish their structure.

Silver rank followed, where resources expanded, and guilds started carving out territory, building reputations.

Above that was Gold rank, where power began to matter, where guilds were no longer just small-time groups but organizations with true standing.

From there, the climb grew steeper.

Diamond rank guilds were formidable. They were recognized globally, with influence that reached beyond their own nations.

Platinum rank, where the Black Dragons now resided, sat just above Diamond—elite, respected, and powerful, but still a far cry from the true apex.

Beyond Platinum was Adamantium rank, where only the most fearsome guilds stood, the kind that influenced international politics and dictated the flow of resources.

And finally—at the peak—stood Mythril rank.

Harry’s lips pressed into a thin line.

There were only four Mythril guilds in the world today.

Four names etched into history, dominating their era with unmatched might.

Their power was influence was said to be on par with that of the AMO itself, which was another reason no one dared to cross them.

And once... there had been five.

Once, the Black Dragons Guild had stood proudly among them, shoulder to shoulder with those eternal giants.

But that era had crumbled.

From being nearly untouchable, they had been reduced to scraping for relevance, to clawing desperately at the remnants of what they once were.

Harry’s expression remained impassive as he finally tapped the notification open, scanning through the message word by word.

The offer was written much like the others—sponsorship, resources, equipment, and access to training grounds that were otherwise unattainable to independent hunters.

It was the same glittering bait he had seen countless times in the last few days.

And yet—there was one glaring difference.

There was no clause.

No leash that was meant to tie his freedom to the guild for years.

His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating.

’That’s... surprising.’ he thought.

He hadn’t expected such a thing. No guild willingly extended offers without ensuring they got their pound of flesh in return.

But the Black Dragons Guild? For them to offer him a contract free of chains—it meant only one thing.

’It seems... they’re quite desperate to recruit me.’ he thought with a wry smile.

Harry exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing against the screen as he pondered in confusion.

[Alaric Blackheart... I suspect his death has something to do with the demons.]

Harry’s gaze shifted downward, and he gave a faint nod in agreement.

"I think so too," he whispered under his breath. ’It’s strange for such a powerful Grand Mage to die... just like that.’

His jaw tightened faintly as he stared at the faint reflection of his own eyes in the black screen of his phone.

’Perhaps... this is for the best.’