The air in the Adventurer’s Guild Association buzzed with energy as Emberlight stepped through the grand double doors. The announcement of rank promotions had drawn a crowd of adventurers of all levels, each hoping to rise in status. Ash adjusted the katana at his side, the weight of the blade a steady reminder of his progress. Yet with every step, the weight of leadership felt heavier. This trial wasn’t just about rank—it was about proving that he could guide his team through danger and bring them back alive. He had seen too many adventurers fail, and he refused to let Emberlight be another cautionary tale. Behind him, his party walked in quiet anticipation.

  Mirelle, the ever-efficient clerk, spotted them immediately and motioned for them to approach. Her sharp eyes flicked over the group, lingering briefly on Ash.

  “Emberlight,” she began, her tone professional but tinged with curiosity. “The AGA has reviewed your progress and determined that you are eligible for a promotion to Silver Rank. However, as you know, advancement requires proving your capability in the field. Are you prepared for the trial?”

  Ash exchanged a glance with his party. Grant’s grin widened, and Leona nodded with quiet determination. Nel, as usual, smirked with a mix of confidence and mischief. Ash turned back to Mirelle.

  “We’re ready,” he said firmly.

  Mirelle’s lips quirked into a small smile as she handed Ash a sealed envelope. “This contains the details of your trial. Read it carefully.”

  Ash broke the seal, unfolding the parchment inside. The room seemed to hush as he began to read aloud.

  “To Emberlight,

  As part of your promotion exam to Silver Rank, you are tasked with the following objectives:

  Scout and verify reports of increased miasma activity in the vicinity of the Ashen Glade. Another party has encountered signs of corruption and possible hostile activity. Your role is to confirm these findings and assess the threat.

  Should you encounter a Named Monster or other high-tier threat, your orders are to disengage immediately if possible and return to report your findings to the AGA.

  Success will demonstrate your ability to operate under pressure, assess risks, and prioritize the safety of your team and the Guild’s interests.

  Good luck.

  Signed, Marsh Hollister, Head Master of the Valmaris Branch”

  The room erupted in murmurs as adventurers leaned closer to catch snippets of the trial’s contents. The mention of the Ashen Glade and its encroaching miasma brought a mix of excitement and unease. The area had gained a reputation for its treacherous terrain and unpredictable dangers.

  Grant clapped Ash on the shoulder. “Sounds like a real challenge. Finally, something worth our time.”

  Nel raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Worth our time? You mean worth your chance to swing your sword at something.”

  Leona interjected, her calm voice cutting through their banter. “This isn’t just about fighting. If the miasma is growing thicker, it’s likely affecting the creatures there. We need to be cautious.”

  Ash folded the letter and tucked it into his belt. This is more than a test of skill. It’s a test of judgment, and leadership. If I make the wrong call out there, it won’t just be my failure—it could cost lives. He clenched his jaw, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. “She’s right. This isn’t just another mission. The Guild needs accurate information, and it’s up to us to get it.” He glanced at Mirelle. “Is there anything else we should know before we go?”

  Mirelle nodded, her expression serious. “The Ashen Glade has become increasingly unstable in recent weeks. The previous party that ventured there returned with injuries and incomplete data. Stick to the objective. If you find something beyond your abilities, prioritize survival and reporting back. Understood?”

  Ash nodded. “Understood.”

  The party spent the rest of the morning gathering supplies. As they regrouped near the city gates, Ash did a double-take when he saw Grant. The swordsman stood tall, clad in armor and carrying a shield. The armor was worn, with scratches and dents that spoke of battles fought long ago, and the shield bore faded engravings of a long-forgotten crest. Despite its condition, the equipment gave Grant an imposing presence.

  “What’s with the new look?” Ash asked, approaching him.

  Grant grinned, resting the shield against the ground. “Not new. Just repurposed. I’ve been thinking about how I fit into this team. You’ve got that katana now—quick, precise strikes. Nel’s the heavy artillery. Leona’s our lifeline. Someone needs to make sure you all stay alive while doing your jobs.” He patted the shield. “I’m stepping up as the defender.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Ash’s gaze lingered on the shield and armor. “That’s… a big shift for you.”

  Grant shrugged, though his usual confidence carried a hint of something more contemplative. "Lately, I’ve been thinking… maybe there’s more to a fight than just hitting harder and faster." He looked down at the shield in his grip, running his fingers over its worn surface. "I used to think defense was just what people did when they weren’t strong enough to go on the offensive. But Kaidan’s training, watching how you fight, Ash… it made me realize something. I’ve always been the one rushing in headfirst. Now I’ll just be doing it with a shield instead of a sword. Someone has to hold the line.”

  Leona smiled softly. "It suits you, Grant. And it’ll make a big difference for us."

  Grant exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. It’s weird, though—holding back instead of always pushing forward. But maybe holding the line is just as important as breaking it. If I can be the shield that keeps everyone else fighting, maybe that’s what I was meant to do."

  Nel smirked, leaning back against a nearby post. "Let’s just hope your shield doesn’t have as many holes as your logic. Though, really, you could save yourself the trouble and let me handle things with a single well-placed spell. It’s not my fault magic is simply… superior."

  Grant rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I’ll take that as a compliment, but just remember—when your fancy spells run out, you’ll be glad to have someone standing between you and whatever’s trying to bite your head off."

  Ash nodded, though Nel’s arrogance grated at him. "Superior magic only works if the team can rely on it, Nel. You might have power, but if we don’t know what you’re doing, it won’t matter. We win fights together, not alone." He straightened, forcing his own doubts aside. "We’re not just individuals out there. We’re a team, and this shows we’re starting to think like one. Let’s move.". Grant’s change wasn’t just about tactics—it was about trust. He's trusting me to lead, to make the right choices. Leona and Nel do too, in their own ways. I can’t let them down. He straightened, forcing his own doubts aside.

  The trek to the Ashen Glade began under clear skies, the crisp morning air invigorating as they left Valmaris behind. But as they drew closer, the atmosphere shifted—the air became heavy with dampness, carrying a putrid scent of decay. The trees, once vibrant and lush, twisted unnaturally, their bark darkened by creeping tendrils of miasma. The dirt road wound through rolling hills, gradually giving way to denser forest. As they moved further, the cheerful chatter of birdsong faded, replaced by an eerie silence that hung heavily over the path.

  The party’s steps slowed as the trees grew closer together, their twisted branches arching overhead like skeletal fingers. The ground beneath them was soft and uneven, covered in patches of thick purple moss that squished unpleasantly underfoot. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustling of unseen creatures, the faint, distant sound of something unnatural shifting in the darkness beyond. The air turned cool and damp, carrying a faint, acrid smell—a telltale sign of the encroaching miasma. A slow, eerie wind slithered through the branches, making them creak like old bones. The miasma pulsed faintly at the edges of their vision, an unnatural shimmer that distorted the air, playing tricks on their eyes.

  The first sign of trouble came just before noon. As they neared a bend in the road, a low growl echoed from the underbrush. Ash froze, his hand moving instinctively to the hilt of his katana.

  “Something’s out there,” Nel murmured, his grip tightening on his staff.

  Leona gestured for silence, her eyes scanning the trees. The growl came again, louder this time, and a pair of glowing eyes emerged from the shadows. A pack of corrupted wolves stepped into view, their twisted forms bearing patches of miasma-tainted fur.

  “Grant, take point,” Ash ordered, drawing his katana. “Nel, cover us! Leona, be ready to support Grant", Ash called. Nel's fingers tensed around his staff, and he muttered a sharp incantation. Flames erupted from his outstretched hand, roaring to life before launching toward a charging wolf. The creature howled as the fire engulfed it, the acrid scent of burning fur filling the air. The flames flickered wildly for a moment before the beast collapsed, twitching as the embers consumed the last traces of corrupted energy.

  The wolves lunged, their snarls piercing the silence. Grant raised his shield, the impact of the wolf’s claws reverberating through his arm with a dull thud. The metal rang out as he shoved forward, using the force of the deflection to send the creature sprawling into the dirt. The beast snarled, shaking its head before lunging again, its fangs scraping against the battered steel of Grant’s shield. Another wolf leapt toward Leona, its miasma-tainted fur bristling as it lunged. Ash moved without thinking, his katana flashing in the dim light. The blade met flesh with a whispering hiss, slicing through muscle and bone with a sickening ease. The smell of iron and something fouler—rotting corruption—filled his nostrils as the wolf collapsed in a heap at his feet. The blade cut cleanly through the creature, its corrupted body collapsing lifelessly onto the ground.

  “Stay focused!” Ash called, his voice steady despite the chaos.

  Grant held his ground, gritting his teeth as his shield absorbed another heavy strike. The repeated impacts sent jolts of pain through his forearm, but he refused to back down. One of the wolves lunged low, its fangs snapping just inches from his leg. With a grunt, he twisted, bringing his shield down like a hammer, slamming the beast into the ground. Dirt and dust kicked up as the creature whimpered, stunned by the sheer force. With a fierce roar, he swung his sword in a wide arc, driving them back. “You want a fight? Come and get it!”

  The battle was brief but intense. When the last wolf fell, its body crumpled heavily to the forest floor, the party regrouped, their breaths heavy.

  “Good work,” Ash said, sheathing his katana. “But this was just a warm-up. The real trial begins now.”

  The encounter left them wary as they pressed ever deeper, feeling the weight of their trial settling heavily on their shoulders. Ash let his fingers brush against the hilt of his katana, drawing comfort from its presence. Balance, control, precision. Kaidan’s lessons weren’t just about the blade—they were about leadership. I need to be steady, to see what others miss, to act when the moment demands it. He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of responsibility, but also a quiet determination. I will not fail them.