Chapter 259: Adventurer Card

As the City of Marriet rose into view, Nathan stopped at the edge of the tree line, studying the fortifications. The walls were massive—thirty feet of grey stone, weathered by centuries of rain and wind. Banners hung from the battlements, crimson and gold, bearing the sigil of a crowned lion. Guards patrolled the ramparts, their armor glinting in the afternoon sun.

It was a medieval city. Properly medieval.

No mana-powered buses. No holographic displays. No Tower spires piercing the sky on the horizon. Just stone walls, wooden gates, and the smell of smoke and livestock drifting on the wind.

Nathan felt the displacement.

He had grown used to the capital—the modern buildings, the glowing signs, the constant hum of mana-powered technology. Even the outer regions had felt familiar, with their guild halls and communication crystals.

This was different. This was a world that had never known the Towers. A world that had developed on its own, without Babel’s influence.

"It’s something, isn’t it?" Mira said, noticing his expression. "First time seeing Marriet?"

"First time seeing anything like it," Nathan admitted.

They walked through the main gate, passing beneath the iron portcullis. The guards nodded at Mira and her team, barely glancing at Nathan. He was just another traveler, another face in the crowd.

The city was alive.

Merchants hawked their wares from wooden stalls. Children ran through the streets, laughing and shouting. Horse-drawn carts rumbled over cobblestones. The smell of fresh bread and roasted meat mixed with the ever-present scent of horse and smoke.

Nathan’s eyes swept over the crowd, cataloging details. No one carried mana-powered weapons. No one wore enchanted gear. The most advanced technology he saw was a waterwheel turning slowly by the river.

It was primitive. It was simple.

It was completely, utterly alien.

A small child ran past him, clutching a wooden toy—a carved horse on wheels. The child laughed, dragging the toy behind her as she chased after her friends.

Nathan stopped walking, the sigh reminded him of Lucy.

"Nathan?" Mira’s voice was concerned. "Are you okay?"

He blinked, forcing himself to move. "Yeah. Just... remembering something."

They continued through the city, weaving through the crowds. Nathan kept his eyes forward, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought about Lucy. About the toast she made every morning. About the star-shaped nightlight in her room. About the way she hugged him when he came home.

He wondered if she was okay. If she was eating properly. If she was still waiting for him.

’Master,’ Mirko’s voice was gentle. ’She is strong. She is your sister. She will not break.’

’I know,’ Nathan replied. ’But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry.’

’Worrying is pointless,’ Kuro said. ’Focus on the present. You cannot help her from here.’

’Kuro’s right,’ Ororo added. ’We must find a way home before we can help anyone else.’

Nathan took a breath. They were right. Worrying wouldn’t solve anything.

But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest.

---

The Adventurer’s Guild was a large stone building near the city center. A wooden sign hung above the door, depicting a sword crossed with a staff. The symbol of the guild.

Inside, the building was bustling. Adventurers crowded around a massive quest board, arguing over postings. A receptionist sat behind a long wooden counter, scribbling notes in a ledger. The walls were lined with trophies—monster heads, enchanted weapons, faded maps.

Nathan followed Mira to the counter.

"Welcome to the Marriet Adventurer’s Guild," the receptionist said, not looking up from her ledger. She was a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and grey-streaked hair. "How can I help you?"

"New registration," Mira said. "For him." She jerked a thumb at Nathan.

The receptionist finally looked up. Her eyes swept over Nathan, taking in his gear. The silver bow. The dark cloak. The ring on his finger.

"Name?"

"Nathan Cross."

"Rank?"

"None. He’s... new. From far away."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Everyone’s from somewhere. Where exactly?"

Nathan spoke before Mira could answer. "I traveled from uh... Beyond... the...sea?. Beyond the known kingdoms. I’ve been... wandering for... a long time."

The receptionist studied him. "Beyond the sea?. No one travels from there."

"I did."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she shrugged. "Not my job to question. You want to register? You need to take the assessment. Standard procedure."

"Assessment?"

"A skill test. We need to know what rank to assign you. F-Rank for beginners. S-Rank for... well, no one’s S-Rank at the start. But the test will place you where you belong."

Nathan nodded. "Fine."

The assessment took place in a training yard behind the guild. A guild evaluator—a grizzled old man with a scarred face—handed Nathan a wooden sword.

"Weapon of choice?"

"I’m an archer."

"Then use your bow. But keep it non-lethal. We’re testing skill, not killing power."

Nathan nodded. He drew Moonlight, keeping it lowered. The evaluator raised an eyebrow at the silver bow but said nothing.

The test was simple. Hit targets. Dodge obstacles. Demonstrate basic combat competency.

Nathan intentionally held back.

He fired slowly. He missed shots on purpose. He moved with deliberate clumsiness, letting the evaluator see an average archer, not a legend.

The evaluator watched with a bored expression. "Passable. F-Rank. Maybe E-Rank if you push yourself."

"I’ll take F-Rank," Nathan said.

The evaluator shrugged and handed him a small wooden card. It was enchanted—Nathan could feel the faint hum of magic within it.

"Your guild card. Tracks your rank and achievements. Don’t lose it. Replacing it costs silver."

Nathan took the card. It was simple—a wooden rectangle with his name and rank carved into it. F-Rank. The lowest of the low.

Just like his first day in his own world.

’This is humiliating,’ Mirko said. ’You are S-Rank. You have killed dragons. And now you carry a card that says you are the weakest of the weak.’

’It’s temporary,’ Nathan replied. ’I need to blend in. Learn the rules. Figure out how this world works.’

’Still humiliating.’

’Patience, Mirko.’

---

After the registration, Mira led him to a training ground outside the city walls.

It was a simple clearing—dirt floor, wooden dummies, a few targets nailed to trees. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the ground.

"Alright," Nathan said, facing the three teens. "Show me what you can do."

Mira went first. She raised her staff, and a bolt of blue energy shot out, striking one of the targets dead center. Her form was good. Her control was impressive. But Nathan noticed the slight hesitation before she cast, the way her eyes flickered to her teammates before she acted.

"Good aim," Nathan said. "But you’re thinking too much. In a real fight, you won’t have time to second-guess yourself."

Mira nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.

Dax was next. He drew his daggers and launched into a flurry of attacks, slashing and stabbing at the dummy with reckless abandon. He was fast. Aggressive. Natural.

But he left openings everywhere.

"Speed is good," Nathan said. "But you’re not watching your sides. If I were an enemy, I’d have killed you three times before you landed your first hit."

Dax scowled. "Yeah, right."

Nathan didn’t argue. He simply picked up a stick and moved.

Before Dax could react, Nathan tapped him on the shoulder, the back of his knee, and the side of his neck. Three touches. Three killing blows.

Dax stared at him, wide-eyed. "How—"

"You weren’t watching your sides."

Ren went last. He raised his shield and sword, settling into a defensive stance. Solid. Reliable. But passive.

"Good defense," Nathan said. "But you’re waiting for the enemy to come to you. In a real fight, that’s a losing strategy. You need to control the pace. Force the enemy to react to you."

Ren nodded slowly. "I... I’ll try."

"Good."

Nathan stepped back, studying the three of them. They were young. Inexperienced. Full of potential.

They reminded him of himself.

"Alright," he said. "Sparring. All three of you against me. Don’t hold back."

Dax grinned. "You’re going down, old man."

"Try me."

They attacked together. Mira fired a bolt of energy. Dax lunged from the left. Ren advanced from the right, shield raised.

Nathan didn’t move.

He sidestepped the energy bolt. Caught Dax’s wrist mid-lunge and redirected him into Ren. Then he swept Mira’s legs out from under her with a low kick.

All three of them were on the ground in three seconds.

Silence.

Dax stared up at him, his mouth hanging open. "What the hell ARE you?"

Nathan shrugged. "Just someone with more practice."

Mira sat up slowly, rubbing her hip. "That wasn’t practice. That was a massacre."

Ren just lay there, staring at the sky. "I think... I think I saw my life flash before my eyes."

Nathan almost laughed. "Get up. We’re not done yet."

---

The training continued for hours.

Nathan drilled them on fundamentals. Footwork. Positioning. Timing. He showed them techniques, explained the reasoning behind each movement, and then made them repeat it until their muscles burned.

By the time the sun began to set, all three of them were exhausted. Dax was sprawled on the ground, groaning. Ren was sitting against a tree, nursing a bruised shoulder. Mira was still standing, but barely.

"Good work today," Nathan said. "We’ll continue tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Dax groaned. "I can’t feel my legs."

"You’ll live."

Nathan turned to leave... and stopped.

Something was wrong.

He reached for the mental link, trying to summon Mirko. Nothing happened. The link was there, but it was... blocked. Like a wall had been erected between him and his summons.

’Master!’ Mirko’s voice was muffled, distant. ’Something’s wrong!’

"What’s happening?" Nathan muttered.

A system notification flared in his vision.

[Warning: Spatial integrity compromised.]

[Fifth Summon — Cocoon of Undefined Origin — Interfering with Summoning Protocols.]

[Bunny Girl Summoning System: Temporarily Locked.]

[Summons cannot be materialized until spatial integrity is restored.]

Nathan stared at the notification.

The fifth summon. The cocoon. It was interfering with the system.

He tried again to reach his summons. The link was there—he could feel their presences—but there was a barrier between them. A wall of undefined energy that blocked physical manifestation.

’We are still here,’ Kuro’s voice came through, clearer than the others. ’But we cannot leave the summon space.’

’The cocoon is disrupting the link,’ Shiro added. ’It is... unstable.’

’We are not hurt,’ Ororo said softly. ’We are simply... trapped.’

Nathan took a breath. "Okay. We’ll figure this out. Just... stay calm."

’We are calm,’ Mirko said. ’Mostly.’

Nathan closed his eyes. First, he was stranded in a new world. Now, his summons were locked away. The fifth cocoon was causing problems he didn’t understand.

But he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t alone. He had his skills. He had his mind.

He would find a way.

---

That night, Nathan sat alone in a small inn room. The bed was lumpy. The walls were thin. The candle on the nightstand flickered, casting dancing shadows across the ceiling.

He looked out the window at the stars.

They were different.

He had grown up—in both his lives—looking at the same constellations. The same patterns. The same stars. But these were different. Unfamiliar. Alien.

’The stars are pretty,’ Mirko said softly. ’Different, but pretty.’

’They are stars,’ Kuro said. ’They are distant suns. Their arrangement is irrelevant.’

’The sky itself may change, but we remain,’ Shiro added.

’We are your family, Young Master,’ Ororo said. ’Wherever we are, we are together.’

Nathan closed his eyes.

"I’ll figure this out," he said quietly. "One step at a time."

And somewhere in the darkness, in a world far from home, the fifth cocoon pulsed with new energy.