Ichor Cell-Chapter 43: Registering for the Guild I

As soon as they stepped into the building, the trio were hit with a wall of sound.
The Adventurers Guild Hall was wide and open, built more like a mix between a tavern and a mall than a formal institution. Thick wooden beams arched overhead, supporting a second-floor balcony that wrapped around three sides of the hall.
The balcony was lined with stalls selling various equipment—armour, potions, weapons, and others. Each one was illuminated by hanging lanterns and staffed by people loudly haggling with their customers.
Down on the ground floor, the enormous main hall stretched across several hundred feet in a truly impressive feat of engineering. Rows of long tables filled the space like a tavern, but none of the patrons were ordinary civilians.
Armoured men and women sat in clusters, some poring over crumpled bounty sheets, others bragging loudly about completed hunts, and a few already deep into their cups. A pair of adventurers were arguing over whether a listed monster counted as one kill or three if it regrew its head during the fight—a debate that had apparently gone on long enough for the surrounding tables to be invested.
To the left stood a massive bounty board, so covered in overlapping sheets that it looked more like a wall of parchment than wood. Notices ranged from neat, official postings stamped with wax seals to smudged, handwritten requests tacked over older ones. Alex saw everything from plant harvesting jobs to a Disaster-tier monster subjugation requests marked in thick red ink.
The right side of the hall had a bar; not exactly elegant, but sturdy, polished, and staffed by two busy bartenders who served drinks with a speed that even Alex could barely track. Behind the bar hung an impressive assortment of confiscated or decorative weaponry. A giant broken spear dominated the center, labelled with a small plaque that read ‘Spear lift challenge.’
Alex fought to contain his excitement as his companions gawked at their surroundings.
He stood there, rooted to the spot, an indescribable feeling rising in his chest. He’d spent years devouring fantasy novels, reading about and imagining places exactly like this: guild halls full of adventurers, quests pinned to walls, people living dangerous, impossible lives because they wanted to. He used to sit in his room back home, wishing his world had something like this. Wishing
he
could be a part of something like this.
And now he was.
Not dreaming it. Not reading it.
Living
it.
The realisation may have come a tad late, given that it had been over a month since he got to this world, but better late than never.
BANG!
Alex nearly jumped when one of the adventurers at the bar tried to start trouble only to get grabbed by the scruff of his neck and thrown out the front door in under a second.
‘Okay… not to self, do not piss off the bartenders.’
Alex retracted his gaze, finally suppressing his excitement.
Turning their attention to the reception desk, the trio joined the back of the shortest queue.
The line moved steadily, helped along by the brisk efficiency of the receptionists and the late hour. Most people ahead of them seemed to be adventurers finishing their work for the day—turning in monster parts wrapped in cloth, ing bounties, or submitting damaged equipment forms with varying levels of embarrassment.
Alex watched quietly as a man in dented plate armour argued about a lost piece of equipment that he swore was covered by his insurance. The receptionist did not look amused.
Alex snorted. “Good to know that insurance scams are a thing no matter where you are.”
Grenil nodded. “The only constant in life is human greed.”
A pair of adventurers ahead of them finished filing a mission , one of them dropping a heavy. Then the line shifted again, and suddenly Alex found himself next in front of a small wooden desk manned by a woman in her late twenties with sleek black hair tied neatly behind her head.
She glanced up from her paperwork, giving them a practiced smile. “What can we assist you with?”
Alex stepped forward. “I’d like to register as an adventurer.”
“Just you?” she asked, flicking her gaze briefly toward Grenil and Duran.
“Just me.”
Grenil gave a casual smile.
The receptionist nodded, already pulling out a slim stack of forms from a drawer beneath the desk. “Alright then. Registration involves a basic assessment — physical, combat proficiency, and a short interview. Passing earns you a copper badge and access to Tier One commissions.”
“Copper? Tier one?” Alex expressed his confusion.
“Everything will be explained after the assessment.” The woman scribbled a few notes in quick, sharp strokes.
“Any prior adventuring experience?”
“None.” Alex shook his head. “At least not as an adventurer.”
The woman raised an eyebrow at that but chose not to comment. After asking several more questions including his name and other details, she stopped writing.
“Well.” She said, clipping the packet of paper to a strange looking clipboard. “You’re in luck. Late-night assessments are available since traffic is lower.”
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“Carla! Take over for me here.” She called out to a woman standing behind a different counter and turned to leave. “Follow me.”
The trio moved after her, weaving between crowded tables and stumbling adventurers. A few people glanced up as they passed—mostly out of curiosity—but no one paid more attention than that.
The receptionist led them through a door off to the side, where the sounds of the guild hall dimmed into a muffled hum. The hallway beyond was lined with framed notices and display cases containing preserved monster parts: a massive stinger sealed in glass, a sword snapped in half and labelled “Recovered from a Thunderfang Drake incident,” and several terrifying fanged skulls.
Sturdy looking wooden doors were positioned throughout the corridor at regular intervals; intricate carvings Alex had come to recognise as runework covered each one.
Reaching the end of the tunnel, the receptionist pushed open a final door and stepped aside to let them through.
Cool air washed over them.
The corridor opened into a sprawling outdoor training yard enclosed by high stone walls and illuminated by a large number of lanterns. Beyond those walls, the rooftops of Luterra peeked over the edge, their windows flickering with distant candlelight.
Alex blinked, once again surprised by the sheer size of the place. It was easily the same size as the plaza outside—a massive square of compacted dirt and sand divided into various training areas, sparring rings, archery lanes, and training dummies.
Several adventurers were still out here, though fewer than Alex expected. A pair of mages practiced shaping flames into controlled arcs. A swordsman was drilling footwork with another correcting his stance. A group of archers laughed quietly as they compared shots on a target board.
The receptionist slowed her pace to let them take it in. “Normally this place is crowded,” she said. “Especially near dawn and dusk, when teams come back from missions and train before ing in. But at night?” She gestured around at the smaller groups.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we came now.” Alex smiled as he rubbed his head. Although logically he knew that passing whatever they threw at him would be child’s play, he was still getting nervous at the idea of getting tested.
‘School’s really done a number on our society, huh?’
He thought to himself.
“Very much so.” The receptionist led them toward the far corner of the training yard, where two small areas had been cordoned off with painted lines and simple wooden signs. One read ‘Strength’ and the other ‘Agility’.
The receptionist pointed at the area to the left, where a massive, two foot thick log was laid flat on the ground, covered in deep dents, cuts and scorch marks.
“First test is strength,” she said. “It’s relatively simple. All you have to do is leave visible damage on the log. Any method is allowed, be it weapons, magic bare hands or even any potions you may have. If you can cut or break off a chunk, that’s even better.”
Grenil raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Hit wood?”
“The job requirements for a wood rank adventurer are pretty minimal.” The receptionist shrugged. “You don’t have to be particularly strong to harvest some plants or drive off a wolf.”
Next, she led them to a circular platform surrounded by eight wooden arms jutting outward at different heights. The central post was embedded with a faintly glowing rune.
“The agility test focuses on reaction speed,” she explained. “Stand in the middle, tap the rune, and the arms will begin to spin randomly. Some sweep low, some strike high, some twist unexpectedly. Your job is to avoid or block them. If you last a minute, you pass. If you step off the platform, you fail.”
Finally, she gestured toward the wall, where a third sign Alex hadn’t noticed read ‘Endurance’.
“And last is endurance.” She said. “Ten laps of the field. Complete them within twenty minutes and you pass.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. “That’s… actually not too bad.”
“Most applicants disagree by lap eight.” The receptionist sat down on a nearby bench and readjusted her grip on the clipboard, picking up an inbuilt stylus. “You may begin whenever you are ready.”
Alex nodded, scratching his elbow. “So I do all three?”
“Yes. Order doesn’t matter. You may choose which one to begin with. Though it is recommended to leave endurance for last as the others are harder to do out of breath.”
Alex nodded to himself, exhaling slowly. “Alright. Strength first.”
He stepped toward the battered log. He tapped it with a finger; it was solid—thick, dense. Clearly it belonged to some sort of local mana-reinforced tree for it to be used as a test for aspiring adventurers. To the him from a year ago, it might be an actual struggle to leave any significant damage on it, even armed.
‘The problem is that I have since snapped columns just as thick with nothing but my body.’
He thought, remembering his fight with the two Disaster tier mages back in Crebes.
Grabbing an axe from the nearby weapon rack, he sent the receptionist one last questioning glance before drawing back his arm, and struck it with a simple, clean slash, not even bothering to use any mana.
With a crack, the axe embedded itself halfway through the log, its metal blade visibly warped where it had met the hard wooden obstacle. The next deepest cut was barely half as deep, and even that was much greater than third place.
The receptionist blinked once. “…Strength test passed.”
Alex coughed, hoping he hadn’t overdone it. “Agility next?”
She nodded, making a note on her clipboard. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He stepped onto the platform and tapped the central rune. The spinning dummy jolted to life, arms snapping outward in a complex, uneven rhythm. They swung high, low, and diagonally in unpredictable patterns—clearly engineered to overwhelm someone without fast enough reflexes.
Alex felt like he could have solved a Rubik’s cube in the time it took for the blows to land.
The first arm swung at his head. He tilted slightly, letting it pass. Another swept toward his ankle—he stepped over it with a lazy lift of his foot. Two came from opposite sides — he leaned back just far enough to avoid both, one brushing the fabric of his shirt.
The movements grew faster, more erratic. The arms blurred, spinning faster and faster, but they never reached a speed that an even moderately trained civilian couldn’t handle, much less Alex with his superhuman abilities.
After sixty seconds, the rune dimmed and the arms slowed to a halt.
Alex stepped off the platform, dusting his hands on his trousers. “Passed?”
The receptionist looked unsurprised as she nodded at him and wrote something down. “Yes. Passed.”
Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “Endurance test now?”
The receptionist took out some sort of device—presumably this world’s equivalent to a timer—and pointed to the track. “Ten laps. Start whenever you’re ready.”
He took his place at the edge of the square. Ten laps didn’t look like much—from the looks of it, it would be about two and a half miles, a distance he was pretty sure he could’ve done even back on earth. Still, he set a steady pace instead of sprinting.
There was no point in showing off, after all.
He ran his first lap comfortably, long strides eating up the distance. The training yard lanterns cast shifting shadows across the dirt as he rounded the bends, his breath even.
By lap four, Grenil leaned over the marked boundary. “Still breathing?”
Alex nodded without slowing. “Barely.”
By lap ten, Alex still wasn’t out of breath, the exercise having left him completely unaffected. He crossed the finish line at a relaxed jog, slowing to a walk as he approached the receptionist.
“Ten minutes, twenty-four seconds. Very well done.” The receptionist glanced at her device, finished her notes, then looked up. “Congratulations, you passed all the physical tests. If you’d follow me, the interview is next.”
Grenil and Duran fell back, content to remain in the training yard.
“We’ll wait here,” Grenil said. “Try not to incriminate yourself.”
“I never incriminate myself,” The young man protested.
“You
exist
,” Duran replied.
Alex sighed and turned to follow the woman.