The bustling streets of Valmaris, the grand capital of the Kingdom of Solmaris, were a far cry from the desolation of Halford. The capital city thrived—its cobblestone roads alive with the chatter of adventurers, merchants, and civilians going about their daily business. Bright, golden banners adorned the walls of guildhouses, displaying sigils of power and prestige. The towering cathedral of the Church of Luminis loomed in the distance, its stained-glass windows catching the morning sun, a beacon of the faith that had guided the kingdom for centuries. The clergy within wielded divine magic, serving as both healers and arbiters of justice. Those who bore the title of Luminis Acolyte could ascend the ranks, becoming Priests, Clerics, or even High Inquisitors, their influence extending well beyond matters of faith.

  Despite its prosperity, Valmaris was a city of strict hierarchy and unspoken rules. The Adventurer's Guild Association (AGA) regulated all guilds and quests, controlling everything from mission assignments to ranking evaluations. Adventurers were classified from Bronze Rank to Ethereal Rank, with those at the top wielding power that could rival even the kingdom's strongest warriors. Political tensions simmered beneath the surface; the noble houses of Valmaris often clashed with the AGA, each vying for influence. Rumors swirled that some noble families sought to regulate adventurers, fearing that their growing power could disrupt the balance of the kingdom.

  But to Ash Vale, seventeen years old and burdened by his past, none of it mattered.

  He stood at the edge of the city square, watching as groups of adventurers walked past, their laughter and camaraderie a sharp reminder of the bonds he'd lost. He tried to ignore the whispers. Tried to ignore the way the other adventurers looked at him, some with disdain, others with pity.

  "Coward."

  The word wasn't just in the whispers around him. It was in his mind, wrapping around his thoughts like a noose. He heard it in Onyx Clear's voice. In the dying breaths of Brighthollow. It was a wound that never closed, a whisper that had settled deep into his bones. His jaw clenched, nails digging into his palms. Even now, the weight of failure hung over him, pressing like a phantom hand against his throat.

  Ash's gaze wandered to the nearby guildhouses, each one more majestic than the last. Their high walls and banners of gold promised strength, glory, and respect. But Ash couldn't even get his foot in the door. No guild would take him—who would want a coward in their ranks?

  For three years, he'd tried. He'd pleaded, explained, and promised to be better. But no one wanted him.

  A sigh escaped his lips as he turned away from the guildhouses, deciding to take a different route through the city. He'd heard rumors of a tavern on the outskirts of the city that was known for housing misfits and rejects, a place where adventurers who didn't fit into the polished world of guilds went to lick their wounds. Maybe there, among the broken and the forgotten, he could find someone willing to join his cause.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The tavern was a place of forgotten ambitions and bitter ale. The scent of damp wood and old smoke clung to the air. A man in a tattered cloak muttered to himself at the bar, fingers tracing the rim of his empty mug. A bard strummed a lute in the corner, his melody losing to the laughter of a group counting their spoils. Dice clattered across a table where two mercenaries argued over coin. In the far corner, a pair of adventurers were deep in conversation.

  Ash stepped inside, his boots thudding softly against the creaky wooden floor. The murmur of conversation died down as a few eyes turned to him, some filled with curiosity, others with disdain. He ignored them, scanning the room for potential recruits.

  It didn't take long for his gaze to settle on two individuals sitting at a corner table. One was a man, broad-shouldered, twenty years old, with short-cropped black hair and a rough-hewn expression. His hands were wrapped around a mug of ale, but his eyes remained sharp, darting between the tavern's patrons with a sense of impatience.

  The other was a woman, eighteen years old, slim and fair, with long blonde and brown hair that cascaded down her back like a river of silk. Her face, though calm, carried an air of melancholy. A gentle aura surrounded her, though it was clear she didn't belong in this rough-and-tumble tavern. The way the other patrons eyed her with subtle disapproval only confirmed Ash's suspicions. The mark of a Luminis Acolyte hung from her belt, a sign that she had once trained within the hallowed halls of the cathedral, yet here she was, far from the grace of the Church.

  Ash hesitated before approaching them, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of every past rejection pressing on him, making his steps heavier. But he forced himself to walk forward, pulling up a chair and sitting down without waiting for permission.

  "Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly despite his best efforts to sound confident.

  Grant snorted, leaning back in his chair, the legs creaking in protest. "A party? You?" He tapped his mug against the table, smirking. "Man, you really must be desperate."

  Leona's fingers tapped against the rim of her mug. "Emberlight... Must be a new party, looking to make a name in a world full of giants." She studied Ash carefully, as if searching for something unseen. "Why should I follow you?"

  Ash met her gaze, his heart hammering in his chest. "Because we all have something to prove. I've been rejected by every guild in this city. I'm just looking for people who understand what it's like to be... overlooked." He hesitated, then added, "I know what it's like to be afraid. But I don't want to be anymore."

  A long silence stretched between them. Finally, Leona sighed. "Fine. But if you break before you even try, I'll leave you behind, too."

  At that moment, the tavern door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air. The fire in the hearth flickered, its embers glowing faintly beneath the ashes. Like something waiting to reignite.

  Ash took a breath. This was the moment.