Reborn as an Adventurer: I Gain a Skill From Every Monster I Eat

Chapter 93: Chapter 93 — Capital Adventurers

They arrived on a bright, clear morning just under two weeks after the guild’s formal briefing, moving considerably faster than an ordinary caravan given the urgency of the crisis, and Arlen learned of it not through any dramatic announcement but through Mina, who mentioned it almost in passing while processing his most recent quest reward.

”Capital contingent’s due in this afternoon,” she said. ”Five of them, from what the advance courier reported. You’ll probably want to be at the guild hall when they settle in, given you’re joining the expedition.”

Arlen made a point of it, though he approached the moment with considerably more restraint than his younger self might have managed — no wide-eyed staring, no careful cataloguing from a respectful distance the way he’d once studied Iron Vanguard’s every movement. He simply presented himself at the guild hall’s entrance that afternoon as one Rank D adventurer among several others gathered to greet the new arrivals, curious rather than awestruck.

The five who entered carried themselves with an unhurried confidence that spoke less of performance and more of simple, settled competence — people who’d long since stopped needing to prove anything to a room.

Their leader introduced herself first, a tall, sharp-featured elven woman whose silver hair was cropped shorter than most elves Arlen had encountered, practical rather than ornamental. ”Ilyana Frostweave,” she said, her voice carrying the particular, unhurried cadence Arlen remembered noting in elves years ago, watching them pass through Greyhaven’s gate as a boy. ”Rank B. I’ll be coordinating with your Guild Master on strategy, though final authority over local personnel stays with him, as I understand it’s already been made clear.”

”Understood,” Garrick said, extending a hand she accepted with brisk formality.

The rest of her team introduced themselves in turn — a broad-shouldered beastkin warrior with tawny fur and a wolfkin’s sharp, alert features, who gave his name simply as Rurik and little else, his manner economical in a way that reminded Arlen faintly of Torin; a slight, quick-eyed woman whose scaled skin and faintly reptilian features marked her as one of the lizardfolk tribes Arlen had only ever read about in the guild library’s sparse notes on distant regions, introducing herself as Kess with an easy, genuine warmth that immediately set her apart from the group’s otherwise reserved demeanor.

”Don’t mind the quiet ones,” Kess said, catching Arlen’s polite but careful attention. ”Rurik talks plenty once he trusts you. Took him about three years with the rest of us.”

”Two and a half,” Rurik said, without any particular offense.

The remaining two capital adventurers — a human mage named Osric, older and considerably more weathered than Arlen expected given the capital’s reputation for younger, flashier talent, and a dwarven shield-bearer named Grennig whose beard carried the particular, elaborate braiding Arlen remembered noting on his very first visit to the guild hall as a hopeful eighteen-year-old — rounded out the group with the same unhurried, settled confidence.

”You’re the local they mentioned,” Osric said, studying Arlen with genuine, unguarded curiosity rather than any condescension. ”The one with history at the original site.”

”That’s me,” Arlen said. ”Arlen. Rank D.”

”Read your written report on the ride in,” Osric continued. ”Guild forwarded it ahead of us as briefing material. Most detailed account anyone’s given of the creature itself. Rare, that. Most people who survive an encounter that dangerous can barely piece together coherent details afterward.”

”I had time to think it over properly, after,” Arlen admitted. ”Didn’t have much choice, given how badly it went.”

Kess laughed at that, genuine and warm. ”Honest. I like that. Most local talent tries too hard to sound impressive around capital adventurers. Refreshing when someone doesn’t bother.”

They spent that first evening in a joint briefing, Ilyana walking the assembled Greyhaven volunteers through the capital’s own assessment of the crisis with the same careful, methodical precision Lyra herself favored.

”We’ve reviewed Corrin’s data extensively,” Ilyana said, a detailed map of the region spread across the guild hall’s largest table. ”The pattern matches something my order encountered once before, years ago, in the southern territories — a sealed presence, disturbed rather than destroyed, spreading its influence outward through the local ecosystem rather than manifesting as a single, contained threat.”

”What happened, that other time?” Doran asked.

”We contained it. Eventually.” Ilyana’s expression carried no false reassurance. ”It cost considerably more than any of us hoped, and I won’t pretend otherwise to make anyone here more comfortable with what we’re about to attempt. This isn’t a monster hunt in any conventional sense. It’s closer to treating an infection that’s already spread beyond its original wound.”

Arlen absorbed that with the same careful attention he’d given every serious briefing since Millbrook first taught him how much weight such warnings actually carried.

”The Church’s specialist arrives tomorrow,” Ilyana continued. ”I understand she’ll be handling the actual purification work, once we’ve secured the site properly. Our role, and yours, is holding the perimeter and dealing with whatever manifestations the disturbance produces while she does what my team alone cannot.”

”You’ve worked with Church specialists before?” Halvard asked.

”Once. She’s...” Ilyana paused, something careful entering her otherwise composed expression. ”Formidable. In ways that go beyond simple combat capability. You’ll understand better once you’ve met her.”

The briefing continued for another hour, Ilyana and Garrick working through logistics with the same careful, mutual respect Arlen had come to expect from proper guild leadership.

Arlen found himself, afterward, sharing a quiet meal with Kess and Rurik at the tavern, the capital adventurers’ earlier reserve softening considerably once the formal business concluded.

”You cook this yourself?” Kess asked, working through a portion of the evening stew with evident appreciation. ”Guild hall food’s usually forgettable.”

”Not tonight’s, but I’ve contributed to the kitchen’s recipes before,” Arlen said. ”Culinary documentation’s something of a hobby.”

”A hobby,” Rurik repeated, something almost amused in his low, gravelly voice. ”Most local talent I meet only cares about rank and reward. You’re an odd one.”

”I’ve been told that before,” Arlen said, and found himself smiling at the observation rather than deflecting it.

”Good odd,” Kess said. ”The world could use more adventurers who actually notice things beyond the next fight.”

”Can I ask you something?” Arlen said. ”What’s the capital branch actually like? I’ve heard it’s the largest in the kingdom, but I’ve never had reason to picture what that means in practice.”

”Biggest by a wide margin,” Kess said, warming to the subject immediately. ”Partly just population — capital city dwarfs everywhere else. But mostly it’s the Sundered Depths.”

”The what?”

”Dungeon,” Rurik said, the single word carrying real weight. ”Sits right beneath the capital itself. Old, deep, and it doesn’t run dry the way most dungeons eventually do. New adventurers cut their teeth on the upper levels for coin and experience. Veterans still push the deeper floors, decades in, and haven’t found the bottom.”

”That’s what actually draws people there,” Kess added. ”Doesn’t matter where you started or what family name you carry — the Depths don’t care. Prove yourself on those floors, and the whole branch takes notice. Half our current roster started as nobodies from somewhere considerably smaller than the capital, same as anywhere else. The dungeon’s the great equalizer, more than any guild policy ever managed.”

Arlen turned that over with genuine fascination, filing it away alongside every other careful piece of information he’d gathered since this whole crisis began. ”That sounds like exactly the kind of place worth seeing properly, someday.”

”It is,” Kess said, something knowing in her sharp smile. ”Once you’ve seen it, most everywhere else feels a little small by comparison.”

They talked a while longer, the conversation drifting easily between the Depths and lighter, more personal exchanges, and Arlen found himself, walking back toward his own quarters that evening, genuinely struck by how thoroughly this brief encounter had already reshaped his understanding of what capital-tier adventuring actually looked like.

He wrote briefly in his journal that night.

Capital adventurers arrived today. Ilyana, elven, Rank B, clearly capable and clearly serious about the danger ahead. Rurik, beastkin, quiet until trusted. Kess, lizardfolk, warm and direct in a way I didn’t expect from capital talent. Osric and Grennig, both older, both carrying the particular ease of people who’ve survived considerably more than their reserved manner suggests.

Learned something worth remembering tonight — the capital guild branch sits atop a dungeon called the Sundered Depths, old and apparently bottomless, the real reason the branch draws so much talent regardless of where people started. I find myself already curious about it, filed away alongside everything else I still want to see.

I keep thinking about what Ilyana said — that this isn’t a monster hunt so much as treating a spreading infection. I don’t fully understand what that means practically yet. I suspect I will, soon enough.

The Church’s specialist arrives tomorrow.

He closed the journal, the guild hall’s evening warmth settling comfortably around him, and found himself looking forward, with steady anticipation, to whatever tomorrow’s introduction might reveal.