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

Chapter 147: Chapter 147 — Cleared

The notice waiting for him at the orientation desk the next morning was brief, businesslike, and considerably more significant than its length suggested.

Cohort Group 14 — orientation requirements complete. Realm Theory (Ashgrave): cleared. Dungeon Safety (Duskwatch): cleared. Equipment standard: cleared. Report to the Expedition Registry, third floor, to receive formal Sundered Depths access authorization.

Arlen read it twice, standing at the board, and found the strange, settled satisfaction of a threshold crossed without any particular ceremony attached to it — the same quiet finality he’d felt walking out of the breakthrough room, no fanfare, simply the plain administrative fact of something finally, properly finished.

He found Elira and Dallin already gathered near the third-floor stairwell when he arrived, both of them holding identical notices, both wearing the same mixture of relief and barely contained anticipation Arlen suspected was written plainly across his own face as well.

”Month’s gone fast, in the end,” Dallin said, falling into step beside him as they climbed. ”Didn’t feel that way in the middle of it. Feels that way now, looking back.”

”Ferrin’s briefing made it feel considerably longer,” Elira said, dry but not unkind. ”In a useful way. I’d rather walk down there properly sobered than walk down there thinking it’s simply another training yard with better scenery.”

The Expedition Registry occupied a wide, orderly room considerably more official in character than anywhere else Arlen had visited in the guild hall — clerks working behind a long counter, a large chart along one wall tracking active expeditions by floor band and estimated return date, the whole space carrying the particular hum of an operation that ran continuously rather than in scheduled sessions.

”Cohort Fourteen,” the clerk said, once Arlen reached the counter and presented his notice. She was brisk, efficient, unbothered by the queue building behind him. ”Confirmed clearance on all three fronts. I’ll need your guild badge for the final stamp.”

He handed it over, and she worked through the process with practiced speed — a small, precise mark added beneath his rank designation, something Arlen hadn’t seen on any badge before, a simple stylized depiction of an archway.

”That’s your Depths clearance mark,” she explained, sliding the badge back across the counter. ”Any checkpoint into the Sundered Depths reads for it automatically. Without it, you don’t get past the entrance gate, regardless of rank or reputation. With it, you’re free to descend whenever you’re properly prepared to.”

Arlen studied the small mark with genuine, quiet satisfaction, turning the badge over once in his hand before pinning it back into place. ”That’s it? No further requirement?”

”That’s the whole of it, from the guild’s side. What you do with the clearance is entirely your own business — solo work, party work, whatever suits you.” She was already glancing past him toward the next person in line, though something in her tone gentled slightly before she fully moved on. ”Some final practical advice, if you’ll take it from someone who’s processed this exact stamp more times than I can properly count: don’t rush your first descent. Take the time to actually assemble a party you trust, rather than diving the first day simply because you finally can. The Depths will still be there next week. Won’t do you much good if you’re not.”

Arlen thanked her, and stepped aside to let Elira and Dallin complete their own registrations, the small archway mark on his badge catching the light in a way that felt, absurdly, more significant than its modest size suggested.

”Drinks,” Dallin declared, once all three of them had cleared the counter, his usual steady composure cracking into something closer to genuine excitement. ”Proper ones, tonight. This deserves more than a quiet evening.”

”I don’t drink,” Arlen admitted, ”but I’ll happily buy the meal instead, if that counts for something.”

”Counts for plenty.” Elira’s sharp composure had softened considerably since their very first meeting, the competitive edge worn down over a month into something closer to genuine friendship. ”I’ll hold you to it. The Sundered Rest does a decent enough spread for exactly this occasion, from what I understand.”

They found the tavern crowded that evening with what looked like several other freshly cleared cohorts, the particular noise of collective relief and anticipation filling the space in a way that reminded Arlen, warmly, of the guild hall celebrations back in Greyhaven — smaller in scale there, but carrying the same fundamental shape.

”To Cohort Fourteen,” Dallin said, once they’d settled at a table and a round of food had properly arrived, raising his mug with the same easy confidence he brought to most things. ”Slowest month of my adult life, and somehow also the fastest.”

”To actually understanding what we’re walking into, rather than simply hoping we’ll manage,” Elira added, her own cup raised alongside his. ”Small mercy, that. I’ve heard stories about cohorts who skip half of what Ferrin drilled into us, and regret it considerably faster than they’d like.”

Arlen raised his own cup of water, turning the month’s accumulated weight over with genuine gratitude — Corwin’s blunt, practical honesty, Ferrin’s grim clarity, Kellan’s exacting craftsmanship, Neris’s patient instruction, the wall of names he still hadn’t fully stopped thinking about, and now, finally, this small, unglamorous archway stamped beside his rank.

”To whatever’s actually down there,” he said, and found the toast settling into him with more weight than its simple words conveyed.

The evening wound on in easy, comfortable warmth, and it was well past the meal’s proper conclusion, the tavern’s noise settling into its later, quieter rhythm, when Arlen felt a familiar presence approach the table from behind.

”Heard the good news,” Kess said, dropping uninvited into an empty chair beside him, Ilyana and the rest of her team trailing a step behind, drawn by whatever guild-wide grapevine apparently tracked exactly this kind of milestone. ”Cleared, properly, all three requirements. Told you I’d want to be your first dive, and I meant it.”

”I remember,” Arlen said, genuine warmth spreading through him at the sight of them.

”Good. Because Ilyana’s already cleared it with the guild — modest expedition, upper floors only, nothing that should test a fresh Novice past what he can reasonably handle. Two days from now, if that suits you. Gives you time to properly rest after tonight, and gives the rest of us time to finish our own reports from the Crystal Caverns push.”

Arlen felt something settle into his chest that was equal parts excitement and the same careful, deliberate anticipation he’d carried into every genuine unknown since a boar’s fire beside a riverbank — Millbrook, the boundary, the Broodmother’s valley, a road that had carried him across half a kingdom, and now, finally, the thing all of it had quietly been building toward.

”Two days,” he said. ”That suits me fine.”

Kess grinned, the expression carrying all the warm, unguarded confidence he remembered from their very first proper conversation back in Greyhaven, months and an entire journey ago now. ”Good. Get some proper rest between now and then. First look at the Sundered Depths deserves a clear head, not whatever state tonight’s celebration is likely to leave the rest of this table in.”

Arlen laughed, the sound easy and genuine, and found himself, sitting there among old friends and new ones both, the small archway mark still catching the tavern’s warm light on his badge, more thoroughly ready for what came next than he had ever quite managed to feel before.