Chapter 43

Wil must have dozed off, because one moment there were only a dozen or so people in the room, and the next, the courtyard was packed with recruits. The potential adventurers were milling about, and the noise of their conversations had been enough to jolt him away.

Stretching his legs out where they had become stiff from sitting on the hard, stone bench, Wil looked at the sky above. Judging from the sunlight overhead, he had only been asleep for an hour or so. The brief nap, combined with the potion left him feeling like himself again.

He didn’t have long waiting before a bored voice cut through the noise.

“Attention, please.”

The conversations instantly cut off, everyone clearly eager to get the testing started. Curious, Wil stood up from his bench, elbowing his way through the crowd the get a better look at who was speaking.

The speaker was a young woman, wearing a simple set of leather armor. With her light brown hair and plain appearance, combined with her short stature, she didn’t stand out as much of an authority figure. Looking closer, Wil sensed she was a Rank 3. Pinned on the collar of her armor was a badge, a stylized ‘AG’ in gold, surrounded by a five-pointed star.

“Welcome to the Adventurer’s Guild. All…87 of you.” She said, lifting a book and flipping through the pages to confirm the number of recruits. Her monotone voice and general lack of interest clearly indicated that she had performed this duty countless times before.

“You’re all here because we are the premier Guild for anyone seeking adventure, wealth, and fame. Unfortunately, most of you will fail the recruitment test. In a moment, your assessment will begin.” She said, her speech sounding like it was obviously prepared.

Taking a deep breath, her face flashed with irritation as she paused what she was saying.

“Listen, If I have to do this spiel one more time, I’m going to puke. You’re here because you know the Guild is your road to riches and glory. So, I’m going to cut the shit, and be honest. Most of you are going to not make the cut. The test comes in three parts: Combat, Survivability and Exploration. We’re looking for people with real world experience, not a bunch of pampered wimps.”

“If you got where you are by ‘connections’ or taking potions and pills to gain ranks, you aren’t going to pass. We need people that can explore the deepest caves, climb the highest mountains, and eliminate threats that would make regular people shit themselves. We don’t need to babysit mollycoddled, sheltered crybabies. If I’m offending you? Then you’re probably one of those people I’m talking about.”

Wil was hit with a sense of déjà vu, instantly being taken back by another speech he heard when he had arrived in Aachen. He couldn’t help smiling as the young woman went on. Maybe Garman had a daughter he wasn’t aware of.

Giving a quick look around, he saw a sea of upset and angry faces. If the Guild wasn’t so well guarded, he would be concerned for the young woman’s wellbeing. She was only Rank 3, while most of those in the courtyard were much higher ranked than her.

“We’re going to be doing the ‘Combat’ test first, since that’s the quickest and easiest way to separate the wheat from the chaff. One at a time, you’re going to be following me to our training room. The goal is simple, survive for a long as possible.”

“You’ll be evaluated on your performance. Underperform, or die, and you fail. Simple? Got it? Good. I’ll be taking you there, so sit tight until I get to you.” The women finished her explanation, before pointing at the first person and beckoning them into another door.

One by one, the courtyard gradually emptied, with the young woman collecting another person after a short period of time. No one came back, although whether they failed or passed, Wil had no idea. But the intervals of her return varied, sometimes she was back in a minute, sometimes it was much longer. At one point, it took her nearly an hour to return after leading a tall, muscular woman dressed in heavy plate mail to her test.

Eventually, the young woman appeared in front of him as he sat back on his bench. Not even greeting him, she simply pointed at his face then crooked a finger, silently ordering him to follow.

Through a large door, and down a long flight of steps, she led him to a set of stone, double doors. Standing ajar, he barely had time to admire the rune work on the front before she was pushing him into the empty room.

“Wil Brookmoor…” The young woman read out from her book, looking over the parchment that Wil had dropped his blood on earlier. “Illyrian Nobility. This should be quick.” She said, scoffing at his background, not expecting much from him.

“The test is simple. The doors close, and the room activates. Kill everything you see.” She said simply, before turning and walking away. Before he could respond, the doors were slowly closing, and she was gone.

Chuckling ruefully at the young woman’s disinterest in his test, He drew his sword and channeled his mana, the silverly liquid flowing through his veins as his magic thrummed in his body. Ever since his encounter with the Dragon Turtle, his magic had felt more responsive, almost eager to be used.

With a loud bang, the stone doors closed, and the room went completely black. Before he had a chance to summon a light, the darkness retreated, and he stared in awe at the room around him.

Gone were the stone doors, and the bare room. No stone floor or wooden walls were in sight, the room had been transformed to a complete recreation of the streets of Aachen. He stared in horror as he recognized everything around him. He was standing in one of the main squares of the dead city, the buildings crumbling and rotting around him.

Looking up, he saw that the sun was moments away from setting, and he knew that the battle would begin when the last drop of sunlight disappeared. A part of his mind wondered if they had pulled this illusion from a memory from his head, or did they craft it because of his history with Aachen, or the fact he was Illyrian.

Determined to find the truth after he passed, Wil didn’t hesitate to summon a large Spell matrix on the ground in front of him. Pumping mana into it, he shouted the incantation.

“Summon Shadow Spawn!” The matrix erupted as his shadow retreated from where it stretched across the dusty street, seeking the spell matrix like a moth to a flame.

He focused his thoughts, filling the spell with every feeling of despair he felt while in the dead city. Aachen itself reeked of the emotion, the loss of a million lives, the continued agony of their undead existence. It seemed appropriate for him to channel this emotion into the spell.

A final flash of light and the magic took hold. Standing in the street was his shadow, its body thin and translucent in the dying light. Whereas the ‘Fury’ shadow had been all muscles and claw, the ‘Despair’ was nothing but skin and bones. The air was filled with a keening dirge, faint, sorrowful wails that echoed on the dead buildings.

Even as its summoner, the shadow spawn unnerved Wil. His eyes slid past it unnaturally, as if his natural reaction was to look away from it. He tried to take in the details of its body, but nothing would stick in his mind.

The last of the light faded and the city came to a sick, perverted form of life. From the surrounding buildings, he heard the tormented moans of the undead. Rotting zombies, barely clinging to existence, sustained by the negative energy of Aachen.

Wil had faced these monsters before, hundreds of times during his long months on the wall. Not hesitating, he formed balls of flame above his hands, knowing that the cleansing fires were the most effective spells against his enemies.

Not waiting for the undead to approach, he hurled the mote of flame at the first zombie that stumbled its way out of the nearest building. As its scraps of clothing and dried flesh became a burning torch that lit the darkness, he was already forming two more firebolts, tossing them at others that were now making their way onto the street.

From a dozen doorways, a tide of undead were advancing on him as the air filled with the stink of them. His summoned shadow, seeing the enemy, tilted its head back, unleashed a screeching wail so loud that the few windows that remained in the buildings shattered, glass raining down on the streets below.

The force of the sound was a visible wave that slammed into the zombie, knocking them backward. Like a fierce wind, the sound wave continued, and the zombies could barely push forward against it.

Smiling, Wil created spheres of flame and the night of Aachen was lit with the fires of his magic.