Conflict

Under the vast, open night sky, a brilliant white moon hung overhead. Its cool, silvery light streamed down like threads of silver, lending a touch of warmth to the beaming faces of the laughing, cheerful crowd.

On every full moon, the Church of Selune, Goddess of the Silver Moon, held a grand celebration in the city. They distributed food to the people of the Lower City struggling to make ends meet and used divine magic to treat the illnesses of the poor for free, demonstrating the Moon Goddess's mercy and glory.

Taking advantage of the throng of people singing and dancing to celebrate the full moon, Ryan and his companions slipped through the crowd and took the side streets. They reached the Mages Guild without incident.

The Mages Guild's elegant marble building was as quiet as ever, but Ryan sensed the elemental currents beneath its ordinary appearance surging like a tide. All sorts of wards lay hidden within, ready to spring into action. Faced with such a heavily guarded guild, Ryan felt the pressure mount.

Ryan led Jelona and the others toward the entrance. A hooded mage standing guard by the door stepped forward to stop him and said sternly, "Sorry, the Mages Guild is on lockdown today. If you have business here, please come back another day."

Ryan showed him the platinum insignia Alexander had given him. The mage at the door froze, then abruptly changed his tone. "Sorry, I didn't know who you were. Please follow me, you and your companions."

Ryan nodded and beckoned to his companions, who were curiously looking over the Mages Guild, to follow him inside with the hooded mage leading the way.

The hooded mage led Ryan and the others through several checkpoints before they reached a spacious, brightly lit hall decked out in gold. Spotting a mage apprentice on duty, he strode over and whispered in his ear, "Take these guests to Master Cyrus. This mage has the Guild's platinum insignia, so make sure you treat him with the utmost respect."

Though the mage had spoken quietly, Jelona's keen ears caught every word. She forgot all about admiring the Mages Guild's lavish decor and looked in surprise at Ryan, who stood calmly ahead of them.

After giving the apprentice his instructions, the hooded mage turned back and apologized. "I need to return to my post. He'll show you the rest of the way."

Ryan didn't mind. After thanking him, he continued on with the apprentice leading the way. They rounded several corners and passed through two corridors before reaching their destination.

"Honored sir, Master Cyrus is, is just inside. I won't go in. I wish you the best of luck." The young apprentice, still green and boyish, was clearly nervous in the presence of such an important figure.

Ryan thanked the flustered apprentice, then knocked on the heavy wooden door.

"Come in," called a hoarse, elderly voice from the other side.

Ryan pushed the door open. In the center of the room stood a magic circle shimmering with magical light. The intricately drawn array took up half the small room, and beside it an elderly mage with white hair was inspecting its operation.

As Ryan and his companions filed inside, the already cramped room seemed even smaller. But amid the Mages Guild's grim, oppressive atmosphere, even the roughest barbarian had learned to be polite. Not one of them complained or uttered a word.

The old mage continued inspecting the magic circle without a hint of haste. Ryan waited quietly to one side for him to finish his work. The four companions exchanged glances, then decided it was best not to make a fuss. They stood as still as statues, staring blankly at the old mage's unhurried movements.

After smoothing out the last imperfection, the old mage, Cyrus, finally straightened up and knocked on his aching back. He let out a long breath, then said to the four of them, "Whew. I'm getting old. You've been waiting, haven't you? Well, there's no point rushing. If I don't inspect the teleportation circle carefully, you might not get the chance to be impatient later."

"A teleportation circle?" Ryan finally found an opening to ask, curious.

"Mm. You're the last group. The young ones have already been sent over. Come on in, and I'll send you to your destination." Cyrus offered no further explanation and urged Ryan and the others to step into the circle.

Ryan hadn't expected the kindly-looking old man to be so impatient. After being urged several times, he could only steel himself and step into the magic circle with his teammates. It had begun to glow faintly.

As the circle lit up, Ryan sensed surging waves of energy flowing into it beneath his feet. The energy kept building, and he felt as if he were standing atop a volcano about to erupt. Cold sweat broke out across his brow. Just then, Cyrus spoke again. "I forgot to warn you. The teleportation might be a little bumpy."

Ryan was utterly confused, his mind a question mark despite all the friends he had. He was just about to ask when Cyrus finished speaking, and a blinding light flared before his eyes. The magic circle activated.

As space shifted around them, Ryan felt as if he'd been tossed into a washing machine, tumbling and spinning with all sorts of random objects. Then it was like he'd been caught in an eighteenth-level gale, a poor soul whipped about by the wind, hurtling through the depths of chaos. Time blurred. It felt like an instant, and like a hundred years. Ryan and the others were transported straight to the ruins in the Sword Mountains.

The moment they arrived, Ryan pounded his head with his hand, trying to clear it. At the same time, he used his enhanced physique to steady Jelona, who was dizzy and disoriented. The half-elf Ranger's keen senses only made the roller-coaster ride worse. The usually sharp and capable Ranger now had flushed cheeks and a dazed gaze, limp against Ryan's side. She didn't look like she'd recover anytime soon, so Ryan had no choice but to let her lean on him, gallantly serving as a human support.

After finally shaking off the dizziness, Ryan took a careful look around. He found himself on a clearing surrounded by steep mountains. Not far away stood a group of young mages dressed in all sorts of outfits, pointing and whispering at him and the two fools still sprawled on the ground, unable to recover.

What Ryan didn't know was that he was the real focus of their attention.

In the crowd, a well-dressed young man with a sinister, hooked nose stared enviously at Ryan, who had a beautiful woman in his arms. He coldly asked the mage beside him, "Who's that pretty boy?"

"I know, I know! My uncle saw him at the Guild, where the guildmaster met with him in private. He said Ryan has a great mentor, so the guildmaster let him join our trial. He's just some lucky pretty boy." At the young man's side, a rather unfortunate-looking fellow grumbled indignantly.

"Hmph. He's still picking up women here? What an arrogant bastard." The sinister young man already disliked Ryan's handsome, refined looks, and hearing this only made him more jealous.

"Boss Swick, want me to go teach that kid a lesson and put him in his place?" The mage who had spoken earlier made the suggestion.

Looking at this loyal lackey, Swick couldn't help appreciating how perceptive Spike was. He wondered how he'd never realized before that the weaselly-looking fellow had such a keen eye.

Swick nodded, signaling Spike to go test the blond pretty boy. Though he was intensely jealous of Ryan's brazen display with a beauty in his arms, Swick kept his wits about him and silently calculated: If the guy's a weakling, I don't need to hold back. If he turns out to be trouble, I can just throw Spike out as a scapegoat.

With his orders, Spike strutted over and shouted at Ryan, who was taking out some hot water to give Jelona. "Hey, pretty boy! Listen up. Boss Swick from the Waterdeep Mages Guild says you'd better behave yourself, kid, and stop acting so cocky."

Listening to this spectacularly reckless outburst, Swick, who'd been watching from a distance, scowled and took back his assessment that the man was clever.

Ryan stared at the weaselly mage, whose performance was as absurd as a clown's, baffled. He knew the Mages Guild's people might target him. After all, why let outsiders take what belonged to them? Ryan had forced his way in and taken one of their spots, and he might even claim a big piece of the prize. Anyone would resent someone touching their interests.

But Ryan had expected them at most to pull a few tricks in the ruins or quietly obstruct him. Timid and cautious as he was, he'd never imagined they would openly express their hostility and displeasure before they'd even entered the ruins. After all, on the surface, Alexander himself had approved Ryan's participation. Wasn't this a slap in the guildmaster's face? Did they not want to remain in the Waterdeep Mages Guild?

Ryan looked speechlessly at the smug, arrogant expression on the skinny mage's unfortunate-looking face. He felt like a king, carefully reading his opponent and trying to predict their every move, only to find that his opponent was a fool standing firm on the bottom floor. He could only grumble inwardly, Well, would you look at that. I've run into one of those classic provocation scenes today. Am I supposed to slap him in the face next?

But to Ryan's surprise, seeing him say nothing, Spike took him for a timid weakling and grew even more smug. He was about to heap on more threats when Swick, scowling, called him back. Still unwilling to let it go, he made a threatening gesture at Ryan before sulking back to the group.

Ryan watched the clownish mage return to the crowd as if he'd just witnessed a farce. He took note of the gloomy young man who was clearly pulling the strings, then held back the barbarian, who had just recovered and now wanted to charge over and curse out the other side.

Ryan shook his head at the barbarian's angry, confused expression and calmly explained, "Words never leave as lasting an impression as blades. There's no point getting down in the mud and arguing with them."

When it came to anyone who had shown him hostility, Ryan always assumed the worst. Rather than prattle on like a villain or argue like a fishwife, he preferred to bid them a polite farewell over their corpses.

Just then, a portal shimmering with blue light opened in the sky, and Alexander appeared above them.