Adlet and Gillan entered the Protector Guild of Eresh side by side.
The moment they stepped inside, Adlet felt it.
The scale.
The hall was immense — far larger than any guild he had seen before. Wide stone pillars rose toward a high ceiling darkened by time and heat. Long tables filled the central space, surrounded by groups of Protectors in various states of rest and recovery. Some were eating, others drinking, others quietly discussing missions in low, serious tones. A few bore fresh wounds, hastily bandaged. Others carried themselves with the relaxed confidence of veterans who had survived far worse.
This wasn't a place of ceremony.
It was a place of survival.
Before Adlet could take more than a few steps to absorb the atmosphere, Gillan was already moving.
Straight past the reception.
Toward a broad staircase at the far end of the hall.
Adlet blinked and hurried to catch up.
"Wait," he said quietly. "Aren't we supposed to go to the reception first? So I can register?"
Gillan didn't slow down.
"No," he replied. "We'll do that after. For now, we're going to see my master."
Adlet frowned slightly.
"Your master?"
Gillan nodded as they climbed the first steps.
"He's the head of the Protector Guild of Eresh. Though he's rarely here. His duties within Aegis keep him moving most of the time."
Adlet froze for half a heartbeat mid-step.
"The head of the guild…"
"…and a member of Aegis?"
The realization hit him twice as hard.
Gillan glanced back at him, noticing the sudden tension in his posture.
"Don't worry," he said, attempting reassurance. "He doesn't look like it, but he's… reasonably good-natured."
That did absolutely nothing to calm Adlet.
They reached the upper level, where the noise of the hall softened into a steady murmur. At the end of the corridor stood an enormous door reinforced with dark metal bands. Several small groups waited nearby — Protectors of all ages, some alone, others accompanied by aides or subordinates.
Gillan stopped beside Adlet.
"Every time he comes back to Eresh," he said quietly, "he's overwhelmed with obligations."
As if on cue, the door opened.
A group exited, faces serious, some visibly relieved. Another was allowed inside.
Minutes passed.
Finally, the door opened again.
Gillan stepped forward.
"It's our turn."
Adlet swallowed and followed him inside.
Gillan pushed the heavy door open without hesitation.
Adlet followed — and closed it behind them.
The room was vast, yet almost austere for someone of such rank. A massive stone desk dominated the center, its surface buried beneath sealed reports, engraved plates, and stacks of parchment. The walls bore old scars — fractures filled with darker stone, shallow craters left unrepaired, traces of battles that had never truly faded.
A man stood leaning against the desk.
Adlet's breath caught.
He had never seen anyone like him.
Well over two meters tall — shoulders as wide as a doorway. Bare arms thick with dense muscle, crossed by old scars that spoke of survival rather than decoration. His shaved head reflected the torchlight faintly, and his heavy, well-kept beard gave his already severe features an even harsher edge.
But it wasn't the man's size that froze Adlet in place.
It was his presence.
The air itself felt heavier — not crushing, not violent, but unyielding.
His aura wasn't flaring. It wasn't released.
It simply was.
Dense. Stable. Immovable — like a colossal beast at rest, one that hadn't yet decided whether he was worth noticing.
When the man's gaze landed on Gillan, however, something softened — just a fraction.
"Finally," he boomed, his deep voice filling the room effortlessly, "a break from those endless meetings!"
He strode forward and placed his massive hand on Gillan's head, ruffling his hair with casual strength. Even Gillan — impressive as he was — looked almost like a child beside him.
"So," He continued, grinning broadly, "how did your tournament go?"
Gillan stood straight, unbothered, his expression perfectly composed.
"Well…" he said calmly. "Let's say I'll have to try again next year."
The man burst into laughter — loud, genuine, echoing against the stone walls.
"Ha! Then tell me — what kind of prodigy managed to defeat you?"
Gillan stepped aside without a word.
"He's behind me."
The man's laughter faded as his eyes settled on Adlet.
The man approached slowly, each step deliberate. His gaze traveled over Adlet like a slow scan, stripping away surface impressions to judge what lay beneath.
"So young," he muttered.
"And no noble blood by the looks of it…"
"And yet… you defeated my disciple."
He placed his hand on Adlet's shoulder.
The pressure was immediate.
Not pain — but weight. Crushing, absolute, as if a mountain had chosen to rest its palm upon him. Adlet's legs tensed instinctively. His breathing hitched. His aura reacted on reflex, tightening inward just to keep him upright.
For a split second, it felt as though he could reduce him to the floor with the slightest increase in force.
"Master," Gillan said calmly, though there was an edge beneath the respect.
"Don't tease him."
The pressure vanished.
Adlet sucked in air, barely hiding the tremor in his breath.
The man threw his head back and laughed again.
"I only wanted to test the one who defeated my disciple!" he declared cheerfully.
"And I'm not disappointed," he added, eyeing Adlet closely. "You didn't faint."
Adlet swallowed, heart still pounding.
"And what is your name, young man?" he asked at last.
"…Adlet," he replied, forcing his voice steady.
"Good," the man said, straightening. "Adlet, then. I'm Ganon Horus."
The name alone carried weight.
"And what brings the two of you here?"
Gillan stepped forward.
"I wanted to greet you before leaving on my next mission," he said. "And I brought Adlet with me to validate his presence in the region — if you allow it, Master."
Ganon nodded without hesitation.
"Of course. Handle the explanations yourself. I'll take care of the rest."
He turned his attention back to Gillan, his grin turning dangerously enthusiastic.
"And once you're done," he added, clapping Gillan on the shoulder hard enough to make the air shudder, "come see me again. Missing your promotion means I owe you a little… refresher training."
Gillan stiffened — just slightly.
"Understood… Master," he replied.
Adlet and Gillan bowed.
And exited.
Back in the main hall, Gillan finally relaxed his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "Let's get you oriented."
He led Adlet toward a massive board mounted against one of the stone walls.
The Extermination Board.
Adlet's eyes widened.
Rows upon rows of mission postings. Targets listed by species. Locations. Estimated threat levels.
"These," Gillan explained, "are extermination missions. They're reserved for Master Protectors."
He pointed to several notices.
"Most involve Apexes that have become too dangerous for civilians — or even for the local Protector units to handle."
Adlet scanned the descriptions.
Specific targets. Specific threats.
"This ranking resets every year," Gillan continued, indicating a carved list beside the board. "After the promotion tournament."
Adlet's gaze followed his finger.
A ranking.
Top ten highlighted.
"Those who enter the top ten gain access to exclusive missions," Gillan said. "Far more dangerous. Far more rewarding."
Adlet clenched his fist.
"And if I want to enter the Aegis tournament…"
"You'll need to stand out," Gillan said plainly. "There's no other way."
"The competition doesn't scare me," Adlet replied immediately.
Gillan studied him for a moment.
"Don't let the ranking blind you," he warned. "Survival comes first. Always."
"I'll remember that," Adlet said.
Gillan hesitated — then added:
"I should also tell you… I've been doing extermination missions for years. Even if I'm not a Master Protector. As a member of House Horus."
Adlet turned to him.
"So we'll be rivals again."
Gillan allowed himself a small laugh.
"It seems so."
"One year," Adlet said, determination blazing. "One year to surpass you and take first place."
Gillan shook his head slightly.
"If you think first place is easy, you're in for a surprise. Last year…"
Gillan paused briefly.
"…I barely reached tenth."
Adlet froze.
Tenth.
The word echoed in his mind, heavy and unreal.
Gillan — the man who had pushed him to his absolute limit, the Protector who had stood like an unbreakable wall in the arena — had struggled just to enter the top ten.
The weight of it settled in Adlet's chest, tightening something deep inside him.
Then what kind of monsters occupy the ranks above?
Gillan took a step back, watching him carefully — not with pride, but with quiet warning.
"For now, choose missions that interest you. Then go to reception to validate them. They'll help you if needed."
He turned to leave.
"I'll notify the guild that your presence has been approved. Then I'll return to my master."
He paused.
"Good luck, Adlet. Come back alive."
Adlet met his gaze.
"Thank you. Next time we meet…"
"…it'll be time for our rematch."
Gillan smiled.
"I'll be waiting."
He walked away.
Leaving Adlet alone.
Before the board.
Dozens of missions.
Dozens of dangers.
An entire year stretching before him.
The desert had only just begun to test him.
And Adlet had never felt more alive.