The walk to the village was… awkward.
Kaelrith limped behind the group, cape shredded, pride flatter than the dirt he'd eaten. Lelyra kept stealing embarrassed glances my way like I might bite her if she blinked wrong.
Varn hadn't spoken since the fight. His silence was less intimidating and more existential dread in boots.
I stayed at the back, hands in my pockets, trying not to let my smugness show too much. The forest path twisted through thinning trees, and the clearing ahead revealed the same rooftops I'd spotted earlier. But now that I was closer… something felt off.
The village was small. Maybe fifteen buildings total—wood, stone, and moss-roofed structures surrounding a central square.
There were stalls, a forge, and a small shrine tucked beneath a massive, weathered tree. People milled about—but when they saw us, and more specifically, me, they froze.
Eyes widened.
Steps slowed.
A few people turned and retreated into buildings. One old man made the sign of some warding gesture as I passed.
"Charming," I muttered.
Lelyra heard me and coughed lightly. "They're… not used to outsiders."
"Right. Is it the hair, the clothes, or the whole dragon-slaying thing?"
She made a noise like a mouse stepping on a squeaky toy and didn't answer.
The woman in black armor—who still hadn't introduced herself—walked at the front of the group, calm and silent.
Her coat moved like it had weight and intent. The villagers made way for her. Some bowed. Some simply stepped aside like she was a passing storm.
I narrowed my eyes at her back. Then, when no one was watching, I activated my HUD.
Scan: Initiated.
[Name: Unknown]
Level: 12
Race: Half-Dragon
Class: Dominion Sentinel
Stats Overview:
Strength: ???
Agility: ???
Magic: ???
Aura: High
Titles: "Sentinel of the Ash Gate," "Top 10 Combatants of the Dominion"
Rank: S — [#10 in Global Combat Rankings]
"…What."
Level twelve. That was only two levels above me, and yet her aura practically bent gravity around her. I'd fought a dragon. A real one.
I should've felt more powerful than this. But standing near her made my skin prickle like I was being quietly assessed by a divine predator in a silk coat.
And what the hell was "Top 10"?
Or "Rank: S"?
I hadn't seen that on anyone else.
A creeping suspicion coiled in my chest.
"Why the hell is a level 12 reading like a raid boss?" I whispered.
No answer, of course. The system loved to leave out critical context like an overly chill tutorial NPC. I shut down the scan and kept walking, processing silently.
The group stopped in the center of the village, near a large circular firepit made of blackened stone. Smoke still rose from it, fragrant and spiced.
The woman finally turned to me.
Her voice was quiet, but steady. "Apologies for my team's behavior. They meant well."
"I really doubt that," I replied.
A faint curve touched her lips. Not quite a smile. More like approval of my lack of bullshit tolerance.
"I'm called Ashira," she said. "Captain of the Southern Watch and command liaison to Dominion HQ."
"...Okay," I said slowly. "I'm Eirian."
Kaelrith, off to the side, tried to make his hair look less like it had been dragged through failure. Lelyra was suddenly very invested in her bow string.
Ashira tilted her head. "You're not registered in the Dominion census. No guild, no territory alignment. You're a stray."
I resisted the urge to snort. "Let's just say I'm new to the area."
That earned me a longer look. She didn't press. "The capital is six kilometers east of here. You'll want to register soon, or the wrong patrol might take issue with your… free status."
"Noted."
She paused. "But first, as an apology for the morning's chaos… join us for food."
I blinked.
"What?"
"There's a tavern. Our best cook. You look like you've had a long walk and not enough meat."
I hesitated. Food meant vulnerability. But also… food. My stomach hadn't quite forgotten last night's glorious bunny roast, but the thought of a real meal?
Cooked by someone who wasn't me flailing over a magical tutorial?
"...Fine. But if anyone tries to stab me with a spoon, I'm flipping the table."
Ashira nodded once, the corners of her mouth twitching with quiet amusement. "Understood."
The tavern was one of the sturdier buildings—thick stone walls, low wood beams, and windows filled with blue-glass panes that flickered with magical lantern light.
Inside, the scent of charred meats and baked roots filled the air. A hearth crackled near the back, and long wooden tables lined the room.
People stared as we entered.
No one spoke.
Ashira gestured for a corner table, and the group reluctantly followed. Kaelrith sat like he was trying to look noble despite being bruised.
Lelyra offered me a seat across from her, clearly hoping proximity would prove she wasn't a total goblin.
Ashira sat last.
"I'll order," she said, and with a glance toward the bar, someone nodded and scurried off without a word.
We sat in silence for a moment.
Then she looked at me directly.
"Tell me something," she said.
I raised a brow. "Sure. Is this the part where you ask if I'm secretly a demon lord?"
"No. I'd know."
She leaned forward slightly.
"What's your rank?"
I blinked. "My… what?"
Ashira frowned.
"You don't know your combat rank?"
"I didn't know people had combat ranks. I just see levels."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You only see levels?"
I nodded slowly.
Ashira sat back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest, expression sharpening.
"That's not possible. You can't have reached level ten without a rank update. Unless…"
Her voice trailed off as her gaze locked onto mine again.
Something in the air shifted. Heavier. More focused.
"…unless you're really bad."
I didn't answer.
She didn't press. But she didn't break eye contact either.
Finally, she spoke again, voice calm.
"Can we test your rank?"