​

Zarin, Jorra, and Halric finally made their way to the bustling town of Brellin. As they approached the Lionhead’s Guild, Zarin couldn’t help but take in the sights. Brellin was a sizable town for this world—its streets filled with merchants peddling wares, blacksmiths working at their forges, and children running through the square. But compared to the cities Zarin knew back on Earth, Brellin was still quaint, almost negligible.

The town had a medieval charm because the buildings were made of stone and wood, with thatched roofs and wooden shingles. Despite its simplicity, the town had energy and a sense of constant movement and life. Zarin watched as people passed by, many armed and geared, no doubt heading to the same destination they were.

As they approached the large Guild building, Zarin turned to Jorra, curiosity tugging at him. “Why are you still following us to the Guild? I thought you’d be looking for a way back to your tribe.”

Jorra flashed a mischievous grin. “I told you, hero, I like keeping an eye on you.”

Zarin sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. But really, what’s your plan here?”

Jorra shrugged, her grin softening. “I’m going to make a stop at the Guild, too. It’s a great place to hire some security, and I’ll need an escort to get back to my tribe safely. The Guild is the best place to find people for jobs like that.”

Zarin had to admit he was surprised. ‘So, she’s really going to stick around. Great. Just what I need—more distractions.’

As they entered the Guild, the hall buzzed with activity. Adventurers of all types were gathered—new recruits, seasoned veterans, and everyone in between. A large bulletin board displayed quests, while others queued up at the front desk to take jobs or report completed ones.

Halric, clearly eager, waved Zarin over. “I’ll go report my quest. You two can come with me or look around.”

Zarin followed Halric toward the reception area but quickly noticed a group of adventurers gathered at a nearby table, eyeing him. One of them, a muscular man with a smug look, stood up and walked over to them.

The man crossed his arms, grinning. “Hey there, new blood. You looking to join the Guild?”

Zarin hesitated, feeling the eyes of the room turning toward him. “Uh, maybe. Just looking around for now.”

The man snorted. “Just looking around, huh? Do you think you’re too good to join us? Or are you hiding some secret skill you’re too afraid to show off?”

Zarin frowned, trying to brush it off. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Another table adventurer called, “Darin, leave the guy alone!”

The man, Darin, ignored the shout, his grin widening as he stepped closer. “I’m just offering him a minor challenge. You look like the guy who thinks he’s something special. How about you prove it?”

Zarin could feel the crowd’s attention sharpening, and his stomach churned. “Look, I’m just here with a friend—”

Before Zarin could finish, Darin cut him off, raising his voice to the crowd. “Hey, everyone! This guy thinks he can just waltz into the Guild and act like he’s too good for us!” The crowd started murmuring, and some adventurers gathered closer.

“How about a quick contest?” Darin said, smirking. “The first to land a hit wins. Simple, right?”

Zarin stared at Darin, exasperated. “I’m really not looking to fight—”

The crowd had already started to cheer, egging on the challenge, and Zarin realized with dread that there was no getting out of this. Darin had set the trap perfectly, and now the entire room was watching him.

With a sigh, Zarin muttered, “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

--

The crowd quickly cleared a space for the duel. Zarin stood across from Darin, who grinned confidently, enjoying the attention. The rules were simple: no weapons allowed and no lethal moves. The first to land a hit wins.

Darin stretched, rolling his shoulders like a seasoned fighter. “Hope you’re ready for this new blood.”

Zarin, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how he had gotten himself into this mess. He wasn’t a fighter—not without his dice power, anyway. His only real advantage was his Combat Insight skill, which would let him predict Darin’s moves.

As Darin rushed forward, Zarin’s Combat Insight kicked in, allowing him to see the attack coming a split second before it happened. He dodged, but it wasn’t graceful—more of a stumble to the side. The crowd laughed, clearly amused by his awkward movements.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Darin taunted, pressing the attack.

Zarin ducked and sidestepped, narrowly avoiding another strike. He knew he couldn’t keep dodging forever. Desperate, he activated his Fate Dice skill.

The glowing dice materialized before him, spinning rapidly as it rolled across the floor. The crowd’s laughter quieted, curious about what was happening.

The die spun and clattered to a stop.

It landed on 3.

Suddenly, a burst of sand appeared before Darin and sprayed into his eyes, blinding him. “Argh!” Darin stumbled back, wiping at his eyes. Disoriented, he lost his footing and tripped, falling to the ground with a loud thud and hitting his head on the stone floor. Blood trickled from a small cut on his forehead.

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then, someone in the crowd shouted, “He hit him! Zarin made the first hit!”

The hall erupted into laughter and cheers. Still groaning on the ground, Darin was trying to clear the sand from his eyes while the crowd declared Zarin the winner.

Zarin stood there, dumbfounded. ‘That counted? Did… did I actually win?’ He hadn’t even landed a real hit—just summoned some sand—but they counted it as the first blow.

Several Guild members approached, clapping Zarin on the back. “Nice work!” one of them said. “Didn’t expect that move. You’ve got some talent, that’s for sure.”

Zarin could tell they were being sarcastic, as they didn’t hide their amusement. He forced a smile, his face burning with embarrassment.

As the crowd continued to cheer and mock either side, Darin finally stood up, wiping the blood from his forehead and glaring at Zarin. “This isn’t over, new blood,” he growled, his pride clearly wounded. “Next time, no tricks.”

Zarin sighed inwardly. ‘Great. A rival I didn’t want.’

The Guild members, still impressed by Zarin’s “victory,“ continued to talk about his performance, speculating about his abilities. Zarin, meanwhile, could only groan inwardly as he realized his plan to lie low and quietly observe had backfired spectacularly.

‘Why does this always happen to me?‘ Zarin thought, resigned to his fate.