I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World
Chapter 134: Presenting the New Team

Chapter 134: Presenting the New Team

The city of Elandra was veiled in morning mist, its slate rooftops and rising towers softened by the haze. The streets below were already waking—carts rolled over cobbled lanes, shopkeepers swept thresholds, and bells chimed distantly from temple spires. But Inigo wasn’t here to admire the view.

He stood before the great ironwood doors of the Adventurer’s Guild, dressed not in armor or travel gear, but in a tailored black tunic with a phoenix insignia stitched onto the left breast. At his side, Lyra adjusted the folds of her cloak, her expression unreadable.

"You sure about this?" she asked.

Inigo nodded. "They’ve earned it."

He stepped forward and pushed the doors open.

The guild hall buzzed with its usual rhythm—clinking tankards, shouted boasts, and notices nailed to the mission board. Veteran adventurers lounged in corners, fresh recruits gawked at bronze-ranked banners, and clerks scribbled into ledgers behind polished counters.

But as Inigo passed, heads turned.

Some recognized him as the Rift-Walker. Others only knew him as the man who’d taken a dozen nobodies into the woods for weeks and returned with something different in their eyes.

He crossed the central hall, boots echoing on the marble floor, and approached the back wing—where a double staircase wound up to the administrative offices. A pair of guards flanking the entrance offered a nod but didn’t bar his path.

They knew who he was here to see.

"Enter," came the reply.

He pushed the door open.

Guildmaster Thorne sat behind a long table of red oak, littered with dispatches and stamped seals.

Thorne didn’t rise. He merely looked up and folded his hands.

"You’re early."

Inigo stepped inside, Lyra behind him. "I figured punctuality might help."

"It does. Sit."

They did.

Thorne studied them for a moment, gaze flicking between the two like a craftsman inspecting steel for flaws.

"You’ve been gone three weeks," he said. "And I’ve heard rumors. Civilians sparring in the woods. Loud weapon reports echoing over the valley. Sightings of strange wheeled beasts."

Inigo’s lips twitched. "That about covers it."

Thorne leaned forward. "So. Tell me. What have you brought back?"

Inigo reached into his satchel and produced a slim folder. Inside: detailed training logs, performance charts, written evaluations of every recruit, and printed copies of the new unit structure. He placed it on the desk.

Thorne didn’t touch it.

"I’m not interested in paperwork. I’m interested in outcomes. What do they know? What can they do?"

Inigo leaned back slightly. "They know how to move, shoot, cover each other. They’ve run simulations under fire, learned to use tactics from where I came from.. They’ve faced stress, fatigue, failure—and they came out stronger."

Thorne arched a brow. "That’s a lot of talk for freshbloods."

"They’re not freshbloods anymore," Lyra said, voice calm but firm.

"I see."

The guildmaster was silent for a long moment.

Then he stood.

"Come with me." _{free\we\bnov(e)(l).com}

They followed.

Down the stairs. Across the guild hall. Through a side passage few used—one that led to the internal training ground behind the main complex.

The grounds were empty at this hour. Dew still clung to the grass. Training dummies lined the perimeter, along with sandpits, obstacle walls, and a range for archery and close combat drills.

Thorne turned to face them.

"Summon them."

Inigo nodded and raised a small flare stick from his belt. He struck it against his palm—there was a snap and a hiss as blue smoke curled into the air.

It didn’t take long.

From the nearby barracks came the thud of boots. Eleven young men and women, dressed in mismatched gear but moving with clear formation, emerged onto the field.

Meryl, the SAW slung across her back, stood at the head.

Brenna and Feron flanked her. Sark, Hal, Lio, and the others took their places without being told. All wore their phoenix armbands.

They stood at attention.

Thorne’s expression didn’t change. But he stepped forward, walking the line.

"Name," he said to the first.

"Meryl. Fire support."

He moved to the next.

"Brenna. Assistant gunner and field medic."

"Feron. Logistics and perimeter scout."

"Sark. Forward breach and heavy melee."

"Hal. Pathfinder."

"Lio. Morale and skirmisher."

And on it went.

Thorne returned to the front and looked to Inigo.

"Impressive. On paper. But a few names and titles don’t make a team. Show me."

Inigo smiled faintly. "You’ll want to stand back."

What followed wasn’t a demonstration—it was a storm.

The team moved like clockwork. Meryl dropped into firing stance behind cover while Brenna fed her belt. Hal and Sark advanced to flank, shouting callouts. Targets—pre-set by Inigo earlier that morning—popped from concealed spots, each marked in bright colors. Lio barked position updates. Brenna threw a smoke flask to simulate cover. Feron dragged a wounded dummy out of danger while Meryl laid suppressing fire. The air thundered with short bursts.

No wasted motion.

No tripping over orders.

Just seamless transitions, real coordination, and earned trust.

When it ended, they regrouped in perfect formation. No one spoke.

Thorne exhaled through his nose and crossed his arms.

"That’s not guild standard training," he said at last.

"No," Inigo replied. "It’s foreign but it’s effective, especially against literally every monster or army in this world."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Thorne nodded once.

"Okay, you got me good. When the time comes for a rift to open, I will personally advise the King to send you and your new team to that rift. You guys have been effective, and still, I’m sorry for the lost of your two comrades but the ones that you replaced, I have hopes for them."

"There’s no need to apologize, they know what they signed up for. It’s not going to be easy to deal with monsters," Inigo said.

"Very well, I will keep you guys in touch when the rift were to appear. For the meantime, you can do a quest together and see if you can really handle yourselves inside the rift."

Inigo’s eyes beamed with an idea. "So you have a quest for us?"

"I do. It’s A-rank termination quest,"