New Life As A Max Level Archmage
4 – Adventurer’s Guild

Vivi returned the bank teller to his place behind the counter, dropped the [Illusion] she’d used to hide their disappearance from other customers, and immediately felt bad about what she’d done.

But what other choice had she had? She needed him not to run off and tell the guards about her. On top of that, she needed to know how to access her account—assuming it really was locked.

How else could she prove, quickly and reliably, that she was who she said she was except through an explosive display of magic?

Admittedly, she’d been curious what the extent of her magical strength was too. She might have seized the first reasonable excuse for casting a high-tier spell.

It had been…impressive. To say the least. She was used to casting similar spells in the game of Seven Cataclysms, but the realism changed everything. She’d felt that explosion in her bones. It had rattled her entire skeleton and lit up the world around her. She’d purposefully blinked an enormous distance away, into the deep wilderness far out of range of Prismarche and nearby cities, but even with that precaution, she might have alerted someone.

Regardless, she felt bad about what she’d done. Because the teller was shaken, his face pale and his knees wobbling.

Which was a maybe fitting reaction to being kidnapped and forced to watch a strange woman—a figure of myth—disintegrate a small section of wilderness with a wave of her staff.

Thankfully, she had a spell for this. She had a spell for most things.

“[Calm].”

Mental magics were a whole branch of the arcane, and naturally her character, Vivisari, was well-versed in them. There were few branches she wasn’t comfortable with.

She could have erased his memories entirely and skipped all this nonsense, but that idea disturbed her, hence she’d taken an alternate path. It seemed like the sort of line she shouldn’t cross. Though this was the world of a video game she once played, it was clearly real life, and these were real people. Messing with someone’s memories or free will was wrong.

A spell to calm someone down didn’t feel like it counted. It might be a borderline case since technically it was mental magic, yes, but it didn’t do anything more than sitting down and taking some deep breaths would. The teller certainly wasn’t cured. He just didn’t seem hysterical and ready to flee anymore.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the counter top, leaning on it for support. “I apologize for any…slights…you feel I offered, Lady…Vivisari.”

His shaky words weren’t helping her feel better. If he was this rattled after a calming spell, she’d left an impression.

“It’s fine. Is my account really locked?”

He nodded rapidly. “But it was preserved. Your funds are still available. You’d simply have to speak with someone with higher-level access to the banking system to remove the lock.”

“Who?”

He hesitated. “For a case as important as yours? Likely the Chief Banker himself, in Meridian.” He seemed extremely worried that she would be upset by that answer.

She was annoyed, but more at herself for having terrified some random service worker. And, admittedly, irritated at the situation itself. She was seriously barred from her account?

“I see. I intended to head that way regardless, I suppose.” She waved a hand dismissively. “As I said, I’m here on private business. Please don’t spread the word.”

He practically fell over himself in his rush to assure her that he wouldn’t, and she left the bank feeling slightly gross with herself. She’d definitely gotten too caught up in her ‘proof of identity’.

…The explosion had been really cool though.

Back out in the daylight, she reevaluated her plan of attack.

It had been too much to hope for to simply withdraw the funds she needed. Nothing was ever easy. That said, it couldn’t be difficult to make some basic coin, not as a level two-thousand plus mage.

Heck, her inventory might be mostly empty, but she had a set of healing and mana potions she could pawn off, right? That would be an easy way. She hardly needed a mountain of riches, just enough to buy food and a place to sleep. And also a Greateagle flight—or a train ticket? Which would be faster? The train would be the more comfortable of the two, at a minimum.

Pulling up her inventory, she tapped the square holding her health potion and withdrew one. The flask was wide and triangular with a fat base.

She sloshed the potion back and forth, watching the liquid inside swirl and crash against the glass in a fascinating way. The fluid seemed much more magical when disturbed, changing hues into various shades of sparkling red and orange.

How much would one of these sell for? They were the highest-tier health potions she’d been able to buy, meant for her challenge runs soloing the Ashen Hierophant on mythic difficulty. They had to be valuable.

But even she had a limited supply. Maybe she shouldn’t sell it. Again, she only needed enough coin for basic food, shelter, and miscellaneous needs.

Not really thinking, she tugged on the cork and popped the potion open, curious what it smelled like.

Honey, mint, and cinnamon. The scent was instant and pervasive, but even more noticeable was the way magic gushed from the vial. It was a palpable thing it was so dense, even to her resistant magical senses.

Fumes drifted out of the thin neck of the flask, settled onto the cobblestone, and weeds began sprouting from the cracks, green foliage appearing from nowhere, growth spurred on by the immense regenerative properties held in even a whiff of the potion. She hastily capped and inventoried it, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had.

So, uh, yeah. Probably too valuable to pawn. The same went for her mana potions and other challenge-run consumables.

Well, fine. There was always working for a living.

She meant the Adventurer’s Guild, of course. She was looking forward to experimenting more with her abilities anyway. A hunting trip was in order. Two birds with one stone.

She was still getting used to being in a fantasy world. Being around everyday civilians was already surreal. Stepping foot into the Adventurer’s Guild and being met with humans, elves, demons, and even a dwarf, all of them dressed in varying sets of armor—platemail and flowing robes and leather cuirasses—was another matter altogether.

Everything was so vivid and real. She hovered at the doorway, taking it in, before someone cleared their throat to remind her that she was blocking passage in. She hurried forward, blushing slightly, which probably didn’t fit the image of the legendary sorceress, Vivisari Vexaria.

Though, the blush didn’t touch her cheeks; it was only in her head. She’d never been an especially emotive girl, and Vivisari’s body was even slower to show reactions than her previous. She had been calmer and more composed than ever, externally speaking, through today’s encounters. That said, she felt awfully like a tourist the way she gawked around, even if another person would simply see her coolly surveying the space with bored eyes.

Her gaze drifted from one adventurer to another. Most wore a small, metallic emblem pinned to their chest. She saw mostly bronze, a few glints of silver, and a rare flash of gold on the handsome blond knight standing by the board. It was clearly some sort of rank identifier.

She spotted the receptionist’s desk, a sturdy wooden counter tucked to the side, and headed for it.

The receptionist was a human woman—Vivi felt weird that she needed to make the clarification of ‘human’ inside her own head—with twin brown braids. She was pretty, slightly plump, and seemed like the sort of person who would normally be wearing a friendly expression at all times, but right now she seemed ill, leaning against the counter heavily and obviously wanting to be in bed rather than at work. As Vivi approached, the woman forced herself to perk up and plaster a customer service smile on.

Vivi couldn’t help herself from asking, “Had an interesting night?”

It was just too obvious. She’d been there. Not that she overindulged often, but she recognized the signs.

The receptionist winced, then let out an apologetic chuckle. “That obvious? Yeah…festival started a little early for me. Once in a century opportunity to celebrate. Why not, right?” She took a breath. “How can I help, miss?”

At least she wasn’t calling her ‘little one’ or eyeing her dubiously as if wondering whether she belonged there at all. Of the three interactions she’d had, this was her favorite by that fact alone.

There was a recurring issue she was running into: being reborn into her character had given her a wealth of knowledge on sorcerous topics, but no intuition for any of the other facets of this world. Meaning she was missing a lot of common knowledge.

She knew she wasn’t going to remain anonymous for long. Extensive efforts were pointless. Twenty minutes ago she had teleported a man into the wilderness and exploded a quarter mile with the wrath of the heavens themselves.

So she asked with a total lack of grace, “You buy monster parts here?”

The receptionist oriented herself to that question. Likely, the Adventurer’s Guild was as much of a staple to society as banks were. Vivi’s question was the equivalent of walking into a grocery store and asking if they sold food.

Put like that, she winced. She could’ve asked something less suspicious even if she’d given up on flying under the radar.

“Er, yes?” the receptionist said. Her name tag read ‘Danny’. “Don’t think our evaluator is busy if you needa appraise some parts. Should I go ask?”

She’d generously interpreted Vivi’s question as if she were seeking an appraisal instead of literally wondering if the Guild bought monster parts. That was fortunate.

“Not right now,” she said, her face not betraying her embarrassment. “But probably soon. It’s by appointment?”

“Don’t get enough traffic for that,” she snorted. “But we can set one up if you want. From a big city, are you?”

She’d have thought Prismarche was large itself, but she supposed by the standards of Meridian it wasn’t. Prismarche was far, far to the north, set in a relatively dangerous part of the Northern Kingdom. It was by no means some tiny city, but even in the game it hadn’t been a twentieth the size of the capital of the Central Kingdom.

“Meridian,” Vivi said.

Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “From the big city. Heard good things. Been wanting to head down that way myself, but—” She waved a hand. “Bit of a ride, to say the least.”

Vivi nodded. The conversation slowed.

Oh, jeez. Was she supposed to comment on Meridian, now? Small talk. Not her specialty. Better to launch into her next question.

“The badges everyone is wearing. On their chests.” She tapped the location on her own. “Those are…ranks?”

Danny’s reaction was even more doubtful this time. “Y-Yes?”

“How do those go?”

Danny’s mouth opened and closed, but she replied nonetheless. “Same as coinage. Bronze, silver, gold, mithril, orichalcum, starmetal. Though most people call starmetal ranks ‘Titled’, on account of being given official titles and all. Never seen one myself,” she added, in that same conversational tone, but Vivi could tell she was talking on autopilot as she studied her with growing curiosity.

“And how does ranking up work?” she asked, barreling forward without concern. What was the worst that would happen? The receptionist went around gossiping about a strange person who had shown up in the Adventurer’s Guild? That had to happen all the time.

Again, Danny clearly found the question odd, but she answered. “You start at bronze, and when you hit level two hundred, you automatically qualify for silver. Gold and up takes approval from a guildmaster. You need enough quest points, a review of your missions, and to pass the exam. It’s not just about being able to blast your way through everything. It doesn’t matter if you killed all the monsters if the town was destroyed in the process. The upper rank badges are a mark of prestige for a reason, and it’s about knowing how to act with discretion as much as knowing how to kill things efficiently.”

“I see.” She kept a straight face, since that was her only defense. “As far as selling monster parts, are there rank restrictions?”

She’d been curious about how ranks worked, since they weren’t present in Seven Cataclysms, and thus one of those changes she’d been taking special note of. But selling loot was her real end goal. She needed to make money, and killing monsters was the easiest way—at least, the easiest least suspicious way that also let her experiment with magic more.

“Um,” Danny said for the hundredth time, telling Vivi how strange this interaction was to her. “No. There are rank restrictions on quests, but if you have monster parts, or other loot, our appraiser will give you a fair deal. You might be able to squeak a little more coin out walking through town and selling stuff individually, but the Guild pays fair from what I’ve heard. Not the best, but fair.” She shrugged. “I ain’t going around and selling Briarhoar Spikes myself, so I can’t say so for sure, but I haven’t heard complaints.” She laughed. “Not ones I put value in, at least, since people will complain about anything. Our prices are fair.”

“That’s all I needed, then. Thank you.”

“My pleasure?”

She turned and strode confidently away. Incredibly, her cheeks still weren’t burning. Her embarrassment seemed confined within herself. This new body was good for a few things, even if it created more doubts to her age than even her last.

Her target was the quest board. She didn’t think she would be taking any of them, since she would have to register first, and killing monsters and selling whatever she got seemed easier anyway. But she was curious what they said, so she might as well while she was here.

Unfortunately, she was intercepted halfway to the board.