Chapter 77: The Burden Of A Pioneer

The Guild Hall buzzed with the residual excitement of the recent ceremony when Gregor suddenly grasped what had just transpired.

Moments earlier, he had stood proudly at the center of attention, first place in Copper Rank, fifty gold coins jingling reassuringly in his pouch, and a brand-new Copper Adventurer Badge still warm in his hand.

The applause lingered, with murmurs of admiration drifting through the air like a sweet fragrance.

Commissioners spoke among themselves, Adventurers exchanged envious glances, and for a fleeting moment, Gregor felt as if the world had finally tilted in his favor.

Then it struck him. Not like a sword blow or a crushing defeat, but as a chilling realization creeping up his spine.

Wait.

His smile faltered.

Gregor replayed Sage’s earlier explanation, the lazy, almost casual way the Guildmaster had outlined the requirements for achieving Copper Rank: ten 1-Star missions or five 2-Star missions.

His brow furrowed.He had completed five 2-Star missions and seven 1-Star missions. That wasn’t just enough; it was more than sufficient.

His gaze snapped to the receptionist desk where Sage sat again, leaning back comfortably in his chair as if the ceremony had been nothing more than an interruption to his day.

One elbow rested casually on the polished surface of the upgraded desk while he propped his chin against his palm, eyes half-lidded in that infuriatingly relaxed manner Gregor associated with trouble.

The smile on Sage’s face, soft and unconcerned, was the final straw.

Gregor turned sharply on his heel.The sound of his boots striking the marble floor echoed as he marched toward the desk, each step causing his Copper Badge to glint defiantly.

Conversations hushed as people noticed his expression; whispers faded away. A few Adventurers instinctively leaned back, sensing an approaching storm.

Brutus stood nearby with a frown. “Uh… Gregor?”

Too late now.

Gregor stopped before the desk and slammed his hand down hard enough to rattle its surface.

“Guildmaster Sage.”

The way he uttered that title, tight and controlled, made several people draw in quiet breaths.

Sage slowly lifted his gaze.

“Yes?” he replied mildly, as though Gregor were merely asking for directions.

Gregor clenched his jaw.

“I have a question.”

“Oh?” Sage tilted his head slightly. “Make it quick; I was just about to enjoy some silence.”

Gregor’s fingers curled into fists.”You said, that to advance to Copper Rank, an Adventurer needs to complete ten 1-Star missions or five 2-Star missions.”

“That does sound like something I’d say,” Sage replied thoughtfully.

“I completed five 2-Star missions,” Gregor continued, raising his voice slightly, “and seven 1-Star missions.”

A ripple of surprise swept through the hall as several Adventurers exchanged glances. A few calculated quietly in their heads, while someone at the back let out a soft, impressed whistle.

Gregor leaned forward, his eyes blazing with intensity. “So tell me, how exactly did I barely qualify?”

Silence enveloped the room, and all eyes turned to Sage. He blinked once before offering a simple shrug, as if Gregor’s grievance held no weight whatsoever.

“That’s the burden of being the Pioneer.”

His words landed like a hammer strike. For a brief moment, Gregor thought he hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

Sage straightened slightly, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. His tone remained casual, almost indifferent, but his sharp gaze never left Gregor’s face.

“You’re the first registered Adventurer in history,” he explained. “The benchmark—the example, the standard against which everyone else measures themselves.”

He leaned back again. “Standards for pioneers are higher.You could say you’re doing a public service for future generations.”

Gregor’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “So I basically did extra work for free?!”

Exactly,” Sage replied with an unapologetic nod.

The entire hall erupted into laughter.

Gregor stared at him in disbelief before his face flushed with anger. “You…You’re saying you changed the rules?!”

“I didn’t change them,” Sage replied calmly. “I interpreted them.”

A low murmur spread through the hall; some Adventurers bit their lips to suppress smiles while others turned away, shoulders shaking with laughter. Gregor’s eye twitched in frustration.

“That’s…That’s deception!” he shouted.

Sage raised an eyebrow. “Strong word.”

“You tricked me!”

“Incorrect,” Sage said, raising one finger for emphasis. “I motivated you.”

Gregor opened his mouth to protest but then closed it again before trying once more. “You..you can’t do this!”

Sage nodded thoughtfully. “I can.”

“You shouldn’t!”

“I should.”

“This isn’t fair!”

Sage smiled faintly, his expression unyielding. “Being first rarely is.”

At that moment, laughter erupted throughout the hall, not mocking laughter but rather shared relief that came from witnessing authority assert itself without cruelty.

The Guild Hall buzzed with renewed energy as conversations overlapped and Adventurers processed what had just unfolded.

Gregor felt like he was boiling over with rage now. “You said ten or five!” he insisted desperately. “I did more than required!”

“And you succeeded,” Sage replied coolly. “Congratulations.”

“That’s not the point!” Gregor shot back.

“It is exactly the point.”

Leaning so far forward that Brutus finally intervened by grabbing him by the shoulder, Brutus muttered urgently, “Alright, alright, enough.”

Gregor shook him off angrily and retorted, “No! He can’t just…”

Sage’s voice cut through the noise with calm authority: “Green hair.”

Something about that tone made him pause as Sage met his gaze with cool determination.

“If you genuinely feel wronged,” Sage said, “we can always revoke your Adventurer License and allow you to reapply under the standard rules.”

The hall fell into a heavy silence.

Gregor’s face went pale.

“…Revoke?” he croaked.

Sage nodded. “Article Seven, Subsection B: ’The first registered Adventurer shall serve as the qualitative benchmark, their performance metrics subject to contextual evaluation by the Guildmaster to ensure foundational rigor’.”

He gestured vaguely with one hand. “I can process the paperwork right now if you’d like.”

Gregor swallowed hard.

Brutus tightened his grip and physically pulled him backward. “Nope. Nope. We’re done here.”

This time, Gregor didn’t resist.

“That’s not fair,” he muttered weakly as Brutus dragged him away.

Sage waved dismissively. “Life rarely is.”

As Gregor was pulled into the crowd, the tension broke.

Laughter erupted, not mocking laughter, but a shared relief that came when authority proved itself to be real yet not cruel.

The Guild Hall buzzed again, louder than before, with conversations overlapping as Adventurers processed what they had just witnessed.

Sage observed it all with a neutral expression.

Inside, however, his thoughts were more deliberate.

“Of course I bent the rules.”

A Pioneer couldn’t be measured by the same yardstick as everyone else. If Gregor, strong, capable, driven, found the standard difficult, then everyone who followed would strive harder just to keep up with him.

Impossible standards didn’t break people; they filtered them. And Gregor won’t break, Sage thought calmly. He’ll curse me, hate me… and then work twice as hard.

That was exactly what the Guild needed.

His gaze drifted across the hall, scanning faces and reactions until he noticed something unusual.

Near the edge of the room, partially hidden by a pillar, sat a small figure alone—Mina.

She wasn’t glaring or fuming or shouting at anyone; she sat quietly in one of the chairs, her legs dangling above the floor and hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Her head was bowed low, twin ponytails hanging forward like wilted banners.A faint tremble ran through her shoulders.

Sage’s smile faded as laughter in the hall suddenly felt distant.

“…Ah,” he murmured under his breath.

So that’s what’s off, the Copper Bell had rung; the Pioneer had been burdened, but someone else had been hurt too.

And for all his schemes and calculations, Sage knew one thing for certain as he watched Mina fight back tears she refused to let fall: this next problem wouldn’t be solved with regulations, it would require something far more troublesome: comfort.

Sage exhaled slowly. “Why does everything always escalate?”

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