Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 135: The Guild (2)

Chapter 135: The Guild (2)

The Guild was one of the few creations birthed clans, but by the remnants of the old world order: the government.

In a world reshaped by power, where the Higher Clans and their divine bloodlines dictated much of global affairs, the governments of nations quickly realized they were no longer the highest authority.

Their laws meant little when a single clan could obliterate cities, and diplomacy broke beneath the weight of domains. Yet surrendering all influence was unthinkable.

So, they adapted.

They created something the clans wouldn’t bother to control—something that didn’t challenge the divine, yet served as a bridge between the common man and the extraordinary.

Thus, the Association Guild was born.

Not everyone wished to bend the knee to the gods. Not every talented soul saw divinity as a path worth walking. Some had no need for their bloodline, others no desire to serve.

And in that disillusionment, a new order of strength was forged—independent, resourceful, and relentless.

The Higher Clans allowed it, if only because they saw no threat in it. It gave the people an outlet. It gave the governments a role. And it gave the world something the clans could never provide: neutral ground.

The Association Guild quickly became a pillar of modern civilization, sprawling across all continents. Its influence rivaled that of any lesser clan, not through power, but through function.

----

The Association Guild was not a monolith but a vast, intricate machine divided into three essential branches—each one a cornerstone of the world’s continued function.

The Adventurer Guild stood as the heart of exploration.

Its members were not bound by territory or bloodline, only by the horizon.

They were the mapmakers, the ruin delvers, the beast slayers. Where others saw danger, they saw opportunity.

From tracking elusive creatures in uncharted jungles to accepting perilous missions on distant fronts, they were the ones who pushed civilization forward, step by step, footprint by footprint.

Young talents flocked to this branch with dreams of glory. Some sought riches, others fame, but most were drawn by the thrill of the unknown. A few even returned with artifacts whose power rivaled the treasured heirlooms of the clans, but they were rare.

But this was no haven for amateurs. Each adventurer was tested, ranked, and continuously evaluated—not just for strength, but for survivability, magical control, and their contribution to the world’s collective knowledge. It wasn’t just about discovering new lands.

It was about expanding the world itself.

Then there was the Mercenary Guild, a stark contrast to the romanticism of exploration.

This branch bore the weight of blood and coin.

Where diplomacy failed or where the clans turned a blind eye, mercenaries stepped in.

They were hired blades, protectors, bounty hunters, assassins. Some were stationed to guard shipments across dangerous routes; others were sent to silence political threats or protect cities too poor to afford clan attention.

If the coin was good, the job was accepted. And if the request was forbidden... someone would still take it.

In many cities, a high-ranked mercenary could hold more sway than a noble. Feared and respected in equal measure, they walked a line between chaos and control. But they lived by one iron rule: never betray the contract. To break it was to become prey.

The Guild always handled its own.

Finally, there was the Occupation Guild—the silent engine that kept the world turning.

It lacked the flash of battle or the thrill of conquest, but its power was no less vital.

This was the domain of the creators: blacksmiths who forged rune-etched weapons, alchemists who brewed elixirs that delayed death, and runesmiths who etched sigils strong enough to power entire cities.

Engineers mixed mana with machinery, while artificers and tailors crafted enchanted tools and garments. Beast tamers, scholars, healers, and architects—all had their place in this guild.

Divided by trade, each branch functioned like a nation of its own. Hierarchies, certifications, and contributions to the world’s development determine status.

And though the Higher Clans might possess divine blood, even they relied on the Occupation Guild’s work.

Divinity could win a war.

But only infrastructure could build a civilization.

----

In the heart of the Association Guild’s main branch in Europe, chaos stirred.

A new mission had just been posted—one that sent waves rippling through the hall like a stone dropped into still water. Not just any mission... but one issued directly from the Wind Clan.

That alone was enough to stop conversations mid-sentence. The Wind Clan was one of the Higher Clans—a force so powerful that even the Guild, with all its branches and networks, dared not challenge them.

They rarely issued missions. Many guild members could count on one hand how many Wind Clan missions had appeared in the past decade.

And this one?

It was absurd.

The target:

Name: Alex.

Age: Twenty-seven years old.

Now, in an age where mana saturated the world and even the lowest-ranked fighters could live beyond 150 years, twenty-seven barely qualified as adults. He was young—too young to be worth mentioning.

But the price on his head?

Eight hundred million dollars.

That was what truly detonated the room.

People shouted, laughed, and cursed. The guild boards buzzed. Terminals glowed. Adventurers and Mercenaries surged toward the request page of the association’s online page. like vultures to fresh blood. Whispers of the name and the bounty spread like wildfire.

"Eight hundred million dollars?! For a Grandmaster kid?!"

"A Grandmaster at twenty-seven? That’s rare, but still... Why not handle it themselves?"

"That’s the point, idiot. If the Wind Clan is outsourcing, something stinks."

The crowd stared at the posted details. Aside from the bounty and rank, there wasn’t much. Just a name. A blurred past.

And a poster featuring a young man with striking, almost unnatural looks—calm eyes, an angular jaw, and windswept hair that gave him the aura of someone always on the edge of motion. Handsome, maybe even memorable, but not threatening.

And yet... the price tag said otherwise.

The smart ones, the truly dangerous ones, weren’t talking.

They were thinking.

Why him?

Why now?

Why would a Higher Clan, with hundreds of Grandmasters at their beck and call, ask outsiders to catch one?

They knew there was a deeper game at play.

But a million dollars could make a man ignore his instincts.

Across the ranks, tension simmered. Experts began preparing. Masters formed teams. Even some Grandmasters were sharpening their blades.

In less than an hour, his face topped the wanted boards across Europe.

His face had not yet become infamous. But the hunt had begun.

And Alex... had no idea that the world was now chasing him.

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