Heather's claws tapped against the wooden walls on the corridor leading to the room where the rest of the Crimson Scouts were. She hummed a simplistic tune under her breath, occasionally adding a small skip to her steps. How old was she even?

"Down this corridor is the guildmasters' office," the dragonkin was saying. I was far too focused on the blue and white flames dancing inside the numerous lamps lining the pillars propping the guild's second floor up. We passed some sort of lounge filled with huge cushions and battered dummies scattered around. People dressed in simple vests over long-sleeved tunics told me nothing about their status. Were they adventurers or scouts?

Heather passed them by, still humming. She gave some a wave when they greeted her first. None of them seemed to notice me trailing behind her. The guild was huge, that much I could grasp at last, and seeing someone familiar seemed like a far-fetched idea. And then there's Heather, who seemed to know everyone and what they're up to.

"Good luck on the joint mission!" she flashed finger guns at the next troupe of people we passed by on our way through the balcony I spied from the lobby. Unlike the people at the common lounge, these guys were in full armor like I was.

Joint mission? I filed the words away as something to be asked later. I tucked my hair behind my ear by habit, not fighting the urge to flinch when my fingers brushed my tapered helix again. Heather stopped skipping, the wooden soles of her boots rescinding from making clack-clack noises against the floorboards.

Soon, she stopped in front of a door marked in the same gibberish script I saw in the lobby. One blink and it's replaced with one I could read. Crimson Scouts. Heather turned to me, bracing her hands on her hips. It took me a minute to realize she wore only a black band around her chest and a pair of denim-like shorts that cut just inches from her hips.

"Now, each party is given a common room where we can store all of our supplies. We each have beds inside which we don't even use much since we're out all the time," the dragonkin explained, her nostrils flaring. Unlike the Dragon Dude I fought yesterday, her face looked more human than beast. "You can have Sonii's old bunk. It's right below Trink, our tracker."

Sonii. The warrior who died. Right. I was truly a replacement and when I die, another one would be slated to take my place. Just like that.

Heather clicked her tongue and slapped her forehead. "What am I doing, talking out here? Come on. Let's go," she cranked the door's golden handle. "Time to meet the others. You're going to love them, I swear!"

Over-eager, much? Without much of a choice, I followed the dragonkin inside...to see three people passed out in their beds in the most unflattering ways possible. What caught my eyes first was someone with a dog's head snoring with half of their body already dangling from the upper bunk's corner. Another guy with muted teal hair was curled on the floor, muttering in his dreams while stroking his belly. Finally, a woman with wild strands of light blue hair snored face-first against a slanted wooden desk, her arms propped over it like a deflated scarecrow.

Heather brought her hands together and clapped. I flinched at how booming it was. Was it because of the dragon hands? Within seconds, the sound of rustling clothes and blatant cursing erupted around the room. I watched with wide eyes as the dog-headed person slipped from the bunk and kind of...slithered their way to ground. The woman snapped up and was awake in an instant. The teal-haired guy simply opened his eyes and staggered up.

Whoa. It's like I was in the army. Was I expected to be able to do that too? When I take too long to even get myself a cup of coffee in the mornings? Hell, no.

What did I just sign myself into?

"Hey, y'all!" Heather chirped like she hasn't forced three people out of a deep sleep. She closed the door behind me as I stepped forward. "Meet our newest member!"

Dog-Head made a clicking noise with his tongue. "By the Divines, another spiria?" he said, a finger disappearing into the folds of his huge flap of an ear. If I was to describe his head, it's like a cross between a beagle in terms of the ears and a german shepherd in terms of the fur color, the snout, and the piercing glare telling me of its intrinsic hate. "I swear, Heather, you're on your way to phase the both of us out."

Instead of being offended, Heather threw her head back and laughed. She seemed fond of doing that so much I could attribute it as a habit. "Hush, Trink," she said, striding towards a single round table in the far side of the room. "Don't talk like that. The Divines might hear you."

Dog-Head, Trink, shrugged his very human shoulders and strode towards the table to join their leader. The woman and the other guy followed suit, taking specific places among the chairs. As soon as they're seated, only one chair was left. "Let me guess," I said when their heads swiveled to where I remained standing. "Sonii's chair?"

Nobody bothered answering so I strode towards it and sank in it. Before I could have a proper look at the other two people besides Trink, Heather clapped her hands again. "Now, to the matter at hand—a new mission!" she turned to me. "I know you just got here and these guys just had their well-earned rest, but we've got no time to waste! We're on our way to the top, after all!"

The rest of them didn't bother cheering, so I didn't. Heather didn't seem to mind. "I've just received word from the merchants this morning that there's been disturbances happening in the blizzard districts for a few months now. Should we check it out?"

The woman pushed her wild blue hair off her face and sniffed. "If it's the Northern Tower, I'd be cautious," she said. "Raventhorne isn't popular in those areas, after all."

"What happened?" I asked.

The woman rolled her shoulders. "Some old drama between the Empress and the Guildmasters," she said. "I wouldn't dwell too much on it, if I were you. Maybe we should just give this to the adventurers in the north?"

Heather shook her head. "And let them take the credit?" she crossed her arms. "We can pass it towards the guilds in the north but we do it once we've properly scouted and reported it. We need those points after all."

I raised an eyebrow. "To become an adventurer party?"

The other guy snorted and burst out laughing, tapping a hand against the table's rim. "To get enough ethrans for next month, silly!" he giggled some more. "You're idealistic for a closed bud."

Closed bud? "That's mean, Arzo," Heather stuck her bottom lip out. "Apologize."

The teal-haired guy, Arzo, blew a breath. "Fine. Sorry," he said. "But you need to be extremely careful about expressing those sentiments. You don't want to be nipped too early. It'd be a shame. Heather seems to have taken a liking to you."

I was glad my hands were atop my lap and not on the table. Otherwise, they would have seen me clenching my fists. Was that a threat?

"Now, calm down, everyone," Heather interjected. For a bubbly girl with a child-like innocence, she carried authority with it too. "She's new to this so there's going to be a lot of those in the months to come. Let's just guide her, hey? I'm sure she's going to turn out a fine warrior!"

Trink huffed. "Okay, then," he leaned against the backrest of his chair, eliciting a small squeak. "What are you bringing to the table? Why should Heather keep you?"

I blinked. "Sorry?"

"You've got to be able to earn your keep, lady," Arzo dusted his dark sleeves. He jutted his chin towards the woman. "Revery, over there, is a summoner. As a creature spiria, it's her job to provide support by calling forth shadow beasts should our mission require it."

He placed a hand over his chest. "I'm a psalm spiria, so I function as a mage," he said. "I provide support magic, like strengthening Heather's forward attacks or prolonging the time Revery's beasts could stay."

"Heather's our leader and our main attack force," Trink said before tapping his nose. "I'm the tracker, the cook extraordinaire, and the rear guard."

Revery, the blue-haired woman tucked her hands atop the table into each other. "If you're going to take Sonii's place, what we need is a warrior," she said. "A dragonkin like him would be preferable but I suppose a spiria would do, so long as you can support and keep up with Heather's bombards."

"It's rude to ask a spiria what they're capable of, so forgive us for this instance," Arzo said. "But what kind of spiria are you?"

I pursed my lips. It's just like the multiple times I was put on the spot during pitch meetings. Was it this hot earlier? I thought not. "Um..." I racked my mind for the vague memories of me actually using this character's main set of abilities. Aside from the built-in beginner spells, there must be something she could do, right?

A hazy memory popped from the recesses of my brain. It involved a sword and pressing a button, making it light up with magical sparks. "I...um, can make swords glow?" I said. Realizing how lame that sounded, I brought my palms forward. "I mean, I guess I can place some magical qualities into swords?"

The response I got were hushed gasps. Okay. That was leagues higher than what I was prepared for. Did I say something wrong?

"A crafting spiria?" Arzo breathed. "I can't believe I met one, not to mention, talked to one."

Revery gave a little squeak. "You should be careful, though," she said. "Crafting spiria are treated as heretics in spirian territories. They believe that kind of magic couldn't be from the Divines."

I blinked. The skill carried such notions? What in the world was I in when I built this character? I could have chosen something that's...quieter, perhaps. "Since I'm new in this whole business," I said, risking my limbs for this question. "What does a crafting spiria do?"

Heather ran her claws down her uneven hair. "They...craft magical items, I guess?" she said. "They're a rare branch so there's not enough info about them. But from the country stories I happen to hear here and there, and according to Revery and Arzo here, crafting spirias are able to take any mundane items, imbue enough magical energy in them, and make them usable in battle. Honestly, the limits of what a crafting spiria can do is their imagination."

In short, I chose an OP character.

Too bad, though. I couldn't access most of the skills my younger self had built up over the years.

"We'll keep your secret. Don't worry," Heather reached out past Revery to give me a pat in the back. I knew she was being careful, but it still felt like she was aiming to dislocate my joint. "But that makes you indebted to us. So what do you say? How about you craft stuff for us?"

I rolled my shoulders. "While I'm still learning, sure," I said. "But my goal is to be able to join an adventurer's party eventually."

Arzo blew into his nails, sparing me a neutral glance. "Do tell us how that'll go for you," he said. "It's not an uncommon sentiment, to use scouting parties as springboards to glorious heights. We'll gladly provide that so long as you help us survive for a little longer."

"Seriously? You're not mad?" I tilted my head to one side.

Trink clicked his teeth together. It's something I haven't seen dogs do at all. "Do you want us to be?" he said. "I don't mind it since we'll be using you during the missions you spend with us anyway. Might as well make it count."

I averted my eyes and instead focused on Heather. She's the safest person in this room, after all. "If we're never supposed to engage in battle as we're a scouting party, why do we need a warrior?"

Heather ran her tongue over her pointed fangs. "There are times when our help is needed for the adventurer party to finish the job. We merely function as support, though," she said. "There are times we need to fight our way out of something because we've ventured too far. You know, normal stuff."

That made sense. Even a non-combatant team needed to be knowledgeable in handling tricky situations brought about by their job. I could live with that, I guess. While I was still weak and pathetic, I needed to work on my levels and special skills, and I couldn't do that if I was always on the brink of dying. It all worked out, then.

I paused. What's up with this line of thought? It's like I was this willing to spend months, even years inside this game, doing who knew what. Then again, it's way better in this place. Even if I was just a replacement, I could forget all the bad stuff I went through just to get to this point. Sure, there would be more of those along the way, but for now, it was a new start. A fresh, blank slate.

This time, I was free to write whatever I wanted in it. Nobody was around to tell me what to put, how to construct my sentences, or why my ideas weren't going to push through. In here, I was allowed to be myself and who I needed and wanted to be.

In the game, my past decisions didn't matter as long as I was able to rise above it, better and stronger. If it was between surviving in this magical land with monsters and dragon people and going back to the world I was born in, I wouldn't be in a hurry to go home.

It sank in, then.

I wasn't in a hurry to go home—wherever that was or whatever that looked like.

"Oh, I'm dumb," Heather slapped her forehead once more before turning to me. "We've been talking all this time but we don't know your name."

My eyebrows arched. I snuck a glance at the ID card Maryan gave me as soon as I signed up under the Crimson Scouts. A blink later and my name was laid bare in front of me. I couldn't even believe I've forgotten about it after all these years.

I raised my head to find them staring at me. For once, I allowed myself a small smile. "My name is Seline," I said. "Seline Nightfore."