Chapter 526: Are You from Amaranthyst?
If one comes to learn how to loosen up a bit—to relax the grip that flesh has on their existence, to allow their spiritual nature to take precedence over their physical form—their power would become something else entirely.
If anything, I think fairies would factor into this category. They’ve never been fully mortal, and fully spirit, always hovering in that ambiguous space between the two.
· Gold: this was just the elder brother of the Silver class. A Gold class held about double the common cosmic value of a Silver class, and may break them easily if they fought.
While power, size, and experience are not always deciding factors in a real fight, we cannot ignore the statistical certainty for a rock to crush glass.
· Star: this was the last class I found in the scroll, and trust me, it was just a fancy way of saying “This person is maybe, probably, definitely, without a shadow of doubt, a god. But let’s just call them Star class, since they’re registering at the adventurers guild.”
Star class was the ultimate ceiling, the absolute pinnacle of the ranking system, the point at which the distinction between mortal and divine became so blurred that it ceased to have any practical meaning.
And yikes, if you met a STAR-CLASSED monster… Shit…
A monster that had reached that level of existence wouldn’t be something you could fight.
I don’t know about others, but I might run away after getting a good look at the natural disaster—not that running would do any good, but the instinct to flee from something that terrifying was hardwired into every living creature.
And yeah, I don’t think it will be considered a monster anymore.
Maybe a low-level titan.
Humans just consider anything remotely monstrous as a monster, even when the thing in question is so far beyond the category that the label becomes laughable.
A titan that could level mountains with a twist of its wrist isn’t a monster.
“Benjamin, take a look at this.” Heka’s voice pulled me out of my reverie, sharp and curious, cutting through the fog of my thoughts.
Since the staff members were still not ready for Heka’s spirit assessment and trial, she had wandered over to a spot nearby, her footsteps silent on the worn wooden floor.
I and Eric followed her, my curiosity piqued by the urgency in her voice, and I saw what she was showing me.
It was a type of hall of fame, or something similar: three parallel long lists of names nailed to the wall, stretching from near the ceiling down to waist height, all holding 700 names each.
The banners were made of what looked like treated leather, their surfaces dark with age, the edges slightly curled from years of exposure to the guild’s humid air.
The names were inscribed in bold, gold-tinged letters, as if the recognition itself had imbued them with a magical quality.
It was written in weird characters and glymphs—curving, flowing symbols that looked more like abstract art than a written language—but due to Elyndorian Touch, it just seemed like the English alphabets in my mind.
The translation wasn’t perfect—some of the names had meanings that didn’t quite map onto English equivalents—but I could read them well enough to understand what I was looking at.
“This is the ranking of adventurers,” Eric explained to us, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson for whatever reason, his eyes darting away from the banners as if he was embarrassed to even acknowledge their existence.
His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, that nervous habit of his making another appearance. “The first one is the ranking here in Thaad, the second one is the ranking in Wilds, and the third one is the global ranking of adventurers.”
“Oh?! I can find Eric in all three!” Heka beamed, her face lighting up with delight as she pointed out Eric’s name on the long banners.
I followed her gaze and read the words myself:
Eric Anthos: High-level Flower-class adventurer.
Ranked 12/700 in Thaad.
Ranked 52/700 in Wilds.
Ranked 85/700 in the world.
“Eric, this is wonderful!” I turned to face him, realizing why he started blushing when we came here. “Leaving Thaad and Wilds aside, you’re the 85th strongest adventurer in the world?! That’s not just impressive—that’s extraordinary?”
“P… Please, Benjamin, it is nothing so special,” he looked away so I couldn’t watch his cute blushing face, acting like some cute girl who’d just been caught receiving a compliment she didn’t think she deserved.
His ears were red now too, the flush creeping up from his neck like a slow tide. “I simply got lucky with my affinity. Holy light energy is effective against most common monsters, and I’ve had… favorable circumstances. Many adventurers work harder than I do and achieve far less.”
“No, it is alright to be conceited sometimes,” I patted his shoulders friendly, the gesture meant to be reassuring rather than condescending. “You’ve earned the right to be proud of what you’ve accomplished. You didn’t get that position by accident.”
I went quiet, mulling over it for a bit.
“I suppose it’s due to your outstanding experience and expertise with the holy light energy?” I asked, curious about what had propelled him so high in the rankings.
The holy light was rare in this world—not impossible to access, but difficult to master, requiring a combination of natural talent and extensive training, and sometimes a certain purity of spirit that not everyone could possess.
“Ah, yes, it is,” he nodded in confirmation, his gaze finally meeting mine for a brief moment. “Holy light works shockingly well on monsters, since they are mostly darkness-attributed creatures. It’s not just effective—it’s devastating. A single well-aimed holy light spell can do more damage to a dark creature than a dozen conventional attacks. This fact alone puts me above many adventurers who are practically more skilled than I am, but I still have a long way to go with my other abilities. I am more of a specialist.”
“Don’t beat yourself over it. You’ll succeed in time,” I encouraged him, noticing he seems to have a goal beyond what we can see. “You’re already in the top hundred globally. Whatever you’re aiming for, you have the foundation to achieve it.”
“Thank you very much, Benjamin.”
“And your full name is Eric Anthos?” I continued, the name catching my attention. “Only wealthy, noble, or royal folks use those kinds of names in this world. And Anthos…”
I let the name roll around in my mind, turning it over like a stone in a river, watching the way the syllables fit together. “Are you from Amaranthyst?”
The moment I asked, Eric’s eyes widened and he flinched hard—a full-body recoil like I’d just struck him across the face.
For a small moment, he didn’t speak. He just stared at me with wide, startled eyes.