You see, in life, there's something called probability.
It's a simple concept, really. It's like flipping a coin. There's a chance it might land in heads, there's also a chance it might land in tails and there's a tiny chance it might stand still without falling either side.
And because of this concept called probability, every single thing in life is a gamble.
Like back on earth, what's the chance that if you step out of your house you won't get run over by a car? Or you won't fall in a ditch on the road and die? There's a high chance of that happening but you still go out anyway.
So, the reason for this speech is to ask you... How would you define a strong person? A freakish brutishly strong hulk? A person with superior intellect? Or maybe someone with a mixture of both? Well, it's not wrong. They might be considered strong.
But to me, a strong person is one with the ability to bend probability to their will.
Take this situation for example. My left hand gripping his hand on my shoulder is coated with fire, and my free right hand is preparing to shoot a fireball spell.
Although I was angry... I have everything under control and I'd say I'm bending probability to my will right now (master gambling).
My plan? Easy. Cast fireball without chanting... and as everyone's attention is on me– it'll massively skyrocket my reputation. Everyone including the receptionist will think I'm a third circle. And that'll increase my chances of becoming a mercenary.
And in case the man attacks back? I have a plan for that too.
Remember I can see mana? Yes. No one can hide from me, including Jennette who's hidden in the shadow of those people by the corner– watching me, she thinks she's slick, but I can see the green, special threads of mana lingering from her chest– her circle.
If this man attacks me right after I shoot the flameball at him. Jennette would protect me, after all, she is a second circle.
That's how I'm going to bend probability to my will.
"Do you know the feeling of death?"
I ask, my voice tinged with an eery chill and my eyes lit with madness.
The red runic circle forming on my right hand is complete and I shoot a fireball at his face.
"Urgh!" He groans as he takes a step back rubbing his hands on his face, though it won't do much to ease the burn.
I made sure to char his wrist too.
Gasps!
Everybody whose attention is on us starts gasping, including the receptionist as they saw me cast a fireball without chanting.
The man regains his composure, the sensation of the pain washing out of his body.
"You! This kid... I gave you a choice."
His voice drops low as he starts unsheathing the heavy sword on his back.
I crouch and enter a battle stance, boxing style.
And all of a sudden.
"Hey."
Jennette calls as she appears at the back of the man swiftly like a mirage. A tiny windblade is formed on her index finger and she's using it to press his throat. Threatening to slice his neck.
"Don't even try it."
She says, her voice low and filled with hostility.
The man's face immediately goes pale as soon as he hears her voice.
He drops his sword and raises his two hands, accepting defeat. He turns his head slightly to look at Jennette.
"I–I knew it... Th-that voice... The wind slicer?"
His voice is low, shaky like he just saw a ghost and his facial expression crumples to showcase his fear.
As the various people in the guild see Jennette, they immediately move on with their activities, acting like nothing ever happened.
"Oh? They recognize me?" Jennette says, her voice slightly high and a menacing smirk plays on her lips.
What's happening? Why's she acting like some kind of big shot?
I turn to walk back to the receptionist. I don't care what happens next, I'm tired of all this drama.
"How can I get a mercenary license?"
I ask the receptionist, my voice low and polite. I'm half tired of everything that's happening to me and I'm half satisfied that I burned that brute's face.
I have to normalize flaming people's faces.
"You... You're a third circle?"
The receptionist asks, her voice high and her smile slightly wide.
I shake my head.
"No. I'm an Eight Circle... Didn't you see my display just now? I'm pretty sure you know I'm a third circle."
As I say that, she chuckles, amused by my brazenness.
Dunce.
"But you're a k-?"
"I'm an adult." I lie shamelessly.
Her eyes widen as she brings up her eyeglass on her wooden table and wears it to get a better look at me.
"What? Aren't you a teenager?"
She asks me, her voice evident that she's curious.
I'm actually seven years old.
"It's because of my genes."
Her gaze softens as she nods.
"Oh, you poor thing."
She says, her voice soft and filled with pity.
Oh my fu– would she tell me how to get the license already?!
"So... What's your name? Age? Capabilities? I know you're a flame mage, but just to be sure."
She asks as she brings out a quill from her drawer and a piece of paper.
"Name... Blank. Age... 25. Capabilities? Flame magic."
She nods as I speak.
"Mm hm, mm hm. Okay, alright. Go sit down and wait for me... I'll send this to the review room, and they'll set up a test for you. And just to be clear– your circle means nothing to us here in the mercenary guild. If you pass the test with a certain mark, you can become a C-rank mercenary, and the only way to advance ranks is by completing missions, which has nothing to do with your circle."
I sigh as I nod.
Wow, so the show I caused was for nothing. Why didn't Jennette even tell me this?
"So, even if a six-circle mage or a swordmaster level swordsman applies, the highest rank he can attain in the beginning is just c-rank."
She continues.
Swordsman? I've... Wait I'd ask Jennette about that later.
I nod, "I've heard you. But can you go drop the stuff or whatever so I can begin the test? You're kinda wasting my time."
She scoffs, "Alright, Mr mysterious, masked big-shot mage."
She jeers as she walks off.
What a personality.