Chapter 13: The Gate Of Information
A few minutes later, Atlas stepped out wearing the new attire.
The difference was immediate.
The bloodied rags were gone. His ruined clothes, torn sleeves, dried blood, and signs of the Eternal Ruin had been replaced by dark fitted attire, black trousers, a simple belt, and clean fabric that allowed easy movement. He did not look noble, rich, or powerful, but he no longer looked like a commoner, he looked like an Explorer now, though Barely.
In Ormolio, appearance decided the first reaction people gave you. A beggar was ignored. A bloody commoner was questioned. A clean hunter or low-rank Explorer was at least allowed to speak before being dismissed.
The woman glanced at him once, then nodded with clear satisfaction.
"You still look like you haven’t slept properly in a week, but at least now people will assume it was because of work and not because you lost a fight with a butcher."
Atlas adjusted the sleeve slightly.
"It fits me huh?"
"It should, I’ve been selling clothes longer than you’ve been alive."
Atlas moved toward the door.
"Wait."
He paused.
The woman reached beneath the counter and tossed him a plain dark hooded cloak and a Small mask.
Atlas caught it.
"Take this too," she said. "Cheap cloth, but the hood covers your face well enough. People will stare less when they think you don’t want to be seen."
"How much?"
She waved him off.
"It’s Included in the set."
Atlas looked at her.
"Why?"
The woman studied him for a moment, then shrugged.
"Think of it as an Intuition? Yeah, Intuition - I feel you would need it."
Her smile became faint.
Atlas remained silent.
Then he nodded once.
"Thanks."
"Don’t thank me, come back when that set tear, that’s better for my business."
Atlas stepped outside wearing the hood.
He stopped near a dark window and looked at his reflection.
For several seconds, he did not move.
The face was still his, but the eyes were different. The old Atlas rarely looked straight ahead. He had learned to lower his gaze, avoid provoking stronger people, and move like someone who did not want attention. Being noticed in the slums usually meant trouble, and trouble usually came from someone with more strength, more backing, or more cruelty.
This Atlas looked forward.
He wore the hood and the mask properly.
The Eternal Ruin had changed more than his body.
Atlas exhaled softly.
’I am still too noticeable among people.’
Not because of his face.
Because of his gaze.
He lowered the hood slightly and continued walking.
The Explorer Guild was not far from the northern market.
The building stood near the center of Ormolio like a statement carved in stone. It was several stories tall, with thick pillars supporting the entrance and symbols of crossed blades, relic markings, and Spirit seals engraved across the front. People moved in and out constantly, and none of them looked ordinary.
Hunters.
Explorers.
Mercenaries.
Revenants.
Atlas slowed slightly while observing them.
Some wore armor stained with monster blood. Others carried weapons larger than anything he had used before the ruin. A few gave off faint pressure even while standing still, enough that weaker people instinctively moved aside without being told.
Atlas lowered his presence.
His hand brushed against his chest unconsciously.
The Codex remained hidden within him.
Atlas stepped toward the Guild entrance.
The moment he entered, noise filled his ears.
Conversations, laughter, arguments, and the sharp sound of metal striking metal came from different parts of the hall. Someone cursed over a failed mission near the side wall. Another man bragged loudly about killing a monster that half the table clearly did not believe he had killed. A woman in light armor laughed so hard that the drink in her cup nearly spilled onto her companion’s map.
The Guild interior was massive.
Long wooden tables filled the center. Quest boards lined several walls, covered in notices, sealed requests, bounty marks, and ruin commissions. Workers moved constantly behind counters, while Explorers came and went with the restless energy of people who lived close to both death and money.
The smell of alcohol mixed with steel, sweat, leather, and old blood.
Atlas observed everything quietly.
This place gathered all kinds of people.
Information spread quickly in crowds like this, but so did rumors. If he asked the wrong question too directly, someone might remember his face. If he showed too much ignorance, people would treat him like an idiot. If he showed too much knowledge, they might wonder where it came from.
He moved toward the reception area near the front, where several workers handled requests from Explorers and hunters.
Then his steps paused.
A young woman sat behind one of the counters.
She looked around her early twenties, with soft brown hair resting against her shoulders. She wore standard Guild attire with a neat collar and a small silver badge pinned near her chest. Papers were stacked before her, but she moved through them with calm efficiency.
What caught Atlas’s attention was not beauty.
It was consistency.
Her smile never fully disappeared.
Even when a large man leaned too close and complained about payment. Even when another Explorer slammed a damaged monster core onto the counter. Even when someone mocked her for asking for proper procedure.
Her smile stayed.
Atlas observed her for a moment before approaching.
The woman looked up immediately. Her eyes moved over him once.
Something in her gaze paused briefly, perhaps noticing the exhaustion he could not fully hide, but she did not pry.
She smiled.
"How can I help you?"
Her voice was warm, professional, and calm.
Atlas stopped before the counter.
For one brief moment, he only looked at her.
After blood, monsters, screams, falling darkness, and a relic that wrote power with blood, a normal conversation felt strangely unfamiliar.
The woman tilted her head slightly.
"Sir?"
Atlas blinked once.
Then spoke.
"I want information."
The woman nodded as if that was the most ordinary request in the world.
"Of course. What kind of information are you looking for? Mission prices, material sales, ruin activity, or registration?"
Atlas’s eyes narrowed faintly.
There were too many things he needed to know.
Revenants, Ranks, Continents, Relics, Ruins and most of all spirit.
How far power truly reached.
And eventually, how high he needed to climb before his revenge begins.
After a brief pause, he chose the safest beginning.
"Ruins."
The receptionist’s expression barely changed, but her smile became more official.
"Basic ruin classifications are public, but detailed information depends on Guild status."
Atlas looked at her.
"Guild status?"
"Yes. The Guild does not hand out detailed ruin information to civilians. Basic categories are fine, but maps, monster records, relic reports, survival notes, failed expedition logs, and regional danger updates are restricted to registered Explorers or approved Guild assistants."
Atlas stared at her quietly.
"What can you tell me without registration?"
The receptionist folded her hands over the counter.
"The basics. Ruins are ranked according to danger, instability, monster presence, relic potential, and the probability of external outbreak. Most civilians know the common categories, but detailed reports are restricted because wrong information gets people killed."
Atlas’s gaze remained steady.
"Then tell me the common categories."
The receptionist studied him for a moment, probably deciding whether he was curious or reckless.
Then she nodded.
"Fine. The lower categories begin from Veil-Rank. Those are usually handled by beginner Explorers or small teams if the ruin is unstable. Above that is Hollow-Rank, where careless parties die quickly. Then Abyss-Rank. After that comes Cataclysm-Rank, which is restricted because a failed expedition can threaten more than just the people inside."
Atlas listened carefully.
Veil.
Hollow.
Abyss.
Cataclysm.
The words settled inside his mind.
Then his thoughts moved toward the Eternal Ruin.
A place the Royal Family had feared enough to send a disposable commoner inside first.
The receptionist continued.
"Above Cataclysm, information becomes restricted even among Explorers. I can’t discuss those categories with a civilian."
Atlas’s eyes narrowed.
"So there are more."
The woman paused.
Then smiled faintly.
"That is not the same as me confirming anything."
Atlas understood.
He looked toward the mission boards.
"What about Revenants?"
This time, a little more caution entered her gaze.
"That depends on what you want to know. Publicly, Revenants are Spirit users recognized by noble houses, royal forces, or high-ranked organizations. Some serve in armies. Some serve houses. Some become independent Explorers if they have the right backing."
Atlas absorbed that.
"Can commoners become Revenants?"
The receptionist did not answer immediately.
That silence told him more than the words that followed.
"In theory, yes."
"In theory?"
Her smile thinned slightly.
"A commoner with enough talent, luck, resources, and protection might be recognized. But Spirit awakening is rare, proper training is expensive, and without backing, talented commoners tend to be recruited, bought, used, or removed before they can become independent."
Atlas’s gaze darkened faintly.
She lowered her voice slightly.
"I am not saying that to discourage you. I am saying it because young people hear stories and think power alone opens doors. Sometimes it does i won’t deny it, but sometimes that same power gets you killed.
Atlas said nothing.
The words settled deeper than she knew.
He asked one more question.
"If I wanted detailed ruin information later?"
"Then you would need to register properly."
"As an Explorer?"
"Either that or as an approved assistant under an existing party, but assistants receive limited records. Full Explorer registration gives broader access, though your rank determines what you can see."
She leaned back slightly.
"And before you ask, registration requires your name, origin, evaluation, and Guild record. The Guild does not let nameless people walk into ruins."
Atlas became still for a brief moment.
Name.
Origin.
Record.
Dangerous words.
His real name surfaced in his mind.
Atlas Mariorett.
The name of a commoner who should have died inside the Eternal Ruin.
A name that could become dangerous if anyone connected it to the Royal expedition.
The receptionist noticed his silence, but she did not push.
"If you only need public information, I can answer a few more questions. But if you’re planning to enter ruins, then sooner or later you’ll need a Guild record."
Atlas’s hand brushed faintly against his chest.
The Codex remained silent within him.
He looked toward the mission boards, then toward the armed Explorers, then toward the people who walked in and out of danger for coin, relics, and power.
After that, he looked back at the receptionist.
"Hmm, I understand, thanks."
The receptionist gave a small smile.
"That is a very serious way to say you understood."
Atlas did not answer.
His eyes returned to the boards.
The Guild would not open its deeper records to a nameless civilian. If Atlas wanted ruins, monsters, blood, and power, eventually he would need a name the Guild could record.
Inside his chest, the Codex rested quietly.
Atlas turned away from the counter.
The receptionist watched him leave, her smile fading slightly only after his back disappeared into the crowd.
Atlas walked out of the Guild and back into Ormolio’s night with one fact carved clearly into his mind.
Information had a gate.
And sooner or later—
he would have to enter it.
