Inefficient and borderline worthless secondary characters, protracted and ill-conceived skills hierarchies, and a generally slow-developing story all doom I MAY BE A GUILD RECEPTIONIST v2 from the get-go. Readers brave enough to wade through pages of irrelevant chatter meant to enliven the novel's shallow worldbuilding will find themselves clinging to the weeds and vines of spontaneous lore that reeks of convenience and doesn't do much to advance the narrative at scale.
I MAY BE A GUILD RECEPTIONIST v2 isn't a very good book. One finds more of the same, awkward romantic-comedy humor. One finds the same tepid themes of reluctant heroism. And one encounters the usual characteristics of a fantasy world that is supposed to be larger, grander, and more menacing than is reasonable, but the author's skill at conceiving a believable and engaging environment is mediocre at best.
Alina Clover, one week out from the city's Centennial Festival, is dead set on getting all of her work completed on schedule to avoid overtime during all of the city's upcoming special events. Alina is eager to taste all of the food, attend all of the performances, and generally live it up. She was, apparently, burdened with work the previous two years. So, naturally, she openly and eagerly declares that nothing will stop her this time around. Fancy how that goes?
When wild rumors about secret quests churn through Iffole at a rapid pace, and a seemingly random attack on the public sets local adventurers on edge, Alina and her pals suspect more is going on than just a few folks getting hyped up about the annual festival. And appropriately so, everyone's sensitivity to every little detail of every little scrum sets everyone on edge. Specialists are called in from afar. Information traders start striking deals. Old foes rear their ugly heads.
And yet, the fact that I MAY BE A GUILD RECEPTIONIST v2 isn't remotely interesting until page 88 is more than a bit telling.
The novel's earliest and most common problem is that the characters (and the readers, by extension) don't really know who or what they're fighting against for nearly half of the story. For 40% of the book, the cast wanders about aimlessly, complaining, chattering, and occasionally dwelling in non sequitur lamentation. The previous installment's final boss of a dark god was a clever if overly complicated dynamic. Will readers get there again in the current book? It's going to take a while.
For example, the author spends an inordinate number of pages fatefully reinforcing Alina's fascination with the Centennial Festival (in an obvious foretelling that something grave is bound to occur when the festival actually arrives). In another example, readers encounter an unoriginal and undemanding backstory for the Silver Sword's tiny healer, Lulee Ashford. Lulee is stuck in the emotional blowback from a past failure in a moment of crisis (for a now long-disbanded group of adventurers). Again, readers can spy the trajectory of this narrative insert: Lulee's lack of confidence will inevitably, and inexplicably, turn around the heroes' luck at the story's climax.
The book's secondary cast grows considerably, but none of these added characters feel particularly genuine or necessary to the world of Iffole and its adventurers. All of these new characters were likely manifest as a consequence of an authorial style that leans heavily on spontaneity and informal planning than actual narrative outlining. For example, two characters enter the story, change the story's trajectory, and are never heard from again thereafter: Shelley (relic researcher, works at the guild headquarters) and Jessica (guildmaster, information brokers). Shelley appears for only six pages, and in doing so, dutifully informs the cast about the magical nature of the cores of dark gods, the true nature of dia powers, and offers a very potent theory on how and why the dark gods are so powerful. Jessica, meanwhile, appears for a scant two and one-quarter pages, and literally sells a book to the adventurers' guildmaster that contains a secret quest (which will invariably guide the characters to the next dark god). That's a seriously irrelevant role for a seriously important key turn.
And that's nothing to say about the sudden inclusion of an apparent council of highly powered, multi-generational adventurers who serve as military and political overseers of the continent of Helcacia. A swordmaster, a cleric (called a "holy mother"), a guardian-type, and a sage apparently convene regularly to discuss the travails of the land. The Four Saints sound like a big deal, but again, they appear, collectively, for only eight pages, listening to the adventurers' guildmaster vent his frustrations, before disappearing from the novel entirely. A council of overpowered but uninvolved heroes sounds intriguing, but in I MAY BE A GUILD RECEPTIONIST v2, the group is nothing but a narrative prop, and its constituent members, like most characters, can be completely ignored.
Other problems abound. The narrative structure is drawn out and unwieldy, yes, but the book's technical and practical facets are also inadequate. Inconsistencies and continuity issues pop up throughout the book. One hilarious example can be found at the very beginning of Chapter 10: "Late that night, Jade was sitting on a sofa in an empty room. Also there were the other members of Silver Sword [present]" (page 48). So, then, Jade wasn't sitting in an empty room? Another example occurs during a fight scene: "Alina slammed her fist into his face. He went flying with a "Hrk!" and Alina followed, straddling him to punch him again and again" (page 136). So, then, Alina straddled the guy she punched, while he was flying, and then punched him again? The book is underwhelming, whether from deficient English translation work or deficient writing.
Further, the magical skills hierarchy becomes increasingly layered and complex in the current volume, which is a wild contrast to the previous installment's deliberately simplified view of things (e.g., sigurth is subordinate to dia, etcetera). Insert dialogue about parallel summoning, stacked spellcasting, inborn magical traits, and more, add depth to the book's lore, but also, unintentionally, make the fantasy worldbuilding far less interesting. Again, it feels like the author was simply adding content just because it sounded fun at the time. And yet, typically, the more creative and mysterious odds and ends one leaves to readers' imaginations, the better.
As an aside, something should be said for the author's regrettable tendency to render female characters in the Madonna-whore dichotomy: women are either busty and attractive (e.g., Alina, Shelley, Jessica), or female characters are small, immature, and prone to restless bickering (e.g., Lulee, Alina's coworkers, the Holy Mother character, and others).
I MAY BE A GUILD RECEPTIONIST v2 still aims for its initial premise of being casual fun, but frequently verges into the territory of redundant narration and poorly articulated character growth. Clever additions go nowhere, and the stalwart main characters frequently dither until the climax is obvious and forefront. Readers should probably pour through titles like this in only one go, because upon setting it down for a break, the book will prove incredibly difficult to reengage.