Rian and Lina stumbled out of the Gleaming Forest, battered and weary from their skirmish with a scout. They stepped into Verdaris—a sprawling tree-city of towering platforms, swaying vine bridges, and elevators pulsing with crystalline light. Chosen ones in shimmering cloaks strutted through the streets, chins high, while Rejects swept the ground, ignored and unseen. Markets sparkled with glowing crystals, and a massive panel overhead flashed the National Ranking—names shifting like stars.
"This place is huge!" Lina gasped, pointing at an elevator humming with radiant energy. "Think we'll find answers here?"
"Or more enemies," Rian muttered, adjusting his glove. Ambition festers in a city like this. Stay sharp, Craevon's voice rumbled in his mind.
"You're gloomier than those ruins we crawled out of," Lina teased, her laugh cutting through the tension. "Relax—we survived that mess."
"Barely," Rian shot back, his gaze catching a Chosen shoving a Reject aside. "This place stinks of injustice."
Energy regenerating to 12/15 after partial rest.
The lower platform's market buzzed with chatter and the clink of crystals. Rian and Lina wove through crowded stalls, where Rejects hawked trinkets and Chosen bartered for enchanted blades—their voices sharp with arrogance.
A figure in a green cloak stepped into their path—Kael, his dagger gleaming with runes, a badge with a purple crystal pinned to his chest. His venomous smirk locked onto Rian, mistaking him for just another Reject.
"Hey, filthy rat," Kael sneered, his voice like a blade. "Blades of Sap needs fighters. Fight in the arena, and you might just survive."
"Survive?" Lina laughed, tilting her head with a mocking grin. "Bet you're Class D out of sheer pity."
Kael's lips tightened, his eyes narrowing.
"Shut your mouth, useless shadow. A Reject like you's only good for scrubbing floors."
Rian's fists clenched, his blood simmering. The memory of fire—flames devouring his home—surged in his mind, fusing with the sting of Lina's humiliation.
Rage is your strength, but it's also your chain, Craevon whispered, his deep voice resonating in Rian's chest. Don't act on impulse, kid.
"Say that again," Rian growled, his eyes blazing. Burn him? he thought, addressing Craevon.
Not yet. Control the flame, Craevon replied, unyielding.
Kael's sneer widened. "Your friend's trash, kid. And you? You're just a bug—"
Rian's fist slammed into Kael's face, sending him staggering. Blood trickled from his lip, staining the ground in crimson drops. The crowd gasped, and Lina's eyes widened—a grin breaking through.
"Rian!" she shouted, pride flashing in her voice. "That was—bold!"
"Talk about her again, and I'll break you," Rian said, his voice trembling with fury, fist still clenched.
Kael wiped the blood, his smirk gone. "You'll pay for that, scum."
He waved a hand, and two Reject thugs armed with clubs stepped forward—their shadows looming in the dim light.
"Nice one, Rian, but now we're in deep," Lina whispered. "Guilds like these have dark connections."
"Then I'll take on every damn guild," Rian muttered, adjusting his gloves. They fear you, Craevon said softly. Use it.
The narrow alley on the lower platform thrummed with tension—vine shadows dancing in the gloom. Kael's thugs, gripping crystal-studded clubs, tightened their circle around Rian and Lina.
The crowd formed a ring, their eyes gleaming with hunger for a fight, while Chosen guards watched—unmoving. Rian's heart pounded, the "C" mark pulsing beneath his glove. Lina, quick and nimble, clutched a vial of glowing sap—her fingers twitching with anticipation.
"Last chance, filth," the first thug growled, twirling his club. "Join the guild or kiss the ground!"
"Blaze!" Rian roared, summoning the Flame Sword. His left hand erupted in flames, forging a blazing blade that bathed the alley in red light.
Flame Sword created!
Energy: 7/15
He lunged, unleashing Flame Strike. The sword carved a fiery arc, forcing the thug back. The club blocked the blow, but sparks flew—singeing the thug's cloak.
Energy: 5/15
The "C" mark glowed, betraying Rian. He covered it quickly, but an old Reject in the crowd shouted, "That fire—it's divine!"
"Lina, now!" Rian yelled, spinning to dodge the second thug's club, which grazed his shoulder—drawing a grunt.
Lina rolled across the ground, splashing glowing sap in a wide arc. With a snap of her fingers, she tossed a crystal shard—igniting the sap into sticky flames that trapped the second thug.
"Improvise, you idiot!" she shouted, laughing.
The first thug charged, but Rian used a broken crate as a springboard—vaulting over him. The Flame Sword slashed down in a Spinning Flame, flames spiraling as they struck the club—splitting it with a sharp crack. The thug collapsed, groaning.
Energy: 3/15
"That fire—who are you?" the old man asked, stepping closer, his eyes wide with curiosity.
"Nobody!" Rian snapped, the sword fading from his hand. A voice in his head updated his stats.
[Status of Rian!]
Strength: 35
Speed: 19
Energy: 3/15
Skills:
Flame Sword (30/100 to Lv 3)
Fire Strike (30/100 to Lv 3)
Heavy Strike (10/50 to Level 2)
Spinning Flame (10/50 to Level 2)
Items:
Resistant Cloak
Crystal Water
A figure in a purple cloak emerged from the crowd—their eyes locked on Rian.
"Gray Divinity?" Lina whispered, her voice tense.
"No clue," Rian said, grabbing her arm. "But we're not sticking around to find out."
Rian and Lina slipped into the market's chaos—the alley's tension still echoing behind them.
Near a stall, a grizzled Reject with battle scars sharpened a blade. Lina nudged Rian and approached—her voice light and playful.
"Hey, gramps, how do you join the Blades of Sap?" she asked, tilting her head.
The old man glanced up, his eyes wary. "A test. Fight in a secret arena. Win, and they'll take you. Lose, and you're done."
"And the rankings?" Rian asked, scanning the crowd for threats.
"National Rank starts with thousands of nobodies and climbs to Class Omega at the top," the old man said, his knife scraping rhythmically. "The best dream of global ranks—but that's a different beast."
"Some game," Lina said, her sharp half-smile masking her tension.
The old man leaned closer, his voice dropping. "The arena's on that glowing platform. Pass the test, and you're in. But watch your back—Verdaris has too many eyes."
Rian followed the old man's glance and spotted Kael in the distance, surrounded by thugs—their eyes barely hiding their intent.
Acting casual, Rian and Lina melted into the crowd—slipping through alleys and past stalls as unseen gazes pressed on them. Every shadow felt like an ambush, every stifled laugh a threat. When they finally reached the inn, relief was fleeting.
Rian flopped onto the bed, feeling something strange in his pocket. A note. He unfolded it, and the words chilled him:
Your mark dooms you. Verdaris doesn't forget. See you in the arena—if you live that long.
Craevon's voice whispered in his mind—cold as steel: Rest, kid. Verdaris shows no mercy to the weak.