The sun, a giant coin in the sky, cast long, distorted shadows as Ryel and Miel navigated the bustling streets of Aerthos City. The blend of ancient architecture and futuristic technology was even more pronounced up close. Gleaming hover-carriages zipped past horse-drawn carts laden with goods. Merchants in flowing robes haggled with customers clutching glowing data-pads. Arcane symbols flickered on shop signs next to holographic advertisements.
Ryel, his hands instinctively tucked into the pockets of his slightly oversized tunic, observed everything, his mind a whirlwind of calculations. No money at all. The harsh reality of his situation pressed in. His previous life had been simple, providing enough to survive. Here, a city of this magnitude demanded resources. What should I do? His eyes darted around, searching for opportunities, his honed senses picking up on the subtle rhythms of urban life. He spotted a notice board near a bustling market square, offering a single, minor job: cleaning out an Aether-infused sewer system.
The pay was abysmal, and the stench, even from a distance, was enough to make his nose wrinkle. He took it anyway, a temporary stopgap. The job itself was a nightmare of pulsating slime and surprisingly aggressive, mutated rats. He finished it quickly, his Diov-enhanced speed making short work of the task, but the experience was so utterly revolting that he quit immediately after collecting his paltry payment.
With his meager earnings, he bought two sweet, doughy buns from a street vendor – a rare treat for both of them. Miel, his eyes widening with childlike delight, devoured his bun with an innocent enthusiasm that made Ryel almost forget their perilous situation.
As they walked, their small hands occasionally brushing, they came upon a grand building unlike any other they had seen. It was a magnificent edifice of polished white marble and dark, gleaming wood, adorned with intricate carvings and statues of heroic figures in dynamic poses, some wielding ancient swords, others conjuring crackling spells. A large, ornate sign above the entrance proclaimed: "The Confluence of Trades and Talents."
"This looks promising," Ryel muttered, a spark of an idea igniting in his mind. He glanced at Miel, a slight grin touching his lips. "Let's go in."
The interior was even more impressive, a vast, echoing hall filled with a cacophony of voices, the clinking of coins, and the rustle of papers. Different adventurers, their armor clanking softly, mingled with well-dressed merchants and stoic laborers. The air hummed with a tangible sense of purpose and ambition. Ryel, holding Miel's hand firmly, navigated through the bustling crowd, his gaze fixed on a long counter manned by several uniformed individuals.
He approached an elderly receptionist, a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes and a meticulous braid of gray hair. "Excuse me," Ryel began, his voice clear and polite, a slight edge of determination in it. "I'd like to join the Guild."
The receptionist, without looking up from her ledger, stated in a practiced, almost bored tone, "Which Guild do you wish to register with? The Merchant Guild, the Hunters' Guild, or the Laborers' Guild?"
Ryel paused, his mind swiftly weighing the options. The Laborers' Guild seemed to offer only menial, low-paying jobs, not suited for his long-term goals. The Merchant Guild promised wealth and influence, but required a shrewd mind and a long-term investment. The Hunters' Guild offered direct combat, danger, but also quick returns and a means to explore the world. I plan to travel eventually, he thought. To uncover more about this world, to seek out information about the deities, about my own power… I might as well make money while traveling. So, a dual approach.
"I wish to join the Merchant Guild," Ryel stated, "and the Hunters' Guild part-time."
The receptionist finally looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes at his unusual request and his youthful demeanor. "A dual registration is uncommon, especially for one so… young. But permissible, given sufficient aptitude." She then looked at Miel, who stood quietly beside Ryel, his amethyst eyes taking in the grand hall with childlike wonder. "And what about him? Can he register too?"
Ryel stifled a sigh. Well, he's technically older than both of us combined, by about nine hundred years. But oh well, even if I tell her, she won't believe me. He wasn't about to explain Miel's convoluted existence to a Guild receptionist. "He's… my apprentice," Ryel improvised smoothly. "And he also wishes to register for both, if possible."
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "It's difficult to register a child, even as an apprentice. However, if he passes the Appraisal – a standard assessment for potential child recruits – he can join. We occasionally accept children from particularly gifted lineages, or those who display exceptional latent talent." She gestured to a side door. "Take him to the appraisal room, the Arcane Guild conducts those for us."
"Alright, Miel," Ryel said, patting his shoulder. "Follow her. It's just a quick test."
Miel nodded, his expression one of complete trust, and followed the receptionist's assistant into the designated room. Ryel, left alone, leaned against a nearby pillar, his eyes scanning the bustling hall. He overheard a group of burly Hunters, their armor scarred and worn, talking excitedly.
"Did you hear about the next mission?" one growled, his voice thick with anticipation. "The Whispering Tomb! Deep in the Crimson Sands Desert, beyond the Fanged Forest! An item retrieval. They say it's a relic of the Old World, worth a king's ransom!"
"Aye," another chimed in, "and the Elder Gryphon just signed off on the bounty. High-ranking stuff! Just got to deal with those damned Scorpion-kin and the ambient Aether-blight. But the payout… worth it!"
Ryel absorbed the information. Whispering Tomb, Crimson Sands Desert, Fanged Forest, Scorpion-kin… More pieces for his mental map of Aerthos. And an item retrieval mission. Always good for gaining both wealth and ancient knowledge.
A short while later, Miel emerged from the appraisal room, looking no different, but with a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of Aetherweave around him. The receptionist's assistant, a young man with wide eyes, approached Ryel, a look of awe on his face. "He… he passed. His Aether-resonance… it's off the charts. Unprecedented for his apparent age. He's officially registered for both the Merchant and Hunters' Guilds, at a preliminary rank, of course."
Ryel suppressed a knowing smirk. Of course he did. He's basically a walking Aetherweave generator. The Guild would probably never fully understand Miel's true nature, but his high appraisal score would open doors.
The receptionist, now looking at Ryel with a renewed interest, handed him two sets of thick parchment. "These are your introductory tests. For the Merchant Guild Test, you must retrieve three high-ranking trade items from separate, designated locations across the city by sunset tomorrow. One requires negotiation, another a specific trade exchange, and the third involves a timed delivery through a volatile Aether-zone. There's also a written component on trade laws and market dynamics, to be completed this evening. For the Hunters' Guild Test, you must defeat a beast of equal or greater value than a Greater Obsidian Rhino in the Guild's coliseum ring within thirty minutes, using only one skill of your choosing. That test will be held the day after tomorrow. Good luck."
Ryel nodded, his mind already formulating strategies. He glanced at Miel, a silent understanding passing between them.
That evening, they rented a modest room at a nearby inn, a small space with two simple beds. Ryel sat cross-legged on his bed, the Merchant Guild's written test spread before him, a quill scratching furiously across the parchment as he absorbed arcane trade laws and market fluctuations. Miel, meanwhile, sat quietly on his own bed, his amethyst eyes fixed on Ryel, still absorbing his new reality.
Later, as Ryel finished the last of the written test questions, he turned his attention to Miel. "Alright, Miel," he began, drawing a simple, yet intricate diagram on a spare piece of parchment. "Let's talk about your abilities." He confirmed his earlier observations. "So, you can make your hands into blades, or simply create blades. And you can instantly reconstruct your body, no matter how much damage you take. Hmm."
He then drew a precise diagram of a black katana, its blade long and slender, its hilt wrapped in an intricate pattern. "Can you make this?" he asked, holding the drawing up. "Like the blades you created earlier?"
Miel's eyes brightened, a rare flicker of genuine emotion.
He nodded vigorously, a small, excited sound escaping his lips. He concentrated, and from his outstretched hand, a shimmering black blade began to coalesce, forming with an almost liquid grace, solidifying into the exact form Ryel had drawn. It was perfect, impossibly sharp, its surface absorbing the room's dim light.
Ryel took the katana, testing its weight, its balance. It felt perfectly crafted, an extension of his will. "Excellent," he murmured, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "I'll call you… Valernar." He admired the blade, a silent testament to Miel's unique ability. So, he can create physical objects from things he's seen in person.
This was a game-changer. Not just blades, but anything Ryel could visually process and mentally reconstruct.
His thoughts then drifted to the Abyss. He had experimented cautiously, using it on one of Miel's creations – a simple knife, crafted for the purpose. He had discovered two crucial things. The first, its infinite adaptability: the Abyss, when confronted with a powerful monster or a magically potent item, would automatically adjust its dominant power to be above that which it consumed. It was not just an infinite void; it was an adaptive void, always ensuring its absolute superiority.
The second, and most terrifying, was the erasing function. When the Abyss absorbed something, two distinct things occurred: the soul and body were absolutely eliminated, utterly annihilated from existence. And then, the Abyss itself absorbed the properties of what it erased, incorporating them into its own infinite expanse, causing it to expand and grow more potent. This explained why he felt so much energy from it. He could store things within it, but he had to consciously seal his Abyss, keeping the locks firmly in place, so that the stored items wouldn't be destroyed by its consuming nature. Damn, I really want to learn a normal ability that can be like a pocket dimension, instead of using this dangerous ability. The Abyss was a nuclear option, not a convenient backpack.
He summarized his terrifying ability: "In summary, my Abyss is a destroyer, an absorber, a nullifier of all properties, a versatile storage unit for those things it doesn't consume, an amplification of my senses to perceive all forms of energy from spirits to magic, and a sealer of any threats." He sighed, a touch of weary awe in his voice. "Well, that's a lot put into one… thing."
And for Miel, Ryel now understood: "Plus, for Miel, it's that he changes the property of energy to be materialized. Pure Aetherweave, pure energy, into physical form. Fascinating."
"Well, let's go to sleep, Miel," Ryel said, extinguishing the flickering lantern. The room plunged into darkness.
Miel, ever the child, was already dozing off, a faint smile on his face, the comfort of companionship a new and welcome sensation.
The next morning, Ryel was a figure of quiet intensity at the Merchant Guild's test commencement point. The air buzzed with nervous energy from dozens of other applicants, many older and seemingly more experienced. "Begin!" a Guild Master's booming voice announced.
Ryel moved with purpose, his Diov ability subtly active, enhancing his speed and awareness. He navigated the city's labyrinthine streets with ease, his mind a detailed map. He kept the Abyss sealed, his focus entirely on the tasks at hand.
One applicant, a hulking man with a booming laugh and an insufferable air of arrogance, elbowed past him. "Out of the way, kid! Don't want you slowing down the real pros!" Ryel merely stepped aside, an unreadable expression on his face. The man, seemingly convinced of his own superiority, swaggered off.
Ryel's strategy was simple: tackle the hardest retrieval first. It involved navigating the treacherous Aether-flux District, an area notorious for its volatile magical currents that could disorient and even harm unprepared individuals. Using his enhanced senses, Ryel effortlessly navigated the fluctuating Aetherweave, his movements a blur, arriving at the designated hidden merchant long before anyone else. He smoothly negotiated the trade, a rare Wyvern Scale for a coded message, his calm demeanor and quick wit surprising the grizzled vendor.
He then moved to the second location, which required a complex bartering chain. He traded a precisely balanced blend of rare herbs he'd collected in the forest for an ancient artifact, then that artifact for a highly sought-after Sky-Metal Ingot. His mind worked like a precision machine, calculating values, anticipating counter-offers, and always remaining one step ahead of the competition. He even saw the arrogant man from earlier struggling, having barely acquired his first item, clearly out of his depth. Ryel subtly offered a piece of advice to a bewildered bystander, watching with faint amusement as it inadvertently sabotaged the arrogant man's next negotiation.
As dusk began to settle, casting long shadows across the city, Ryel, with all three high-ranking items secured, rushed back to the Guild. He burst through the doors just as the clock tower began to chime, signaling the closing of registration.
He was the only one to bring all three items, and without a single wound. The Guild Master, a stern-faced woman, looked at him with an expression of grudging respect. "Impressive, young one. Very impressive." He was handed his Merchant Guild card, officially a Journeyman Trader.
The next day, Ryel stood in the center of the Guild's coliseum, a circular arena designed for combat trials. His Hunters' Guild test. Facing him was a Greater Obsidian Rhino, a hulking beast of solidified dark earth and sharp, obsidian horns, its hide as tough as reinforced steel.
Its eyes glowed with malevolent Aetherweave. The task: defeat it within thirty minutes, using only one skill.
"Begin!" the invigilator's voice boomed.
Ryel chose his skill: Swordsmanship. He drew Valernar, the black katana Miel had crafted for him, the blade a silent promise of deadly grace. The Rhino charged, a thunderous rumble across the arena floor, its horns aimed directly at Ryel.
He moved. Not with brute force, but with the fluid elegance of water. Valernar became an extension of his will, a dancing shadow. He didn't try to meet the Rhino's charge head-on. Instead, he flowed around it, a series of lightning-fast dodges and feints, each movement conserving energy.
The Rhino, massive and powerful, was also surprisingly fast, its charges creating tremors in the ground. Ryel used its momentum against it. He waited for openings, small vulnerable points in its obsidian hide, the soft underbelly, the joints.
He struck. Not with heavy, chopping blows, but with precise, surgical slashes. Valernar, imbued with the subtle enhancement of Diov, carved lines into the Rhino's tough hide, not deep wounds, but strategic cuts designed to limit its movement. He feinted left, drawing a clumsy charge, then pivoted, sliding along the Rhino's flank. He slashed at its legs, not to sever, but to disrupt its balance, forcing it to stumble.
The Rhino roared in frustration, its Aether-infused horns glowing brighter, but Ryel was too quick, too elusive. He was a phantom, dancing just beyond its reach.
The minutes ticked by. Sweat beaded on Ryel's brow, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The Rhino, now enraged, unleashed blasts of concentrated Aetherweave from its horns, turning parts of the arena floor into molten slag. Ryel dodged, the searing heat brushing against his skin, a stark reminder of the danger. He saw his opening: a brief moment of vulnerability as the Rhino prepared another Aether blast, its head tilted slightly, exposing a vulnerable point just behind its thick neck.
With a final, desperate surge of Diov, Ryel launched himself forward, a black blur. He slid beneath the Rhino's reaching horn, thrusting Valernar upwards with all his strength. The blade, impossibly sharp, pierced the Rhino's tough hide, finding the vulnerable connection point between its skull and spine. A shudder ran through the massive beast. Its glow flickered, then dimmed. It crumpled, a heavy thud echoing through the coliseum.
The invigilator checked his chrono. "Thirty minutes, exactly! Unbelievable!" He looked at Ryel with wide, impressed eyes. "You… you've passed. With extraordinary skill, young man." He handed Ryel his Hunters' Guild card, now officially a Seasoned Hunter.
Ryel, exhausted but triumphant, walked out of the Guild hall, Miel waiting patiently outside. As they made their way back to the inn, Ryel passed through a more vibrant, neon-lit district of the city. Red and purple lights glowed from buildings, and the rhythmic thump of exotic music drifted through the air. This was the Twilight District, known for its… less savory entertainment.
Ryel's cheeks flushed a faint red as he caught glimpses of scantily clad figures enticing passersby. Should I… get in? The thought was fleeting, dismissed almost as quickly as it arose. He had more pressing matters.
Then, he caught a glimpse of a notice letter tacked to a dimly lit post, separate from the usual Guild postings. It was a single sheet of parchment, written in elegant script, and marked with a unique, unidentifiable sigil. It read: "Personal Quest: Seeking Discreet, Capable Hunter for Item Retrieval. High Remuneration. Inquire within at The Obsidian Whisper."
A personal quest, Ryel mused. These were different from Guild-posted missions.
Guild quests were standardized, with fixed payouts. Personal quests, on the other hand, were posted directly by individuals or organizations, often for sensitive or highly specialized tasks, with the remuneration negotiated directly with the requester.
They often paid significantly more, if you proved your worth. And the requester seemed pretty solid, judging by the elegant script and the unique sigil.
He felt a pull, a strange sense of destiny. The Obsidian Whisper. It sounded like a place where secrets resided. He glanced at Miel, then back at the sign. His current funds were dwindling rapidly. This could be his next big break.
He found the establishment easily enough. It was a seemingly innocuous building, tucked away in a quiet, shadowed alley, devoid of the garish lights of the Twilight District. No grand sign, no advertising. Just a single, unadorned obsidian door. Ryel pushed it open.
The air inside was cool, carrying the faint scent of old paper and dust. He stepped into what appeared to be a vast, sprawling library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, laden with countless volumes of every size and binding, stretched into the gloom, disappearing into unseen corners. Ladders on wheels stood ready for readers to reach the highest shelves. It was a sanctuary of knowledge, a labyrinth of lore.
"hello?" Ryel called out, his voice echoing softly in the immense space. He felt a thrill of discovery. He was surrounded by untold information. He walked deeper, his eyes scanning the titles, the spines of forgotten tales and ancient treatises. He reached out, pulling a heavy, leather-bound tome from a shelf. Its pages were yellowed, its script elegant but unreadable to his modern eyes. As he traced a finger over the strange symbols, a deep, resonant voice spoke from directly behind him.
"Well, what is a young fellow like you doing in my library… at night?"
Ryel stiffened, his senses screaming. He had not heard this man approach. He hadn't sensed his presence until the moment he spoke. He slowly turned, his gaze meeting the man's. He was tall, with a straight, almost impossibly rigid posture.
His face was unlined, youthful, yet his eyes held an ancient, knowing depth, like pools of infinite wisdom. He wore simple, dark robes that seemed to absorb the ambient light.
Ryel could feel it. The energy emanating from this man. It was potent, immensely so, yet so perfectly controlled, so subtly suppressed, that it was almost imperceptible. Like a dormant volcano, its power immense but quiescent. Ryel's mind, amplified by the Abyss, registered its true nature. This man… he is not normal. A shiver of something akin to excitement ran down his spine. This was a being of immense power, perhaps even one of the 'deities' he'd heard about, or something far older. The mysterious quest, the vast library, the hidden power – his journey was about to take another, far more intriguing turn. The questions of this world, of his own existence, seemed to deepen with every step.