Asheron.
The name rolled in Kaen's mind as he walked alongside Riven, boots crunching against the gravel road leading to the town's towering gates. Built into a crescent of mountains, Asheron looked more like a fortress than a town — with spires, guards, and looming towers that cast long shadows in the fading dusk. Torches flickered in iron sconces along the walls. It was quiet, but not asleep.
Riven led without hesitation, waving briefly at the guards who gave her a nod of recognition. Kaen, on the other hand, received nothing but stares — cautious, assessing, the kind you give a stranger whose silence feels too heavy.
Inside, the streets of Asheron were narrow and winding, lined with stone houses and shops still open for the night crowd. Kaen kept his hood low. The hell runes and the red-tinted mark on his forearm were hidden beneath his sleeves, but he still felt like he was glowing — like people could somehow see what he really was. What he wasn't.
"Home sweet inn," Riven announced cheerfully, turning a corner and stopping outside a building with a rusted sign swinging in the wind — The Hollow Hearth. "Don't mind the name. Cozy beds, decent food, and owners who don't ask questions."
Kaen didn't say much. He hadn't since they left the ruins of his home.
Inside, a warm fire flickered in the hearth and the scent of stew drifted from the kitchen. Riven led him upstairs without waiting, stopping outside a room and knocking twice.
"Guys?" she called. "Don't freak out, I brought someone."
The door creaked open.
A massive figure filled the frame — broad-chested, granite-skinned, and wearing armor that looked like it weighed more than Kaen. His jaw was square, nose broken more than once, and his expression said he trusted no one.
"This is Juno," Riven said, patting the man's arm like he was a tree trunk. "Earth magic. Tank. Probably the only reason we're not dead."
Juno crossed his arms. "Who's the kid?"
"Name's… Kaen," he said after a pause, still not used to the new name like a second skin that hadn't settled yet.
"And this," Riven continued, stepping aside, "is Maera."
The elf woman standing behind Juno had sharp green eyes and pale, almost silver hair braided down one shoulder. Her frame was slender, elegant — but the glint in her eyes was anything but soft.
"Wind magic and healing," Riven said proudly. "She keeps our limbs attached and helps us fly away when things go south."
Maera gave a polite nod, but her gaze lingered on Kaen. Not hostile. Not friendly. Just curious. The kind of look people give when they know you're hiding something.
"So where'd you find him?" Maera asked, already turning to Riven.
"Near the old cursed ruins," Riven replied. "Didn't even know someone lived there."
"I didn't," Kaen interjected. "Not anymore."
Maera raised a brow but said nothing more.
"Anyway," Riven cut in. "I'm taking him to the guild tomorrow. He wants to register. Might be useful."
"Does he even have a magic class?" Juno asked.
"I do," Kaen replied quietly. "Fire user."
He didn't know why he said it. Maybe because it was easier. Because it was believable. Because fire was still something people didn't flinch away from. But the red mist from Hell, the searing memory of lava… it had felt close enough.
"Fire, huh?" Juno grunted. "We'll see."
Kaen tried not to react. They didn't believe him. But no one would.
Riven clapped her hands. "Alright, enough interrogation. Let him breathe. I'll take him in first thing."
⸻
Morning came fast in Asheron. The guild hall towered at the town's center — a massive stone-and-metal building with banners fluttering on either side. Inside, it was bustling with noise, clashing weapons, bickering adventurers, and the occasional flash of magic.
Kaen walked beside Riven, his body tense. The stares were sharper here. Adventurers — scarred, armored, tattooed, monstrous — all turned to look. Some laughed. Some ignored him. But many just watched. Like they sensed something off.
He hated it. But he said nothing.
They approached the front counter where a woman stood organizing stacks of scrolls. She was tall, olive-skinned, with short black hair and a piercing gaze. Her nameplate read: Neriah.
"Morning, Riven," she said. "You're early."
"Need to get him registered," Riven said, motioning to Kaen. "Evaluation and a guild card."
Neriah's gaze flicked over Kaen, pausing just a bit too long on his eyes. Then she nodded.
"I assume you're his sponsor?"
"Yup. I'm vouching."
Kaen blinked. "Wait… you're A-rank?"
Riven shrugged. "Didn't I mention?"
"No."
"Oops."
Neriah smirked. "With Riven's recommendation, you're exempt from the written and combat tests. You'll go straight to magical evaluation."
Kaen swallowed. "Magical… what now?"
"Mana resonance," Riven explained. "There's a relic. It draws out your magic — shows your elemental affinity and potential strength. The brighter the orb glows, the stronger your mana pool. Element type is determined by color. Your rank is then set from D to SS."
"What if someone's… stronger than SS?" Kaen asked.
Neriah raised an eyebrow. "Then they probably stopped being human a long time ago. That hasn't happened since the War of Divinity. Let's hope we don't see that again."
Kaen said nothing. His hands itched.
"Follow me," Neriah said, moving toward a side corridor.
They followed her through winding stone halls until she stopped outside a heavy door etched with glowing runes.
"This is it," she said, pushing it open.
Inside, the room was circular, walls inlaid with faintly glowing glyphs. At its center hovered a massive glass orb, floating above a pedestal of black stone. Runes spiraled around it like veins.
"This is the Orb of Elemental Truth," Neriah said. "Step forward. Place your hand on it. Don't resist. Let your mana flow."
Kaen nodded once.
He stepped forward.
The runes pulsed as he neared. The orb shimmered faintly, as though aware of his presence.
Kaen raised his hand… and reached out.