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Chapter 1 - DREAMER'S SQUARE

Year: 2033 | City: Alberto

Skyscrapers pierced the obsidian sky like jagged spears of glass and steel, shimmering with the pulse of neon veins—blue, violet, and pink rippling along the edges. Hovercars floated above the boulevards, engines humming like lullabies of progress. Yet, beneath this glittering canopy, the streets bore scars from a darker time—fissures still glowing faintly from the infernal magic of past demon incursions.

Alberto, the heart of a reborn world, stood suspended between fear and brilliance.

Little glowing motes drifted through the air like fireflies—Spirits. Not all were visible to the common eye, but they lingered. Watching. Choosing.

A siren wailed in the distance, fading into the undercurrent of the city's buzz. From holographic billboards selling enchanted armor to street vendors hawking bracelets made of demon claws, the air was a mosaic of magic and humanity. Patrol drones soared through the gaps between towers, scanning for anomalies.

It was in the city's oldest square, a sunken platform lined with Spirit crystals and ancient runes, that the people had gathered tonight.

In the center stood a boy—Sam Robbin.

Fifteen years old, silver hair tousled by the breeze, and blue-green eyes wide like a child glimpsing the heavens. His coat was deep blue, stitched with glowing patterns he never quite understood, symbols that pulsed when he felt strong emotions.

Tonight, they shimmered.

The crowd murmured like a rising tide. Gasps echoed. Whispers formed waves of awe.

Kiro, Sam's best friend, nudged him sharply. "Hey Sam! Look at Captain Morgan!"

Sam followed his pointing finger. A towering figure strode into the square, his armor dark silver etched with glyphs, a shadowy Spirit coiled like smoke around his shoulders. In his hand—jagged and menacing—a blackened demon tooth throbbed with leftover energy.

"That's... a Wolf Tier 5," Sam whispered, his voice shaking. "A wolf demon at tier five."

Kiro's eyes shone. "He's holding its tooth. That means—"

"He killed it himself," Ayana's voice interrupted. Sam turned to see her stepping between them. Her bright eyes caught the light, and a teasing smirk played on her lips. "That thing will sell for a fortune."

Sam laughed. "Ayana! You made it."

"Of course I did. Wouldn't miss seeing legends walk," she replied, flicking her long braid behind her shoulder.

"Yeah," Kiro chimed in. "But let's be real. That thing's worth more than both of our houses combined."

Sam wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on Captain Morgan, every heartbeat louder than the last. The captain stopped mid-square, raised the demonic fang, and the crowd burst into cheers.

Sam's breath caught.

"One day," he said quietly, "I'll be fighting beside him."

Ayana's smile faded, her tone sobering. "Sam, Captain Morgan is a Noble. You know that, right? He was chosen from birth. We... we're not."

Her words sliced deeper than she knew. The divide between Nobles and Commoners was not just about blood—it was about destiny.

Sam clenched his fists. The glowing lines on his coat pulsed. "Then I'll rewrite my destiny. Spirit or not. Rank or not. I'll get there."

Kiro's eyes gleamed with belief. Ayana said nothing, but her fingers brushed Sam's sleeve briefly. A silent vote of confidence.

A second wave of applause rose.

Emerging from behind the armored column was Meela—the Flame Seraph.

Barely twenty, hair like wildfire and a Fire Spirit coiling beside her in elegant arcs, Meela was raw power and grace. Her armor shimmered with heat. She smiled and waved—a touch of warmth in a world burned by fear.

Her hovercar touched down, sleek and dragon-winged. She stepped in, vanishing into the sky.

"Did you see that?" Kiro gasped. "She's incredible."

"She's the youngest to ever command a squad," Ayana whispered.

"Just 2 days left," Kiro grinned. "Two days, and I'll summon my Spirit. Then I'll slay demons, too."

Trying to mimic Meela's wave, Kiro stepped forward dramatically—then tripped on a crack in the stone. With a flail and a thud, he face-planted to the ground.

Dust puffed. Silence. Then laughter.

Sam's laugh was a beacon against the evening's weight. Ayana chuckled, helping Kiro up, brushing his shoulders.

"Hero of the Square," she teased.

Kiro shrugged. "Better fall now than mid-battle."

Sam smiled, eyes drifting back to the fading hovercar trail.

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