A vast desert, an endless ocean of sand, bled into a silent sea. That was the landscape of Raven's dream.
The world ended on a razor's edge. On one side, a great, unending desert of shifting amber dunes stretched toward a hazy, sun-scorched horizon. The land was cracked and baked, a silent monument to thirst. On the other, the sea. It was a vast, glittering expanse of turquoise and sapphire, its waves lapping gently against the shore with a whisper that promised endless, cool relief.
At this impossible meeting of water and sand, a lonesome, dark, domed shrine stood tall against the raging winds by the beach. The swirling patterns of constellations and celestial symbols were intricately carved on the shrine's weathered stone walls. The ebb and flow of the tide had smoothed their bases; Raven's view changed in an instant.
The world was a canvas of endless rippling gold, an ocean of sand stretching to a hazy horizon where the sun beat down like a hammer. A silence so profound it seemed to hum filled the air, broken only by the rhythmic scuff of hooves and the sigh of the wind.
At the heart of this gilded expanse moved a single, dark line—a caravan. The caravan was less of a journey and more of a slow, moving prison. It cut a jagged line across the desert's smooth, golden skin, a grim procession of men and women. The criminals, shackled wrist to wrist, stumbled through the sand, their chains a constant, mournful clatter that was swallowed by the vast, indifferent silence of the dunes. Their vacant eyes stared at the scuffed backs of the person in front of them, and dust caked their faces, etching them with a weary, hopeless defeat.
The guards mounted on their camels were a stark contrast. They sat tall and vigilant, their cloaks flapping in the wind, their faces hidden behind dark scarves. They were the masters of this sun-scorched domain. The camels themselves seemed to share in the grim duty, their powerful legs moving with a tireless, unhurried rhythm, their shadows stretching long and thin across the sand like skeletal fingers.
"[Contender! Welcome to the Orbit. Prepare for your First Trial...]"
"Huh... what is this?"
Step!
A dull ache was radiating through Raven's burnt feet as he was sweating from the heat. His threadbare tunic was nearly useless against the hot sand. His wrists were the major source of agony: badly hurt by the metal shackles, they sent a burning pain every time the hot metal touched his wrist.
"What kind of bad luck is this?"
Raven looked up and down, noticing a long chain winding up the dune, with dozens and dozens of hollow-eyed people—criminals just like him—shackled to it at small intervals. Ahead of him, a woman in a sweat-soaked robe was walking with a measured gait. Behind him, a noble-looking man, whose finely tailored clothes belied his inner turmoil, muttered a string of curses that were sharp and low, in a language that Raven didn't understand, but somehow still did. From time to time, armed guards in cloaks would pass by, giving the criminals menacing looks.
No matter how you looked at it, the situation was dire.
Raven wasn't panicking; he was just baffled. True, these circumstances were not like what the First Trials were supposed to be. Usually, freshly chosen contenders were thrust into a situation that granted them significant control. They'd join the ranks of either the elite or the warrior classes, with access to plenty of weapons to tackle any conflicts.
Starting as a criminal, shackled and with a body that could suffer a heatstroke anytime, this was far from ideal.
However, the Trial was as much about challenge as it was about balance. As the police officer said, "The Orbit sets up trials, not executions." Raven was pretty sure that to counter this situation, it would give him a Powerful Prism.
"How should I do this then?"
Remembering popular webtoons and novels he used to read, Raven concentrated and thought about words like "status window," "system," and "information." Indeed, as soon as he focused, runes that pulsed with a faint, internal light appeared in front of him. Once again, although he did not know this language, the meaning behind it was clear.
He quickly found the rune describing his Prism... and, finally, crashed out.
"How the fuck am I supposed to survive with this!?"
Name: Raven Scott.
Title : ---
Rank: Contender.
Neula Core: Stargazer.
Artifacts: ---
Attributes: [Otherworlder], [Mark of Infinity], [Eye of Stars].
Prism: [Shrine Thief].
Prism Description: [Thief is a useless cretin who has a single ability called theft. A shrine thief is just the same, only far more uncommon..]
Innate Ability: [Theft]
Almost crashing out again, Raven stared at the runes, trying to calm himself, thinking Theft could be a wonderful ability. Surely, he couldn't be that unlucky... right?
"Theft is a broad term. Maybe I can steal abilities."
As soon as this thought appeared in his mind, he lost the rhythm of his steps and stumbled, pulling the chain down with his weight. Immediately, the noble guy behind him screamed:
"Bastard! Watch where you're walking!"
Raven hurriedly dismissed the runes, which were only visible to him, and tried to recover his balance. A moment later, he was once again walking steadily. However, not before his hand reflexively tugged on the chain.
"If not for those betrayers, I would have you executed."
The woman with a sweat-soaked robe in front of Raven chuckled without turning her head.
"Why bark like nobles? You are a criminal, not a noble anymore."
The noble criminal retorted, "Shut up, you witch!"
Raven shook his head and concentrated on not falling again. "What a charming couple."
Suddenly, a third voice joined the conversation from somewhere further up. This one sounded gentle and intelligent.
"I would advise you against harming the young man."
"Why is that?"
Raven turned his head slightly, listening.
"Have you not seen the markings on his face? He is a blasphemer. I suspect he committed blasphemy against the shrines of constellations and got handed over to this criminal caravan."
The witch cast a glance back and smiled at Raven. "You didn't get cursed by the constellations?"
Raven didn't respond, only cast her a glance. "How would I know? I just arrived here."
A young guard riding a camel stopped their conversation. Clad in a simple white cloak, armed with a whip and a short sword, he looked dignified. To Raven's irritation, the asshole was really pretty, too. If this were a K-drama, the soldier would definitely be a male lead.
The young guard was looking at Raven and said in a gentle and intelligent voice, "Why did you blaspheme the constellations?"
Raven didn't know what to say; it seemed the constellations were highly regarded in this trial.
"I didn't blaspheme the constellations."
The young guard frowned. "Then why did the priest mark your face?"
Raven decided to play dumb. "I don't know."
A whip cracked in the air, and suddenly Raven was in a world of pain. He stumbled once again, pulling the chain, causing the noble criminal to curse under his breath.
He heard the young guard speak with a indifference tone: "May the constellations forgive this blasphemer with this punishment."
The young guard went ahead on his camel.
Raven turned his head and glanced in the direction of the young guard, and muttered to himself, "I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I swear, I will find a way to kill you."