The sun bled across the rusted rooftops of Virelow Village, small, barren settlement where smoke rose from cracked chimneys and children played barefoot in the dust, under Virellen.
Hay adjusted his coat collar, muttering under his breath.
>
They left the village an hour later. The houses of Virelow faded behind them—gray wood, cracked walls, forgotten lives.
Hay shook his head.
> "If only the Houses and Elders cared more about the people… Disgusting. All those councils sitting on their golden chairs while villages rot."
The recruiter tapped his wristband, and a hovercraft hummed to life beside them. It was a sleek, black vehicle—metal polished to mirror brightness, sigils glowing along its wings.
> "It's expensive," Hay admitted as they boarded, "but by the time I get you enrolled, I'll be paid. The better your talent, the bigger my cut. Works the same for all recruiters."
Zerathos didn't respond. He sat quietly by the window, watching the dead farmlands blur into the horizon.
---
The City Edge — "Gravemont Tailorworks"
The hovercar landed in front of a tall glass shop etched with the insignia of a needle piercing a crest—a House Gravemont branch.
"Alright, let's get you cleaned up," Hay said, pushing open the door.
> "Welcome, sir. How may I help you?"
"Get the boy some clothes," Hay replied, sliding a credit chip across the counter.
The tailor studied Zerathos for a long moment, then sighed.
> "We'll need to custom-fit him. Give us three days."
---
Three days later…
> "That took forever," Hay groaned. "Thank the Vile they had a Gravemont member in town, or it'd have taken months. Are you really that small?"
He circled Zerathos like an inspector, shaking his head. "Yep, you are. And with that body, you're not gonna last long at the academy."
Zerathos looked down.
> "Thank you," he murmured.
Hay blinked, surprised. "Huh. For a second, I thought you couldn't speak."
He smirked. "Alright, next stop—food. You'll need it."
The scent of spice and roasted meat filled the air. Hay ordered enough for three people while Zerathos ate in silence, barely chewing before swallowing.
> "You eat like someone who hasn't in days," Hay muttered.
"...Weeks," Zerathos replied quietly.
Hay's expression softened—just a little. "Figures."
Minutes later
As they stepped out of the restaurant, three men blocked their path—local thugs with jagged tattoos and cheap iron gauntlets.
> "Hey old man," one sneered. "That's an expensive hovercar you got there. Hand it over."
Hay chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "I've been itching for some action."
In a blur, he was gone.
The first thug flew backward before even realizing he'd been hit. The second swung wildly, only for Hay to appear behind him, palm glowing faintly red. A shockwave blasted the man through a wall. The last one hesitated, trembling—then bolted.
Zerathos stared, wide-eyed. He could still feel the air vibrating from the blows.
Hay brushed off his hands.
> "What? You've never seen someone beat people up before?"
Zerathos shook his head slowly, still in awe.
Hay smirked. "Ah, right. My power level, you're wondering?"
He raised his wristband—the digits pulsed faintly:
[Essence Stage: Exalted Master | Weapon Form: Third]
> "Now you know why I'm not scared of idiots like that. Anyway—" he glanced up at the twin moons rising over the road,
"—we've got a four-hour ride to the Obsidian Nexus Academy. You'd better get used to long trips, kid."
The hovercar lifted off once more, slicing through the night sky—its shadow stretching over the forgotten lands below.