In a world where power is everything, survival has a price. For Kael, that price is measured in blood and desperate gambles.
Introduction: A Shattered World
Morning mist rose from the ruins of old Valdris. This metropolis had once shone as an architectural jewel before the first Fractures appeared. Now, the city sprawled in concentric circles around the fortified Central District. There, towers of glass and steel stood alongside strange structures built from impossible materials brought back from the depths of the dungeons. The portals shimmered like gaping scars in the fabric of reality, their violet contours pulsing with the rhythm of a diseased heart.
In streets paved with runic stones, mana floated like an invisible but omnipresent dust, creating miniature auroras in the humid air. Fusion-crystal streetlamps cast a bluish light that never quite managed to banish the shadows. It was as if the city itself kept the stigmas of that night in the year 2000 when everything changed. The Awakened strolled with the natural confidence of those who master forces beyond understanding. Their rank badges gleamed on their guild uniforms—a ruthless hierarchy etched in metal and flesh.
Here, in the outer districts of Valdris, the un-Awakened scraped by, taking the jobs the powerful disdained. Dilapidated buildings rose like monuments to inequality. Their facades were eaten away by mana residue that seeped into every crack and poorly sealed joint. In the distance, alarm sirens wailed regularly, signaling the opening of a new portal or the escape of a creature from the depths. This had become the rhythm of the new era: fear, hope, and death, intertwined in a macabre dance that only the strongest could claim to control.
Kael's Daily Life
In a cramped apartment in Sector F, Kael Morse woke with a start, his forehead damp with cold sweat. The digital clock read 5:43 AM. Already, the first rays of sunlight filtered through patched curtains. Beside him, in the twin bed that occupied half of their single living space, his younger brother Liam breathed with difficulty. His chest rose in irregular, jerky movements.
Manic Depletion Syndrome. It was a clinical medical name for the hell Liam had lived every day for three years. Instead of naturally absorbing ambient mana like every human being since the Awakening, his body rejected it violently. This created spasms, fevers, and a chronic weakness that kept him bedridden several days a week. The doctors at Central Hospital had been clear: without daily injections of stabilizing serum, Liam would not survive the year.
Kael stood up cautiously. His knees cracked like those of a sixty-year-old man, even though he was only twenty-one. His hands trembled slightly, a lingering effect of the many injuries accumulated during his missions as a porter in F and E-rank dungeons. He was not Awakened. He had no particular talent and no supernatural ability that could pull him out of this spiral of poverty. He possessed only an ordinary, fragile body that others used as expendable cannon fodder.
He prepared breakfast with the meager provisions they had left: synthetic cereals enriched with basic nutrients and a milk substitute that tasted like wet cardboard. Liam woke up a few minutes later. His faded blue eyes searched for his big brother with a blind trust that tightened Kael's heart like a vice.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Kael asked. He sat on the edge of the bed and instinctively placed his hand on Liam's forehead to check his temperature.
"I'm... better than yesterday," Liam lied with a forced smile. At fourteen, he already possessed the terrible maturity of children who grow up too fast in the face of adversity.
Kael knew he was lying. He saw it in the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his skin, which contrasted with the manic light filtering through the window. But he said nothing. He simply ruffled the boy's hair with clumsy tenderness.
Their morning routine was set like clockwork: serum injection, breakfast, and checking the household finances on the sputtering bank terminal. The displayed balance made Kael grimace: 847 credits. This was enough to last two more weeks, maybe three if they rationed even further. Liam's manic dialysis sessions cost 200 credits a week, and that was with the reduced rates of the Sector D community clinic.
The Call of Despair
Kael's communicator vibrated at exactly 7:15 AM. It was a message from Mara Konstantin, the coordinator for the Silver Wolf Guild. This C-rank organization occasionally accepted his services when they were desperately short on staff.
"Urgent mission. E-rank dungeon detected Sector B-3. Team incomplete. Need porter. 300 credits. Departure 8:30 AM. Confirm immediately. - M.K."
Kael stared at the screen for several long seconds, his stomach knotting. 300 credits was an enormous sum for him, nearly two weeks of his normal salary. But urgent missions usually meant something had gone wrong. It meant the usual Awakened had refused or were unavailable. Essentially, it meant only he was desperate enough to accept.
He looked at Liam, who had fallen back asleep, curled up under the thermal blanket. He made his decision. His fingers typed the reply before his brain had time to formulate a rational objection.
"Confirmed. I'll be there on time. - K.M."
Preparation was quick and methodical. Kael put on his makeshift gear: a reinforced suit salvaged from a military thrift store, worn but sturdy combat boots, and his waterproof backpack stuffed with first-aid gear, ropes, and emergency rations. He carried no weapon. He could not afford a decent one, and his role was limited to carrying equipment and gathering precious materials the Awakened deigned to leave him.
Before leaving, he left a note for Liam with the usual instructions and emergency numbers. His little brother would likely sleep until noon. This would give him time to return... if he returned.
That thought hit him like a cold slap. In his previous missions, he always had a small, reassuring voice whispering that he was cautious enough and discreet enough to make it out. Today, that voice was silent. A dull premonition replaced it, like the distant rumble of an approaching storm.
He kissed the forehead of the sleeping Liam and whispered, "I'll be back soon, little brother. Hang in there."
Toward the Unknown
The transport station to Sector 5 was already buzzing with activity despite the early hour. Kael boarded the metro-pod speeding toward the Central District, squeezed between office workers in suits and laborers heading to reconstruction sites. No one paid him any attention. In this world, invisibility was sometimes the best protection.
Thirty minutes later, he stepped out in front of the imposing Silver Wolf Guild complex. It was a structure of black glass and brushed steel that rose fifteen stories high. High-ranking Awakened entered and exited with the confident stride of those who know their simple presence can change the course of a battle. Kael tightened the straps of his bag and took a deep breath.
Somewhere in the bowels of Valdris, a portal had just opened into the unknown. There were creatures likely hungry for human flesh, deadly traps, and mysteries that only the bravest or most desperate dared to face. Kael definitely belonged to the second category.
He pushed open the glass doors, knowing he might be crossing the threshold of his final mission. But 300 credits meant Liam's survival for two more weeks. For that, Kael Morse was ready to defy hell itself.