In the opulent garden, Rivalsh shot out, clearly annoyed as Eltries kept pushing his buttons. Frustrated, he glanced at the board and noticed several pieces working against him. The taunting was getting to him, making it hard to concentrate. In a fit of irritation, he flung the pieces off the board, Eltries muttering, "How unruly." As Rivalsh turned to leave, he called out, "Your back is wide open." Rivalsh shot him a final glare, but Eltries calmly smiled in response, Rivalsh teleported away disappearing into thin air.
Back in his domain, Rivalsh returned to his office, where he was met by his scout, a woman with striking orange hair, dressed in a white uniform and a green cape. She knelt down to deliver a brief report on what had happened during his absence. His eyes widened in disbelief as he rushed to the hidden chamber. What he found there was chaos, shards of glass scattered everywhere, soaked floor, broken capsules dripping, and tubes hanging loosely. His face twisted in pure rage as he shouted, "Eltries!"
In a grim and desolate place, a vast wasteland sprawled out, filled with a suffocating air and a complete lack of life that made it utterly uninhabitable. Soren lay there, seemingly lifeless in a crater, his exoskeleton pieces scattered around him from the impact. Then, a heartbeat, weak at first, but gradually growing stronger. His finger twitched, and as he regained consciousness, he sat up and glanced around, feeling a wave of unease wash over him. A salty taste filled his mouth, and before he knew it, he was vomiting blood. As he coughed up the remnants of his ordeal, Vixra'al spoke to him, explaining that they were alive thanks to his resilient body and her ability to morph. However, she had drained too much energy and would need time to recover, urging him to take it easy while they regained their strength.
Soren pulled himself out of the crater, only to find himself in a place that felt utterly alien. This wasn't the world he once knew, and a wave of regret washed over him as he reflected on how much had changed over the years. He trudged through the barren landscape, lacking any clear direction, just a flicker of hope that he might stumble upon a safe spot to rest. Each step felt like a burden on his weary body, and he stumbled often, but his spirit held strong. Eventually, he collapsed onto the damp ground, gazing up at the dust-covered sky, losing track of time. He tried to push himself up again, but then, clink, out of his pocket fell Fran's toy gun, stirring emotions within him like the haze surrounding them. He reached for it, but just then, a figure emerged from the storm, a man clad in a spiky gas mask and jagged leather armor, then everything went dark.
When he finally came to, Soren found himself locked in a cage, disoriented and in a strange place. He was tucked away in a corner of a bustling street filled with vendors, where the air was thick with the sounds of people hawking their wares and horses pulling carts. Ropes bound him tightly, his eyes covered and beside him sat a portly man dressed in an old suit, complete with a monocle, a curled mustache, and a fancy hat, nervously grinding his nails. Soren longed to ask where he was, but the merchant seemed indifferent to his whimpers. "Relax, kid. You're in Leuvash. Soon enough, someone will come along to buy you, so just sit tight for now," the man advised. Vixra'al, his unseen companion, urged him to heed the old man's words, reminding him that the chaotic scene around them, filled with troublemaking Crosents, wouldn't help his situation. So, Soren took a deep breath and waited.
Hours passed until an elderly lady in a tattered tunic ambled by, her gaze fixed on him. The merchant tried to entice her with his goods, but her attention was solely on Soren. Her face was unnaturally pale, and half of it was marred by stitches on her lips. Without uttering a word, she pointed at Soren, and the deal was struck in an instant. Her payment wasn't in coins but in shimmering Aether crystals. The merchant's eyes lit up with excitement as he quickly handed Soren over, loading him into a cart while the horse began to pull them away.
Inside the dimly lit room, the old lady's lackey dropped Soren's on a cold stone floor. The old woman pulled out a scroll from her storage and grabbed a paintbrush, dipping it into a red liquid that served as ink. She began to apply it to the scroll, and as she stepped closer to him, she started chanting. Soren turned to Vixra'al, asking if she recognized what was happening. She explained that the old lady was performing a summoning ritual, treating Soren as a vessel. Hearing this, Soren started to panic, but Vixra'al reassured him, insisting that her powers were far greater than the entity the old lady was about to summon.
As the old lady completed the ritual, the text on the parchment began to glow, and she invoked a spell, "I summon thee, come forth champion of old!" But suddenly, the parchment caught fire and disintegrated into ashes. The old lady turned to Soren and exclaimed, "You!" Confused, Vixra'al clarified that he must have been caught in the ritual. "You've already been a vessel, haven't you?" she said, placing her palm on Soren's face and gazing into his eyes. Her eyes, though aged, sparkled with an unsettling desire as she peered deeper into his soul.
In an instant, everything went dark, and the old lady's consciousness plunged into a vast pit filled with filth and an endless sea of corpses. As she looked closer, she saw that the corpses were mutated monsters, stirring to life and dragging her down by her arms, pulling her deeper into the abyss. The old lady fell to her knees, gasping, and vomited. She quickly cut his bindings and urgently urged Soren to get out of her place right away, gesturing toward the door.
Soren rushed out the door, his heart racing as he stepped into the night. He was taken aback by the towering obsidian walls that loomed before him, illuminated by glowing street lamps that hung like stars. The world around him had transformed into something straight out of a fantasy tale during his absence. People glanced at him with curious eyes, and Soren felt a wave of enchantment wash over him.
He barely registered Vixra'al calling out to him, urging him to blend in and avoid drawing attention. Instead, he found himself standing in the middle of the street, where a crowd began to gather, all eyes on him. "First, we need to find a way to blend in," he muttered to himself. As he moved through the throng, brushing past people, he felt lost, the weight of countless gazes pressing down on him like daggers. Shadows danced in the dark alleys and on the rooftops, and in a panic, he quickened his pace. Spotting a narrow alley, he zeroed in on a mercenary who had been tailing him. With a swift move, he subdued the man, took his belongings, and left him unconscious in the shadows.
Soren turned to Vixra'al and asked if what he did was okay. She replied, "Where I come from, that's pretty much the norm." Soren forced a smile, pretending he hadn't heard her. He checked his pockets and felt something inside. When he pulled it out, he was surprised to find a shimmering crystals. Vixra'al had filled him in on her earlier discovery, but he wasn't quite sure how trading worked. So, he decided to look for a place to stay.
As he reached a clearing, he found a street plaza laid out before him. It wasn't too busy at night, but it was now filled with mercenaries, a group stationed there to trade goods and information. Vixra'al warned him to keep a low profile, so he pulled up his hood and tried to blend in. But then a burly man spotted him, chewing on a bone, with a bald head and a studded leather jacket draped in pelt fur.
The man grabbed Soren by the shoulder and asked if he was new around here. Soren reluctantly nodded, and the bald guy handed him a parchment with a sketch of a monstrous-looking Ecrea on it, along with a reward of fifty refined Arther crystals. "My boss needs more men. If you're interested, swing by the guild to sign up," he said. Soren nodded, and the bald guy left without another word. Soren let out a sigh of relief as Vixra'al recognized the Ecrea. "That's a Brood Velkryss a territorial Ecrea with an incredible ability to reproduce quickly. It's a voracious creature, and you'll want to take her out before her brood gets too many." Soren rolled up the parchment and tucked it into his pocket, reminding himself not to mess with any of them, as they all radiated a powerful aura.
Next, he wandered through the streets and stumbled upon a sign that read "Inn." Curious, he stepped inside and found the innkeeper peacefully dozing at the desk, her braided red hair cascading over her shoulders. Spotting a bell, he reached to ring it, but before he could, the innkeeper lifted her arm. He was taken aback by her incredible strength as she began to consult Vixra'al, who explained that this was her raw power alone, leaving him astonished. "This sheer power," he thought, just as the lady yawned, revealing her long eyelashes and stunning amber eyes. He was completely captivated, but Vixra'al reminded him of their purpose for being there. Stammering, he asked if he could stay the night. The innkeeper called for her mother, and in rushed another woman who looked almost identical to her, except for her longer, wavy hair. She arranged for his stay and asked for ten unrefined cores for a week.
To their surprise, Soren presented them with shimmering Aether crystals, and both women were thrilled, immediately offering him their best room they had.
They handed him the key to his room on the second floor, and Soren finally collapsed onto the soft bed, savoring the chance to rest. Vixra'al admired the inn's interior while Soren pondered what currency was used in this day and age, eager to learn about the changes that had taken place.
Vixra'al then turned to tell Soren about a distant time when she was a hero in another word long ago but he couldn't comprehend long enough as sleep drag his eyes down and couldn't fight the urge after a long day, the next morning as he stretches and woke up he asked Vixra'al what she was telling her but she simply said nothing like throwing a tantrum, Soren can imagine if she had a body would be pouting at him.
He grabbed his bag and waved goodbye to the innkeeper, bubbling with excitement at the thought of living like the adventurers he read about in manga. However, his enthusiasm quickly faded when he saw the long line at the guild hall. People were lined up, some lugging bags filled with their catches and spoils. One person stood out, carrying a bag that was still dripping with a purple substance, which made Soren feel a bit uneasy. He waited in line for hours until he finally reached the front, where a woman with freckles and a guild uniform greeted him. "Are you new here by any chance?" she asked. Soren nodded as she pulled out his processing form, which was packed with requirements that made his head spin. "Sorry if this overwhelms you, but we have a strict policy here in Cardaltha to thoroughly screen for Insurgents," she explained. Soren thought to himself, "So this place is called Cardaltha, what an unusual name."
As he began his first task, an assistant provided him with instructions, a bag for his spoils, and a map. He was also told to bring a mask, as some areas were prone to haze storms caused by powerful electromagnetic disturbance that kicked up suffocating clouds of dust and miasma.
The massive gate creaked open, and Soren felt a rush of excitement as it slowly revealed the path to his adventure. He clutched his chest and set off on his journey, but just an hour later, he felt a wave of betrayal as the scorching sun beat down on him. Realizing he was unprepared for such a long trek, he swayed from side to side, parched. "Water…" he muttered, stranded in an open field.
Just then, Vixra'al picked something up from the ground. "A monster?" he thought, leaping back just in time to avoid a net that snapped shut where he had been standing. "Bandits!" he exclaimed, unsheathing his dagger and taking a fighting stance. Suddenly, bandits in camouflage robes appeared, ready to ambush him. Outnumbered, Soren knew he had to run, but as he turned, they moved in too quickly. Vixra'al shouted for him to watch out as another trap snapped shut beneath his feet. Squinting, he realized he was surrounded.
With no choice left, he prepared to fight, skillfully parrying their relentless attacks as they wore him down in the heat. Just when he thought he was trapped, Vixra'al urged him to grab a crystal from his pouch. Soren hesitated, knowing it was valuable and would only attract more trouble, but she insisted he trust her.
Following her instructions, he smashed the crystal, and energy burst forth, sending sparks flying. "This idiot!" one of the bandits shouted before fleeing. Vixra'al then told Soren to take cover as a violent storm erupted, dust and miasma swirling around them. He found refuge under a boulder, donning his mask to weather the storm.
After weathering the storm, the day was winding down, and he had no choice but to head home empty-handed. He lay in bed for a moment, but frustration got the better of him, and he rolled over, scratching his head. Vixra'al chuckled softly and encouraged him to give it another shot next time. Sitting at the wooden table, he gazed at the meal the innkeeper had prepared, which warmed his heart. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret that he couldn't share this joyful moment with her. Vixra'al, however, appreciated the gesture and playfully suggested that she should cook for him someday. Soren nodded, nearly choking on his food, which made Vixra'al burst into laughter, relishing in his friend's misery.
The next day, Soren was ready for anything. He even arranged for a transport service to take him where he needed to go. He ended up hiring an old man, but instead of accepting the crystals he made an offer, the man asked Soren to accompany him as a bodyguard. Bandits had been causing quite a bit of trouble lately, and the old man was thrilled to have some protection.
However, Soren felt a bit uneasy, without any badge to show for his honorary service, he hesitated to accept. The old man scrutinized Soren's robe and asked, "You're from that group, aren't you?" Soren glanced down at his robe and noticed a symbol stitched into it. Feeling desperate, he reluctantly nodded and falsely claimed, "Ah yes, it's an honor to meet you. You youngsters are quite impressive, I hope there are more of you around here." Soren simply went along with everything the old man said and climbed into the cart, completely unaware that one of the bandits was already keeping an eye on them from the plaza.
As they traveled along the path, the old man shared stories of his past with Soren, recounting his journey from a managing consultant to becoming a porter in this new world.
Soren felt a wave of sadness wash over him as he listened, but the old man seemed at peace, embracing his current situation despite the losses he had faced. Suddenly, their horse came to a halt, and Soren sensed danger lurking nearby. Vixra'al had warned him about a Grim Crawler, a four-legged Ecrea with a lizard-like appearance, razor-sharp claws, and multiple eye sockets, all wrapped in a flexible exoskeleton.
Without hesitation, Soren jumped down to confront the beast. He bravely blocked its claws and, remembering Vixra'al's advice, targeted its gills, which were its weak points. As the creature's mouth opened, revealing jagged teeth, Soren delivered a powerful knee strike, slamming it shut. The monster collapsed, and Soren considered delivering the final blow, but Vixra'al cautioned him to wait. Just then, the creature turned its head and spat acid at him. "Now!" Vixra'al shouted, and with a swift counterattack, Soren landed a decisive blow, causing the monster to writhe and ultimately perish.
Breathing heavily, Soren claimed his prize, the Ecrean core. Digging into its innards felt revolting, but Vixra'al urged him to get used to it.
As they continued, the cart grew heavier with the Ecrea's carcass aboard. The old man mused that Soren had not disappointed him and thanked him for the carcass. Yet, Soren felt a twinge of guilt for lying, thinking that it hardly felt like enough payment.
As they merrily make their way, leaving a trail of dust behind, the two friends remain blissfully unaware that bandits are lurking nearby. The bandits exchange hand signals, preparing for an ambush as they position themselves near a gorge.
Trouble is on the horizon.