The air inside the upper guild's common room crackled with a vibrant energy that was inescapable. It was a busy Mundai afternoon that brought a surge of adventurers looking to register for new jobs or cash in on completed ones. The noise was a symphony of boisterous conversations, the clatter of tankards, and the rhythmic scratch of quills against parchment. Small knots of adventurers, from grizzled veterans to fresh-faced youths, were clustered together, their voices a low, excited drone as they strategized or simply boasted. Long queues snaked away from the quest-board table, everyone eager to see the new job postings.
Taking in the surroundings, Ayron stepped slowly off the elevator. This was his first time seeing the upper guild hall; previously, he had only been allowed in the main, lower lobby. As an official Tower Five member, he now had access to this common room. This second meeting place was exclusively for enki users, giving them a place separate from the lower-level tower members.
The foreigner immediately felt the oppressive weight of the crowd and, more disturbingly, the gazes. As he scanned the expansive room for a quiet corner, his eyes widened with alarm. His face. His actual face, not the heavily shadowed, nondescript visage he usually projected, was everywhere once again. Oversized posters and brightly colored flyers were tacked, pasted, and magically projected onto nearly every pillar, notice board, and flat surface in the hall. Beside his own striking features was a flattering likeness of Iridiana, her own distinctive ebony curls and elegant features unmistakable.
A deeply unsettling prickle ran down his neck, a sensation utterly foreign to him. His entire existence up until this point had been defined by anonymity. He was a ghost, the shadow that moved unseen through the world. He had mastered the art of being unmemorable, of fading into the background until he was needed. This sudden, jarring celebrity, being plastered up for the entire adventurous community to see, was fundamentally against every survival instinct he possessed. He felt exposed, stripped of his most valuable defense, the cloak of invisibility he'd worn his entire life. It felt like being trapped in a spotlight after a lifetime spent in the comfortable, protective dark. Every whisper, every glance, now seemed to be directed at him, and the sensation was both deeply alien and overwhelmingly threatening.
The aroma, a potent mix of sweet glaze and rich, savory spices, acted as a beacon, guiding him to the food stall tucked away on the left side of the guild hall. Ayron navigated the bustling crowd of his guildmates with practiced ease, his focus set on the promise of a hot meal. Every step brought a new wave of tantalizing scent that made his stomach rumble in anticipation.
“Welcome to Fili’s!” a young cashier greeted him, her voice bright and cheerful. She had a genuine, welcoming smile that seemed to momentarily cut through the chaos of the guild gathering. “What can I get ‘ya?”
Ayron approached the counter and found himself momentarily paralyzed. He stared at the menu board hanging just above the cashier's head, the unfamiliar names of dishes swimming before his eyes. The script was a local dialect, and even the pictograms offered little help. What was a ‘Glimmer-Root Skewer’ or a ‘Dragon’s Breath Bowl’? It felt like he stood there for an eternity, absorbing none of it.
“Uh, what’s popular?” he finally asked, hoping for a simple recommendation.
The cashier’s smile widened, her enthusiasm infectious. “Everything! This is the hottest food stand in all of Laudmuth. Seriously, you can’t go wrong with anything on the board.”
Ayron sighed internally. That didn’t help. He continued to scan the menu, his eyes darting from one exotic name to the next, hoping a dish would spontaneously jump out and declare itself his destiny. He felt a moment of mild embarrassment, a seasoned agent being stumped by a simple food menu.
“Oh, uh…” he began, leaning slightly closer. “Sorry, I’m new to the area, never been to Fili’s before. Surprise me?”
The cashier gave him a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll getcha taken care of, boss. You leave it to me.” She spun around and, with quick, efficient movements, pressed a series of brightly colored buttons on the holographic touchpad in front of her. The clatter of digital inputs sounded like a tiny, quick-paced drum solo. “Cash or payment card?”
“Uh, card?” Ayron pulled out the sleek, matte-black payment card from a hidden compartment in his wallet.
“That’s the one,” the cashier confirmed, recognizing the distinct color and material. She took the card, tapped it against a glowing section of the touchpad, and the transaction completed with a soft, electronic chime. She handed the card back to him immediately. In the next instant, a strip of paper zipped out of a small slot on the touchpad. She plucked the receipt from the machine and presented it to him. “You’re number 352. When I call your number, your food is ready! Just give us a few minutes.”
“Sounds easy enough.” Ayron offered the cashier a smile of relief and gratitude. With the pressure of ordering lifted, he stepped to the side, joining the cluster of patrons waiting for their food. He unfolded the receipt, his curiosity piqued, eager to discover what culinary surprise the cashier had chosen for him.
Hmm… A 'Fili’s Grand Sampler Platter' and a 'Sunstone Berry Refresher. Ayron had no idea what either of those things was, but the name 'Grand Sampler' sounded promising. He wasa part of this new world, and it was time to embrace the unknown, starting with lunch. He tucked the receipt into his pocket and settled in to observe the vibrant, energetic kitchen operation while he waited.
“Ayron!” a voice came from behind him. The foreigner turned, seeing his future opponent. Waving at the young woman, he watched her make her way through the small crowd. Iridiana stood next to him, a grin on her features.
“Hey, long time, no see,” Ayron commented.
“Waiting in line? This place is the best!” Iridiana mentioned.
“Never had their food, it sure smells delicious.” The young man’s stomach growled in anticipation.
“It’s owned by a family friend,” Iridiana stated proudly. “The restaurant has been in their family for several generations. Keigan Fillicidai, one of the founders of Raider's Tower, started it.”
Ayron’s brow raised in curiosity. “How many founders are there?”
“Five: Aurora Prismachi, Keigan Fillicidai, Volkan Pique, Ellery Trepadai, and Aliza Dejecti. Before they founded the guild, all five enjoyed sparring together and teaching others about the value of enki techniques. After finding a crystal prism by happenstance during an adventure, they learned to use it as a tool for their sparring club, which eventually became the guild. This is where the prism exam was created, and it’s been used by Raider’s Tower since its founding.” Iridiana’s eyes widened as she realized she’d been talking for some time.
The foreigner’s interest piqued once again, noting each of the founders’ names corresponded with the name of a kingdom: Prisma, Piquia, Trepidia, Fillicidi, and Dejectus. He also noted one of them shared a family name with his acquaintance. “Your ancestor is one of the founders.”
“Yep,” the youngster grinned. “I could go on for days, but I’m sure you don’t want a history lesson.”
Ayron chuckled. “Actually, I was about to find a library to do just that. Since I’m going to be in town for a while, I’d like to know about the place I’m staying.”
“I’m practically an encyclopedia on Ardor’s history.” Iridiana looked at the floor, nervous. “Most people find it boring, but I tell anyone that’ll listen.”
“Number 352!” The cashier at Fili’s hollered at the crowd.
“That’s me,” Ayron commented. He walked to the food stand, grabbing a tray of decadent food. He was surprised at the amount. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to eat it all.
“Ooh, you grabbed the best things on the menu.” Iridiana peered from his left side.
“I don’t think I’m gonna eat it all. Want some lunch?” Ayron questioned. “Then, you can tell me all about the history of this place.
“Sure!” The young woman’s eyes brightened as she smiled. “I see a free table over there,” Iridiana mentioned as she pointed.
“Lead the way.” The foreigner grinned, following her lead. Ayron set the tray down before he sat. He glanced at all the foods in front of him; they all looked delicious.
“These are the best! You have to try it.” Iridiana pointed before picking up a fried object on a stick.
Ayron watched as cheese strung out. His eyes widened at the amount of pull it had. “What do you have??”
“Fried chili cheese dog.” The young woman spoke between bites of food. “I know they have a different name for it, but if I were in Piquia, that’s what they’d call it.”
“You’ve been to Piquia??” Ayron was shocked at the revelation.
“I have friends from the guild in that area. There, it’s called ‘The Warrior’s Pen.’ They prefer to keep the original name my ancestor chose.” The words, delivered with a casual confidence, settled in the air between them. “I’ve heard they don’t use the Prism exam there, just a simple divination exam.”
A spark of recognition ignited in the foreigner's wide eyes, instantly pulling his mind back into a powerful current of childhood memories. The Pen. That familiar nickname instantly brought to mind the Warrior's Pen, a towering stone structure of ambition that served as more than just a guild hall; it was a sanctuary. The Warrior’s Pen was a place he had spent countless hours, a true escape, an untainted reprieve from his life at home. Within those sturdy walls, he was judged only by his skill, his dedication, and the sweat equity he put into his training. The clatter of sparring weapons, the scent of polished leather and honest effort, the camaraderie forged in exhaustion; these were the sensory hallmarks of his youth.
It was within the vibrant, competitive world of the local fighters’ guild that he had first truly proven himself. The disciplined hierarchy, the merit-based promotions, the intense focus on utility and effectiveness; these qualities had resonated deeply with him. It was this foundational experience, this rigorous training ground for body and mind, that had directly led to his former esteemed position within GoldHD.
Back then, he hadn't realized the 'magic power' the warriors boasted about was actually enki. Since any form of power was considered taboo in his homeland, he always struggled to express that part of himself, as it was buried deep within him.
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“Everything okay?” Iridiana looked at the young man carefully.
Ayron shifted slightly, trying to hide the fact that she jolted him out of a daydream. “Yeah, the name brings me back. We had a guild branch near my hometown. I spent a lot of time there as a kid. It’s a small world, I never would've guessed the two guilds were the same.”
“We have guild halls in every kingdom,” she confirmed. “Every year, we hold a massive tournament, and the prizes are incredible!”
Ayron attempted a nonchalant air while internally desperate for details on the prize schedule. “Jak was telling me about the prizes for the upper guild tournaments. They sound pretty enticing. I hope Vidya the All-knowing makes an appearance as a prize soon.” He mentioned.
Iridiana took another bite before she commented, “You shouldn’t have to wait long. You’ll have a lot of competition, though. Everyone wants Vidya to answer their questions.”
“Have you had the chance?” Ayron inquired.
The young woman sighed, looking disappointed. “Unfortunately, no. I’ve come close each time, but I’ve always been defeated by a member of the elite tower.”
“So, you’re saying it’s impossible?” The foreigner’s voice held a hint of defeat.
Iridiana offered him an eager grin. “I’m saying you have to be resilient enough to survive the tournament. I think you have what it takes, but I’ll know for certain after our battle this evening.”
“Oh? What gives you that impression?” Ayron raised a curious brow.
The young woman shrugged, gazing into his eyes as if she were peering into his soul. “I just think you have a lot to offer this guild. I know we don’t know each other very well, but you seem like a person who would go into battle for something he loved or wanted.”
“Perceptive.” Ayron’s lips turned into a half-hearted grin. “I’ll go to war for the ones I care about, but that list has gotten shorter and shorter as years pass; pretty sure my own name is the only one on it.” Sensing a tension in the air, the young man tried to change the subject, but was drawing a blank.
“So,” Iridiana leaned back in her chair, thankfully finding something else to talk about. “What enki abilities do you have?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.” Ayron shrugged. “I’ve heard the words, techniques, and abilities tossed around. What is the difference?”
Iridiana’s eyes widened in surprise and concern. “You’re saying you don’t know what your enki technique or abilities are??”
Ayron shook his head. “Where I’m from, it’s seen as a dark entity. Completely forbidden to practice. Even during my time in Piquia, no one really mentioned enki techniques.”
“Your access to various techniques determines your enki abilities,” the young woman began, clarifying the details. “A single technique can yield many different abilities. It depends on the wielder; their personality, life experience, and knowledge of enki play a role. Those who can use enhancement enki are able to improve aspects of their combat, such as increasing their strength, speed, or focus. The most versatile skillset belongs to manipulation enki, which allows users to learn how to manipulate nearly anything, from the air around them, to objects, even people.”
“Since I’m an outlier, I don’t have access to the original techniques?” Ayron inquired. “How do I gain an enki ability if I’m not sure what technique I’m using?”
“You’ve never been able to use your enki?” Iridiana raised a brow.
“I’m saying that I’ve had a lot of strange occurrences in my life.” The foreigner clarified. “I didn’t have it easy as a kid. When times got tough, and I was backed into a corner, I was saved by a white light. I used to call it my ghost friend.” Ayron let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Now that I know more information, I’m beginning to think it was my enki abilities that saved me.”
“But, they only showed face in times of great stress or extreme peril?” Iridiana inquired, her voice soft but her eyes sharp, carefully observing the foreigner's reaction. The phenomenon he described sounded less like a memory and more like an innate, almost magical, defense mechanism.
Ayron nodded slowly, leaning back in his creaking wooden chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze distant as if replaying those chaotic, terrifying moments. “Times when I was near-death, mostly. When the situation was beyond my control, and I was sure I was about to lose consciousness for good.” He paused, a troubled furrow deepening his brow. “After I came back to consciousness, miraculously, I never had an explanation for what happened. It was like a sudden, blinding rush, and then… nothing but the aftermath.”
“Hm…” The young woman contemplated, tapping a slender finger against her chin. “That’s odd. Extremely odd, even for stories of spontaneous enki activation.” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto him. “Can you recall anything at all from those moments? A sound? A word? A feeling of being… commanded?” The implications of such a force taking over a body, even to save it, were profound and potentially dangerous.
“Get up. Keep moving forward. One step at a time.” Ayron whispered the familiar words, the rough timber of his own voice a fragile comfort against the ringing silence of his mind. It was more than just a phrase; it was a mantra, a spiritual tether he’d recited throughout his entire, painfully difficult life. Every time he was pushed to the ground: by a bully's fist, a familial betrayal, or the sheer, crushing weight of misfortune, his internal monologue would automatically trigger those three phrases.
This time was no different, even after his latest, terrifying near-death experience. He couldn't quite remember the specifics: a dizzying flash of pain, the smell of gasoline leaking from the tossed vehicle, and the weight of a metal door crushing his chest. But the sheer, undeniable fact of his survival was a miracle in itself. Ayron attributed his continued existence to this unwavering principle: Keep moving forward. It was as if some external, unseen force was actively keeping him here, pulling him back from the precipice of oblivion.
The feeling was almost tangible; a persistent, low-frequency hum just beneath the surface of his perception. He felt like a vessel with an unfulfilled purpose, a pawn whose game wasn't over yet. He had unfinished business, a destiny, or perhaps just a debt to be repaid, and until that was settled, the universe wouldn't allow him the peace of permanent rest. It was a terrifying, yet strangely motivating, thought. He was still alive, and if he was still alive, he must keep moving forward.
“Hmm. An ability like that is completely new to me,” Iridiana admitted, contemplating the revelation. “It certainly clears up the confusion about your enki and explains the director’s reluctance to admit you into the guild.”
“What’s the point of this ability if I can’t use it when I want?” Ayron countered.
“Perhaps it's been dormant, just waiting for you to figure out how to activate it?” Iridiana suggested. “Now that you know what this power is, we can begin training so you can finally harness it.”
Ayron looked at her, surprised. “We? You’re offering to help me?”
“Of course!” Iridiana gleamed. “That’s what guild mates are for!”
Suddenly, a small group came to their table. Looking at his companion, Ayron noticed that she immediately recognized them. The clatter of empty plates and silverware seemed to fade into the background as her friends arrived.
“Hey guys!” Iridiana grinned happily, her eyes sparkling with genuine pleasure. She smoothed a hand over her training uniform. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight.” Her gaze shifted to the foreigner seated across from her, a figure who had become the immediate object of her friends' scrutiny. “Ayron, these are my sparring buddies from Piquia: Kieran, Jai, and their friend Rylan.”
Keiran, the tallest of the trio, a man with close-cropped brown hair and a serious expression, stepped forward slightly. “We decided to come early, see if you need some extra training before your match,” he admitted, his voice a low rumble.
Iridiana’s smile faltered only for a moment. “I already have plans. Sorry, guys!” She gestured vaguely between Ayron and herself.
“We can have our history lesson later,” Ayron commented smoothly, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a confident, almost challenging smirk. His light blue eyes held an intense, focused look that seemed to absorb the surroundings. “If you let me join you in the training rooms. I need to warm up before our battle tonight.”
“Of course!” Iridiana’s eyes lit up again, eager anticipation replacing her brief disappointment. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to see your skills in action.”
Jai’s eyes widened in surprise, a reaction that was mirrored on the faces of his two companions. Jai was the most expressive of the group, a muscular man whose reddish-blonde hair looked perpetually windswept. “Wait, so this is the guy you were telling us about?”
Ayron felt the hair on his neck stand up, a telltale sign that someone was observing him too closely, too intently. The quality of the observation here felt different; more scrutinizing, perhaps even hostile. A small chill ran down his back, despite the warmth of the brightly lit common room.
“You look familiar…” Rylan mentioned, his dark eyes narrowed to slits as he scrutinized the foreigner from head to toe. Rylan was the quietest, but his gaze was unnervingly sharp, like a hawk assessing prey. “Did you grow up near Haamu?”
The silence that followed Ayron’s non-answer was heavy, a thick, suffocating blanket that seemed to absorb the distant sounds of conversation and the steady, metallic clang of activity from the nearby forge. His gaze drifted past Rylan, settling on a chipped stone gargoyle perched atop the nearest roofline, its eroded features staring blankly into the middle distance.
Ayron shifted his weight, the movement a subtle, physical manifestation of the familiar flicker of unease that now danced in the pit of his stomach. It was the kind of prickling anxiety that always accompanied questions too specific, too probing, for comfort. Rylan’s recent inquiry about Haamu, his alleged hometown, didn't feel like a casual conversational volley; it felt like a harpoon aimed at a deep-sea secret.
The mere mention of Haamu was enough to conjure a desolate vista in his mind; a place of gray stone and colder people. It was his birthplace, yes, but it was also the epicenter of his pain. He had been a ghost there, neglected by the townspeople who saw him only as a burden, a shadow in the family that shunned him. His own kin had been experts in emotional starvation, and even the children, usually a beacon of innocent chaos, had been unnecessarily cruel, their taunts sharp and relentless.
Haamu was a prison, and the young man’s only reprieve, his single tether to something resembling purpose, lay across the borders of the Shadow Realm. Nearly every day, Ayron had navigated the treacherous passage into the kingdom of Piquia, where his grandparents reside. There, he shed the weight of his desolate childhood and transformed into an anonymous combatant in Raden’s Warrior’s Pen. That brutal arena, with its raw violence and demand for survival, had paradoxically been his only escape, the one place where his existence was defined by skill and grit, not by the apathy and cruelty of a town he had been forced to call home. Rylan’s question, innocent as it might have sounded to an outsider, was a direct hit on the deepest scars of his past.
He forced a casual shrug, a practiced, almost dismissive gesture that had served him well across dozens of dubious encounters. "The village name sounds familiar, yeah. I mean, I’ve been around the world. It’s kinda hard to keep track of all the places I’ve been, you know?" He kept his voice light, the tone of a seasoned wanderer whose past was an endless, glorious blur of adventure, not a carefully guarded secret. He offered Rylan a small, unreadable smile, his eyes daring the other man to press the issue further. Thankfully, one of his companions changed the subject back to the present.
“What tower are you in?” Kieran questioned, cutting through the tension.
“Recently entered tower five,” Ayron mentioned nonchalantly, taking a slow sip of his drink. He noted the sharp intake of breath from Jai, the shock in Kieran’s expression, and the slightly more pronounced surprise on Rylan’s features.
“He’s going to be training in the elite tower before we know it.” Iridiana rose abruptly, grabbing the empty tray with a decisive clatter. She seemed oblivious to the subtle shift in the room's atmosphere, or perhaps she was simply choosing to ignore it. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” She moved toward the exit, a flash of determined energy, pulling Ayron from the tense standoff and towards the training halls.
