Assessment (II)

  “Angelica Regis. It's a pleasure.” the girl said, stepping closer and clasping his hand with a frivolous intent. Not knowing how to respond to the sudden gesture, he simply waited until his mind could start to make sense of the situation.

  After enduring her series of playful handshakes, he spoke again.

  “Um, Angelica, pardon me for asking but haven’t you already been evaluated as a B-rank deviant? I saw you on Tv a few days ago.”

  Finally, she released his calloused hands to speak, this time imbuing more authority in her voice as if she’d just found her lost dignity.

  “True, I have been evaluated as a B rank deviant by way of the hunter association’s directive, but I won’t officially be classified as a hunter until I’ve participated in this final assessment. A lot of you may know this already, but I’ve only been in this city for a little over a week now, so this will also be my first time entering a real dungeon. In that sense, I’m no different from any of you here. I know this is our first meeting and all but please, at least for today, call me Angelica.”

  She finished with a deep bow, then raised her head to lock eyes with the gathering. Apparently, she wasn’t just speaking to Cyril in that regard.

  “Okay, Angelica it is then.” A bespectacled boy answered across from them, donning a quirky smile the second Angelica turned towards him.

  “Well, I don’t see any harm in it. Feel free to just call me Cyril, too.” The answer came from her right this time, from Cyril who had circled around beside her to scan their vacant surroundings.

  Smiling brightly, she uttered a heartfelt “Thank You.” before speeding up to match his pace.

  “So, is this it? The ‘gate’ we’ll be using?” He asked that question absentmindedly, somehow finding it hard to tear his eyes away from the blue portal brimming with power.

  The phenomenon stood at the very center of the intersection.

  It was a vertically oriented circle about five meters in diameter, pulsing with energy and filling the environment with ceaseless waves of mana. Seeing as they were about to enter this ominous looking gate in only a few short minutes, a bit of transparency would have been much appreciated but it was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

  The center of the gate was pitch black, swirling ever so slightly like a dark puddle of viscous ink. It wouldn’t even allow them the pleasure of knowing what exactly they were about to get themselves into.

  “Even though it’s a D-rank dungeon, Baal’s labyrinth hasn’t been conquered yet, probably because it's an area-type. My family asked the hunter association to order the evacuation of this entire city block in exchange for retrieving one of its cores, probably because they don’t want any pesky reporters sneaking in and making this more complicated than it needs to be.” Angelica responded, her expression stuck somewhere between a sigh and a smile.

  “I see, as expected, of the Regis clan. Nobody else could even hope to ask the hunter association something like that.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t much, my dad just called in a small favor since he knows I'm not very good at dealing with the media yet.”

  Her casual response made him shrug his shoulders in amusement. Clearly this girl had no idea what kind of power her family; one of the four origin clans wielded. Hunter associations were independent organizations built upon the back of a conflict spanning decades. They were even above the directive of the government, and yet her family could casually request those so called ‘favors’ without much effort.

  It was a kind of privilege someone like Cyril couldn’t even fathom.

  As they wordlessly moved towards the gate a few meters away, Cyril’s eyes drifted over to the top of Angelica’s head bouncing up and down alongside him. He was only 172 centimeters tall, and yet the difference in their heights couldn’t be cemented any further, so she must have been on the shorter side of the female spectrum.

  Cyril’s attire was certainly strange, but everyone else here was dressed similarly so he didn’t have much trouble fitting in.

  In Angelica’s case, a fitted silver bodice hugged her form, reinforced with black straps and intricate detailing that traced elegant, angular patterns across the fabric. The design flared into a pointed tabard at the front, reminiscent of knightly attire, giving her an authoritative air. Her legs were encased in sleek, segmented leg guards that tapered into pointed boots, their design as functional as it was graceful.

  Then, as if to add a bit of charm to her outfit she had used a headband of the same silver color to pull back the almond strands of her hair, and at the same time allowed a few bangs to plop down and frame her face, giving her an effortlessly elegant appearance.

  “You’re staring.”

  Her swift side eyeing tactic had caught Cyril in the act, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the rapier swaying at her hip.

  “You could tell? My bad, I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone so...distinguished today.”

  “D-Distinguished? Is that how you see me?” She spun around with that question, stars beaming in her eyes like an impatient child.

  Well, not anymore, he thought quietly, but soon dismissed it. There was no way he was going to say that out loud.

  “Hmm, how should I put this? You’re a lot friendlier than I expected. In my head, I always pictured everyone from the origin clans to all come off as super elites and stuff.”

  Listening to him, Angelica stopped in her tracks to nod intently, then she started laughing at his answer.

  “Y-You really think...we’re all stuck up super elites like the ones in those old Tv shows?” She stammered softly, forcing down the series of giggles rising up her throat.

  He was at a loss.

  At this point, Cyril didn’t know what to make of her, but that was fine. At least she didn’t seem like a bad person.

  “Well, when I saw you on Tv you looked a lot more serious and dignified...although...”

  “Although what?” Angelica pressed, stepping up to challenge his gaze. Though that seemed to be her intention, the difference in their respective heights had crippled any chances of that actually happening.

  “Nobody’s going to take an unserious sixteen-year-old seriously, and besides, you were just thinking ‘you look taller on Tv’ weren’t you?”

  Her glare grew brighter, forcing Cyril to take a step back.

  “N-No of course not.” The boy answered meekly, averting his gaze.

  Of course, he was lying.

  Seemingly out of options, his mind was racing for answers; answers he couldn’t seem to find fast enough. Getting on this girl’s bad side was definitely not one of the things he’d planned on adding to his bucket list.

  He would have a better life living inside Ziggurat if that ever came to pass.

  Angelica seemed determined to get an answer but as soon as Cyril’s pupils had dilated into thick swirls a single sentence had managed to bail him out just in the nick of time.

  “The captain is almost here!”

  “Ah! Looks like it's time. Alright Cyril, we’ll continue this later.” She said, walking off and daintily beckoning him to follow with a strange hand motion.

  Heaving a sigh, the boy clutched his chest in disbelief.

  “She was joking...right?”

  As the swarms of people weaved past him and closed in on the glowing gate, a brusque slap on the back freed him from the moment’s stupor.

  “Nice going rookie! Cozying up with the Regis clan's princess right off the bat. I must admit, I’m impressed.” said the gruff voice coming from his left

  His head spun to the source in a bid to register the alien figure but of course, it was to no avail. Cyril’s eyes stopped on the face of a barrel-chested man who seemed to be about twice his age, donning a sleeveless muscle shirt that matched the hue of his neatly trimmed chestnut beard.

  “Name’s Arden. Arden Shaw, nice to meetcha!” He said, exerting more force into the arm clamping down on Cyril’s shoulder.

  That firm grip would shove any normal human straight into the depths of the paved ground but Cyril held firm, not seeming to mind the man’s bluntness. He glanced at the large Warhammer strapped to the man’s back, then smiled faintly, feeling pleased at what he saw.

  Most of the hunters gathered here were carrying either wands, staves or grimoires so seeing someone else who shared his class must have been rather refreshing. Angelica could relate to him somewhat, but that girl was a prodigy who could actually alternate her style of combat through the use of her ‘skill’.

  That wasn’t an option for him.

  Mana, along with everything derived from it—skills, magic, magna arts, buffs, and more—can be fundamentally understood as the "manipulation of a system's information." It was a power capable of temporarily altering the laws of reality by interfering with or modifying the information of a system, be it a person, object, force, or any other entity.

  For Strikers like them, manipulating ambient mana wasn’t exactly their specialty since strengthened physicality was their designated calling. In rare cases, certain combat-oriented classes—such as Tanks and Strikers—could develop unique skills after their awakening. However, such instances were exceedingly rare due to a significant barrier to entry: an above-average Cognitive Affinity Index (C.A.I.).

  Simply put, the C.A.I. or Index was the metric ranging from one to ten that was used to gauge a deviant’s ability to perceive and influence the extradimensional force known as mana. This power governed all supernatural phenomena in the world, but due to its inherently extradimensional nature, humans could only comprehend and manipulate it on a subconscious level, reinforced by a limited surface understanding. Because mana existed beyond the boundaries of human comprehension, a deviant’s C.A.I. could not be consciously trained or increased. Attempting to do so would be akin to trying to refine instinctive reflexes or muscle memory—not impossible, but requiring years of repetition with little to no guarantee of progress.

  Various artificial methods were being explored to enhance insight into mana, as well as methods of integrating mana and machinery, such as rune formations and advanced computational systems like O.D.I.N. However, even these innovations had their limits, with the best results only reaching the equivalent of an A-rank deviant at most.

  Ultimately, that was the defining trait of deviants—those few individuals who had managed to adapt to this enigmatic force. Those blessed with a sufficiently high C.A.I. surpassing conventional limits were anomalies among mankind—living incarnations of the supernatural. Or, as they were often called, saints.

  “My name is-”

  Arden cut him off with a raised palm, then shook his head with a smirk to convey his answer.

  “Mr. I’m the main character, right? Making an entrance like that on your first day and all.” He quipped, scratching his nose lightly.

  “I really did get lost!” Cyril’s protest had almost sounded like a plea.

  “I’m not familiar with this area, and I figured that a high vantage point would be better for spotting the-”

  “I know kid, relax I’m only joking. Just trying to lighten the mood around here y’know? You youngsters nowadays sure are uptight, I’ve been trying to make decent conversation with our party members but this is the first real response I’ve gotten.”

  “Did you try talking to Angelica?” Cyril asked reflexively.

  “No, no, of course not. I wasn’t planning on coming off like a creep or anything like that, and besides...” Arden paused to crane his neck up, using his larger stature to search the sea of faces around them.

  “...her bodyguard looks like the type to hit first and ask questions later.”

  “Bodyguard?” He repeated aloud, sounding like the word was foreign to him.

  When the crowd began settling into the rough shape of a semicircle around the gate, Cyril’s eyes met a frighteningly sharp gaze peering at him from between the gaps being filled by shuffling bodies. The penetrating stare belonged to a woman with wheat colored hair that was tied into a bun, her eyes were constantly kept firm and level by a ramrod posture. She stood professionally with her back to the ominous looking gate, unconcerned with the construct's eerie ambiguity.

  It was easy to see that she was far older than him, and given the fact that her outfit— which resembled a mix between a skin tight military suit and a maid uniform —had a set of dual dangers hanging from her hip, she clearly wasn’t just here for sport. Her steel grey pupils seemed to scan him a dozen times over before the gaps between them had finally closed. He felt a dark chill trickle down his spine, one sinister enough to make him take a step back.

  Cyril gulped hard, chugging down a breath of fresh air like his life depended on it.

  “I know right?!” Arden admitted, seeming pleased for some reason.

  “There’s a really strong pressure around that lady. Seriously...what was that? Does she even need those daggers with eyes that sharp? It feels like her gaze alone is hard enough to kill.” He lamented, gripping the left side of his chest to check if his heart was still there.

  Given how hard the darn thing was beating against his ribcage it wouldn’t be too absurd to think it could have somehow broken out of his chest.

  “It’s natural to feel that way, after all she’s one of the A rank hunters serving under the Red Lotus guild. Yelena Riot —the war maiden. That’s what they call her around their guild. You’re lucky Angelica was the one to initiate your conversation, who knows what that woman would have done if you’d been bold enough to approach the Regis clan’s princess on your own invitation.”

  I’d rather not find out... he thought to himself.

  Heeding Arden’s words, Cyril took a deep breath, cast one last glance around, and shuffled forward to fill a vacant spot in the semi-circular formation. Between the gaps of people, he could see a slow procession of vehicles coming their way, all tinted black to the point where none could be singled out from each other.

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  The trio of cars slowly came to a smooth halt a little ways off from the gate.

  The first ones to disembark from the dark lineup of vehicles were riding in a tinted luxury car tucked neatly between the formation of two similar vehicles. A man stepped out first, circling around to the passenger side and opening the door for their escort. The entire crowd seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, practically begging for whatever lauded figure was hidden behind all those layers of window tint to reveal themself.

  In a slow and somewhat refined motion, a young man stepped out dressed similarly to the lot of them save for the sophisticated grimoire tucked beneath his arm, complete with all manner of elaborate adornments from mystical engravings to golden runes. His fiery red hair subtly gleamed in the sunlight almost to the point where it could be called dazzling.

  He cast a quick, perfunctory glance at the gathering, which numbered well over two dozen, scanning the faces with a lack of interest until something—or rather, someone caught his eye. Quickly recognizing the familiar face, the young man smiled and began walking toward a teenage girl standing at the front, accompanied by another middle-aged man—who appeared to have been traveling in a separate car.

  Murmurs erupted and soles rattled as the coagulation of bodies abruptly began splitting on instinct.

  “M-Marcel Phoenix and Evan Adler?! Shit why are all these big shots showing up today of all days?” gasped Arden begrudgingly.

  His overly friendly persona was currently nowhere to be found.

  The same could be said for almost every other trainee gathered here, their demeanors all took a sudden shift the instant these supposedly unimposing people made their entrance.

  Arden's neck rapidly shifted in a series of sharp twists as he gauged the distance between his position and the sauntering duo.

  “C-Cyril you know I think we should-”

  “It’s fine. I’m good here Arden, I’m not moving.” He declared, keeping his gaze sharp.

  “N-not moving!? Do you even know who that is? Look kid, I know we just met and all but I’m trying to do you a favor here. Those guys are bad news, trust me. Everyone gets on edge whenever they show up ‘cause no one knows when they’ll explode.”

  The words had been delivered and understood, yet they incited no response—or at least, not the kind of response Arden was expecting.

  “Thanks for looking out, but I’ll be fine.”

  Turning his head, the boy responded with a preset smile.

  “I just so happen to be acquainted with these two. Although, I really do think you should take your own advice and move back a bit, I can’t exactly guarantee what they’ll do to anyone who isn’t Angelica or me.”

  Although it was subconscious, Arden had done exactly that and took a step back out of pure shock. Whether it was because of Cyril's expression or his answer, he wasn’t sure.

  His mouth moved, but no words came out.

  That ultimately ended up narrowing his current options down to a strict balance of one. Whatever he wanted to say or ask would have to wait.

  “If you say so man...”

  With nothing else to offer, Arden quickly began melding himself into the shifting crowds until both sides of the rough semi-circle had evened out. His tactic was only about 60% on the way to being called effective given his stature, and once he realized that Cyril couldn’t help but embrace a small chuckle.

  “It’s been a while, Angelica. Congratulations on your B rank evaluation, I’m sure you’ve earned it.” Marcel admitted, giving a small nod with his greeting.

  “I appreciate the gesture Marcel, although I must admit I am a bit shocked to see you here today. The last I heard was that you’d been stripped of your rank as a hunter; I found that hard to believe at first but it seems the rumors were true after all.”

  “Well...” He began with a shrug, intending to concoct a dubious answer but a small chuckle from Evan prematurely cut his words short.

  Intrigued, Marcel followed the man’s gaze and was met with a response that seemed premeditated, answering a question he had yet to ask.

  His eyes widened in a surge of emotion raging from shock to disgust, then finally...scorn. A wicked grin eerily crept onto his otherwise neutral and stoic face, twisting his features into a mask of cold, calculated malice.

  “Yo, Cyril. Long time no see. Looks like that scar on your face has finally healed. Good, good, I was hoping you’d recover quickly.” He callously spat those words drenched in malice.

  Stricken by a fresh wave of disbelief, Angelica spun around as if to dampen the tension between them.

  “What? You two know each other?” She asked reflexively, her voice tight with confusion.

  “You could say that, but it's a bit of a long story so I don’t think we have time right now. By the way Evan, was he the one you were telling me about?”

  “Indeed.” Replied the almond haired magician who had just finished donning a thin smile.

  “I’m not exactly thrilled to see you either Marcel, I’m just here for the assessment. Besides, our little score has already been settled.” Cyril remarked dismissively mid-stride, his tone cold and indifferent as he brushed past Marcel without a second glance

  “Wha-! You little!”

  Trumping his bodyguard’s anger with action, Marcel clamped a hand down on Cyril’s shoulder with a blatantly inhuman force surging through his grip.

  “You think this is over?” He growled, glowing with a dim aura.

  “Isn't it?” Cyril asked, still looking ahead.

  “I don’t think you understand. There’s no one here to protect you anymore.”

  The moment those words registered; Cyril’s animosity ignited. Slowly turning his head, he gave the young Phoenix a glare sharp enough to kill, his expression carved from stone. Marcel’s smile went slightly crooked from the pressure of his bloodlust, but he clearly wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. Instead of withdrawing, he exerted more force into his grip, this time brightening his smile with a batch of freshly conjured bravado.

  The deviant crowd surrounding them seemed bewildered by the situation, while Evan, on the other hand, was more than ready to unleash a barrage of fireballs at the slightest provocation.

  Then -

  "Stop." a calm voice muttered, its tone carrying little interest.

  It was a half-hearted command, yet the authority being conveyed through that one word had forced the three deviants to collect themselves.

  “Y-Yelena Riot....” Marcel mumbled the name in disbelief.

  “Calm yourselves. Whatever score it is that you two are so eager to settle can wait until after we’ve gotten this whole thing over with. Then you can feel free to go at each other as much as you like.”

  Her face was relaxed, yet her tone seemed both cheery and cold at the same time.

  “Understood....”

  “Yes ma’am...”

  Those acknowledgements came out in bits and pieces, lacquered in modesty.

  Cyril exhaled a deep breath, then took a few seconds to relax his expression.

  “Man, I should have known better than that. Although I have to give you some credit Marcel, you really do know how to get on people’s nerves, and on that note....” Cyril trailed off, making a full turn with his body and giving them another plastic smile.

  “.....the next time you grab onto my shoulder like that, you’re going to lose a lot more than your arm. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what happened last time, because I haven’t either.”

  A fresh wave of tempered anger began brewing inside Marcel, though this time it didn’t seem to warrant any intervention from Yelena. She appeared largely indifferent to personal feelings, so much so that she was already heading back to her original position, this time with Angelica in tow. As long as no one started anything here, it seemed they could toss around any insult they wanted without consequence.

  “You damn D rank. Who do you think you’re speaking to like that? If it wasn’t for the association’s stupid demotion plan, Marcel would still be at B-rank.” Evan hissed in a scornful tone, holding himself back by a thread.

  "Well, we're both trainees right now, old man. And by the way, a glass cannon like you should really think about saving your strength this time. The dungeon’s got things way more dangerous than rock golems, you know.”

  Evan abruptly froze on the spot.

  That last remark had incited a few shrouded giggles around them, and worst of all it didn’t just make him look like a fool—deep down he echoed the sentiment after letting himself get careless like that last time.

  "How dare this little...."

  At last, the low humming of a vehicle in the distance drew their collective attention and signaled the end of all hostilities. This time only one vehicle was rolling down the empty intersection, and thanks to its odd shape it was almost impossible to miss. It was an HMMVW or the vehicle more commonly known as a ‘Humvee’. There was an open cargo bed in the back so it must have been a more standard edition.

  Regardless, thanks to said cargo bed the hunter who was undoubtedly going to serve as their captain was leisurely seated in the vehicle’s back end, calmly scanning the eager gathering with a rather amiable expression on his face.

  At a glance, Cyril couldn’t tell what was stranger.

  Seeing someone so large decked out in a full suit of silver-plated armor and riding atop an engine working overtime to support his weight was definitely tipping the scales a bit, but it was the object resting beside him that seemed to bump up that feeling of enigmatic wonder even further. The object in question was a large kite-shaped shield that perfectly matched the man's width, but assumed a narrow teardrop shape further down its span.

  Is that...mithril? Cyril wondered to himself as he watched the odd-looking vehicle slow to a screeching halt.

  A loud THUD hit the ground, then a sharp clanking sound came from something cracking the hard asphalt.

  “Mhm, Mhm, good looks like you're all here.” the man said, taking that observation with a vigorous nod.

  “Good morning, everyone. My name is Ralph Truant, I’m a B rank hunter listed under the Cerberus guild and as I’m sure you can tell from my gear, I’m a tank. For your assessment today we’re going to be exploring the lower floors of the D-rank area-type dungeon commonly called Ba’als labyrinth. It’s one of the easier dungeons in all of Ziggurat but that doesn’t mean you should get careless, literally anything can happen in there.”

  Feeling assured by their captain's presence, the scattered clumps of people slowly began morphing back into its original semi-circular shape, much to the displeasure of Marcel and his lackey who had taken extra care to put some distance between them.

  Ralph fiddled with something tucked behind his shield and brought out a cheap looking clipboard.

  “Now, as per the standard procedure I’ll be doing a quick roll call so answer when you hear your names.” He announced, pulling the clipboard from under his arm and scanning the list.

  The space fell silent, save for the faint rustling of paper as he flipped the page. Then he began with a steady authoritative voice “Alright, first up— “

  After a few minutes, he finally called the two most anticipated names on the flimsy piece of paper, dampening his voice as he did so.

  “Angelica Regis and Marcel Phoenix”

  The two of them stepped forward simultaneously, not bothering to continue the trend of a sharp response like what the others had been doing until now.

  “Well, I must say, it's not every day one gets to personally oversee the assessment of two members from such distinguished families—the Origin clans, of all things.” Admitted Ralph, lightly batting his clipboard against his leather-clad palm.

  “Well then you’re in for a show captain since I plan on giving this my all.” Angelica earnestly replied

  “Just make sure you evaluate me properly; I’d rather not waste my time in these lower ranks for no reason, captain.”

  The dismissive remark came from the haughty young adult on Ralph’s left who was currently exuding an aura of pure indifference.

  “Of course, young phoenix. I can assure you that the full extent of your abilities will be taken into consideration, that incudes your offensive capabilities and your willingness to work as a team, so I do hope you keep that in mind.”

  Displeased by the emphasis placed on that last word, Marcel tsked in annoyance, his brow furrowing as he shot a sharp glance at the speaker— Ralph who was no longer paying him any attention.

  Flipping the page, the captain continued with another coarse call.

  “Cyril Severin”

  “Here!” he answered with a raised hand.

  Sensing the captain’s intrigue, the crowd quickly gave way for him to have an unfiltered view of the young man.

  Ralph’s eyes lingered on Cyril for a moment longer than necessary, studying his posture, his demeanor—every detail. The air seemed to thicken with tension as the crowd waited for some kind of reaction.

  Cyril stood tall—as tall as the soles of his boots would allow — for him to match the man’s gaze.

  “So it’s you...” Ralph mused wittingly

  “Hm? Have we met before?”

  “No we haven’t met officially, but I’ve heard about you by word of mouth. Rumor has it that you’re quite the rascal. I am curious to see what you’re capable of but try to rein it in for today, your performances will be evaluated individually but you will still need to work together throughout the course of this assessment.”

  Giving an earnest nod, Cyril slowly crept back into formation.

  “Before I go over exactly what’s expected of you, are there any questions?”

  A hand emerged from somewhere in the formation and the owner briskly stepped forward upon receiving Ralph’s invitation. Emerging from the crowds this time was the same bespectacled young man from earlier.

  “Percy Barrington, was it? Let's hear what you have to say.”

  Closing the thick looking grimoire in his hand, Percy cleared his throat before speaking in a surprisingly concerted tone.

  “I would like to clarify something. You mentioned earlier that our performances will be evaluated individually, but we have an established A and B rank hunter here guarding their escorts. Will that affect their evaluations in any way?”

  “No, it won’t.” Ralph answered with a shrill click of his clipboard.

  “Miss Riot and Sir Adler are only here as retainers in case things were to go south, considering the family backgrounds of the escorts in question the association has allowed it. I can assure you they will not interfere with their respective candidate’s progress in any way.”

  “I see, thank you for clarifying that.” Percy worded callously before stepping back.

  “If there are no other questions, I’ll continue with the briefing. As you should all know, the aim of any raid is to defeat the boss and, in this case, since we’ll be exploring an area-type gate, retrieve the dungeon core if possible. Ba’als labyrinth is a D-rank dungeon with five floors and most of the cores have already been removed, with the exception of the second floor, so the only real danger here is on that level, hence why we will be starting near there. That’s where the majority of combat scenarios are expected to take place and where the brunt of your evaluation will come from.”

  Reaching for his clipboard once more, Ralph skimmed over a few of the various jottings on the front page.

  “In order to successfully complete this assessment, you’ll need to display your level of competence in your given class. That means enchanters should provide barrier support, heals and stat boosts, magicians utilize your various spells and so on. The boss on the second floor has already been defeated multiple times but it will be resurrected since we haven’t located the core on that floor as of yet. Defeating the boss is not an absolute requirement, but extra points will be awarded to those who successfully assist in the attempt.”

  In the midst of the man's winded explanation, Cyril suddenly had a crushing thought.

  “The boss on the second floor of Ba’als labyrinth is called Mabuz the tormentor, he’s not very strong per se so you should be able to manage as long as you do some research.” that was what Carissa had told him but alas, the appeal of secluding himself to meditate in his room and having the quirky nurses deliver him food every few hours was a bit too stimulating for a mere sixteen-year-old.

  “Captain Ralph, what if we’re able to find the hidden core on the second floor?” Angelica’s voice rang in his ear, drowning out the pleasant playback of blissful memories flowing through the boy's mind.

  “Heh, well if you somehow manage to do that then you’ll certainly pass, hell you might even get a promotion to top it off. The guilds in this city have been searching for that thing for years, but if you’re feeling particularly lucky today then by all means knock yourselves out.”

  He made a mental note of that.

  A promotion if we find the core, eh?

  Angelica seemed to share his sentiment, huddling up to her bodyguard and giggling deviously for some reason.

  “Well I hope you’re all ready, it's about time we get started.” Lifting his shield from between the small crevice in the asphalt, Ralph adjusted his stance, the weight of the metal reassuring in his hands.

  Melding into a single file line, the disjointed gathering answered his call to action at a remarkable speed. One by one, Cyril watched as the candidates ahead of him disappeared into the swirling pit of black smudge, vanishing as if they’d been consumed by the darkness.

  When it was finally his turn, he struggled to suppress the expression surfacing on his face. It didn’t stem from fear or anxiety, but rather, excitement. As soon as he put one foot through the dark pit, a strange thrill surged through him. The air inside felt different—heavy, charged, almost alive.

  Here goes nothing...

  Bracing himself with a deep breath, he forced the rest of his body through the black gate, embracing the strange feeling as the sensation of crossing between literal dimensions etched itself onto his very soul.

  One more chapter to go~

  Tues/Wed/Thurs/Fri, starting next week.

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  —CosmicSlime