Rowan Lorant stood just outside Conference Room B3, smoothing the front of his jacket for the third time in as many minutes.
First real mission. First step up. Don't screw this up.
He adjusted the strap holding his battered spellgun holster, then peeked through the half-open door.
Inside, Vera Halden stood ramrod straight, arms folded across her armored vest, exuding "I'm the only adult here" energy. Across from her, Mika was already lounging sideways in a chair, one leg kicking lazily over the armrest, a half-eaten donut spinning in the air above her fingertip thanks to a tiny gravity glyph.
"Are you going to come in, or are you just going to loiter and look nervous?" Vera asked without looking.
Rowan coughed, straightened his shoulders, and strode in. The door slid closed behind him with a pneumatic hiss.
At the head of the room, a crystalline data-scroll hovered, flickering slightly. The Guild Handler assigned to their Cell - a woman named Kassandra Myles - manipulated it with deft gestures, pulling up mission files and official contracts.
She looked like she hadn't slept in three days. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe braid, and her eyes had the thousand-yard stare of someone who had survived one too many rookie briefings.
"Cell 43," Kassandra began, voice dry as bone. "Congratulations on surviving basic assignments. You're now eligible for Category Five missions."
Mika immediately threw her hands up, donut forgotten.
"Finally! It only took what, three months of cleaning up goblin infestations and retrieving lost cats?" she grinned, fangs just peeking over her lower lip.
Kassandra didn't blink. "And yet, somehow, two minor property damage incidents and one pending harassment complaint against a Greater Imp." She flipped through the floating files with a flick. "Truly, you are a marvel."
Vera sighed audibly. Rowan fought the urge to sink into the floor.
"Mission details," Kassandra continued briskly. "An unauthorized mana surge was detected in Sector Nine, Substrata Level Three. An abandoned research facility, formerly operated by Veylen Industrial, has gone... active."
The scroll displayed a flickering map: a spiderweb of maintenance tunnels, collapsed subway lines, and derelict arcane labs deep beneath the city proper.
"Local mana regulators detected a synthetic spirit awakening inside," Kassandra said. "Your job is containment and recovery. Suppress the entity if possible. Salvage any surviving research cores. Minimal collateral damage. And, above all, discretion."
"Synthetic spirit?" Rowan asked, trying to keep his voice level.
"Think AI," Vera murmured, "but stitched together from leftover soul fragments and industrial mana."
"Sounds friendly," Mika chirped. "I'm bringing extra taser glyphs."
Kassandra gave them a look that could curdle milk.
"This mission is officially rated low threat," she said. "That said, this is your first real assignment as a Cell. You are replaceable. Failure will be logged."
She leaned in slightly, the glow of the data-scroll casting her face in cold blues.
"Do not embarrass me."
Rowan swallowed hard. Mika gave a mock salute. Vera simply nodded.
"Assignment accepted," Vera said formally, tapping her Guild-issued badge against the floating scroll. Rowan and Mika followed suit, their badges chiming softly.
The badges flashed with their official rankings:
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Vera Halden: Grade 8
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
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Mika: Grade 9
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Rowan Lorant: Grade 9
"Good luck," Kassandra said without emotion. "You'll need it."
The city night was alive when they emerged from the Hollowlight Tower.
Overhead, the skyline was a jagged mess of floating platforms, arcology spires, and neon rune-banners advertising everything from alchemical services to enchanted coffee. Below, the streets pulsed with life: beastfolk vendors hawking mana-infused street food, armored couriers weaving through foot traffic on hoverboards, guild patrols flashing badges to clear the way.
Bioluminescent fungi sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk, their soft blue light mingling with the warm yellow glow of spell-lanterns.
Rowan took a deep breath, feeling the city hum beneath his feet. He tightened the strap of his spellgun holster and fell into step behind Vera.
Their transport was a battered Hollowlight shuttle: a sleek, beetle-like thing powered by compressed mana engines. The driver, a sallow-looking goblin in a stained Guild uniform, barely grunted at them as they piled in.
Rowan slid into a seat near the window, trying to look composed. Mika immediately sprawled across two seats, tail flicking smugly.
"Sector Nine," Vera told the driver. "Substrata Level Three."
The shuttle jerked into motion with a wheezing whine.
Rowan glanced across at Vera.
"Think it'll really be that simple?" he asked.
Vera shrugged, her expression unreadable beneath her short-cropped hair and the runic tattoos faintly glowing along her forearms.
"First missions never are."
Mika grinned, stretching her arms overhead.
"Simple's boring. C'mon, we're Cell 43 now. We're practically legends."
"You're a legend in your own mind," Vera said dryly.
"Exactly." Mika winked, snapping her fingers. A small spark of mana popped in the air.
Rowan laughed despite himself, tension easing from his shoulders.
The shuttle dove into the lower districts, the neon fading into grimier, colder hues. Abandoned skyscrapers loomed like the bones of forgotten titans. Mana fog pooled in the gutters.
Rowan caught a glimpse of a massive Guild recruitment poster peeling off a crumbling wall: "Fixers Needed: Glory, Gold, Guild Benefits!"
The "Guild Benefits" part had been crossed out in red spray paint.
The access point to Substrata Level Three was a rusted freight elevator hidden behind a fake wall in an abandoned shopping complex.
Vera pried the door open with a grunt. Cold, dry air wafted up from the darkness below.
Rowan shivered, checking his spellgun's cylinder. Six cartridges loaded: three kinetic bolts, two stun rounds, one shield-breaker.
"Masks on," Vera ordered, handing out simple breathing charms on necklaces. "Air quality's probably shot down there."
Mika wrinkled her nose but slipped hers over her head, the charm flashing briefly as it activated.
They stepped into the elevator shaft, boots ringing hollowly against metal. Rowan hit the manual release, and the platform shuddered into a slow, grinding descent.
The city fell away above them. Darkness closed in.
Substrata Level Three was worse than Rowan had imagined.
The facility was a maze of broken corridors, collapsed ceilings, and shattered mana conduits leaking faint ghost-light. Old Veylen Industrial logos peeled off walls. Every surface was coated in dust and old magic residue.
Rowan activated his wrist-mounted lantern, casting a beam of light ahead.
"Facility map?" he asked.
Vera tapped her grimoire implant. A simple holo-map flickered into being, projected from a crystal embedded in her palm.
"Main labs should be northeast," she said. "Stay close. No splitting up."
"Aww," Mika said. "And here I was gonna speedrun this dungeon."
Vera gave her a look. Mika mimed zipping her mouth shut.
They moved in careful formation: Vera at the front, shield half-raised; Rowan covering the flanks; Mika scouting ahead with feline grace.
The deeper they went, the worse the atmosphere became. The air thickened, humming with barely-contained mana.
Rowan spotted strange scorch marks on the walls. Places where the very stone seemed to have melted and reformed.
"Something bad woke up down here," Vera muttered.
"Maybe we can just ask it nicely to go back to sleep," Mika whispered.
Rowan opened his mouth to reply—
The floor beneath Mika's leading foot crumbled without warning.
She yelped and leapt backward just as a rune-trap flared to life. Cracks raced along the floor, blooming into a spreading glyph of containment magic.
From the darkness ahead, something stirred.
A figure emerged—or what was left of one. It had the vague outline of a technician’s body, but its skin was translucent, glowing with fractured mana. Half its face was missing; the rest twisted in a silent scream.
Synthetic spirit. And it was angry.
Rowan barely had time to level his spellgun before it surged forward, trailing arcs of corrupted magic.
"Contact!" Vera barked.
Mika moved like lightning, her claws flashing as she ducked low and tried to flank the spirit. Vera stepped in front of Rowan, shield raised to intercept the first blast of wild mana.
Rowan took aim, heart hammering.
First real mission. First real fight. Make it count.
He squeezed the trigger.
The kinetic round cracked through the gloom, striking the spirit dead center. It staggered, shrieking in a soundless wail that rattled Rowan's teeth.
"Again!" Vera shouted.
Rowan reloaded, hands steady despite the adrenaline roaring through him. Mika darted past, slashing glowing runes across the spirit’s back, forcing it to stumble.
The team moved with chaotic, desperate synergy.
Rowan's second shot shattered the spirit's core. The entity collapsed inward with a sigh of displaced air, leaving only a faint shimmer and the echo of broken dreams.
Silence fell.
Mika was panting, her hair singed at the edges. Rowan felt his arms trembling slightly from the mana backlash.
Vera lowered her shield.
"Good work," she said simply.
Rowan exhaled, a slow, shaky breath of relief.
Maybe they weren't a legendary Crew yet. Maybe they were still just Hollowlight Cell 43.
But they were ready for whatever came next.