Valdris City — Noble Ring
Raft Manor, East Pavilion
Morning sunlight spilled across polished marble floors and expensive carpets imported from the Wolf-Ear Dominion. Lyle Raft lounged on a velvet divan, sipping citrus tea as if he had all the time in the world.
But the three kneeling men before him knew better.
His lazy smile meant danger.
Always.
"Let me be sure I heard you correctly," Lyle said lightly, swirling his tea. "You're telling me… nobody has seen Raygen or Asa since yesterday afternoon?"
The merchant captain who'd delivered the report swallowed hard.
"Yes, Young Master. Their trail ends in the lower market ring. None of our spotters found them after the sixth bell."
Lyle hummed, amused.
"And the city teleport arrays?"
"All still locked with Raft-family permissions. They didn't use them to leave."
"And the gates?"
"No recorded departures under their names."
Lyle set down his teacup and steepled his fingers.
"So," he summarized cheerfully, "we have two problematic upstarts, both newly dangerous, both potentially hiding something, who have suddenly vanished into thin air without leaving the city."
He leaned forward slowly, smile widening.
"How… interesting."
A bead of sweat rolled down the messenger's neck.
Lyle tapped his chin. "No need to panic. If they didn't leave the city, they're still here. Keep your eyes open, but don't stir panic. And certainly do not confront them directly."
The men bowed quickly. "Understood, Young Master."
"Good. You may go."
The moment the door shut, Lyle's smile sharpened like a blade.
He rose gracefully, crossing to the balcony. From here, he had a perfect view of the outskirts—the rocky ridges and dusty plains surrounding Valdris… and the dark scar on the land where the dungeon entrance once lay.
The dungeon where Raygen and Asa found him.
The one Lyle's family had tried—and failed—to crack for ten years.
He closed his eyes, recalling the stories.
Years ago, his father had led a private expedition into that very dungeon. They'd found strange relics—broken, incomplete fragments of a lost civilization. Nothing that directly increased strength, but enough that Raft influence quietly expanded afterward. A few enchanted trinkets. A few forgotten artifacts. Enough to give them advantages in the shadows.
But never anything substantial.
Never anything like a mythical inheritance.
Never anything like a living being sealed away.
Never anything like a power that could turn an orphan into a monster within weeks.
Lyle chuckled.
"Oh, Raygen… what did you bring out of my family's dungeon?"
He turned around lazily.
"Come out. I know you're there."
A ripple of darkness peeled itself away from the corner of the room.
A figure coalesced—tall, broad-shouldered, and wrapped in a mantle of black mana thick enough to suffocate a weaker man. His face was mostly hidden beneath a shadow-hood; only a strong jawline and faint scars were visible.
S-rank adventurer.
The Raft family's hidden guardian.
A man whispered about in taverns like a ghost story.
"Lord Lyle," the shadowed man said, voice low and calm. "You suspect the boy found a relic?"
Lyle stretched, yawning like a bored cat.
"'Relic' is too small a word. He went from a nobody to toppling one of my squads in a week. That isn't talent. That's help."
He turned, letting sunlight illuminate his face—handsome, flawless, utterly predatory.
"And when someone becomes useful… I make sure their usefulness comes to me."
The S-rank tilted his head. "Shall I bring him in?"
Lyle laughed softly.
"Bring him in? No, no, no. If Raygen possessed a mere skillbook or artifact, yes. But something warped him this quickly… something that let him clash with trained nobles without flinching?"
He shook his head slowly.
"No. Raygen has something that chooses its master. If we snatch him too early, we lose the prize entirely."
The S-rank's eyes glinted. "So you wish to wait."
"Not wait." Lyle clasped his hands behind his back, smiling down at the bustling city below. "Watch. Observe. Corner him when the moment is perfect."
"And if he becomes a threat?"
Lyle's smile didn't dim in the slightest.
"Oh, he's already a threat. That's what makes this fun."
The S-rank bowed his head.
"As you command."
Lyle waved a hand. "Search discreetly. They're hiding somewhere in the city—unless they've discovered a way to bypass the arrays entirely."
He chuckled as if amused by a private joke.
"And if that's true… then Raygen is even more valuable than I hoped."
---
**Far Across the World — Golden Savanna Expanse
Raygen & Asa**
The alien sun was lower now, casting molten gold across the vast plains. The two moons hovered faintly in the sky like watchful eyes.
Raygen's breathing was steady.
Calm.
Controlled.
His clothes were torn, scorched, dust-stained. His crimson-iron armor bore dozens of shallow claw marks. Sweat beaded on his forehead but his posture remained unshaken—straight spine, grounded stance, eyes sharp like forged steel.
Across from him stood Asa—lean, deadly, and vibrating with adrenaline. Her new daggers hummed faintly, still glowing with residual mana after the battle.
And between them?
The massive corpse of a crystal-maned predator—one of the panther-sized lizards that had stalked them this afternoon.
Its body was cleaved from neck to torso.
Raygen hadn't hesitated.
He never did.
Asa whistled. "You didn't even blink when it pounced."
Raygen wiped blood from his blade with a cloth.
"No reason to."
"That thing was the size of a wagon."
"It was hunting us. I responded."
She stared at him.
Raygen didn't break eye contact.
He didn't smile.
He didn't brag.
He didn't gloat.
He simply existed—quiet, cold-focused, resolute.
Asa shook her head. "You've changed."
Raygen sheathed his dagger.
"Alac said progress comes from pressure. So I'm applying pressure."
"Yeah," she muttered, "but I was expecting… you know… a reaction when something tries to take a bite out of you."
Raygen shrugged faintly. "I reacted."
"That's not what I meant, you emotionless murder gremlin."
Raygen raised an eyebrow. "I'm not short enough to be a gremlin."
"Debatable."
He didn't respond, but a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed silent amusement.
The wind swept across the savanna, carrying scents of wild grass, strange flowers, and mana-rich dust.
They began walking toward the distant beastkin road where caravans traveled.
Asa nudged him. "We need to plan. We have twenty-eight days now. What's our focus?"
Raygen answered instantly.
"Survival. Combat adaptation. Mana control. Increasing system synchronization."
Asa frowned. "You still feel changes?"
Raygen nodded once. "Stronger every hour. Something in this world accelerates my growth."
"…Alac?" she whispered.
"No," Raygen said quietly. "The environment. The mana density's different here."
He paused.
"And Alac is always watching."
Asa glanced at the sky.
"What do you think he wants?"
Raygen didn't slow.
"Strength."
"That's vague."
"Accurate."
They walked in silence a moment before Asa spoke again.
"Look, Ray… we don't know this world. We don't know the politics, the monsters, the terrain—"
"We'll learn."
Asa sighed. "There it is again. The stoic killer voice."
Raygen didn't respond.
Because something was wrong.
He halted abruptly, eyes narrowing.
Asa followed his gaze.
The tall grass ahead rippled in unnatural patterns.
Not wind.
Weight.
Many feet.
Asa slid her daggers free. "Beasts?"
"No."
Raygen's voice dropped a tone.
"People."
A moment later, the attackers revealed themselves—stepping from the grass wearing bone-carved masks and carrying spears tipped with shimmering mana-crystal.
Beastkin. Wolf-tribe. Hunters.
At least twenty.
Asa whispered, "They don't look friendly."
Raygen stepped forward calmly.
"They won't be."
A wolf-kin with black fur and tribal paint raised a hand, barking something in a language Raygen didn't recognize.
Asa stiffened. "What's the plan?"
Raygen rolled his shoulders once—loose, ready, unafraid.
"Hold."
The hunters lowered their spears.
Raygen didn't move.
The leader snarled, sizing them up.
Raygen met his gaze directly—steady, unwavering, showing no fear, no submission, no aggression.
Just readiness.
The leader paused… then slowly lowered his spear.
He spoke again—slower, questioning.
Raygen merely nodded.
The wolf-kin blinked, surprised.
Finally, he gestured for them to follow.
Asa whispered sharply, "What did you just tell him?"
Raygen glanced at her.
"Nothing," he said.
"Then—"
"He recognized confidence."
Asa's mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"…You are terrifying."
Raygen exhaled calmly. "We needed information. This tribe has it."
Asa narrowed her eyes. "And if they tried to take us hostage?"
Raygen answered with the quiet certainty of someone stating a fact.
"They can't."
The wolf-kin hunters led them toward the south—toward smoke rising behind a ridge.
Toward a village.
Toward answers.
As they walked, Asa looked sideways at him.
"What's going through your head? Honestly."
Raygen's reply was simple.
"Twenty-eight days. We'll use every one."
"And after that?"
Raygen's gaze drifted to the twin moons.
"After that," he said quietly, "Lyle Raft won't be smiling anymore."
High above them, invisible to all but one, a silent flicker of lightning threaded through the clouds.
Alac watched.
And the world waited.
End of Chapter 13