[Time: 20:45]
[Location: Academy Administration Building – Professor Scarlet's Office]
I knocked on the door. The hardness of the wood made my knuckles ache.
"Enter!"
The voice from inside was not an invitation—it was an order. Harsh, sharp, and impatient.
When I stepped inside, the heavy scent of leather and old paper hit me in the face. Professor Scarlet was buried behind her desk, illuminated by the cold glow of dozens of blue holographic reports floating in the air. The room looked less like an academic's office and more like the cabin of a retired hunter. A stuffed Wyvern's head snarled above the fireplace, while the hairy leg of a massive dungeon spider stood on the bookshelf like a trophy.
Without lifting her head, she flicked through the holograms and asked,
"What is it? Make it quick. I don't have time."
"A permit, Professor," I said, gently placing the digital tablet onto an empty corner of her desk beside a stack of papers. "I'm requesting leave to go into the city for the weekend."
Scarlet's finger froze mid-air. Slowly, she raised her head and fixed her piercing amber eyes on me.
"Arthur Knox," she said, pronouncing my name like an insult, like a word that left a bitter taste in her mouth. "You're a first-year student. An F-Rank. You haven't even completed basic training yet. Normally, F-Rank students are forbidden from leaving campus before the first semester ends. The outside world chews people like you up and spits them out."
"I know, ma'am," I said, letting my voice tremble slightly as I slipped into the role of the traumatized, timid child. I lowered my shoulders and avoided her gaze.
"But… after yesterday's dungeon incident… I need some air. The medicine in the infirmary doesn't help me sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the chains. I want to go to an old temple in the city to pray, to clear my mind. In memory of my family."
It was a lie with a tail. The Knox family had no grave; their bodies had been burned in an unmarked pit because of unpaid debts. Still, even someone with Scarlet's military discipline would respect the dead—and trauma.
Scarlet took the tablet, but didn't approve it. Her eyes shifted to another screen marked in red.
[Mission Report: Whispering Caverns – Incident 7]
[Team 7: Lucas Sol, Elena Frost… Arthur Knox]
Her eyes narrowed. Her gaze moved from the report to me, then back again.
"You were on that team," she said, her voice low but heavy.
"In that cursed cave where a B-Rank Boss—a Corrupted Bishop—appeared. A death trap even experienced hunters hesitate to enter. Lucas is in the infirmary, Titus has a broken arm, Jin is still having nightmares. But you…"
She looked straight at me.
"You're standing here in one piece."
"I was just lucky, Professor," I said, clasping my hands together.
"I hid in the back. While Lucas and Elena fought, I just prayed. I guess the Bishop didn't see me as a threat, so it didn't attack."
Scarlet tapped her fingers rhythmically against the desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I could practically see the gears turning in her mind.
Luck, she thought. There's no such thing as luck on a battlefield. When a tank like Titus gets crushed, and this frail kid doesn't even get a scratch… either he's the biggest coward alive and ran miles away… or there's something the reports aren't saying.
Normally, she would have rejected the request. Her instincts screamed No.
But surviving that dungeon was, in its own way, proof of qualification. And perhaps, if she loosened the leash just a little, the boy would reveal his true colors.
"Fine," Scarlet said, stamping the digital signature. The tablet lit up green with an Approved chime.
"Go. But if you're even one minute late for Monday's 06:00 assembly, I'll assign you to toilet cleaning duty until the end of the term. Understood?"
"Thank you, Professor. I won't be late."
I saluted and left quickly. When the door closed behind me, I let out a deep breath. My palms were sweaty.
Scarlet leaned back in her chair, watching Arthur leave.
"That look in his eyes…" she murmured.
"It wasn't fear. It was… patience."
[Time: 21:30]
[Location: Male Dormitory – 3rd Floor Corridor]
I had the permit, but there was still a critical problem: my face and my identity.
I couldn't descend into the underworld as Arthur Knox. An F-Rank student would get robbed in five minutes and sold to organ traffickers in ten.
I needed a mask. A costume. And most importantly—a weapon.
And I knew exactly where to find them.
I didn't stop at Jin Ryer's room. Instead, I went to the dusty ventilation shaft at the end of the corridor that no one ever used.
When I was writing the novel, I'd given Jin a small, funny detail: because he was excessively paranoid and a hoarder, he hid his most valuable contraband not in his room, but behind a fake panel inside the corridor's ventilation shaft.
I scanned the area. The corridor was empty. I was in the cameras' blind spot. I pried open the grate with my fingernails. The hinges creaked softly. I reached into the darkness and felt cold metal.
Bingo.
A black, waterproof, military-grade bag.
I pulled it out and opened it. Inside were supplies Jin kept for his "doomsday scenarios" or "night operations":
An oversized, worn black tactical cloak. (Aura concealment. Cheap, but effective.)A simple black gas mask. (Voice-modulation module installed.)Several smoke grenades and signal flares.
"I'm borrowing these, Jin," I whispered as I transferred the items into my own bag.
"Consider it a small commission for saving your life—and letting you land that shot."
[Time: 02:00]
[Location: Sanctuary City – Rusty District Cargo Elevator]
Two hours past midnight, far from Sanctuary's glittering center, I stood in the city's "guts"—the Rusty District.
An industrial zone where massive smokestacks choked the sky and acid rain slowly dissolved the buildings.
I stopped in front of a gigantic, abandoned cargo elevator surrounded by barbed wire. I was no longer wearing my Academy uniform. The black cloak from Jin's stash completely covered me. I pulled the hood over my head. The black gas mask hid my face. Each breath produced a mechanical growl through the filter.
Grim, I thought. Ready?
This place stinks.
The tattoo on my arm pulsed like a heartbeat. A black, liquid-like substance moved beneath my skin, spreading from my wrist to my hand and covering my right glove like living armor.
I'm hungry, Grim said. This place… smells like rotten energy.
I pulled the rusted lever.
Grrrchk—CLANG.
The metal cabin shook as it descended. The groan of the rusted cables sounded like a stone falling into a bottomless pit. The lights dimmed. Darkness deepened. The temperature dropped.
After five nauseating minutes of free-fall, the elevator jolted to a stop. The heavy iron doors creaked open.
And Tartarus stood before me—in all its filth, chaos, and grotesque splendor.
This wasn't a city.
It was an organism.
A vertical nightmare built inside a colossal underground cavern with no ceiling—stacked container homes, neon signs, dangling cables, and steam-belching pipes layered atop one another. Red, purple, and green neon lights glowed beneath the constant artificial acid rain, reflecting off the wet ground. Music—heavy, industrial techno—thumped in the distance like a massive heartbeat.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I blended into the crowd. No one looked at anyone's face here. Everyone had a secret. Everyone had a price. And everyone was running from something.
Four-armed mutants. Fugitive mages with cybernetic eyes. Burn-scarred ex-soldiers.
This was my world.
The only place where a Glitch could hide—or even become king.
[Location: Golden Quarter – "Midas Exchange"]
My first stop was Tartarus's financial center—the Black Bank.
I couldn't spend Elena's 100 pure mana crystals at the Academy. They had no serial numbers, but their quality was too high. They'd draw attention. I needed off-the-books currency—untraceable credit.
Selling all of them would be stupid.
I'd already used one the night before to stabilize my body. Ninety-nine remained.
Grim, I thought. Set aside nine for yourself. Emergency shield in case of Body Collapse.
The tattoo tightened in agreement. I slipped nine crystals into an inner pocket of my cloak, where Grim could access them directly.
That left ninety to sell.
Midas Exchange stood in the middle of Tartarus's tin shantytowns, gleaming like gold—though it was really yellow-painted reinforced steel. I passed the two massive ogre guards at the entrance, their shock rifles resting on their shoulders, thanks to the don't mess with me aura of my mask and cloak.
Inside, it felt like a betting parlor drowned in cigarette smoke, filled with shouting and scrolling market screens. I approached the least crowded counter.
Behind bulletproof glass sat an old, wrinkled goblin, one eye replaced by a glowing red cybernetic lens.
"What do you want?" he snarled without stopping his counting.
I pulled out the velvet pouch and poured the ninety crystals onto the marble counter.
Clink.
A heavy, rich sound. The sound of quality.
The goblin froze. His cybernetic eye whirred as it focused on the blue pile. He picked one up and examined it.
"Pure Aether," he muttered, licking his lips.
"From the North. No Frost seal, but the quality's the same. No… denser."
He looked up.
"Stolen? Bloody?"
"Found," I said. My mask turned my voice robotic and dull.
"And clean. Ninety pieces."
"Hmph. Market's low right now. Northern supply's up. I'll buy at 500 Credits per unit."
I laughed inwardly.
I was the author. I built this economy. I knew the inflation rates and black-market margins.
"Don't lie to me, old man," I said coldly.
"Northern shipments stopped last week due to a Wyvern attack. The market's dry. Midas's floor price is 850 Credits. And these are 98% purity—unrefined. They're worth at least 1,000 each."
The goblin hesitated. His pupil shrank. He knew I wasn't bluffing.
He grinned, baring yellow teeth.
"Smart one. Or you've got good sources. Fine. 900 Credits. Final offer."
"950," I said, leaning in.
"And I want payment in an untraceable Ghost Chip. No records. No trail."
The goblin laughed.
"Tough customer. I like you. Deal. Ninety pieces—85,500 Credits."
Five minutes later, I walked out with a black, fingerprint-proof chip loaded with 85,500 Credits. The weight of the nine crystals hidden in my cloak gave me something money couldn't buy.
A guarantee of survival.
[Location: Back Alleys – Route to the Smiths' District]
I pushed through the crowd and headed toward the quieter Smiths' Street. My goal was to find a special metal—preferably Starsteel—that could withstand Grim's transformations.
Ten minutes later, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
I was being followed.
Even without activating Entropy Eyes, I could feel it. A disturbance in the rhythm of the crowd.
I narrowed my eyes.
[Entropy Eyes: Active]
Among the gray silhouettes, three bright red auras emerged. They'd been tailing me since the Exchange. The old goblin had probably sold the information to local gangs.
Classic Tartarus hospitality.
I didn't speed up. I didn't panic. Instead, I left the main street and turned into a dark dead-end alley lined with trash containers.
Dark. Rain-soaked. No witnesses.
Perfect.
At the end of the alley, I stopped and slowly turned around.
Three figures stepped out of the shadows like hyenas. Cheap leather jackets. Gang tattoos. Shock knives crackling with electricity and spiked iron batons in their hands.
Members of the Red Skulls.
Low-level trash—but enough to kill a rookie.
The one in the middle, clearly the leader, spun his knife.
"Lost, kid?" he sneered.
"These are dangerous streets. Didn't your mommy tell you not to talk to strangers? Hand over that black chip, and maybe we'll only break your legs."
I tilted my head slightly. The sound of my breathing beneath the mask was the only noise.
"I knew you were following me," I said calmly.
"I led you here."
The leader laughed.
"Did you hear that, boys? He led us here. What now? Gonna scare us to death? Or cry for help?"
"No," I said, raising my hand. The black liquid on my glove stirred.
"I'm going to use you as test subjects."
Grim. Feast.
The tattoo on my arm exploded. Black fluid burst outward, froze mid-air, and solidified in my grasp. Grim took shape at my will.
Not a sword.
Not a hammer.
A long-handled, crescent-bladed, pitch-black scythe. Its edge crackled with violet Glitch energy.
The gang's laughter died. Their eyes widened.
"W-What is that?! A mage?!"
I didn't answer.
[Flicker]
In the blink of an eye, I crossed ten meters. I appeared in front of the leader before he could even raise his knife. I saw the terror in his eyes.
I swung the scythe in a horizontal arc.
ZZZZT.
No sound. No blood spray.
His head separated from his shoulders—but didn't fall. Grim's blade touched it mid-air and absorbed it like a sponge. The body pixelated into gray dust and scattered in the wind.
The other two screamed and tried to run.
"Monster!"
"It's a monster!"
"No escape," I said, extending my left hand.
[Dimensional Chaos: Attraction Field]
I warped the space in front of one of them. He ran, legs pumping wildly, but stayed in place—as if on an invisible treadmill.
I walked up and rested the cold barrel of the scythe against his neck.
"Please!" he begged, drool spilling from his mouth.
"We have no money! Let us go! I swear we won't tell anyone!"
Grim was merciless. Hungry.
The scythe cut, draining his life force.
The last man collapsed to his knees, having soiled himself in terror. He covered his head with his hands.
I approached him. The scythe dissolved back into liquid form, returning to the tattoo on my arm.
I crouched, grabbed his chin, and forced him to look into the black lenses of my mask.
"I won't kill you," I said.
He sobbed.
"Th-thank you… thank you…"
"Listen carefully," I said coldly.
"You will go and tell everyone. A new player has arrived in Tartarus."
I slammed him against the wall.
"My name is Raven. And these streets are my hunting grounds now. If you cross my path again… I won't even leave your shadow."
I let him go.
Screaming and stumbling, he ran toward the alley entrance and vanished into the darkness.
I stood alone beneath the acid rain, ashes at my feet. Grim hummed contentedly on my arm.
[Chaos Reserve: 55%]
I adjusted my cloak and walked toward the fire escape at the far end of the alley. With 85,500 Credits in my pocket and the assurance of nine crystals in my heart, I moved forward.
Raven had been born.
Next came the weapon.
And deep within Tartarus, bigger fish and rarer treasures were waiting.
"The game has begun," I whispered.
The neon lights of the city gleamed like blood against my black cloak.