Location: Solmerea – Halcyros Prime Undercity
Time: [Cycle 8 : 01:45 – 04:30 Local Drift]
Ren moved like a shadow on borrowed time.
No Core-voices in his head.
No allies to call.
Just the weight of Vey'stryx at his side, and a growing awareness that he was not alone.
Someone was watching.
He didn't know who. Or how many.
Only that they didn't want him finding the Dimensional Core.
Which meant?
He fucking had to.
He slid into the undercity — past the sanctioned gates, down the sloped slabs where Guardian law began to fray.
Here, no one bowed.
No one wore armor unless they expected to use it.
Magic was sold like alcohol — openly, but under the wrong name.
This was where he could start listening.
Start hunting.
Location: Glowgut Bazaar – Sector 4H
The scent of burned ink and drifting blood-ether clung to the streets. Lanterns lit with soulflame hummed in doorways.
Ren walked into a tavern— a place where time occasionally skipped half a second just to remind you nothing was safe.
He ordered a drink he didn't want and listened.
And finally, someone leaned in.
"You're looking for something."
A voice like parchment and broken teeth.
The speaker: A cloaked figure, face covered in pale burn-masks, fingers stained with ritual ink.
Ren stayed casual. "That obvious?"
The figure slid a folded parchment across the table.
Not a map at first glance. Just a scroll with three fragmented glyphs glowing faintly.
Ren touched it — and the symbols aligned.
A map shimmered into life.
Not of cities. Not of landmarks.
But of Vein ruptures and Dimensional fracture zones.
"These are the rumored resting sites," the figure said.
"If the Dimensional Core still exists in this cycle, it's buried beneath one of these five kingdoms."
Synn Thalorith – The Singing Dunes.
2. Crimson Petal Dominion – The Bone Gardens.
3. Oth'Rel Exarchy – The Clocktower of Silence.
4. Vanyress – Deep Spire Archive Ruins.
5. Outer Drift Rupture – no coordinates listed.
Ren stared.
"These… are real?"
The figure nodded slowly.
"They are possible. Each a scar from the time-surge war. Where the core might've bounced, buried, or broken."
Ren leaned forward. "Why give this to me?"
The figure chuckled.
"Because you're already marked. They're watching you. That means you're already fucked. So you might as well be useful."
Ren blinked. "…Comforting."
The figure continued.
"If you want to pursue this without being erased by an imperial bounty chain, you'll need protection. You'll need… legitimacy."
They pulled out a carved obsidian coin — etched with a three-snake glyph biting each other's tails.
"Join the Hunt Association."
Ren squinted. "The what now?"
"The Underguild. Deep layers of the black market — beyond even Glowgut. They train, fund, and license artifact hunters. You'll need to prove you've got power — or you'll be used instead of hired."
"And what's the catch?"
The figure smiled behind the mask.
"You'll owe them a favor. Always. One day, they'll call for it."
Ren took the map. Took the coin. Took the silence.
And nodded.
"Where do I find them?"
The figure stood. "Sector 9. Basement of the old blood-chapel. Knock four times. Ask for Trossa."
Then, just like that — gone.
As Ren walked out…
Whispers followed him like ghosts.
"That's him."
"The one they're looking for."
"Doesn't even know what he's carrying."
"Wonder how long he'll last."
Ren felt it in his spine.
He wasn't just looking for the Core.
He was the Core.
To some.
To others?
A target.
But none of that mattered now.
Because he had a map, a coin, and a new fire under his feet.
And if they were hunting him?
He'd just run faster.
And maybe — just maybe — he'd find what no one else was meant to touch.
Location: Solmerea – Sector 9, Blood-Chapel Underguild Entrance
Time: [Cycle 8 : 06:45 – 08:30 Local Drift]
The Blood Chapel wasn't on any map.
Because it wasn't a building anymore.
It was a fractured slab of stone, sunk halfway into the undercity floor like someone had tried to banish it through force and failed.
Symbols of the old cults still clung to the ruined pillars — three-eyed beasts, false stars, and anchor glyphs half-erased by time and plasma burns.
Ren stepped up to the door — half-metal, half-bone — and knocked four times.
Waited.
Then said the name: "Trossa."
A pause.
Then a hiss.
The door opened inward.
Inside was a hall of silence, lit by red glyphlight, full of bodies — hunters, mercs, black-robed casters, and drifters with eyes like dried fire.
This wasn't a tavern.
This was a recruitment furnace.
A woman stepped forward.
Trossa — tall, half her face tattooed with ink runes, the other half a beautiful smile made from jagged steel.
"You're the meat carrying the coin?" she asked.
Ren held it up.
Trossa took it, weighed it in her palm like it could explode.
"You know the rules?"
Ren blinked. "Not really."
She grinned.
"Perfect. Step into the ring."
Location: Trial Pit-> The Candidate Circle
Ren was shoved into a combat circle surrounded by carved stone and six judges — three masked, two in armor, one literally levitating.
Trossa addressed them like a twisted game show host.
"Candidate shows physical aptitude. Blade flow: Assassin-tier. Vein reflex: Untested. Core presence: Intermittent."
One of the judges growled, "But does he have magic?"
Trossa turned.
"No. Not yet."
They moved to eject him.
Ren reached for Vey'stryx.
Trossa stopped him.
"Wait."
She leaned in to the judges.
"Let me train him."
That froze the circle.
"You'd vouch?" one judge asked.
Trossa's smile was a blade.
"Not just vouch. I'll gift him."
A ripple of murmurs.
"You mean…?"
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"Illegal."
"Perfect."
Trossa turned to Ren.
"You want in? I give you magic. Not the pretty kind. Not the sanctioned spells you find in royal academies."
She stepped closer, touched her inked fingers to his chest.
"I give you Summoning."
Ren blinked. "Isn't that—?"
Trossa: "Absolutely forbidden. Perfectly fun."
"Summoning magic is not calling beasts. It's calling contracts.
Spirits. Echoes. Forgotten weapons. Dead gods.
You summon what answers you."
She pulled a stone from her pocket — a black oval pulsing with shifting light.
Pressed it into Ren's palm.
It burned.
Contract Initiation: Summoner-Class Ritual (Illicit)
Ren dropped to one knee, screaming.
The stone split into three glyphs, carved themselves onto his arm, spine, and chest — resonant ink made of blood and shadow.
The room shook.
The lights went dim.
Something behind the veil… stirred.
Trossa stood over him. "Now you're mine."
She turned to the others.
"He's in."
Location: Post-Ritual Recovery – Underguild Bunkroom
Ren lay on a stone slab, half-delirious, sweat soaked into his collar.
But in his veins?
He felt it.
A pull.
A voice — distant, deep, not Core, not Frost, not Blaze.
A new voice.
A potential contract.
Waiting.
Trossa stepped in.
"Welcome to the Hunt Association."
She dropped a sealed scroll in his lap.
He unrolled it, expecting something massive — a grand artifact hunt, or a mythical monster guarding a core shard in some cursed desert.
Instead?
He read the header:
"Trial Hunt Contract – Beginner Rank (Summoner-Class Initiate)"
Ren blinked.
"…Beginner?"
Trossa grinned, showing a bit of fang. "You think we're sending a newborn blood-inked summoner into the Dunes of Fuck-You-Land? You'd die before you activated your first chain."
She pointed at the scroll.
Assignment: Extermination/Binding Trial
Target: Rogue Spirit – "Mire Whisperer"
Location: Sewage Drift Zone, Lower Halcyros Cradle
Objective: Contain or banish entity using summoner-mark glyphs.
Time Limit: 3 Drift Cycles
Pay: 5000 shards (only upon success)
Bonus: Initiation Stamp for Guild Advancement
Warning: Unauthorized death will result in permanent blacklisting and soul quarantine review.
Ren muttered, "...They really added 'soul quarantine' like that's a normal HR policy."
Trossa leaned down. "Listen carefully, Ren. This is your first summoner trial. Your glyphs are unstable. You've got one spell slot open, and it's blank. You'll need to channel it manually."
"Manually?" Ren asked.
"Meaning," she said, tapping his chest, "if you want something to show up when you scream, you better convince something to listen to you."
Ren sat up, rubbing his temples. "Alright. I'll figure it out."
Trossa was already halfway to the door when she stopped.
"Oh. One more thing."
She tapped a panel.
A glowing bounty screen appeared on the wall, projected in shimmering red and gold.
And there it was.
[WANTED – DIMENSIONAL INTERLOPER]
Alias: Unknown
Image Match: 93.4% Match (Subject: REN)
Status: Unlicensed summoner, suspected artifact bearer, anomaly-class presence
Reward: 850,000 Drift Shards + rank upgrade + Noble immunity clause
Live capture preferred. Dead… acceptable.
Authorized by: Oth'Rel Exarchy | Crimson Petal Dynasty | House Aurelix (disputed)
Ren stared, his face going pale.
"…That's a fuckload of money."
Trossa cackled.
"Yup. Congratulations, sweetheart — you're officially more valuable than a high priest's illegitimate bastard."
She turned.
"Now get moving. You've got a sewer spirit to seduce or stab. And don't worry—"
Her grin widened.
"You'll die slower next time."