The plaza smelled of smoke, scorched stone, and something acrid that clung to the air like a warning.
Dust swirled in the gaps between shattered stalls, and translucent fragments of Hoppers glimmered on the blood-sullied cobblestones like broken crystal.
Ashen's boots crunched over debris as he walked, resonance dagger hanging at his side, pistol holstered but humming faintly with residual energy.
His chest still throbbed from adrenaline, and the subtle pulse of Kovatar magic lingered in his veins, a reminder of the chaos that had erupted hours before.
Nyra hovered at his shoulder, her sapphire glow softer than usual, scanning the plaza with meticulous precision.
[Well, Ashen… you survived. Barely. But still… That was impressive, even for you.] She said, voice warm but teasing. There was a faint edge of something akin worry beneath her usual lightheartedness.
Ashen exhaled sharply.
"Thanks, Nyra… I didn't die, that's all." He muttered.
[Technically true… but your heart rate would like to politely disagree. Seriously, take a moment next time.] She added, her tone like that of a friend scolding him, just short of sarcasm.
He ignored her, focusing on the plaza.
Civilians were still emerging from hiding, some bleeding, some shaken, others just wide-eyed with disbelief… Some others are dead.
Lathea knelt near the collapsed remnants of a fruit stall, water magic coiling gently around a wounded child, supporting him as medics arrived. Her red copper hair glimmered in the sunlight like fire caught in glass. Sora hovered nearby, a faint pulse of scarlet light tracking every magical movement she made.
Ashen didn't step closer, though he observed quietly. He and Lathea had fought side by side earlier, an unspoken cooperation that had saved lives, yet now, outside the chaos of battle, they were cautious.
'The more I look at her, the weirder it becomes. It was her face I saw on the silhouette. Is she…
Seeing how devoted she was in helping people, Ashen shook the idea.
'Nah… she's definitely not an enemy.'
Nyra cut through his thought.
[Familiar mage detected near host. Tactical efficiency: high. Approach with… friendly caution?] Nyra whispered.
Ashen arched an eyebrow.
"Friendly caution, huh? That's a new term for you."
[Call it a… human approximation. You'll thank me later.] the device replied, voice lightly amused.
Lathea glanced up as Ashen walked by, giving him a small nod. He returned it with a curt, almost imperceptible acknowledgement.
The distant murmur of different Guild members and Mages coordinating recovery filled the plaza. Shouts of instruction and the occasional magical chime echoed as medics moved civilians and dismantled unstable debris. Ashen flexed his fingers around his dagger's hilt, alert as ever.
Despite the calm, he could not help but feel a tension beneath the surface. The city had survived, yes, but the gate had been only a warning. But a warning about what?
Many things were moving in Ashen's mind. His brain was reviewing the entirety of the day, and even some more, during his previous travel through one of the portals of Route 7-A. The ruins he had explored in Denathis' portal world were no more, as they collapsed with the breach in the portal. And if he was there basically to find clues about his mother's whereabouts, the lack of artefacts seemed awfully unusual.
Still, what could this have to do with the Gate Rift he just pushed back? Where they even related?
In his mind, the brain cells were moving twice as fast as they usually moved. Yet, he was nowhere near a single clue, or a beginning of an idea that could guide him towards an answer.
But at least, some things were clear. First, something — or someone — was messing with the Hoppers, creating a bunch of modified ones. For what reason, he couldn't say. Second, the vision of his mother had given him an idea about where to start looking in this search. Third, and maybe the most important of all, there was a certainty that this catastrophe would happen again, soon.
...And on a larger scale.
Ashen's brain continued to process information and analyse data at full speed, making him mumble incomprehensible words under his nose.
Noticing it, his companion device hovered towards him and landed on his head.
[Host seems… distracted. Focusing on civilians, as usual.] Nyra murmured, faintly worried.
"I noticed." Ashen muttered.
Lingering for a moment, he looked around him, scratched the back of his head and sighed.
"I'm fine."
[Fine. Of course. That's what you always say.] she replied, with a hint of an almost human exasperation in her sigh.
Across the plaza, Lathea was lifting injured townspeople with care, her water magic gentle and precise. Sora's advice, analytical but softened with subtle humour, kept her movements efficient.
[Careful with that one — structural integrity of nearby roof compromised], he warned.
"Got it, Sora. Thanks!" she said, voice light and steady.
Ashen adjusted his dagger, scanning the remaining plaza. Even now, small wisps of residual Hopper energy drifted along the cracked stone. The translucent monsters had left traces that shimmered faintly in the sunlight, a reminder to everyone that nothing was truly safe.
[You're noticing them again, aren't you?] Nyra asked, voice soft.
Ashen didn't answer, only narrowed his eyes. He had learned long ago that the first wave of Hoppers was nothing compared to what was coming. It was just an announcement of something far bigger, far more dangerous… far more catastrophic.
Exhausted by all these thoughts, Ashen let out a dejected sigh.
Suddenly, a little way off from where he was standing, a slight commotion arose. Erratic footsteps could be heard, striking the cobblestones with full force.
A guild messenger appeared, striding through the debris with surprising agility for one not trained for combat. Leather satchel slung over the shoulder, the messenger's boots leaving streaks in the dust.
"Greylock!" he called, voice sharp and official.
Ashen turned, tightening his grip on his dagger.
"Yes, what again?"
"You are to report to the council immediately." the messenger said, handing over a folded map.
Ashen took the map, and as soon as he did so, the messenger continued:
"New assignment: Northern outskirts. Hopper activity is increasing, and anomalous artefacts have been detected nearby. High priority. Discretion required."
Ashen scanned the map, noting glowing runes that marked zones of unstable energy.
"Artefacts, huh…"
He glanced at Nyra.
[Probability of artefact interference with host: extremely high. Emotional responses expected. Caution advised.] she said, voice threading worry with almost maternal concern.
"Don't worry… I'll manage." Ashen muttered, slipping the map into one of his travel pockets.
[Manage. That's one way to put it.] Nyra said drily.
Still, there was amusement under the concern.
Lathea had just finished stabilising the last injured civilian nearby. She turned toward Ashen, water magic fading with graceful control.
"Heading out?" she asked, curiosity in her voice.
Ashen inclined his head once.
"Yes. Northern outskirts. Hopper activity, artefact anomaly… all this stuff. You're staying behind?"
She shook her head. "I've got other things to do, as well as my own assignments. But… be careful. Don't get reckless."
[Host, she seems… protective. Probability of concern: high.] Nyra said.
Ashen ignored the remark but allowed a slight shift of attention towards her.
Smiling, he ran a hand through his hair and looked at the teal-tinted sky.
"Yeah, I'll do that!"
They walked out of the plaza together, the city slowly returning to normal behind them. Dust still rose from shattered cobblestones, and faint magical residues shimmered in the air.
Ashen instinctively adjusted his dagger and felt the familiar pulse of Kovatar magic in his arms. This was routine now, in a world where routine meant survival.
***
At the guild hall, the council waited. Ashen stepped inside, the high ceilings and polished stone walls a stark contrast to the battered streets outside. He felt the familiar tension tighten in his chest — a mix of nerves, focus, and anticipation.
But before he was going to meet the council, he made a detour and spoke briefly with the clerk about his previous payments. Then, when everything was cleared, he resumed his steps back to the council central room.
"Sit." A council member instructed.
The old man's voice was grave, commanding. His appearance clearly demonstrated the vigour he still exuded despite his advanced age. Grey hair, swept to the side. Stern expression and serious face — where a large scar went from the left side of the forehead, all the way down to the chin. Bust and shoulders as wide as a drawer.
This man was the living definition of a "veteran".
"The northern outskirts are unstable. Hopper swarms are expanding, and an artefact of interest is present. You are to investigate, contain, and report. Collateral must be minimised." He said.
Ashen's jaw tightened. He didn't need assurances. He had seen the Hoppers many times now, felt the pull of the unknown artefact and the Gate, and already suspected the larger forces at play.
"I have a few question, before giving you my answer, though." He said.
"Yes, what is it?" another member of the council asked.
It was a woman whose beauty was bewitching. Her scarlet dress shining brightly despite the cold, oppressive absence of a major source of light in the central council chamber.
The lady's beauty, however, had no particular effect on Ashen, for he knew that behind this appearance, which awakened all repressed lust, there was only an elderly woman — deadly experienced as a Wanderer, to be sure — who frantically used her magic to delay the inevitability of physical ageing, as long as possible.
…In a sense, he pitied her.
Ashen shook his head and continued:
"Why did a Gate opened back there? How is that even possible, I thought Gates where a very rare occurrence?"
The woman in red sighed, seemingly not wanting to answer. Still, she spoke.
"Before explaining why it happened, I have to ask… Do you know the difference between a portal, We wanderers use to explore worlds, and a Gate?" She said.
Ashen thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"No, Counsellor Lys. Do you care to explain and educate me, please?"
Nyra hovered beside Ashen, wanting to do so, her internal recordings programmed to explain the principle. But the young Wanderer stopped her, a finger raised, before she could ever let out a word in her mechanical voice.
The counsellor sighed once more, and proceeded to explain.
"You've seen, just like every Wanderer, many portals before — some of us were even 'reborn' from one..."
"Yeah, and?" Ashen interrupted.
"Well, a simple portal is a tool. A tear, yes, but a controlled one. It exists for a defined moment — maybe minutes, maybe hours — and is anchored by a Wanderer's resonance and the concentration of Kovatar, in a given place. In other words, it's like a door between frequencies — a passage tuned precisely to let a definite amount of beings or objects move from one world to another."
She sighed once again, and continued:
"…So, in short, the energy involved is localised, compact, and collapses once the travellers passes through. Harmless… relatively."
Ashen looked up, at the ceiling, then shifted his gaze back to the woman in red.
"I know that. We learnt it in the Wanderer Academy. But aren't Gate the same thing… just larger?"
The Veteran, intervened at this moment:
"No. Not larger.Different."
"Huh?!" The young wanderer spat, taken aback by this surprising answer, his single grey lock of hair glued on his forehead because of the cold sweat that started to assault him.
The 'seemingly' never-ageing woman continued from there.
"A Gate is not a simple door. it's a wound. It happens when too many portals open too close together, maybe even at the same spot, their frequencies overlapping. And when that resonance fuses, it doesn't stabilise… it collides."
"Huh?! What does it mean?" Ashen asked, more and more confused.
"It simply means that a Gate is what you get when the frequencies are no longer bound to a distinct number of Travellers' resonance control, but relies mainly on themselves and the environmental Kovatar. The energies amplify one another exponentially, sustained even more by natural magic, and then start tearing through the fabric of dimensional space. That's when a Gate forms — An uncontrolled, chaotic vortex that links not two, but way too many worlds at once." She replied, the veil of a grim expression dancing on her face.
Ashen, at loss for words in the face of this statement, leaned back on his chair. He felt nauseous and weak, as if his strength had left him.
But then, he sat up again and asked another question:
"And the Hoppers… they come through those?"
A third member of the Council — an old man with a frail appearance, his face marked with wrinkles and a long white beard covering his entire mouth and chin, hiding his lips — answered.
"Yes. The Hoppers are drawn to Gates and Portals like carrion birds to blood. The breach of a Gate, especially, weakens the boundary between the Corporeal, our plan of existence, and the Elsewhere — the place where their kind hatches and fester. Through the Gate, they see us. And when the tear grows unstable enough… they cross." He said, replacing the round pair of eyeglasses sliding down his little nose.
The young wanderer gulped. Touching his grey lock of hair with the tips of his fingers, he remained silent for a brief moment. After a short time had passed, he spoke again.
"Can a Gate be sealed once it forms? And if yes, how?" He asked, a sudden resolve dancing in the depths of his eyes.
Counsellor Lys leaned forward:
"Sealed, perhaps. But never without cost. To close a Gate, you must either counter its resonance — balance every frequency it touches — and that means finding every portal that helped birth it… Wanderers have tried… few survived the attempt…"
She paused, a slight anticipation trembling on her voluptuous lips.
"…Or you destroy it, and that his even less easy. You'll have to deal with every waves of Hoppers that comes pouring from it, until they're completely cleared — and that, you know it, is nearly impossible without powerful artefacts. Then after the waves are no more, either cleared or returned to the Elsewhere, you have to make it implodes… somehow.
"Implode? As in, inward explosion? How?" ashen asked, his feet trembling, eager to know the way.
Unfortunately, the answer crushed his hopes:
"We don't know yet… many hypothesises have been made but none seem feasible, for now."
The young man leaned back on his chair and sighed, dejected.
'Argh… fuck it! Every time I'm about to find answers, life raise its middle finger at me.' He thought, teeth clenched in frustration.
After a short moment, the woman sighed and spoke:
"So, here's your answer. In short… simple portals open doors. But a Gate—"
"—A Gate rips the worlds apart, trying to make every door lead to the same place." The veteran cut.
Ashen shook his head, ignoring his frustration and refocused on the subject of this meeting.
"Then, about the mission… what is your answer?" asked the woman in her scarlet dress.
At this moment, Nyra slowly hovered over Ashen's head and landed on it. Then, she activated the Internal Communication System. The pulse of Kovatar emanating from her was weak enough not to be picked up by the council's senior officials.
[Host readiness: adequate. Probability of mission success: 78 percent. Probability of unexpected interference: very high.] Nyra said, still landed on Ashen's head.
There was a warmth in her tone, a subtle encouragement that made Ashen smirk faintly.
'78 percent, huh?' he mumbled.
Raising his head, he looked directly at the members of the council:
"I'll take it." He said.
***
Stepping outside, the sun glinted off the remaining rubbles. Ashen took a good and extensive look at the landscape before him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to relax. Then he dove back into his thought.
The northern outskirts awaited, but that surely would not make Ashen flinch. He had survived gates and monsters since he was a baby. He had survived another Gate today… He had survived the first test.
Just in front of the Guild's stairs, Lathea was standing, jumping uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Hearing the footsteps of Ashen, she turned back and adjusted her robes.
"Is everything okay ?" She asked.
Ashen glanced rapidly at her, then shifted his gaze towards the incredibly distant plaza of the Market District.
Scratching the back of his head, he sighed and answered:
"Yeah, nothing serious. Just have to deal with another bunch of Hoppers."
[Nothing serious, he says. Such a strong young man he is... My host has a slight inclination to lie, it seems] intervened Nyra, a humorous sarcasm in her mechanical voice.
Ashen glared at the device, but didn't answer. Lathea, on her part, chuckled. Sora didn't say anything.
The atmosphere relaxed for a moment, but then Ashen's next words made it tense up again.
"I don't know what's happening behind the scenes, as we talk, but I have a very bad feeling about all this. I hope this mission in the outskirts would help me understand a bit more about it."
Lathea didn't immediately respond. She scanned the area and raised her head to look at two majestic birds hovering in the sky.
After a while, the mage spoke:
"I, too, feel that there are some hidden forces at play, in an unknown scheme…"
She paused for a moment, looked Ashen straight in the eyes and continued:
"If I could, I would be glad to go and help you. But unfortunately, I have my own share of work to deal with."
The Wanderer seemed a bit surprised, as he hadn't asked for her help. But he somehow acknowledged — internally, of course — that with her involvement, things would go a lot faster… and be a lot more fun.
Nonetheless, all of this didn't have anything to do with the mage, so he didn't mind.
"Nah, don't worry. It's okay!" Ashen finally said.
Looking once more at the area, Lathea sighed. At this moment, Sora pulsed.
[Thea, we have to go. Or you'll miss your turn for the Test.]
"Oh yeah, right. I almost forgot!"
She gave Ashen a warm smile and took her leave.
As she moved off toward her own duties, their eyes met briefly again.
They were strangers to each other, allies only due to circumstances, but he had no doubt that this connection was important and that it would deepen.
A mechanical voice suddenly cut his train of thought.
[Coordinates verified. Tactical plan loaded. Probability of success: 78 percent. Host confidence: high. Let's go.] Nyra said, voice light.
Ashen exhaled, a spark of anticipation lighting his chest. The northern outskirts were waiting. Hoppers, artefacts, and secrets beyond imagining waited. And somewhere, in the shadowed folds of memory, his mother whispered through visions yet to come.
He sighed one last time.
"Then let's get to work."