In a world reshaped by power, even survival comes at a price.
Morning mist drifted over the ruins of old Valdris. The great metropolis had once shone like an architectural jewel, before the first Rifts tore through reality. Now, the city stretched in rings around the fortified Central District, where glass-and-steel towers stood beside impossible structures brought back from the depths of dungeons. Portals shimmered like festering wounds in the fabric of the world, their violet outlines pulsing like a sick heartbeat.
Mana floated in the air like invisible dust, leaving traces of faint auroras in the damp atmosphere. Crystal-fusion streetlights gave off a pale blue glow, never bright enough to chase away the shadows. The city still bore the scars of that night in the year 2000 when everything changed. Awakened citizens moved with calm confidence. They wielded extraordinary power, their guild badges shining like medals carved into the hierarchy of society.
Farther from the center, the unawakened struggled to survive. The buildings towered like monuments to inequality, their walls gnawed by mana residue creeping into each fissure. Alarms echoed often in the distance, news of a teleporting creature or a new portal erupting somewhere. Fear, hope, and death formed the rhythm of this new era. Strength dictated who lived and who was forgotten.
A Brother's Duty
In a cramped apartment of Sector F, Kael Morse jolted awake, sweat cooling on his forehead. The digital clock read 5:43 a.m. Sunlight squeezed through patched curtains. In the twin bed beside his, his little brother Liam slept with uneven breaths, chest rising in fragile bursts.
Mana Depletion Syndrome. A clinical name for three years of agony. Liam's body rejected mana instead of absorbing it like everyone else since the Awakening. The spasms, fevers, and weakness trapped him in bed for days at a time. Doctors had warned them: without daily stabilizing injections, Liam would not see the end of the year.
Kael rose slowly, joints cracking like he was decades older than twenty-one. His hands trembled from old injuries gathered during low-level dungeon jobs. He had no powers, no gifts, no talent. Just a breakable body used as disposable labor.
Breakfast consisted of synthetic cereal and a milk substitute that tasted like wet cardboard. Liam awoke a moment later, washed-out blue eyes searching for his brother with trust that felt like a knife in Kael's chest.
"How do you feel this morning?" Kael asked, pressing his palm to Liam's forehead.
"Better… than yesterday," Liam answered with a forced smile. Fourteen years old and already carrying a weight adults struggled to bear.
Kael saw the truth in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the sickly pallor of his skin. He said nothing. He simply ruffled his hair with tired affection.
Their morning routine ran like clockwork. Serum injection. Breakfast. Finances. The rattling bank terminal displayed the number: 847 credits. Two weeks of survival, three at most. Liam's mana dialysis cost 200 credits a week, and that was with a discount from the community clinic.
Kael grimaced. The world insisted on reminding him that weakness was expensive.
A Desperate Offer
At 7:15, Kael's communicator vibrated. A message from Mara Konstantin, coordinator of the Silver Wolves Guild. A mid-tier organization, always short on manpower.
"Urgent mission. Rank E dungeon detected. Missing a porter. 300 credits. Departure 8:30. Confirm now. – M.K."
Kael stared at the screen while dread twisted in his stomach. Three hundred credits. A fortune to him. A warning to everyone else. Missions like this always meant something had already gone wrong.
He looked at Liam curled under the thermal blanket. His decision formed before fear could argue.
"Confirmed. I'll be there. – K.M."
He geared up with cheap, reinforced clothing and worn combat boots. His backpack carried first aid kits, rope, and basic rations. No weapon. No miracle. His role was to survive long enough to carry loot.
Before leaving, he placed a note on the table. Numbers to call, instructions to rest. Liam would sleep until noon. That would give Kael enough time to come back.
If he came back.
Cold realization cut his breath. This might be the mission that did not forgive him. The reassuring voice that promised he would be okay remained silent today.
He kissed Liam's forehead and whispered:
"I'll be back soon. Stay strong."
Into the Unknown
The transport station for Sector 5 teemed with early commuters. Kael boarded the metro-pod toward the Central District, squeezed between office workers and laborers. No one looked at him. He preferred it this way.
Thirty minutes later, the Silver Wolves headquarters rose ahead of him. Fifteen floors of black glass and steel housed Awakened fighters who shaped the fate of the city. Kael tightened the straps of his pack and filled his lungs.
A portal waited somewhere below Valdris. Monsters hungry for human flesh. Deadly traps. Secrets only the fearless—or the desperate—faced.
Kael fit in the second category.
He stepped through the guild's doors, knowing he was crossing into danger for less than a month of survival. Three hundred credits meant two more weeks of life for Liam.
Kael Morse would walk straight into hell for that.