Jason and Tahuuk woke up as they had the past few days. The only difference was the growing space in the room. More refugees had found jobs across the city, leaving the beds emptier and the air less crowded. It made sleeping easier for Jason—and the lingering grip of his panic attack loosened bit by bit as he kept his mind occupied.

  The requests they completed helped with that. Over the last few days, they had carried out seven more jobs—some simple, some unexpectedly tricky in the maze-like layout of Dalkion—but all of them pushed Jason and Tahuuk deeper into the rhythm of life in the city.

  They learned faces, habits, routes. They passed the same priest each morning on their way to the guild. They met the same request-givers. Slowly, their mornings became… familiar.

  The rewards were modest, just enough to save up for some basic gear and eventually a weapon. So, on the day before the exam, they headed to another equipment shop near the clothing store they had visited earlier.

  A melodic chime sounded as they stepped inside. A variety of weapons gleamed along the walls, neatly displayed, but no shopkeeper greeted them. Only the faint clashing of metal echoed from behind the back door, accompanied by the rhythmic whirl of machinery.

  A forge. A real one.

  Jason scanned the weapons, assessing quality instinctively. Tahuuk did the same, though with simpler tastes.

  Before long, Jason stopped.

  At the very back of the shop, behind reinforced and likely shielded glass, hung a single longsword.

  Polished. Deadly. Beautiful.

  A glossy blade traced with hardened grey veins, like blood frozen mid-flow. Golden engravings wrapped the hilt. It reminded Jason of the fallen knight’s sword from the arena—only cleaner, younger, and bearing a different crest.

  The clanging stopped. A moment later, the shop owner emerged: leather apron stained from sparks, shirt soaked with hours of heat and sweat.

  He caught Jason staring at the blade.

  “That one’s not for sale,” he said immediately. “Custom-made for a client.”

  Jason didn’t look away.

  “It’s for a knight, probably.”

  The owner raised a brow—impressed.

  “Correct. It’s a nanite blade. You’ve got a good eye.” He removed his gloves and stepped behind the counter. “Looking for a custom weapon too?”

  Jason stepped closer. “What do you mean, nanite blade?”

  The owner blinked. “It synergizes with the knight’s energy. You know… when their eyes start to glow.”

  He brushed past that topic quickly. “Anyway, what weapon do you need?”

  “Something basic,” Jason replied. “A sword or shortsword for me. And something for the big guy over there.” He nodded toward Tahuuk, who was admiring the spears.

  “Only melee weapons? We’ve got firearms too.”

  Jason shook his head.

  The owner accepted the answer and unlocked a display case.

  “With your height, this sword fits well. Modeled after the noble houses of the Empire—excellent balance, basic metal, average durability.”

  Jason tested the heft. The leather-wrapped grip molded perfectly to his hand.

  “This will work,” he said.

  The owner nodded and turned to Tahuuk.

  “As for your friend’s—”

  Before he could finish, Tahuuk stepped forward with a spear already in hand. It was simple, almost primitive, with a slightly oversized blade.

  “I will take this one.”

  Jason frowned. “Are you sure? We won’t get the chance to buy weapons often—we need to save credits.”

  The owner studied the pairing between Tahuuk and the spear. It seemed oddly fitting.

  Tahuuk answered calmly, “Yes. I’m sure. The heavy top makes it easier to throw.”

  The owner hesitated.

  It’s not a javelin… but fine.

  “Alright, let’s close the deal at the counter.”

  At the desk, he confirmed the purchase. “Do you want sheaths as well?”

  “Yes, please,” Jason said.

  The extra cost drained most of their remaining credits, but they still had enough to survive for a few days. Tahuuk strapped the spear to his back while Jason fastened the sword at his hip.

  Walking down the street toward the guild, they no longer looked like refugees.

  They looked like mercenaries.

  Since they were passing the guild anyway, they grabbed one last request. Jason scanned the room as they entered, but didn’t notice any Greys today as well. They haven’t appeared since that request from the noble was accepted. As the man behind the counter uploaded the request to their datapad, he smirked.

  “Seems you two are becoming favorites among some locals.”

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  Jason raised an eyebrow, then saw the request's origin: the pharmacist.

  Probably wanted them because they already knew the herb locations.

  Made sense.

  They turned to leave when the man called out: “The exam’s tomorrow at nine sharp. Latecomers don’t get in.”

  Jason nodded. They finished the easy herb-gathering job quickly and returned to the inn before evening.

  The room felt emptier again. More refugees had found work or left for other towns. It meant more space, more air, more comfort—

  But Jason couldn’t help feeling a small pang of sadness.

  People were scattering.

  Lives diverging.

  He shook the thought away. Tomorrow was the exam. He lay down early, as did Tahuuk.

  Tomorrow would be a new step forward.

  —

  Again, the orange glow filled the room.

  Jason woke with less weight on his body and less weight in his mind. No stray limbs pressed against him, no restless bodies shifting around him — only the faint sadness of watching comrades slowly move on with their lives.

  He had to move on too. Especially today.

  Exam day.

  He washed his face, Tahuuk right behind him, and the quiet rhythm of their morning soothed the leftover tension in Jason’s chest.

  Downstairs, they crossed the main area of the inn.

  “Don’t forget,” the innkeeper called from behind the counter, “you’ll need to pay for your room in a couple of days if you want to stay longer!”

  The second room was now empty, so they used a portion of their recent earnings to extend their rent a few days. It would be easier once they had a rank — for now, fetch quests barely kept them afloat.

  Outside, they followed their usual route. As they passed the fountain, the priest raised a hand.

  “Good luck today, both of you. May the Sun shine brightly upon you!”

  Jason nodded.

  Tahuuk straightened his back and called out, “And upon you, priest!”

  The priest grinned and stretched his arms toward the sun in blessing.

  Jason blinked at Tahuuk. “That’s the first time you replied to him.”

  “What? I wanted to try,” Tahuuk muttered.

  Jason smirked as they continued toward the guild — which was far livelier than usual. When they entered, the guild felt like a miniature version of the city itself: bustling, chaotic, diverse.

  Veterans. Rookies. Humans. Aliens.

  Well-equipped fighters and others wearing scraps.

  Groups bragged. Individuals nervously prepared.

  Some clearly used connections to get better gear or early access.

  And at the side desk…

  A brown-haired man with glasses was sweating bullets as he struggled to handle the flood of paperwork alone.

  Jason almost felt sorry for him.

  The door on the second floor creaked open.

  Heavy footsteps followed.

  A bald, broad-shouldered veteran stepped onto the balcony. He bore no obvious scars, but something in his eyes suggested he had survived enough battles to earn them anyway.

  His presence alone muted the room.

  “The exam will be held in the courtyard,” he announced. “We will provide gear and weapons to those who need them. Before me stand three guild fighters. Each one has fought beside me. Each one will be your test.”

  Jason’s gaze lowered.

  Three men stood ahead of them:

  The eye-patch man from the counter, bulkier without the desk in front of him.

  A smaller fighter, with a buff around his lower face and furry, pointed alien ears — yet his eyes were sharp enough to cut.

  A completely ordinary man, leaning lazily, lighting a cigarette with the expression of someone who wished he were anywhere else.

  The middle fighter stepped forward and raised his datapad.

  “Group assignments begin now. Group One goes with Tally on the right. Group Two goes with me — Haunt. Group Three goes with Josh on the left.”

  Names echoed through the hall.

  After a while:

  “Jason. Group Three.”

  He exhaled and walked over.

  A minute later—

  “Tahuuk. Group Two.”

  Jason froze.

  They were supposed to be a team… so why split them?

  He opened his mouth, but Haunt cut him off immediately.

  “The first test is individual. We test how you hold your own.

  Second test is for pairs or teams.

  And a third test — for advancement — will be graded by a panel.”

  That quieted everyone quickly.

  Haunt, Tally, and Josh then guided their groups toward the courtyard — a broad outdoor area divided into three separate arenas. Before entering the courtyard, Jason hesitated.

  Another arena.

  The word alone tugged at old scars. His chest tightened—just a flicker, just a whisper of the past—before he forced his feet to move and stepped outside.

  Josh led Jason’s group. He stepped into the arena and eyed the twenty-three hopeful mercenaries waiting for him.

  He sighed through his cigarette smoke.

  “To the racks on the side for those who need gear. Prepare yourselves. You’ll be fighting me one-on-one. Thirty minutes from now we start. We break every thirty. All twenty-three of you will go today.”

  Jason blinked.

  Twenty-three fights? In one day?

  The man didn’t look special at all.

  Around him, fighters geared up, checked their armor, exchanged last-minute advice. The courtyard filled with the clanging of metal and the rough, excited murmurs of people ready for battle.

  A few minutes later, Josh stepped back into the arena and waved lazily.

  “First.”

  A man stepped in — energetic, confident, shield raised, sword steady.

  Josh didn’t even take a stance. No armor. No weapon. Just ordinary clothes and a bored expression.

  The contestant charged.

  Shield thrust forward.

  A war cry ripping through his throat.

  And then—

  He struck empty air.

  Josh had moved. No one even saw how.

  He now stood beside the man, annoyance written all over his face.

  Jason only saw a blur.

  Josh extended his forearm like a spear and tapped downward toward the man’s neck.

  The impact itself was invisible.

  The result wasn’t.

  The man staggered forward, collapsed face-first, and lay motionless in the corner of the arena.

  The entire fight had lasted seven seconds.

  Josh rolled up his sleeves.

  “Next.”