[ ]= Doruuk's thoughts
The following day, I wake up with a different kind of determination—one that burns quietly, like embers beneath ash. It had been a long time since I felt this clarity, this urgency. The night before had been restless, not from fear, but from thought: calculations, possibilities, outcomes I couldn't ignore.
[Will this be safe? I can't afford to make mistakes.]
[What if something goes wrong? Not everyone will return.]
[I need to think this through—these people are trusting me.]
[The danger is clear… but the reward—immense.]
[I can't waste time. I must escape this cursed game.]
[I'll do anything to uncover the truth. Anything.]
I rise abruptly, muscles aching from the tension of a sleepless night. A cold shower shocks me into full awareness, the icy water cutting through lingering doubts. Dressed in my usual dark clothes—practical, unremarkable—I step out into the city's gray morning air.
The meeting is set for 8:00 PM. Endless hours stretch ahead.
I try to fill them, but my mind races too fast for books or planning. Even food tastes like ash—I force down a bland breakfast in a small corner shop, barely registering the flavor. I walk the city in a haze, pacing like a caged beast, just to burn time.
Eventually, at 7:40 PM, I make my move.
The meeting spot lies deep within the blacksmiths' quarter—a place forgotten by the living. Rusted tools litter the path like relics of another time: shattered anvils, broken hammers, twisted scrap once used to forge weapons, now discarded like bones. A ruined shed awaits at the end of the path, sagging under the weight of decay.
[Perfect. Hidden. Forgotten. No one will interrupt us here.]
The door groans as I push it open. Dust and rust saturate the air. But inside—surprisingly—there's order. Crude lights hang from makeshift fixtures, casting dull glows over worn maps and tattered diagrams pinned to cracked walls. An improvised table—just crates stacked together—sits at the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs. Recycled tools and old blacksmith gear double as shelves and supports for strange equipment I don't yet recognize.
They're already there. Waiting. Their eyes turn to me, tense but resolute.
I nod in greeting, masking any emotion. Zaira gestures to the only empty chair—slightly sturdier than the rest.
"Hello, Doruuk," she says, calm but commanding. "Welcome to the base. We call this place home, though it's barely standing. Blacksmiths come here only to dump their junk. That makes it perfect for us."
I sit without a word, scanning each of them. "Good," I say coldly. "Let's not waste time. I want to know exactly who I'm working with. First—your ranks. You already know I'm rank 9. And you?"
Zaira crosses her arms, eyes narrowing slightly. "We're all rank 7. I'm close to hitting rank 6."
[Ranks in this world are brutal. Advancing even a single level takes a Herculean effort.]
"Acceptable," I say after a beat. "Next—Luminousa. Do you have them? And how many?"
The room tightens. Luminousa isn't something you casually discuss. It's your edge—your life.
Zaira offers a rare smile, eyes gleaming. "All of us have one. I have two."
[Two. That's rare. And valuable. Could simplify key phases of the operation.]
"I also have one," I reply evenly.
"Perfect," she nods. "That makes six total. Six abilities to use."
I lean forward, elbows on the crate-table, which creaks under my weight. "Quantity means nothing without strategy. We need synergy. Precision. I want each of us to disclose our Luminousa abilities. No secrets. We can't afford them."
The group shifts nervously, exchanging glances. One by one, they begin.
Otis speaks first, his voice like rolling thunder. "Passive: Adamantine Resilience. If I'm holding a defensive stance, I take 30% less magical damage."
[Solid. That resistance could be key against elemental defenses or guards.]
"Active: Sleeping Fog," he continues. "I release a cloud of toxin—10-meter radius. Anyone inside falls asleep or faints. Lasts 60 seconds. Stronger enemies might resist a little longer. In closed spaces, it can be lethal. Cooldown: 7 minutes."
[Excellent for neutralizing guards non-lethally. Perfect for stealth and keeping the body count low. A generous area of effect.]
I nod once. "Efficient. Defense and crowd control. Good balance. Next."
Eldon clears his throat. "Passive: Frozen Arrows. My arrows slow enemies by 15% for three seconds. If I land three in a row, it jumps to 30%."
[Useful for controlling movement—especially during escapes.]
"Active: Frozen Rain. I create a zone of ice arrows—10-meter area. Slows progressively to 50% over five seconds. If they stay in it for seven seconds—they freeze entirely. Twenty seconds of full paralysis. If hit while frozen—they take bonus damage. Cooldown: 15 minutes."
[Powerful. That could turn the tide in a fight. Long cooldown, but we'll time it.]
Kael steps up, his voice still holding a hint of arrogance. "Passive: Flame Arrows. My shots ignite targets—burns for five seconds. Fire spreads to clothes, wood, anything flammable. Hit a burning target again? +20% damage."
[Pure offense. And the fire spread could cause panic—great for chaos or distractions.]
"Active: Inferno Blast," he continues, a smirk forming. "Explosive arrow—10-meter fiery burst. Initial hit causes damage and knockback. The zone burns for 20 seconds. Anyone inside keeps taking damage. Cooldown: 7 minutes."
[Great for area denial. Pair that with Eldon's ice and we can trap enemies between extremes.]
I turn toward the last—Zaira. "Your team is well-rounded. But you're the leader. Time to impress me."
She smiles, gaze sharpening. "Prepare yourself, Doruuk. When you hear my powers, you'll understand why I lead."
The others glance her way with unspoken respect—even awe. I feel a shift in the air.
[They admire her. Or fear her. Either way, her abilities must be extraordinary.]
I narrow my eyes, intrigued. "Then go ahead, Zaira. I'm ready."
Chapter-End.