Arthur lay on the cold, hard ground outside the academy gates, every muscle screaming in protest. The official decree of his expulsion hadn't reached him yet—but the weight of it pressed down harder than any chain could.
Alorod moved on without him.
Students hurried past in neat uniforms, merchants shouted their wares, guards patrolled with steady precision. Life went on, indifferent. For Arthur, the world had shrunk to one unshakable truth: he was alone.
Alorod was the heart of the Central Continent, the strongest of Alora's seven lands. Mana flowed through the city like lifeblood, and cultivators from across the planet came here seeking power. But now, he didn't belong—not anymore.
Every attempt to summon even a spark of cultivation brought searing pain. The Soulborne chains inside him pulsed violently, punishing him for his failure.
SYSTEM ALERT: Unauthorized cultivation detected. Misfit restraint reinforced.
He groaned, leaning against the wall, teeth gritted against the pain. Powerless. Vulnerable.
He tried to stand. His legs shook under him. The streets of Alorod moved on, unaware of his suffering. And yet, the chains inside him reminded him constantly: failure had consequences.
He needed somewhere to hide. Somewhere he could disappear. Somewhere no one would ask questions.
The slums.
It wasn't a choice—it was survival. The lowest layer of the city, where the forgotten and desperate lived. Where criminals and failures hid. Where no one cared who he was.
Arthur stumbled toward the alleys. Buildings leaned precariously, roads cracked, smoke and the stench of refuse filled the air. The city's polished heart had been left behind. Here, only shadow ruled.
Night had fallen by the time he found a dilapidated building tucked between two alleys. Its walls were cracked, the roof barely held together, but it was hidden. That was enough.
He slid down against the wall, exhaustion pulling him under. For now… it would do.
The slums never truly slept.
Even in the dead of night, movement was constant. Footsteps, whispers, shadows slipping along alleyways.
Arthur's senses tensed as a figure burst into the alley—a man, bleeding and limping slightly, but moving with sharp, precise steps. Danger radiated from him.
"…Damn it," the man hissed.
Their eyes met. Silence stretched, broken only by the distant hum of the city.
The man stepped inside, unafraid. "Don't move," he said quietly. Arthur didn't.
"Did anyone see you?"
Arthur shook his head.
"They went that way!" came a shouted voice from outside.
The man clicked his tongue. "…Persistent," he muttered, eyes flicking over Arthur. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be breathing."
Arthur stayed silent.
"Listen carefully," the man said. "You don't speak. You don't move. You don't exist."
Arthur nodded.
The footsteps outside faded. The man finally relaxed. "…Tch. People like me don't like surprises," he said. Then, turning fully to Arthur, he added, "You're not from here."
"…Academy," Arthur muttered.
A faint smirk appeared. "…Figures. You got kicked out."
Arthur said nothing.
The man extended a hand. "Darius Vane."
Arthur hesitated… then took it. "…Arthur."
The handshake was firm. Cold. Measuring. Then it ended.
"Bad place to end up," Darius said.
"Didn't have a choice," Arthur replied, voice hoarse.
Darius's gaze lingered on him, calculating. "Funny thing about this place… no one ever does."
Not far away, two figures moved through the shadows.
"He's close," one said.
"We've been tracking him for two years," the other replied, tension heavy in his voice. "Now that we've found him, we can't let him slip away."
Silence fell for a moment.
"Do you realize what will happen if we fail?" one whispered.
"He's more dangerous than ever," the other said. "If he escapes now… it won't just be hiding. He'll become something worse."
A chill ran through the alley as they vanished into the darkness.
Back in the building, Arthur leaned against the wall, body aching, mind alert. Something about Darius didn't sit right. Dangerous—but not just because he was hunted. There was something else… a dark gleam in his eyes, a hunger beneath the surface.
Darius pressed a hand to his side, wincing. Then he looked at Arthur. "…You won't last a day out there like this," he said bluntly.
Arthur didn't argue.
Darius's gaze lingered just long enough for Arthur to sense it: he was being measured, assessed, and noted. A faint, almost amused smile crossed his lips. "…Lucky for you, you ran into me," he said.
Arthur didn't smile. But he didn't look away either.