Ryne held the entry pass tightly in his hand as Nera waved from behind the training center counter.
"See you later, Miss Nera."
The city streets were quiet as he made his way back toward his small apartment. His mind replayed years of grueling training — days spent honing his instincts, sharpening his reflexes, and mastering the art of close-quarters combat. Without ever being able to wield a weapon, he had learned to rely entirely on expert CQC, flawless spatial awareness, and raw survival instinct. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat had been forged through relentless practice.
The neon lights of the city reflected off the wet asphalt as evening traffic hummed past. Occasional passersby glanced at him, oblivious to the storm brewing in his thoughts.
He pictured a humble workshop somewhere in Tallion — lanterns flickering against brick walls, a forge roaring with heat, and the rhythmic clang of metal against an anvil.
"If I become a blacksmith… maybe then I can finally hold a weapon properly."
Ryne reached his apartment building and paused at the familiar door, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air before stepping inside.
"Phew… finally home."
He dropped the entry pass onto the small table by the window and kicked off his damp shoes, wincing as his sore muscles protested. The worn tracksuit clung to his skin. With a sigh, he peeled it off, tossed it onto a chair, and stepped into the shower.
Warm water cascaded over him, washing away the sweat and fatigue of the day, though it did little to quiet the thoughts swirling in his mind.
"Blacksmith… a forge, the clang of metal, the smell of fire and molten iron…"
He closed his eyes, imagining himself at the anvil, hammer in hand, finally learning to shape the very weapons that had always rejected him. For the first time in years, a genuine spark of excitement flickered inside him — a quiet hope that perseverance might change everything.
After the shower, Ryne wrapped a towel around his waist and dried his hair roughly. Steam curled around the small room as he powered on his old computer. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he began searching.
"Tallion… blacksmiths… forge… apprentices…"
He scrolled through every forum, database, and outdated listing he could find. Most workshops were closed or no longer accepting apprentices. Details were scarce.
"Nothing… nothing at all."
Ryne sank back into his chair, muscles aching and eyes burning from the screen's glow. The weight of another dead end pressed down on him.
"Maybe… I should just rest. Tomorrow is another day."
Ryne jolted awake, chest heaving, cold sweat clinging to his skin. The echoes of harsh voices still rang in his ears.
"You're weak!"
"You can't even pay off our debt!"
"Useless!"
"Trash!"
"First Era weakling!"
Sunlight filtered softly through the blinds. His body ached from yesterday's training, but the entry pass still lay on the table by the window — a silent reminder.
He sat up slowly and picked it up, fingers tightening around the small card.
"I won't be weak. Not for them… and not for myself."
A fresh surge of determination filled him. He stood, stretching his sore muscles, then began preparing for the journey.
"Alright… time to get ready."
Ryne adjusted the straps of his heavy bag, the torn armor creaking with the movement. The early morning streets stretched ahead, still quiet under the soft dawn light. He exhaled sharply, letting the chill air fill his lungs, and started walking toward the city gate that led to Tallion.
"Hmm? Are those Awakeners?"
In the distance, a small group moved methodically near the gate. Their uniforms were familiar — fellow Awakeners. Cargo crates were stacked neatly beside them.
"Of course… a cargo escort."
Ryne crouched slightly and spread the map across the top of his bag, tracing the safest route. He knew monster zones, their patterns, and the paths to avoid them. Spatial awareness and survival instinct — the only strengths he truly possessed — would have to guide him.
"Stay calm… stick to the path… and don't get noticed."
As he approached, the captain of the escort team stopped a few meters away, boots clacking against the concrete. His sharp eyes locked onto Ryne.
"Hey, you there. Want to join the cargo guard duty?"
Ryne stiffened. He could hear the subtle whispers from the other Awakeners behind the captain.
*They're talking about me…*
"I—I'm fine…" Ryne started, ready to decline.
The captain raised an eyebrow. "We'll pay a decent reward if we make it safely to Tallion."
Money. Tallion. His destination. Everything aligned in that single offer.
Ryne hesitated for only a heartbeat, then extended his hand.
"Alright… I'll help."
The captain shook it firmly.
"Good. Let's move out. Stay close and follow instructions."