The subterranean underbelly of Sector 7 did not exist on any official academy map.
Beneath the paved military transport roads of Outpost Delta lay a vast network of abandoned pre-collapse drainage vaults, repurposed by rogues, deserters, and un-sanctioned core brokers into The Rust Market. It was a place where atmospheric miasma hung thick and heavy like grey wool, lit only by sputtering chemical lamps and the eerie glow of raw, unrefined monster crystals displayed on rusted iron counters.
Squad Alpha moved along the narrow stone catwalks of the lower bazaar in a tight formation.
Marcus walked at the front, though he had left his heavy wooden tower shield back in their Block A suite. He wore a plain canvas jacket over his leather tunic, his broad shoulders tensed as he kept a wary eye on the hooded figures lingering in the shadowed arched doorways. Beside him, Timothy held his brass optics slate tight against his chest, his spectacles reflecting the neon-green glow of alchemical potion vats lining the tunnel walls.
"Miasma saturation is thirty-two percent down here," Timothy muttered through his filter mask, his voice barely audible over the dull roar of the subterranean crowd. "And half these vendors aren't even using containment canisters. If an enforcement patrol sweeps down from the upper gate—"
"The Vanguard officers get ten percent of every transaction made in the Rust Market," Sabrina said calmly as she walked beside Rian.
She wore a dark, hooded wool cloak over her tailored cadet uniform, concealing her snow-white braid and the silver frost-emblem pinned to her collar. Her silver rapier remained sheathed at her hip beneath the dark folds of her cloak, though her pale blue eyes methodically tracked every hand moving toward a coat pocket or belt pouch along the alley.
"The academy provides standard-issue gear," Sabrina continued, her tone crisp and analytical. "Basic iron, low-density filter masks, and mass-produced mana bolts. If we want vanadium steel plating, high-purity core catalysts, or un-monitored spatial bags before our next deep raid into Grid 12, this is the only place in Sector 7 that sells them."
Rian walked smoothly at her side, his slate-grey coat unbuttoned, his hands tucked into his pockets.
Where the surrounding mercenaries and black-market scavengers gasped against the humid, toxic air, Rian breathed with effortless control. Beneath his leather boots, the Level 3 Living Shadow extended six meters wide across the damp stone floor, its liquid dark surface pulsing four inches deep into the calcified cracks.
> [Environmental Zone: Subterranean Rust Market]
> Aether-Miasma Saturation: 32% (Tier D Density)
> Living Shadow Passive: Atmospheric Siphoning Active!
> Living Shadow EXP: 784 / 1500 -> 820 / 1500 (+36 EXP from market siphoning)
Through the six-meter dark pool beneath his soles, Rian felt every vibration in the bazaar—the heavy footsteps of hidden guild guards, the sharp metallic click of concealed daggers, and the rich, concentrated mana pulses radiating from the high-tier core vaults buried beneath the stone counters.
"The broker’s shop is just past the flooded conduit," Marcus whispered, pointing toward a heavy iron door set into the basalt wall at the end of the catwalk. Above the door hung a creaking sign forged from rusted star-iron, stamped with a crude emblem of a broken scales balance.
The interior of The Broken Scales smelled of dry ozone, aged leather, and expensive pipe tobacco.
Unlike the chaotic noise of the open bazaar outside, the shop was dead silent. Thick velvet drapes lined the stone walls, muffling the subterranean echoes. Glass display cases ran along both sides of the room, holding rare vanadium blades, high-density mana-focus rings, and sealed lead canisters containing Tier C beast ingredients harvested from the deep Wastes.
Seated behind a massive desk carved from solid obsidian was an old man.
He wore a rich, dark-purple velvet tunic lined with silver mink fur. His left eye was covered by a complex brass monocular device containing three rotating crystal lenses, while his right eye—a pale, milky grey—fixed on Squad Alpha the moment the iron door clicked shut.
This was Master Kaelen—the most notorious underground core broker in the Ninth District, a man who had traded un-sanctioned rift artifacts for thirty years without ever being detained by High District enforcement.
> [Target Identified: Master Kaelen]
> Level: 32 (Tier B Core Specialist — Retired Scavenger)
> Mana Capacity: 4,100 / 4,100
> Threat Level: Extreme (Absolute Perception)
Kaelen set down a brass magnifying tool, leaning back into his high-backed leather chair. His brass monocular clicked twice as the crystal lenses adjusted, zooming in on Sabrina’s hidden rapier, Marcus’s calloused hands, and finally settling on Rian’s slate-grey coat.
"Cadets," Kaelen rasped, his voice sounding like two dry river stones grinding together. "Block A housing vouchers in your pockets, fresh credit chits from Instructor Brandon’s scale, and the cold scent of Sector 7 concourse miasma on your boots. You must be Squad Alpha."
Kaelen let out a dry, rattling chuckle. "When a banished Level 1 noble and a runaway frost prodigy dump four thousand eight hundred points of deep vault cores onto the outpost scale, every broker from Sector 7 to the First District hears about it within an hour. Victor Vance’s uncle offered two thousand gold chits for the location of the core vault you harvested."
"Did you sell it?" Sabrina asked coldly, her hand moving subtly toward her rapier hilt.
"Information has value, child," Kaelen said smoothly, tapping his obsidian desk with a long, withered finger. "But selling out the top-ranked squad of the Ninth District is bad for long-term business. You didn't come to my shop to discuss the Vance Guild. What do you need?"
Rian stepped forward, stopping three paces from the obsidian desk.
With a smooth flick of his wrist, he unslung a heavy canvas sack from his shoulder, setting it down flat on the desk. He unlaced the leather drawstrings, tipping the contents out onto the dark stone surface.
CLINK-CLACK!
Eight high-density Tier D cores—harvested from the subterranean mag-lev depot—rolled across the obsidian desk, radiating a rich, harmonious green-and-purple luminescence that illuminated the dark shop.
Kaelen’s brass monocular clicked rapidly, his milky eye widening slightly as he adjusted his lenses to inspect the core matrix of the central crystal.
"Pristine Tier D cores," Kaelen murmured, his withered fingers hovering an inch above the glowing purple stone without touching it. "Uncorrupted by atmospheric miasma. Harvested with precision shadow cuts. These weren't pulled by raw elemental force... they were severed cleanly from the core matrix."
He looked up, his monocular fixing directly on Rian’s dark eyes. "What are you looking to trade for these, Craig?"
"Equipment upgrades," Rian replied flatly, his voice calm and unhurried. "First: a complete vanadium-steel faceplate and cross-brace system for Marcus’s tower shield, rated for Tier D+ kinetic impacts. Second: an archival optical focus lens and repeating bolt-rack for Timothy’s crossbow."
"Done," Kaelen agreed without hesitation, gesturing to a heavy iron chest near the wall. "My blacksmith in the rear workshop can retrofit the shield and crossbow in twenty minutes."
"And third," Rian added, his dark eyes locking onto Kaelen’s brass monocular. "A Tier D spatial storage ring... and two purified Tier D+ core catalysts."
The room went dead quiet.
Marcus and Timothy gasped softly. A spatial storage ring—even a low-tier one capable of holding ten cubic feet of un-monitored equipment—cost over fifteen hundred gold chits on the legal market, a price far beyond the reach of normal military cadets.
Kaelen leaned forward, resting his elbows on the obsidian desk. His brass monocular clicked as he evaluated Rian’s unblinking expression.
"A spatial ring and two Tier D+ catalysts," Kaelen repeated slowly. "Eight Tier D cores are worth a great deal, Craig, but a spatial ring requires an un-monitored void matrix. That leaves you five hundred chits short."
Rian didn't reach for another sack of cores. He didn't offer gold.
Instead, Rian slowly unbuttoned his slate-grey coat collar, exposing his left wrist. Underneath his pale skin, the midnight-black threads of the Level 3 Living Shadow twitched, weaving an intricate, dark-dragon rune along his forearm before settling into a deep obsidian sheen.
Beneath the obsidian desk, the Level 3 Living Shadow expanded.
Its six-meter dark pool surged under Kaelen’s chair, its four violet eye-slits flickering deep within the liquid night, radiating a silent, suffocating wave of Tier D- shadow density that caused the oil lamps along the walls to dim by half.
> [Living Shadow Domain: Localized Pressure]
> Entity Reach: 6.0 Meters
> Active Density: Tier D- Solidified Shadow
Kaelen’s brass monocular clicked violently three times as his pale grey eye locked onto the liquid dark pool surrounding his desk.
The retired Tier B scavenger felt the sudden, terrifying drop in room temperature—not from cold ice, but from the complete, absolute absence of ambient mana within six meters of Rian’s boots. The atmospheric miasma inside the shop was being sucked clean into Rian's core subspace like water down an open drain!
"A living shadow entity..." Kaelen whispered, his voice trembling slightly with genuine, professional awe. "Not a defective core... an un-awakened Sovereign Vessel..."
Kaelen swallowed hard, his posture shifting from an arrogant broker to a cautious merchant dealing with an ascending power.
"I can supply the spatial ring and the catalysts," Kaelen said quickly, leaning back and opening a locked iron drawer beneath his desk. "On one condition."
"State it," Rian commanded calmly, holding his shadow pressure steady.
"When you enter Grid 12's Lower Catacombs for your Level 20 Ascension Trial," Kaelen said, pulling out a silver velvet box and a dark iron ring set with a small purple void-gem, "you bring me the un-refined core of the Erebos Shadow Warden. I will pay you five thousand gold chits and provide free equipment maintenance for your squad for the rest of your academic tenure." New chapters come out on novelping . com first.
Rian looked at the silver velvet box holding the two Tier D+ catalysts, then at the iron spatial ring.
"Deal," Rian said flatly.
He reached out his gloved hand, picking up the iron spatial ring and sliding it onto his right index finger. He closed his fingers over the silver box, stashing it smoothly inside his coat pocket.
With a subtle flick of his wrist, the six-meter pool of liquid dark shadow beneath the desk dissolved back into Rian’s boots. The sputtering oil lamps along the walls flickered back to full brightness, and the heavy atmospheric pressure inside the shop vanished instantly.
Kaelen let out a long, slow breath, wiping a thin bead of sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief.
"Your gear will be ready at the back counter in ten minutes, cadets," Kaelen rasped, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled Rian’s eight Tier D cores into his drawer. "And Craig... keep that shadow covered when you cross the upper gate. The High District scanners in Sector 1 are tuned to catch void signatures."
"I know," Rian replied.
Twenty minutes later, Squad Alpha emerged from the rear alley of The Rust Market, stepping back into the damp stone corridors leading to Outpost Delta.
Marcus held his newly upgraded tower shield—its front plate now reinforced with a sleek, dark-grey vanadium faceplate that gleamed under the mana-bulbs, its rear cross-brace double-welded for maximum shock absorption. Timothy walked beside him, marveling at his newly retrofitted crossbow, which now featured a high-precision optical crystal lens and a smooth five-bolt repeating magazine.
"This vanadium plate..." Marcus whispered, running his gauntleted hand over the dark metal. "It’s rated for Tier D+ kinetic strikes! A Rail-Hound won't even dent this!"
"And the repeating magazine fires three bolts per second without jamming!" Timothy added, his face glowing with excitement behind his taped spectacles.
Sabrina walked beside Rian at the rear of the team. She looked down at Rian's right hand, where the iron spatial ring sat neatly on his index finger.
"You traded eight high-density cores for a spatial ring and two catalysts," Sabrina noted softly, her voice carrying a quiet, analytical intrigue. "You're preparing for a long excursion into the deep ruins."
"Grid 12 is just the entrance," Rian replied flatly, looking up at the cold basalt ceiling of the tunnel. "The lower catacombs hold the spatial tears that yield Tier C cores."
He reached into his coat pocket, feeling the cold silver velvet box containing the two Tier D+ core catalysts.
With these high-purity catalysts and the exponential EXP scaling of the deep ruins ahead, the path to Level 4 was clear.
> [Host Identity: Rian Craig]
> Base Level: 1 (Human Limit)
> Living Shadow Level: 3 / 100 (820 / 1500 EXP)
> Physical Shadow Density: Tier D- (Solidified Plate)
> Shadow Reach: 6.0 Meters
> Mana Capacity: 300 / 300
> Current Inventory: Iron Spatial Ring (10 cu. ft.), 2x Tier D+ Core Catalysts
> Next Milestone: Level 20 Ascension
Rian adjusted his slate-grey coat, pulling his collar up against the subterranean draft as Squad Alpha climbed the stone stairs toward the upper gates.
The Rust Market was behind them. The Deep Ruins lay ahead.
And Rian’s Living Shadow moved beneath his boots, hungrier than ever.