The high-district transport vessel did not rumble like the rusted ironworks airships of the Ninth District. It glided through the purple Wasteland sky on twin levitation rings forged from polished silver-alloy, its hull quiet, airtight, and completely isolated from the sulfurous miasma howling outside the portholes.
Inside the upper passenger lounge, the air was warm and scented with dried lavender and crushed mana-tea leaves.
Rian sat on a high-backed leather seat near the starboard window, his arms resting lightly on his armrests. He wore his dark slate-grey coat—now freshly tailored and mended with reinforced dark-silk stitching along the shoulder seams where Garrick’s kinetic shockwave had torn the wool weeks ago.
Beside him, Sabrina sat with her ankles crossed, her snowy braid resting neatly over her left shoulder. Her silver rapier lay across her lap in its newly polished scabbard, her pale blue eyes watching the soot-stained smokestacks of the Ninth District shrink into small grey needles on the horizon.
Across the low mahogany table sat Marcus and Timothy.
Marcus looked absurdly large in his fresh velvet-lined cadet jacket, his dark-grey vanadium shield propped carefully against the leather bench beside him. Timothy was nervously adjusting his taped spectacles, his fingers constantly checking the velvet latch of his repeating crossbow case resting on his knees.
"I still don't trust it," Marcus grunted softly, leaning over the table so his voice wouldn't carry to the high-district Vanguard guards standing at the cabin door. "We log eighteen thousand points, and twelve hours later a gilded summons arrives from the Central Military Directorate? That scribe yesterday looked like he wanted to execute us on the scale platform."
"The scribe was a minor clerk from Lord Valen's personal estate," Sabrina said calmly, taking a slow sip of hot tea from a porcelain cup. "He has no standing over a direct military summons. The Central Directorate operates under General Vance and Lord Arthur Craig. They can't ignore an eighteen-thousand-point yield logged on an official outpost scale without facing an audit from the High Council."
"So we're being dragged to the First District Academy for an official audit?" Timothy whispered, his hands tightening around his crossbow case. "What if their high-tier scanners pick up... you know..." He darted a nervous glance toward Rian's boots.
"The First District scanners are tuned to detect uncertified core corruption and dark-element contraband," Rian spoke up quietly, his dark eyes looking out at the passing clouds. "The Living Shadow is an un-awakened Sovereign entity. It doesn't emit corrupted mana. It consumes it."
He lowered his gaze to his right hand. On his index finger, the dark iron spatial ring sat cold and unadorned, concealing the two remaining Tier C spatial cores and his harvested core inventory.
Beneath his leather boots, the Level 4 Living Shadow remained tightly compressed into a dark, fluid pool six inches wide. Its twelve-meter reach was suppressed, resting quietly in his core subspace like a coiled spring.
> [Living Shadow Status]
> Level: 4 / 100 (1200 / 3000 EXP)
> Physical Shadow Density: Tier D+ (Reinforced Obsidian Mantle)
> Shadow Reach: 12.0 Meters (Suppressed to 0.1m)
> Mana Capacity: 600 / 600
>
"They aren't bringing us to Sector 1 to audit our cores," Rian added, his voice flat and unhurried. "They're bringing us to Sector 1 because Valen wants to force a public demonstration before the mid-term evaluations."
Sabrina set her porcelain cup down onto the mahogany table with a soft CLINK.
"Valen controls the Third Vanguard Legion," she noted smoothly, her icy blue eyes locking onto Rian's face. "If he challenges our squad's legitimacy in the First District Court, he can demand an immediate Tactical Excursion into the Sector 1 Deep Rift—the Abyssal Vault."
"The Abyssal Vault?" Marcus swallowed hard, his knuckles turning white around his knee. "That's a Tier C+ hazard sector! That's where the Level 20 Ascension Trials take place!"
"That's precisely why he'll push for it," Sabrina said, a sharp, razor-thin smile touching her pale lips. "He thinks a squad from the Ninth District will collapse under the spatial pressure of Sector 1." You are reading on novelping.com, the official source.
"Then he hasn't been paying attention," Rian murmured.
An hour later, the airship began its steady descent into the sky-spires of Sector 1 — The Sanctuary Core.
The contrast between the Ninth District and the First District was blinding.
Where the Ninth was a dark, industrial wasteland choked by sulfur smog and basalt brick, Sector 1 was a city of alabaster towers, floating white granite walkways, and massive glass domes anchored by glowing mana-conduits. Below the airship, private air-carriages glided over polished marble avenues, surrounded by lush green gardens sustained by purified environmental arrays.
The transport airship docked at the high gantry of the Central Military Directorate Academy.
As the hydraulic gangway lowered with a smooth hiss, Squad Alpha stepped out onto a wide marble platform lined with two rows of elite High-District Vanguard guards clad in gleaming white-and-gold plate armor.
Standing at the end of the platform, flanked by four senior scribes holding silver recording slates, was a tall man in a flowing crimson mantle.
It was Valen Craig—Rian’s second elder brother.
> [Target Identified: Valen Craig]
> Level: 24 (Tier B Crimson Flame Archon)
> Mana Capacity: 2,800 / 2,800
> Threat Level: Lethal (Absolute High-District Authority)
Valen stood with his gauntleted hands resting behind his back, his sharp, aristocratic face cold as carved stone. His dark red hair was styled neatly back, and his piercing amber eyes flared with a subtle, choking heat that made the surrounding air ripple with thermal distortion.
Beside him stood Victor Vance, wearing fresh crimson robes, looking at Rian with an arrogant, malicious sneer.
"Welcome back to the First District, Rian," Valen said. His voice was smooth, deep, and laced with absolute, unyielding condescension that echoed across the marble gantry. "I see you've brought your little Ninth District entourage with you."
Rian stopped ten paces away. He didn't bow. He didn't snap a military salute. He stood comfortably in his slate-grey coat, his hands in his pockets, meeting his brother's fiery amber gaze without a single flicker of hesitation.
"You sent Vane into Grid 12 with three enforcers," Rian said flatly, his voice carrying clearly through the crisp, clear air of the upper city. "His broadsword was empty when he got back. Did he file his report?"
Victor’s face twitched violently at the mention of Captain Vane’s defeat, but Valen didn't even flinch.
"Vane is a low-tier martial officer who relied too much on family standing," Valen said coolly, taking one step forward. The thermal pressure surrounding his body flared slightly, causing thin wisps of heat to distort the marble floor beneath his boots. "His failure is irrelevant. What matters is the eighteen-thousand-point score logged under your name."
Valen unclasped a silver-bound parchment scroll from his belt, tossing it onto the marble table beside the scribes.
"House Craig has exercised its High-District privilege," Valen declared, his amber eyes locking onto Rian with cold, calculating authority. "Under Article 4 of the Military Codex, any un-ranked cadet claiming a Tier C spatial yield must prove their core stability before the Central Evaluation Board."
"And the test?" Sabrina asked smoothly, stepping half a pace forward, her hand resting on her silver rapier hilt.
Valen turned his sharp gaze onto Sabrina, his lips curling into a cold, dismissive smirk. "Lady Sabrina. Your family in the Tran Merchant Guild sends their regards. They were quite pleased to hear you've been acting as a bodyguard for a banished noble."
Sabrina’s pale blue eyes narrowed to razor slits, but her icy aura remained perfectly suppressed. "State the trial, Lord Valen."
"Tomorrow morning at 08:00 hours," Valen announced, turning back to Rian. "Squad Alpha will enter the Sector 1 Deep Rift — The Abyssal Vault. Your objective is not to harvest low-tier Skitterers. You will locate the spatial anchor on the Third Floor and retrieve the Tier C+ Sovereign Core." This story is hosted at g.com.
Marcus gasped softly. "The Third Floor of the Abyssal Vault?! That's a Level 20 territory! First-year squads aren't allowed past the upper boundary!"
"You logged eighteen thousand points," Valen mocked, his voice dropping into a harsh, dangerous whisper meant only for them. "If your squad is truly as capable as your scale weight claims, a Level 20 sector shouldn't be an issue. If you succeed, the High Council will formally confirm your Rank 1 standing across all districts."
Valen leaned in closer to Rian, his amber eyes burning with a sudden, lethal flicker of crimson flame.
"And if you fail... your life-tether crystals won't save you down on the Third Floor. The spatial tears down there eat defective cores whole."
Rian looked at his elder brother's glowing amber eyes, then down at the shadow cast by Valen's crimson boots on the white marble floor.
Beneath his leather soles, the Level 4 Living Shadow twitched with a subtle, dark intelligence, its suppressed liquid mantle pulsing six inches wide against the polished stone.
...Master... The leaf-scraping voice echoed inside Rian's mind, quiet, smooth, and full of deep hunger. ...Deep rift... dense food on the third floor...
Rian looked back up into Valen's face, his dark eyes completely calm—cold, sharp, and utterly unbothered.
"We accept the trial, Valen," Rian said quietly, his voice carrying the steady, double-layered resonance of an ascending Sovereign. "Make sure the scribes bring a bigger scale when we come back."
Valen’s eyes flared with a flash of sharp irritation at Rian’s absolute lack of fear. He turned on his heel, his crimson mantle snapping in the wind as he walked away toward the academy archway.
"Tomorrow at dawn, defective," Valen called back over his shoulder. "Don't be late."
As Valen and his guards disappeared into the main hall, Squad Alpha stood alone on the high marble platform overlooking the sprawling alabaster towers of Sector 1.
Marcus let out a long, ragged breath, resting his dark-grey vanadium shield against his knee. "Level 20 territory... the Third Floor of the Abyssal Vault... he's trying to get us killed before the mid-term exams even start."
"The Abyssal Vault holds high-density spatial tears," Timothy said, checking his brass optics slate with trembling fingers. "The scout reports say the miasma density down there is over sixty percent... well into the Tier C+ range!"
Sabrina walked over to stand beside Rian at the edge of the marble gantry, looking down at the massive, glowing blue spatial tear hovering over the central crater of the First District.
"The Third Floor is where the Level 20 Milestone Ascension Trial is anchored," Sabrina noted softly, her voice crisp, calm, and laced with quiet determination. "If we clear the Third Floor tomorrow, we skip the entire lower academic curriculum."
Rian adjusted his dark slate-grey coat, sliding his hand into his pocket where his iron spatial ring rested.
"Let Valen set the stage," Rian said, his dark eyes reflecting the glowing blue light of the distant spatial tear. "The higher the sector tier, the faster the shadow grows."
Sabrina turned her head, looking into his face with a faint, genuine smile touching her pale lips. "To the Abyssal Vault?"
Rian looked out toward the sky-spires of the Sanctuary, his dark eyes burning with an unshakeable, violet-gold flame.
"To the Third Floor."