Sezel blinked, his crimson eyes locked on the grand screen as its cold light flickered with a near-impossible announcement.
Around him, the low murmur of the reception hall died, replaced by a sudden, tomb-like silence. A hundred pairs of eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and morbid curiosity, stared at the same soul-freezing words.
A RANK-A GATE HAS MANIFESTED NEAR THE FACILITY.
Rank - A. Sezel's breath caught in his throat. A Rank-A gate had just opened near the facility of Blood Born Corporation, A chill, as cold and sharp as a shard of ice from the deepest level of hell, coiled in his gut.
Rank-S are the highest classification of the gates, and Rank-A was just below it. A Rank-S gate had the potential to destroy half of the current earth, while the Rank-A can turn entire continent to ash if not handled carefully.
Humanity had survived a A-Rank Gate only eleven times. They had survived an S-Rank only once.
Sezel's mind churned; if this thing is so close, there was a high probability he would also be sent with the expedition, and if not that, there was always the vanguard team which looked out for potential beasts coming out of the gate.
This is a mess.. Sezel scowled under his breath, but it didn't take long for all his expectations to go down the well. The next minute, notifications lit up the devices of almost everyone in the room. Faces paled, eyes wide with a terror that was almost comical in its universality.
They had been chosen. Sezel stared at his own device, his heart a thundering drum against his ribs. Nothing. A strange, almost shameful wave of relief washed over him, loosening the knot of tension in his gut.
He exhaled slowly. So I'm not chosen this time either.
It was logical. A Rank 0 Slayer was as fragile as a baseline human. Sending him into that hell would be an execution. The captain, for all his faults, wasn't that cruel. Or maybe he just didn't want to waste the paperwork.
Well, that settles it. He slipped the inert device back into his pocket and turned, the quiet thump of his own footsteps a stark contrast to the suffocating silence of the place.
I do really hope that most of you live and come back, a fleeting, hollow thought whispered. But it was a lie, a flimsy shield against the harsh reality of their situation. Most of his classmates were rookies. Two months of training was a death sentence in a Rank-A gate.
He pushed the thought away, letting it slide off his consciousness like water off a duck's back. He was not included. That was all that mattered. Why should he care about strangers? Did they care when he was drowning in the Spirit Realm, being pierced and cut? Their fate was not his concern.
Back in his room, he shut the door, plunging the space into a comforting darkness. He lay on his bed, his eyes wide open, staring at the blank canvas of the ceiling. But sleep wouldn't come. He remembered he hadn't checked his Spirit Meridian today.
'How could I forget such a thing?' He sat up, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. It was his daily ritual, a desperate, fruitless search for any clue about his Golden Fable.
He closed his eyes, focusing, drifting through the familiar darkness until he found himself in the vast, silent plane of his Spirit Meridian. Impossible peaks tore at a starless sky, and a few skeletal trees dotted the barren ground. His Spirit Core, a swirling black mass, hung in the void, a single Spirit Channel arcing into it like a lonely rainbow.
This place is as creepy as ever. I should really consider redecorating.
The card, his Fable, slowly revolved around his Spirit Core. He raised one hand and the card floated to him. It had become natural. It's not like he had to always come inside his Spirit Meridian to see his card. Slayers had restrictions in the real world, and all those restrictions were lifted when they stepped inside the Spirit Realm.
As such, Slayers become five times more powerful when they are inside the Spirit Realm and can summon the card physically.
"Show," he murmured. The card dissolved, reforming into a translucent silver window filled with text. He scanned it from top to bottom. Nothing new. Nothing had changed. With a sigh that carried no real disappointment, only resignation, he dismissed it.
Reading it a thousand times won't change anything. He stared up at the lifeless sky, a void of absolute nothingness.
Then he saw it.
A single butterfly, its wings leaving a trail of shimmering, ethereal particles. The same one. The one from the Spirit Realm. The one that had turned into the girl who had saved him.
His blood turned to ice. The air in his lungs solidified. He stumbled back, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat.
Ho… How? Impossible. This place is my soul. No one—
"What is impossible, my dear?"
A soft breath whispered against his ear. His heart hammered once, then stopped, a cold, paralyzing shock wiping his mind clean. He felt a hand, as cold as ice, gently brush through his hair. It was her.
He jumped away, skidding on the ground, landing in a crouch, his fists raised.
There she stood, her long purple hair flowing like a majestic waterfall, her purple eyes mirroring his own.
"How… how are you here?" Sezel's voice was a trembling rasp.
"What do you mean how? Weren't you the one who allowed me to have half of your soul?"
Sezel froze, his mind reeling into disbelief. "What?"
The girl raised a slender hand, pointing not at him, but at his Spirit Core. "There. I gave you one of my Spirit Channels."
He followed her gaze, and the realization hit him like a physical blow. A Slayer's Spirit Channels were equal to their Rank. He was a Rank 0. He should have none. But he had one.
That single, lonely arc of light. It was a piece of her inside of him.
The world seemed to tilt. Suddenly, she was beside him, her cold hands cupping his face, forcing their eyes to meet. He was lost in her gaze, adrift in a sea of despair and confusion.
"You will find your answers in the Spirit Realm," she said, her voice a soft, compelling whisper. "Go inside the Gate."
The words struck him like a bolt of lightning, snapping him back to reality. Before he could form a question, before he could even breathe, her form began to dissipate, her edges blurring until she was gone, like mist in the morning sun.
Great, he thought, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his chest. Another cryptic message from a goddess who may or may not be trying to kill me.