The city smelled different in daylight. Not kinder, not forgiving. Just honest. Smoke from forges, herbs at the market, and the faint, metallic tang that always drifted down from the Spire. I kept my hood low and the pouch of Veilmarks heavy against my side. The coin burn was small comfort, but it was mine.
I had a name now. That made a difference more than I expected. People looked at you differently when you answered to something other than hunger. It was still easy to disappear. I liked it that way.
I asked about Ascenders the way someone asks for a rumor they cannot afford to be wrong about. Whispers pointed me through a maze of alleys, past a workshop that sold rune-stitched boots, and down a stair so narrow I had to turn my shoulders. There was no sign on the door. Only a symbol carved in relief: a flame wrapped in a helix.
I knocked once. The door opened before I could judge whether to regret it.
Inside, the room was lit by suspended Lumenite shards. They hovered in a slow orbit and threw soft light across scrolls and glass vials and a man who looked older than the city and younger than the stories told about him. He sat cross-legged on a cushion, fingers stained with ink and crystal dust. His robes were simple and worn. His eyes were a striking, tired grey.
"You made it," he said without looking up.
"I need a contract," I said. My voice sounded smaller than I expected.
He turned his head then and focused. For the first time since the sword, I felt someone look at me and see more than the cloth that wrapped my ribs.
"First time," he said. His gaze was a test and a measurement. "Walk in blind and you get a sigh of pity. Walk in with coin and a hard face and you get what you paid for. Which are you?"
"Neither," I said. "I want to be better. To survive without being prey."
He smiled, the muscles around his eyes crinkling. "Most people want the same. Few pay the price. Sit."
I sat on the opposite cushion and set the pouch on the low table between us. He made no move to touch it. Instead he studied my hands, the calluses and the faint scar on my thumb from last week's fight.
"You have a sword," he observed.
"It chose me," I said.
He made a sound that could have been a laugh or an intake of breath. "Kuraihane. I have only heard of it in fragments. Be careful, boy. Relics sing to you and then to the world. They are not toys."
"I know enough to hide it," I said. I did not tell him about the voice or the way the sword had taken my blood. I did not tell him about the pedestal or the chamber that had not been on any map.
The man tapped twice on the table. A shallow basin slid forward, carved with concentric runes. "The ritual is simple in outline. Coin, blood, consent. One thousand Veilmarks. No refunds."
I pushed the pouch toward him. He did not touch it until I drew out the exact sum. The coins clinked into the basin and dissolved into strands of pale light that rose and braided themselves into the runes.
"You understand the rules?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You understand the cost?"
"Yes."
"Then bleed."
I bit my thumb and let a bead of blood drip into the basin. The runes drank it like thirsty roots. The Ascender closed his eyes and began to chant in a language that smelled of old stone and new rain. The room shifted. The Lumenite shards swung faster and their light sharpened. My heartbeat stuttered and then steadied as the chant wrapped around it.
"Status baseline locked," he muttered. "All -F. That is a heavy binding for someone so young."
He opened his eyes and the grey had a new intensity. "The sword complicates this. It distorts your baseline like a splinter under skin. The system will not allow a clean read while the relic is unbound from your fate."
"What does that mean?" I asked. My throat was dry.
"It means you are not just yourself anymore. You are a variable the Ascension grid must account for. It is why most who find relics are forced into spectacle and then into chains of sponsorship and surveillance. You will have attention."
"Will the contract still work?"
The Ascender's fingers found my wrist and his palm was warm and firm. "Yes. But I will bind you conservatively. We will open the gates enough that you can breathe. Not enough that the city will mistake you for a threat and tear you into pieces. Understood?"
I swallowed and nodded.
His chant rose. The light from the basin coalesced into lines that crawled up my forearm like tiny, glowing veins. They burned in a clean heat and then cooled into a hum that settled behind my ribs. I felt something inside me shift. A sense like a hinge had been oiled and the door would move more freely now.
When the ritual finished he handed me a small crystal slate. It glowed with a soft, bureaucratic blue and listed my new baseline.
Hakari Aragiri – Contracted Ascension: Tier I
Strength: D Agility: C+ Endurance: D Magic: D Perception: C Willpower: C
I read it twice because the numbers were small and ridiculous. They were also proof. They were not promises. They were not a coronation. They were a whisper that said you can stand now without being swept away.
"You will grow in time," the Ascender said. "But remember this. The Guild decides levels. Stat shifts make you noticed. Noticed means contracts, watchers, offers, and threats. The grid will watch how you move."
"Can you tell me about Kuraihane?" I blurted. A question that sounded puny and desperate.
The Ascender's eyes narrowed. He looked away as if the name had made him taste something bitter. "I have heard echoes. Sealed relics seldom appear whole. Kuraihane is dangerous for reasons that are not just the sword's. Whoever last carried it left a signature the vaults still hiss about. Quietly, boy. Keep the sword hidden. Do not sing its name in taverns."
I tucked the slate into my cloak. The glow seeped into the fabric like a promise.
"You will come back," he said. "Tier II will require more than coin. It will require consequence. Prove you can carry that consequence and the Guild will consider you for petition. Do not mistake silence for safety."
I stood and shook his hand. His grip was steady and older than the city.
Outside, the light felt different. Not kinder, not crueler. Just edged in the knowledge that I carried a line between where I had been and where I might go.
I left the Ascender's room lighter in the pockets and heavier in the mind. The city pressed around me with its noise. I could feel the slate against my ribs like a second heartbeat.
On the street a merchant with a cart full of iron trinkets barked at a group of kids. A woman walked by with a babe wrapped at her chest. Life. Ordinary and oblivious.
A voice cut across the market like a knife.
"You there. Boy with the hood. You look new."
I froze. A man leaned on a pole, draped in a travel cloak dusted with Spire ash. His face was weathered and his eyes had that look the Ascender had when he had first looked at me. He held no badge. He smiled something sharp.
"You made a choice coming here," he said. "You paid for stones and blood. That buys attention. It also buys opportunity. If you need work, if you need direction, find me at dusk by the north bridge. I trade in routes and information."
"How do I know you are not a thief?" I asked.
He laughed. "Because thieves do not hand addresses to people who look like they have too many things to hide. I am Alen. I run a small crew. We guide and we guard. We do not ask questions we cannot handle. Think about it."
He walked off before I could answer. His hand left the pole swinging in a lazy circle. I watched him go and felt the sudden weight of choice settle like dust on my shoulders.
I thought of the Ascender's words. Prove you can carry the consequence. The pouch at my side had fewer coins. The slate on my chest had better numbers. The sword under cloth pulsed once, patient and steady.
That night I stood at the north bridge until the sun bled out and the lamps took over. Alen appeared like a shadow that belonged to the street. He nodded once.
"You were right," he said. "You paid. That gets you a look. You want work?"
"I want to be safe," I said. "And I want to be useful."
He studied me for a long moment. "Useful is a dangerous word. For now, come meet the crew. No promises. No chains. We move fast and we can keep secrets if the price is right."
I thought of Kuraihane under the cloth and the Ascender's warning about being watched. I thought of the slate and the way the numbers made my fists feel less empty. I nodded.
"Come at dawn," Alen said. "Bring your blade. Bring your stamina. Bring your hunger."
I left the bridge and walked back under the Spire's shadow. The city hummed around me and I felt, for the first time in weeks, the exact shape of a path. Not grand. Not glorious. A path that might get me a roof and a name that did not taste like shame.
I slept that night with the Ascender's contract tucked against my chest and Kuraihane beneath my cloak. The sword did not speak. It did not have to. Even silence can be a weight.
When morning came I had a meeting to prepare for and a choice that felt like a beginning.