[Westminster District – The Ruins of the Capital]
[Two Weeks After the "Mud Ritual"]
"I need to get stronger."
The thought replayed in Lucian's mind like a broken record. Ever since that day—the day the Angel of Death's pressure crushed him to the floor—he couldn't sleep properly. He was thankful to be alive, yes, but deep down, he knew the truth.
The war wasn't over. It had just begun. And next time, he might not be lucky enough to be on the sidelines.
"Sigh..." Lucian exhaled, his breath misting in the cold morning air. "London lost to the Iron Kingdom. The Shield is cracked."
He walked through the streets of Westminster. Two weeks ago, this was the busiest, wealthiest district in the world. Now, it was a construction site built on a graveyard.
People were everywhere, huddled in temporary tents or clearing rubble. The air smelled of wet ash and sawdust.
Lucian approached the river. He stopped where the Great Market Bridge used to be—the place where he had bought his first chicken from the friendly bearded butcher.
That bridge was gone. The butcher was likely dead.
In its place stood a hastily constructed wooden walkway, creaking under the weight of transport wagons and pedestrians. It was a scar on the landscape, a reminder of how easily the "Golden Shield" had shattered.
I got the job. I moved into a real house. It has been two weeks.
Lucian looked down at his reflection in a puddle.
He wasn't wearing rags anymore. He was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, a crisp white shirt, and a stiff black hat—purchased with his first two weeks of Guild salary. He looked like a gentleman. He looked like he belonged to the upper class.
But the world is burning around me.
"At least I am safe for now," he muttered, adjusting his collar.
He lived in a rented apartment between Bond Street and Westminster, so he saw the devastation daily on his commute. The despair of the common people was palpable. Food shortages were beginning. The price of bread had tripled.
He tightened his grip on his cane. He had a lesson to attend.
[Guild of Preservation – Bond Street Branch]
Lucian walked through the plaza and pushed open the polished mahogany doors of the Guild.
The interior was warm, a sanctuary from the misery outside. Behind the reception desk sat the same familiar face.
Grace.
She was pale, thinner than before. She offered him a wide, bright smile, showing her perfect white teeth.
"Good morning, Lucian! You seem early today."
"Good morning, Miss Grace," Lucian replied, tipping his hat.
He looked at her smile. It was professional, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her eyes were shattered glass.
Old Man Uriel had told him the news: Grace's cousin had lived on Victoria Street. She hadn't found a body yet. She probably never would.
Lucian didn't bring it up. In this world, everyone was grieving someone.
"Is Mr. Aziz in?" Lucian asked.
"No," Grace shook her head. "He is out on a hunt. Crime rates are spiking, I'm afraid."
"Figures," Lucian thought.
With the supply chain broken, people were starving. Desperation bred crime. And when Awakened people became desperate, they became dangerous. The Guild was the only thing standing between the "Zeros"—the normal humans—and the chaos.
"I'll head downstairs then," Lucian said.
"Have a good lesson!" Grace waved cheerfully.
Lucian walked past her, his heart heavy, and descended into the archives.
[The Underground Archives]
The basement smelled of old parchment and peace.
Uriel was sitting at his usual spot on the red sofa, surrounded by stacks of books. He was studying a thick tome with a magnifying glass.
"Hello, boy," Uriel said without looking up.
"Hello, Mr. Uriel," Lucian replied with a small smile.
"How did you sleep?"
"Not good," Lucian admitted, hanging his black coat on the rack by the door. "But... it was comfortable. I'm getting used to having a mattress."
"A mattress is a luxury these days," Uriel chuckled dryly.
Lucian walked over and sat on the wooden chair opposite the old man. He looked Uriel straight in the eyes, his expression turning serious.
"So, what am I going to learn today?"
Lucian was excited. For the past two weeks, Uriel had taught him history, geography, and basic monster biology. But today felt different.
Uriel closed the book. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Today," Uriel said, his voice grave, "I am going to teach you how to get to the Next Level."
Lucian leaned forward. This was it. The path to power.
"To advance in the System," Uriel began, holding up two fingers. "You need two things. First, the fuel. Second, the key."
"The fuel," Uriel explained, "is an Ether Crystal. To advance to Tier 2, you must consume a Tier 2 Crystal harvested from a monster. The Guild will provide this for you. We have plenty in stock."
Lucian nodded. That sounded easy enough.
"However," Uriel's eyes narrowed. "The Crystal is useless without the Ritual."
"The Ritual?"
"Yes. Every Sequence is different," Uriel said. "A 'Warrior' might need to kill ten enemies in a single battle to advance. A 'Mage' might need to meditate in a mana-storm for three days. You cannot just eat the Crystal; your body will explode. You must perform a specific set of actions to 'unlock' your spirit so it can accept the power."
Uriel leaned back, crossing his arms.
"And that is the problem, Lucian. Your Sequence is Unknown. The Guild archives have no record of your power."
Lucian went silent.
"That means," Uriel continued softly, "we can give you the Crystal. But you must find the Ritual yourself. The System usually whispers the requirements to you when you are at the peak of your current Tier."
Lucian sat back, absorbing the information. He had to figure out the key to his own evolution.
"Let's start today's class, shall we?" Uriel said, opening a new book. "We have a lot of theories to cover."