Rein walked along the stone pavement as dusk settled over Monolithos. The sun dipped low, staining the sky in muted orange. The air carried the first edge of winter. It was not harsh yet, but it lingered against the skin and in the breath.
The people of Monolithos were preparing.
Stacks of firewood lined the sides of houses, covered with thick sheets and secured with rope and iron nails driven deep into the frozen soil. Some men hammered supports into their rooftops. Others reinforced window frames or fastened additional beams along the outer walls. The town moved with quiet purpose, as if the coming season demanded respect.
Rein slowed near a man guiding a carriage filled with red metal tanks. They were cylindrical, short and thick, built to endure pressure. The wheels of the carriage creaked against stone.
"Are the winds strong in the winter?" Rein asked.
The man paused and looked at him strangely, then broke into a broad smile.
"Yeah. It's a buncha winds that pass by the mountain range and ta 'ere."
Rein returned a polite smile, forced as it may be, and continued walking.
It took him barely five minutes to reach Midas's house. He stepped through the gate, crossed the yard, and knocked.
.
.
.
When the door opened, he was led into a large room. The walls were lined with weaponry of various kinds. Spears, swords, axes, bows. At the center stood a detailed map of the circular city itself.
Midas greeted him and introduced him to another man.
"Nice to meet you. I am Rein, Rein Shenhe."
The man named Seriché stood slightly taller than Rein. He had straight silver hair and a lean build. His pale blue eyes carried a quiet depth. There was no tension in his posture. He exuded a sense of softness that, combined with his refined features, made him strangely pleasant to look at.
'Alright, That's enough'
Rein composed himself and met Seriché's gaze directly
"Hm. I am Seriché. Seriché Agrawela,"
Seriché replied, a faint smile resting on his lips.
Another figure entered from the left doorway.
It was Deski.
She looked at Seriché first, then at Rein, and gave an easy smile.
"L—long time no see."
It was directed at Seriché, not Rein. They had only parted a few hours ago. Still, Rein nodded alongside Seriché.
"So, Rein," Midas began, gesturing toward Seriché and Deski, "these two here are what you call awakeners. I assume you already know about the ranks of ascension?"
Rein nodded.
There were six ranks.
Awakened.
Knight.
Sigil.
Exalted.
Throne.
Crown.
From what he had gathered, certain conditions had to be met. After that, a person had to overcome a hurdle rooted in their own life to ascend further.
That was all he knew.
"Yeah. Somewhat."
"Good," Midas said with a pleased nod. "I want you to clash with Seriché."
"What."
Rein blinked.
Midas did not appear to be joking.
'How high is his impression of me?'
Rein disliked expectations. They were burdens that followed you whether you wanted them or not. More often than not, he had been forced to meet them.
And Seriché was awakened.
From what Rein understood, awakening was the first step of ascension, centered primarily on physical enhancement.
An awakened was at least three times as strong as their unawakened counterpart.
"Oh, don't misunderstand, We simply want to assess your combat ability. Actually, seriché isn't even going to attack, just defend"
"Oh. And here I thought I could clear my doubts first."
Rein's tone was dry. It was not quite refusal, but it was close.
"It's fine," Seriché said calmly.
Rein felt that softness again. It was not mystical. It was simply part of him.
"You may ask, We will answer. That has nothing to do with whether we fight. Ask while we assess you."
.
.
.
Rein stood at one end of an inner grassy courtyard. The air was cool and still. In his hands rested a great longsword, not the Severer.
He had suggested using another weapon. The relic's warning still lingered in his thoughts.
Across from him stood Seriché, holding a tachi firmly in both hands. The curved blade caught the fading light with a dull glint.
"So," Midas began from the wooden porch, where he stood beside Deski who had sat down, "the system is a relic of the past. It was created by the Goddess of Growth."
Though Rein had suggested asking questions afterward, Midas had insisted the explanations happen during the assessment.
Perhaps they wanted to test more than his body.
The main question Rein had raised concerned the system itself. Skills. Wings. Feathers. Soulbound relics.
As Midas began speaking, Rein lunged forward.
He closed the distance quickly and brought the longsword down in a heavy vertical slash.
Seriché shifted slightly to the side.
His movement was minimal and Efficient.
He angled his tachi and redirected the blade. The impact did not echo. The force slid away as if it had struck a polished surface.
Rein's balance tipped forward.
For a brief second, he was falling.
He braced with his forearm and slid across the grass before pushing himself back to his feet.
Facing Seriché felt like facing a wall that gave nothing away.
Not only because of superior strength, but because of refined control and higher skills.
"The system, was meant to empower mortals against the curse of darkness. Before the Great Cataclysm, it was a true tool of power. Now it is only a shell, diminished after its creator's death."
Rein advanced again.
He swung from multiple angles. Horizontal. Diagonal. Feints shifting into thrusts.
Each strike met the same result.
Sometimes the blade slid aside.
Sometimes it was avoided by a movement so small it was nearly imperceptible.
Seriché's stance never broke.
'Ugh'
Rein stepped back, adjusted his grip, then delivered a wide horizontal slash.
Instead of retreating, Seriché paused for a fraction of a second and clashed directly.
Steel met steel.
Rein's blade bounced back. The vibration ran through his hands and into his arms.
"Wings are the core of a person's mystical power. They are what define the awakened. They grant most of their strength."
Rein did not retreat this time.
He stepped forward immediately and repeated the same horizontal slash, forcing the same line.
Seriché tilted his blade and placed his palm lightly against its spine. The longsword struck and halted.
Seriché did not move.
Rein felt the difference clearly.
The gap in strength.
"Feathers are abilities granted by the wings, there are some details about feathers here and there, but That is enough for now."
Rein jumped back, landing firmly.
Again.
He surged forward and unleashed a rapid sequence of strikes, aiming at joints, shoulders, ribs. He did not hold back. If they landed, they would incapacitate or severely injure.
None came close.
Seriché shifted, pivoted, turned the flat of his blade at precise angles. Rein's strikes were redirected before their momentum fully formed.
Yet something stood out.
Each time Seriché countered, there was a brief pause.
A fraction of stillness before movement.
At first Rein thought it was to gather strength.
But it did not look like strain.
It looked deliberate, perhaps like a conditio.
'Maybe it's a skill or Perhaps a feather'
It was interesting.... How exactly do you acquire skills,
'by just repeating the same activity again and again?'
If so,
Rein stepped in once more. This time, Seriché stepped forward as well, They both paused for that same brief moment.
Then both swung from opposite directions.
The clash rang louder than the previous ones.
The force pushed Rein backward. His heels dug into the grass before he regained balance.
Seriché remained standing where he had started.
Rein lowered his blade slightly.
He had not been cut.
But the difference between them had been made clear.
'my power was not any more then what it was... But it does feel like I am walking towards something'
"Attributes are the characteristics of people, the mystical ones. affinities are alignment of people towards a element like wind and fire or even light and darkness"
Rein clashed with seriché again, even though he wasn't doing any damage or even pushing seriché back, he was definately improving.
At a frightning rate at that.
Each clash now was monisculely firmer and efficienct than before.
It was like the blank canvas given to him with colours was being painted into something beautiful.
rein started adjusting the amount of force his put in his strikes, the direction and the way he slashed.
Small differences that painted the bigger picture.
"Clang!"
A cacophony of metal ringing against metal resounding around rein.
The sound bouncing around the structure and eventually coming to him from many different directions.
Rein was getting tired, his muscles were worn out and his breathing was more then slightly laboured.
Eventually... A notification broke his focus
[Proficiency reached, you have achieved (string slash: one string)]
'...'
It was strange, rein hadn't been afraid of working hard, but seeing his progress in real time gave him a push that he didn't think he needed.
Rein shifted his feet, and put his blade behind him from the left side, he then paused for a second, then pushed it towards seriché who was already mid swing.
Suddenly, a line appeared near the trajectory of where the two arcs would've met.
'hm'
Rein followed that line, his blade met seriché's.