— Outside the Wave Hunter's HQ —
Walking out the side of the building into an alleyway-like structure, Armaros's body couldn't stop shaking. Whether it be anger or fear, thoughts ran through his mind. None of them brought him any closer to thinking of a real plan. The First Wave was on its way, and he would be powerless to do anything against it.
The last thing he knew was how to swing a sword. And without the bare minimum, his useless, frail body was soon to join his dying dream.
As he started his trudge out of the alleyway, he saw a few people in Tyra's party casting some weapons to the side. Two greatswords lay there, their dull-gray designs strange but worthless.
"You know you should probably keep them, just in case they actually are useful in the long run, Zephyr," one boy said.
"It doesn't matter; they're too heavy for me to use anyway. I haven't upgraded my Potentia to use them well. They have cool names, but they probably just fake one too, and my daggers are far better."
"You do you," his friend replied.
They left the swords there, just as dejected as Armaros.
While a spark had yet to arrive in Armaros's eyes, he knew one thing. If he was going to die, he was going to do so on his own terms. And those weapons were a starting point. He staggered towards the neglected weapon and took one each in his hands.
His system then prompted him: [Acquired weapons: Zeus and Hermes, Forgotten Heirlooms].
He could barely lift the weapon off the ground. It took every ounce of his being to keep them from clattering back to the floor. His eyes ran over their derelict nature. It was a miracle they didn't turn into dust while just holding them.
These things are just worthless as I am…no matter. They'll do.
But just as he was about to put them away into his hidden inventory, a sharp-stinging pain jolted across his hands. His head snapped to the weapons in his grasp. A faint spark of electricity danced along the hilts of the blade. They crawled along his skin, stopping once they arrived at his yellow birthmark.
Its colour then shifted from yellow to a dull split between blue and gold.
In a small, rhythmic burst, they continued to sting him, like they called out for him to unleash some power that these useless trinkets could hold. But knowing little about the new world he was in, with no one to guide him, he took what little things he had and pushed on to carve a path for himself.
He stormed off in the direction of the train station, shimmering flashes of energy tracing his arms.
*****
Armaros dragged himself all the way to the train station. He put the new weapons he had gained into a hidden inventory. All Periodics could do the same.
He didn't intend to board it home, coming with a plan to examine a structure he had seen when getting off. He remembered a blue shimmer light he'd seen in the subway earlier. Unable to find out what it was due to wanting to reach the Wave Hunters as fast as possible, his curiosity had to wait.
But not anymore.
The structure was on the side where barely anyone could have seen it. Upon walking down this lonely, abandoned side of the subway, the air grew thicker, chilling in temperature as he stumbled further down it.
He didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest—life had long numbed his heart. His single-minded body walked forward, to whatever end it led him.
Inches away from this shimmering light, a large runic symbol floated in the air. The floating emblem was made of four insignias of crows, bound around a central depiction of a woman with serpentine hair.
This was a gateway, the first one he had ever come across.
So…this is how those Raid things look. Looks just like something out of a manga.
Armaros's eyes then lit up with a blue hue to the boy's surprise, pulling up the UI interface of his system and prompting him with a notification.
[You are standing before a Raid. Current Party Count: 1. Are you sure you want to take on this Raid? Yes/No?]
Well, I don't really have anyone else to go with me. Don't have much to lose either, Armaros thought.
Melancholy dulled the very few levels of resolve left in his voice.
But as he was about to think "yes" for the system to confirm his choice, the rank of the raid appeared.
[Raid Rank: Corrupted.]
What? What does that even mean? I thought these things showed letter ranks, not…whatever that is.
[Raid Rank Unavailable: Proceed With Caution as Boss Difficulty is unable to be predicted.]
Left confused by the message, this was the first wake-up call he received from anything. Everyone else had told him to simply give up, turn around, and find some other path. Now, even the system didn't know what to tell him. A cold shiver broke his body free of its unfeeling state of consciousness.
Every second felt like a test of his will.
The choice was his.
If this world wants me dead, it can come get me. Yes. I want to go through with the Raid.
With his decision cemented and the system's acknowledgment, the blue gateway before him erupted with light. Its color slowly changed from blue to a horrid green, casting sweeping, dark winds of emerald shade around the hallway that forced Armaros into a guarding position. The whirlwinds of air consumed Armaros until his vision went black.
Then, the system prompted him one more time.
[Raid Generation in Progress: Objective: Defeat Glycon, The False Queen of Snakes.]