Rain fell steady over Gravefall.
The district always looked tired.
Cracked sidewalks.
Old mana scorch marks on brick.
Clan symbols scratched into alley walls.
Jareth walked through it like he'd been there his whole life.
Long black hair resting against his chest.
Matte black cloak.
Baggy sweats.
Hands in pockets.
Status flickered faintly in his vision.
Jareth Nocturne
Level: 1
Clan: None
Mana Visibility: Undetectable
Reputation: Unknown
He stopped outside a run-down convenience store.
Three academy trainees stood there.
Clan Duskveil patches stitched on their sleeves.
Levels visible faintly in mana-sight:
Level 9
Level 11
Level 13
The Level 13 noticed him staring.
"You lost?"
Jareth blinked once.
"Probably."
They laughed.
Level 11 stepped closer.
"You clanless?"
"Looks that way."
"Got a crystal?"
"Nope."
Level 9 smirked.
"So you're just human."
Jareth tilted his head slightly.
"Congratulations?"
The sarcasm annoyed them.
Level 13 cracked his knuckles.
"Gravefall doesn't do charity. You wanna walk around here, you pay."
"And if I don't?"
Level 11 reinforced his legs with mana.
Concrete cracked under his step.
"Then we test you."
⸻
FIGHT START
No sky splitting.
No dramatic thunder.
Just wet pavement.
Level 11 lunged first.
Mana surged through his calves.
Speed burst technique.
He threw a straight punch reinforced with focused kinetic mana.
Jareth barely leaned back.
The fist grazed his cheek.
Second punch landed clean in his ribs.
Pain.
Sharp.
He exhaled slow.
Level 13 joined in.
Low sweep kick.
Jareth lost footing.
Hit the ground.
Boot slammed into his stomach.
Level 9 ignited his forearm in dull orange glow.
Low-grade combustion class.
He punched down.
Impact.
Blood from Jareth's lip.
They laughed.
"Level 1 trash."
Jareth wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
Looked at the blood.
"Okay," he muttered calmly.
"That stung a little."
Level 13 rushed again.
This time Jareth focused.
Now that he reached Level 1 in Gravefall earlier—
He unlocked Mana Perception.
He could see the flow.
Thin lines of energy in their muscles.
Micro surges before movement.
Level 13 stepped forward.
Jareth stepped inside his guard.
Not flashy.
Just tight movement.
He reinforced his fist lightly.
Basic reinforcement.
Nothing special.
But he didn't limit output.
He didn't need to.
Punch landed square in Level 13's solar plexus.
Air exploded from his lungs.
Crack.
Hairline fracture in his mana crystal.
He staggered back coughing blood.
Level 11 froze.
"Wait—"
Too late.
Jareth pivoted.
Low kick behind the knee.
Level 11 dropped.
Elbow strike to jaw.
Teeth scattered across wet pavement.
Level 9 charged, arm blazing.
This time Jareth didn't dodge.
He grabbed the burning forearm.
Skin hissed.
He didn't pull back.
He pushed more mana into his grip.
Level 9's combustion destabilized.
When you overfeed a low-grade flame core—
It backfires.
The arm detonated inward.
Not an explosion.
Internal shockwave.
The kid screamed, collapsing.
Void Form didn't activate.
He didn't need it.
He stood there breathing steady.
Not tired.
Not winded.
The three trainees writhed on the ground.
Status updated.
Jareth Nocturne
Level: 2
New Skill: Mana Reinforcement Efficiency +1%
Stamina Drain: 0%
He blinked.
"…Huh."
He looked down at them.
"You guys should probably train more."
Dry.
Flat.
Almost polite.
Across the street—
Someone had been watching.
A tall woman in a dark Duskveil coat.
Level 34.
Arms crossed.
Eyes sharp.
She turned and walked away slowly.
"Interesting," she murmured.
⸻
END OF EPISODE 1