Arin Vale checked the edge of his blade again.
Not because it needed checking.
Because his hands needed something to do.
The valley around him was already filling with people.
Some stood in disciplined groups, wearing matching armor or cloaks marked with clan symbols. Others kept their distance from everyone, lone hunters and wanderers who had come for the same reason he had.
Opportunity.
Or death.
Usually both.
Arin slid the knife back into its sheath and adjusted the strap of the short sword at his hip.
No one here looked weak.
Not one.
He had spent the last ten minutes quietly watching the crowd and had reached one simple conclusion.
Every single person here could probably kill him.
Which meant one thing.
Stay invisible.
Stay quiet.
And most importantly—
Stay out of everyone's way.
His gaze drifted toward the massive cliff at the end of the valley.
The Temple was supposed to be there.
Except there was nothing.
Just stone.
If Arin hadn't heard the same story from three different cities and a dozen different hunters, he would have assumed the entire thing was a lie.
The Temple of an ancient god.
That was the rumor.
No one knew who built it.
No one knew when.
Only that once every few decades something happened here.
A doorway appeared.
And beyond it waited a place so enormous that even after centuries of exploration, no one had ever mapped it fully.
People called it a temple.
Others called it a castle.
Some said it was closer to a buried city.
Arin had heard every version.
What he knew for certain was simpler.
People went inside.
And those who returned came back stronger.
Some found relics.
Some found rare herbs worth fortunes.
Some found holy water that could strengthen the body.
Some found things they refused to speak about.
Many never returned at all.
Arin hadn't wanted to come.
Not at first.
He had only arrived in this world a few months ago.
In that time he had learned the basics of this world's power and how far behind he really was.
Too far.
Progress had been painfully slow.
Too slow.
If he continued like this, he would spend years just trying to catch up.
Years he didn't have.
Which meant he needed opportunity.
And this place—
This place was full of it.
Even if it might kill him.
A faint glow began creeping over the horizon.
Dawn.
The mountains around the valley slowly emerged from darkness as the first yellow rays of sunlight climbed across their jagged peaks.
The crowd grew quieter.
Everyone knew what came next.
Arin felt it before he saw it.
The air changed.
Not colder.
Heavier.
The space in front of the cliff began to ripple.
At first it looked like heat distortion.
Then the distortion deepened.
The stone wall bent inward slightly, as if the world itself had softened in that spot.
A thin crack of darkness appeared in the air.
Not on the rock.
In front of it.
Arin's eyes narrowed.
The crack widened.
Light twisted around it, bending strangely as if space itself had been pulled apart.
Then the cliff disappeared.
Not broken.
Not moved.
Just gone.
In its place hung a vast tear in reality.
The edges shimmered faintly, unstable and jagged, while beyond them stretched a darkness so deep it seemed to swallow the dawn light itself.
Cold air spilled out of the rift.
Ancient.
Still.
Arin felt a tight knot form in his stomach.
So the rumors were true.
The Temple had opened.
No one moved for a moment.
Then someone near the front stepped forward.
A clan fighter.
He walked straight into the darkness without hesitation.
And vanished.
That was all it took.
The crowd began advancing.
Slowly.
Cautiously.
Arin adjusted the grip on his sword.
His heart beat a little faster.
Everyone around him was stronger.
That meant one thing.
He couldn't compete.
Not here.
Not now.
He would have to survive another way.
Stay low.
Watch.
Learn.
Take what chances he could find.
And avoid becoming someone else's opportunity.
Arin exhaled slowly.
Then stepped toward the rift.
Betting his life that whatever waited inside was better than the slow crawl of weakness outside.