Mob_Siko

In a sprawling fantasy world called Eldrenvar, where towering sky-cities float above a scarred wasteland, power belongs to the "Gifted"—those born with innate magical abilities called Sparks. These Sparks let them wield elements, manipulate minds, or bend reality itself. The Gifted rule as nobles, warriors, and gods among men, while the ungifted toil below in the dust, mining Etherstone to fuel the sky-cities’ levitation.
Follow Tomas Kael, a 28-year-old laborer from the wasteland town of Dustcrag. Tomas is no hero—he’s a wiry, sweat-soaked grunt who hauls Etherstone 14 hours a day. He’s got no Spark, no lineage, just calloused hands and a stubborn belief: hard work beats talent. While the Gifted coast on their powers, Tomas trains relentlessly—running laps with stone sacks, swinging a pickaxe until his muscles scream, studying old texts by candlelight. His dream? To climb to the sky-cities and prove an ungifted man can stand equal to the elite.

The Grinder’s Blade(DROPPED)

The tether's peak pierced the clouds, Solvaris's light bathing Tomas and Sereth in a golden haze. Hours of climbing had left his hands raw, his muscles screaming, but he pushed on, pickaxe biting into stone. Sereth trailed, her Spark all but gone, her steps fueled by will alone. The assassins' attack lingered in the air—a warning of worse to come.

Tomas reached a wide platform, the tether's crest, its surface etched with runes older than Dustcrag. Solvaris floated above, a city of spires and floating islands, so close he could taste its decadence. He turned, offering Sereth a hand. She took it, collapsing beside him, her satchel clutched like a lifeline.

"We made it," she breathed, staring up. "Almost."

Tomas nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. The platform's edge dropped sheer into the clouds, the wasteland a memory below. "What now?"

"There's a gate," Sereth said, pointing to a rune-carved arch at the platform's far end. "It'll take us in—if they let us."

He caught the doubt in her voice. "They won't?"

She grimaced. "A Dull with a Gifted emissary? They'll question it. Hard."

"Then we answer hard," Tomas said, standing. "Let's move."

Before they reached the arch, a hum filled the air—low, menacing. Figures emerged from the clouds, five Gifted in gleaming armor, Sparks crackling at their hands. Fire, wind, steel—power Tomas couldn't match. Their leader, a tall man with silver hair, stepped forward, eyes cold.

"Lady Sereth," he said, voice smooth as ice. "You bring a Dull into Solvaris?"

"He's with me," she snapped, rising. "Tomas Kael saved my life. He's earned passage."

The leader sneered. "Earned? Dulls don't earn. They serve."

Tomas tightened his grip on his pickaxe. "Try me."

The Gifted laughed, wind swirling at his command. "Prove it, then." He unleashed a gust, slamming Tomas back. He dug his heels in, leaning into it, and charged, pickaxe raised. The leader blinked, surprised, as Tomas swung, forcing him to dodge.

Another Gifted hurled fire. Tomas rolled, the heat singeing his pack, and flung a stone from the platform's edge. It struck the fire-wielder's knee, dropping him with a yelp. Sereth joined, her weak flames distracting a third, while Tomas tackled the leader, wrestling him to the ground.

"Enough!" Sereth shouted, her Spark flaring bright for a moment. The Gifted paused, glaring, but backed off as she held up her satchel. "This gets me through. He comes too."

The leader spat, rising. "Fine. But he's your burden."

The arch glowed, a portal shimmering open. Tomas followed Sereth through, Solvaris's grandeur unfolding before him—and its dangers waiting within.

Chapter 7: The Tether’s Crest