Chapter 9 – Whispers and Warnings
The sun hung low in the sky by the time Auther made it back to the outer perimeter of Ashveil City.
The rust-colored walls loomed ahead, still intact despite their age. Built more from necessity than aesthetics, they stood as a bulwark against the wilds—patched with iron sheets, reinforced concrete, and salvaged mana stones that flickered faintly with protective runes.
Auther approached the checkpoint cautiously.
Unlike the inner walls surrounding the central districts, the outer ruins had less oversight. Still, every gate had guards—Awakeners employed by the city to manage movement and security.
Two of them stood lazily by the gate, their black uniforms scratched and dusty, long rifles slung over their shoulders.
One of them, a woman with a jagged scar over her neck, raised a brow at Auther as he approached.
"You heading in?"
Auther nodded, face calm but worn.
"Got injured on patrol. Need supplies."
She scanned him. "Low-ranker?"
"F2," he said evenly.
"Solo?"
He nodded again.
The second guard, a bored-looking man chewing a piece of synth-leaf, scoffed. "Heh. Brave or stupid."
The woman shrugged and stepped aside. "Don't make trouble."
"I won't."
They let him through.
The moment he passed the barrier, Auther felt the shift. The air inside was cleaner, filtered by mana-based purifiers. The scent of iron and rot faded, replaced by dust, engine oil, and street food.
Ashveil's Outer Ring was a patchwork sprawl—half-survival camp, half-bustling slum. Awakeners of all ranks wandered through wide alleys between tents and cracked buildings, trading mana crystals, cores, and old-world tech.
People here looked at you less like a person and more like a threat.
Or an opportunity.
Auther kept his head down, cloak draped over one shoulder to hide the scratches and the faint mana lines glowing beneath his skin. No point in advertising.
He stopped by a tattered awning selling alchemical bandages, basic rations, and low-grade potions.
The shopkeeper—a middle-aged woman with beastfolk ears and glowing eyes—gave him a quick scan.
"You look like shit."
"Fought a mutant ape," Auther muttered. "Need gauze, meat packs, and three vials of stabilizer."
She blinked. "You're still standing?"
"Barely."
She grinned and tossed him a few wrapped items. "That'll be two silver cores or fifteen reds."
Auther dug into his pouch and handed over a glowing red mana shard—dungeon-grade currency. Not many people accepted credits out here.
He caught the faint lift of her brow. Red cores weren't common among low-rankers.
"Don't go dying, kid," she muttered as he left.
---
He wandered through the winding streets for a while, just observing.
Bulletin boards stood at major intersections, filled with notices:
Missing persons
Bounty postings
Gate disturbance warnings
And occasionally—recruitment flyers from the Awakeners Association
Auther paused at one board in particular.
A faded poster read:
> AWAKENERS ASSOCIATION – RECRUITMENT INTAKE OPEN
Looking to get stronger?
Seeking access to better gear, skills, and support?
Join the Association.
Test required: Rank F3 minimum.
Apply at the Eastern Hall.
He stared at the words for a long moment.
F3.
He was almost there. He'd need maybe two or three more high-quality kills, or a couple of good mana cores.
Then the door would open.
Training grounds. Skill books. Potential allies.
And maybe… someone who could teach him how to survive longer than the next three fights.
He made a mental note of the address and turned away.
---
On his way out of the city, he grabbed a rusted datapad from a scrap vendor—useful for taking notes on skill designs and tracking monster types. Cost him a yellow mana shard, but it was worth it.
Night was beginning to fall when he reached the southern checkpoint again.
The same two guards were there.
"Still alive, huh?" the man muttered.
Auther didn't reply.
He just passed through.
---
The ruins beyond the wall felt quieter than usual.
Too quiet.
Auther's steps slowed as he crossed back toward the hollowed train car he'd claimed. He adjusted his pack, glanced at the skyline—
—and froze.
A low pulse echoed through the air.
Mana.
Dense. Unstable.
His head snapped to the side.
It came from deeper in the ruins—southwest, near the collapsed subway access tunnel.
He'd passed it before. Nothing had been there. Just rubble and collapsed staircases.
But now?
He could feel the air warping.
A ripple, like heat waves above a fire, shimmered across the broken asphalt. The air vibrated faintly, and flickers of blue and red mana energy danced like sparks above the concrete.
A mana distortion.
And it was growing.
He stepped closer.
There, nestled between two collapsed buildings, a faint glow pulsed from the ground.
The mana grew thicker the closer he got. Not hostile. Not yet. But wild, like a beast barely chained.
He crouched beside a crack in the earth and stared down.
Faint lines of glyphs flickered around the rim—natural, not man-made. A symbol forming, fed by the ambient mana in the air.
His breath caught.
"A gate?"
No. Not a full one.
Not yet.
This was what they called a mana sink—the earliest sign of a mini-dungeon forming. A place where ambient mana pooled unnaturally, often leading to the birth of a micro-gate, sometimes only large enough for a handful of rooms or a single boss encounter.
But if left alone?
It could become something much worse.
Most people wouldn't notice one until it fully erupted. But with Enhanced Hearing and his breathing technique amplifying his senses, he'd caught it early.
"Not stable enough to enter," he muttered. "But soon."
Days, maybe less.
And if it matured into a gate and he cleared it...
The rewards would be incredible.
Even micro-gates could yield mana crystals, skill books, and treasure items—naturally formed artifacts impossible to replicate.
The only catch?
The boss.
A monster spawned by concentrated mana—always stronger than anything around it. And always unpredictable.
He'd need to grow fast. Push to F3 at least before it bloomed.
But this…
This was his first real opportunity.
---
That night, back at his hideout, Auther set the datapad on a makeshift desk and opened a new log file.
He titled it:
> Mini-Gate Log – Southern Ruins Sink (Ashveil Outskirts)
• Status: Forming
• Location: Near collapsed subway entrance
• Signature: Stable pulse, deep red core, ambient glyph activity detected
• Risk: Moderate to High
• Reward Potential: High
Estimated Bloom: 3–5 days.
He leaned back and let the data settle.
For now, he'd keep this to himself.
He was too weak to compete for a dungeon if someone else found it. No team. No support. No backup.
But if he got strong enough by then?
This could be his first true leap forward.
He stood, cracked his neck, and opened his system.
---
[Skill Points: 68]
He still had enough for something new. Something to push him closer to that F3 threshold.
And now, he had a reason to fight harder.
Because hidden within the ruins...
Opportunity had started to open its eye.