It was inside a shapely cavern, sculpted from stone that shared the colour of the midnight sky. And the caverns bustled with vivacity, populated enough just enough to be lively, yet not enough to lack space, for the cavern was titanic in size.

The crowd was diverse, ranging with all forms of people. Some looked mundane, their fair skin dimmed by the low lighting of the cavern, while some looked absolutely exotic.

One figure, in particular, stood out—a towering giant, nearly three meters tall. Its skin resembled molten rock, crisscrossed with cracks that ran like veins across its surface. A single deep fissure split its chest down the middle, glowing with a fiery yellow-orange light that pulsed like a furnace. From its enormous hands, flames flickered, and each time it moved, it seemed as though the heat of a volcano radiated off its massive frame.

Its head was equally extraordinary. Eyes blazing with molten light leaked out a steady stream of fire, while its hair flowed behind it in thick, jelly-like strands of lava, glowing and undulating even though there was no wind. Where lips should have been, there was a smooth surface of obsidian, though it was clear that if the giant spoke, fire would pour out as readily as words.

The giant stood before a concave pillar that shifted in colour from the cavern’s deep blue to a rich purple in its centre. It was one of sixteen similar pillars scattered throughout the cave, each with its own crowd huddled at the base, trying to read the contents carved into their surfaces. Every pillar but one. The one the giant was standing in front of.

Despite the bustling crowd, no one dared approach the volcanic behemoth, and those nearby gave it a wide berth. The giant’s imposing figure cast an intimidating glow, and people tiptoed around, whispering nervously to one another.

Then, out of nowhere, a soft voice broke through the hum of the crowd. "Excuse me? Sir?"

The giant was suddenly startled out of its trance by the sensation of something lightly tapping on its shoulder, only now registering the small voice that had been calling out to it.

Turning around, it looked for the person who has awoken it from its trance, which wasn't too difficult, as most chose to flee the moment it turned, leaving only itself, a mysterious person draped in baggy black clothes, and a few spectators who stayed behind to watch from a distance, gossiping among themselves immediately.

As the giant had expected, the person draped in black held a black staff in its right hand, which they had held upright and the staff now rested on the giant's shoulder. Noticing they have acquired the giant's attention, the person simply withdrew the staff.

"Is this the... Operation Display Unit?" A male voice sounded from within the robes, sounding fairly young – likely towards the end of his teen years.

The giant stared down at the man, who barely reached its hip. After a few seconds, it nodded. The man nodded back in acknowledgment, then spoke again, still as polite and unhurried as before. "I see... Thank you. Would you mind moving aside a little? I'm a bit too short to see past you, and the light from your flames is reflecting off the manuscript into my eyes."

The crowd fell silent, holding their breath as the giant and the man locked eyes. Whispers spread like wildfire, with some onlookers gnawing on their nails in anticipation.

Then, the giant parted its molten lips, revealing a tongue that glowed like solar flares. When it spoke, its voice was deep, booming like the rumble of a volcano, but the words were unexpectedly gentle. "I apologize. I did not realise I was blocking your view."

With a simple nod, the giant stepped aside. The man in black gave a brief, "Thank you," and took the spot where the giant had been standing. The onlookers watched in disbelief, one of them mumbling, "It was that simple?"

The man, however, paid no notice to them, observing the concave obelisk. On it, there were hung, pasted, and pinned several manuscripts. The manuscripts didn't seem to be made from paper, no. They were nowhere as light, flexible, and easily creased.

Instead, they were rigid, cool, and smooth. The words and drawings were not written in ink, but were embossed details that resisted wear and tear. And all the manuscripts were in shades of red, with white writings embossed into them.

Curious, the man in black tried to bend it, the card-like manuscript simply springing back in response, its edges sharp and durable.

"Don't."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The booming voice of the giant returned, causing the man to pull his hand back instinctively. The giant pointed to the spot where the man had touched the plaque. A greasy fingerprint now marred its smooth surface. The man cringed.

Gently, the giant approached the card-like manuscript with his own finger, but he did not touch it. Then, the light from within the cracks in his skin intensified. Moments later, the grease was gone, and the plate was clean as new.

"Do not touch the plaques. That is against the rules of this place." The giant clarified, his voice not betraying any sense of emotion. If the creature was angry or annoyed, the man could not tell, so he simply sighed a breath of relief and thanked it.

After a few more moments of scanning the contents, the man turned and walked away. The giant, however, remained, watching him go with a thoughtful expression. After a moment of contemplation, it called out, "Hey."

The man stopped in his tracks, turning to face the giant again. His expression was one of mild confusion as he pointed to his chest, silently asking, 'Me?'

The giant nodded. "You... You are not from here, are you?"

The man cocked his head slightly, pondering the question for a brief moment. Then he asked, without hesitation, "Should I be?"

The giant was taken aback by the answer. After a pause, it chuckled, the sound like the rumble of distant thunder. Shaking its head, it smiled. "What’s your name?"

The man paused, his eyes now meeting the giant's own, glowing, crimson ones. He stared into them for a second, before he answered. "My name is... Lance. I... don't have a last name, but I tend to go by Lance Fallout."

"Lance Fallout..." The giant quietly repeated the words, before nodding, and smiled. "My name is Amani. I have a feeling we will be seeing each other again soon."

Lance nodded, a touch of confusion still lingering on his face. "Goodbye, Amani," he said before walking toward the far end of the cave.

On the extremity that lay parallel to the entrance laid a large desk, carved from azure wood of some sort. The desk was divided into seven sections. Four of them had long queues, and one had only a few people, while two stood completely empty. Without giving it much thought, Lance headed for one of the empty desks.

"Hello. I would like to accept an assignment, please." The man spoke politely to the lady at the desk. Immediately, his eyes were attracted to her pendant, which was a crescent moon carved from either purple glass or a crystal of the same shade.

It reminded him a little of his own pendant, his hands reaching to softly caress it before he even realised it.

The woman behind the desk blinked, startled as though just waking from a daydream. "Oh! Yes, of course. Just one moment…" She scrambled to retrieve a form and a gold-red quill, quickly recovering her composure.

"Your name, please."

"Lance Fallout."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"Anything to be rented?"

"A medical kit, please."

"Noted. Team?"

"I don't have one."

The woman paused mid-writing, her quill hovering over the paper. She raised her eyes to meet his. "Sir, this is a high-threat-level assignment. We can't let you go in without a team."

"I… should be fine. My skill set tends to endanger others. It’s safer if I work alone," Lance tried to explain, though his words lacked confidence, and he scratched the back of his head.

"Sir, the rules require at least one teammate of the same rank," she reiterated firmly.

At that moment, the floor rumbled slightly, attracting both of their attention as the giant from earlier walked towards them. Noticing the creature approach them, Lance's eyes immediately lit up.

"Amani, do you mind filling in as my teammate?" Lance question immediately without wasting time, holding his staff horizontally with both his hands, fidgeting slightly, a little anxious about his answer.

"Just filling in...? You make it sound like you will do all the work." Amani grinned. With a nod to the woman, who delightedly scribbled down on the form, Amani stepped forward.

Lance, relieved, gave him a thankful nod as the woman resumed her questions.

"Rank?"

"Adva–... Intermediate Magus, but I am a Conduit, so I think I multi-class as a Sorcerer too?'" Lance changed his words midway, something the listeners failed to notice, their focus zoomed in onto the latter part of his sentence.

The woman froze, her quill hovering once more. Amani’s eyes widened in surprise.

"You’re… a Conduit?" Amani asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Lance nodded absentmindedly, before his eyes widened in realisation. "Oh, wait, no. My staff doubles as a polearm. I guess that means I am a Fighter too, right?"

The woman cleared her throat, attracting his attention. Collecting herself, she ignored Lance's mumblings and continued. "So your main class is a... Sorcerer, I assume?"

Lance shook his head. "Black Mage."

The lady's hand clenched, accidentally crumpling the corner of the form, not letting go of her her first for a few seconds. She inhaled a sharp breath of air, and asked politely through a forced smile, her expression causing Lance to swallow a gulp down his throat. Veins seemed to bulge on her forehead.

Meanwhile, Amani's eyes were glowing even brighter than before, almost ferociously so. A stream of blaze flew up from the corners of his eyes.

"Please name your element of speciality."

Amani tapped his feet impatiently, as if anxious for the answer to the question. It was an important one, after all.

As far as Amani knew, a Black Mage was a magus that specialised in destructive elements, their primary function to deal high amounts of damage to enemies. Though usually physically fragile, they compensate with immense magical power. They typically do not have healing or support abilities, instead excelling in spells that harm, weaken, or control enemies.

A Black Mage that was also a Conduit, on the other hand, implied something much, much more devastating.

So he was curious. What could be Lance's element, he wondered?

Lightning? Fire? Cold? Acid? Or Poison?

Alas, none of his guesses were correct, all his expectations shattered as Lance's answer echoed through the empty side of the cavern, "The Nuclear Element."

And this time, woman’s quill snapped in half.