The dirt road ran for miles, connecting a number of cities and even minor villages all over The Angelos District as a whole. A lot like leaves on a branch in that way.

Claude's destination was a little over two miles/three kilometers from his home. He'd already walked most of it. He could smell the city before he could see the buildings rising beyond its entrance gates.

Spiced meats, metals, monster carcass and blood.

All the while, merchants on carriage and heroes on horseback rode past him in a hurry. The heroes moved in a blur on their horses. Some even rode the new breeds called thiriohippus. They were carefully crafted crossbreeds of larger modern horses and their swift prehistoric relatives.

They weren't like the stallions Claude was used to seeing. They were bigger and had taloned feet like predatory birds covered in scales. Their fur was thick and marred by stripes like tigers. The feline similarity didn't end there though. They also shared sabered fangs. Only the their fangs were blunt— thick, almost like a baton.

Claude had seen them used in that way on a thief inside the city walls. He could hear his bone shatter for miles.

He cringed as another team of heroes riding the new breeds galloped past him.

This batch dragged along a lounge of slain kobolds. Servants of the Dragon. Their scales shifted under the sun as dark blue blood stained the earth in their wake.

"Gods— that stinks…" Claude plugged his nose as the entrance gates welcomed him.

He waited in line. Far from the kobold slayers who rushed past the guards with a simple nod.

When Claude's turn came at the bright silver gates topped by Archers and Marksmen with RuneWritten guns, Claude fished his student ID out of his pocket.

He held it to the guards face.

The man in tawny dusted gold and white armor looked from the card to Claude before grunting a nod. "Go."

Claude took his card back and entered the city of SkyHaven.

Within the Angelos District, SkyHaven was a northern-most city boasting a low crime rate, booming economy and one of the most expansive red-wood forests in all of New Gloria.

He'd been walking through the city since he was a kid. Rarely though. It bloomed in the coming years. Now, every street was packed with finely cut stone and bordered by metal plated curbs. Sewage systems ran beneath the ground, shaking the earth he walked on where the thiriohippus riders didn't.

Shadows cast deep pockets of dark from the tall buildings doubling as both storefronts and apartment buildings. Usually housing the working families and street performers.

Speaking of working, Claude had to dip and dodge his way down the sidewalk as men and women carrying shipments of goods traveled the block like worker ants.

In their rush, some of the workers dropped shipment containers and boxes. Curses and punishing slaps flew like arrows in a warzone. Claude helped move things along where he could before the urban clutter of it all became too stimulating.

With a tight chest and blurred peripherals he pushed his way into the nearest storefront.

As he stood in the doorway, he took a series of calming breaths. He tried to remember people were just that. People.

"The fuck does that even mean?" He grew frustrated with his own nerves. Not a rare occurrence for him.

Sometimes he hated being raised away from the city—

"Boy!"

Claude nearly jumped out of his skin as the burly bald man working behind a black steel counter shouted at him.

"Hahaha! You look like a stuck pig, what's wrong, lad?" The man was over six and a half feet tall and wide as a shield. Every inch of him was covered in hair except his head. He was all muscle and meat and mustache and smiles. It seemed to be driving two female archers and swordsman at his desk crazy. But like, in the good way.

All Claude needed to see was the man to know where he was.

Beargrin's Blades. The best…. And only, Blacksmith shop in SkyHaven.

Every wall was lined with mounted blades, blast-shields, arrow heads and even a few rune-written handguns. The smell of oils and flame were almost as strong as Beargrin's gaze.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"You forget how to speak? Don't act brand new now, lad."

Claude dusted himself off, "I'm good. I uhh… I want to be less weird… but I don't get out enough…." His hand flew to his mouth. He didn't need to say the last part. "Damn."

Beargrin and his entourage laughed.

"I'm glad you came in boy, aren't you the one always asking for spears?"

Claude perked up at the mention of it, "Yea."

Beargrin leaned over the counter and pointed to the left side of the room, "Check out our newest stock."

In seconds, Claude's awkward exterior melted and his spirits lifted.

More spears than he'd ever seen lined a portion of the left wall— that was usually only for long swords.

As he approached the wall his mind worked.

"Those are gladiatorial javelins…. That's a halberd... woah— How the hell did they get a yari coated in komodo-wyvern saliva?"

"This years Tangent-Analytics were recently made public. Looks like it's the year of the spear." A knight said from beside Claude as he too studied the spears.

"That means there's more Tangent Bosses and less Hordes. More mobs that require precise strikes and linear movement….. interesting." Claude thought to himself.

"You interested?" The knight looked down at Claude for the first time, "You're not built like a spearmen…"

Claude felt his body heat increase, "My dad's almost six and half feet. I'll grow into it, I think."

The Knight clicked his teeth and shook his head, "I wouldn't be too sure. Plus, weapon switching at your age is a rash decision. There's a reason we learn to fight with the same weapon since learning to walk. You need that experience, man. Trust me, I've been out there. Even if you grow into your body, you won't move right. Unless you plan to grow a foot overnight. Which also wouldn't be good… or human."

Claude forced a fake chuckle at the joke, "Thanks for the insight anyway, sir."

"Sure, kid. Alright, Beargrin. I see you're still price gouging… I'm out of here." The knight left.

Beargrin threw him the middle finger without looking away from the trio he was talking to.

Claude continued to look over the spears until his eyes fell on one in a glass case right below him.

He could hear Beargrin excuse himself from the others and waltz over, but he ignored it. He continued to stare at the weapon.

It was weird.

It wasn't following any classic design standards. It was a short-spear, but it was unreasonably thick. Almost like a heavy duty quarterstaff. The blade was long as hell and built like nothing he'd ever seen. The metal didn't look crafted and beat under temperature extremes. It looked like sharp ended infestation given a reflective surface. There were twists and grooves and serrated edges everywhere.

His eyes hovered over the dark spear a while. His mind followed, deep in thought.

"What do you think?" Beargrin stood over him.

"It's not practical…. And the System Stats aren't really good…. At least compared to the built in skill." Claude said as he read the informational sticker on its case.

[DuskBringer] : [+15 PHYS ATTK, +20 RNG, +20 DFNS, +20 WGT]

[DuskBringer Weapon Skill: (Nights Wake)]

[Nights Wake Weapon Skill Description: A trail of night blazes black in the wake of wherever you throw DuskBringer.]

"Know it all, bastard." Beargrin laughed.

"Not even. Plus, spearmen aren't assassins. This weapon is…. Bizzare?" Claude shrugged as he looked up to Beargrin.

Beargrin waved him off, "Orcpiss, boy! This is a work of art, gifted to us by the new Midnight Wardens guild that just bought up land here."

"The…. Who?"

Beargrin rolled his eyes and opened the case, "Try it out, boy."

He handed Claude the spear.

Claude's eyes widened—

"Don't your teachers tell you how bad hesitating is?" He missed seeing Beargrin devilishly grin at the others as if to say "Watch this."

Claude straightened himself out and took the weapon. It made his hand go cold. It was heavy like his training staffs. Only his training staffs didn't put a bad taste in his mouth. Something like day old meat and ash.

"Do something, ya ostrich!" Beargrin demanded.

"What did you just—… right. Sure."

Claude relaxed his shoulders. His muscles were already warm from the morning workout and walk to SkyHaven.

He wasn't the greatest or even a prodigy with the spear. He still didn't train much with it since any real combat was still engaged with his shortsword. But, he had stances memorized.

He flipped the weapon around his hand repeatedly until the momentum made the movement effortless.

There was an audible spinning noise that filled the shop. Quickly, it faded as a Claude caught the spear by one of its built in grooves and went through a charade of tight defensive and offensive techniques.

Beargrins evil grin faded. The others in the shop casually watched, no longer awaiting an embarrassing failure that would've cost Claude his entire skeleton in damages.

He stopped after a few seconds and handed the spear back to Beargrin awkwardly.

"Still weird….. but it looks cool."

"So the boy isn't only a bookworm, huh?"

"….. I don't know what I am."

"We do."

Claude looked back to the front desk as the two archers spoke. They had to be sisters. The only feature they didn't share was hair color and nose shape. They even smelled the same.

"What?"

"We know what you are." Their matching chest pins gleamed in the low light. It almost looked like a woman being eaten by a wolf.

Claude looked at Beargrin. Beargrin shrugged.

One of the archers pointed at the clock, "You're late, kid."

Claude's eyes nearly popped out of his skull, "Oh, shit!"

In a rush, he turned towards the door and took off in a sprint. It was six-thirty. First period started at six fo—"

The door opened, causing Claude's forward lean towards the knob to be pointless as he nearly fell out into the streets.

He would've, but a man was in the way. Claudes face collided with a chest plate that felt like hot steel.

"Ack!-" He stumbled backward a few steps holding his cheek as a spinning heat swelled.

In front of him a knight stood, glowing. Wispy spirals of colored air coalesced around him. They glimmered yellow— but like a dirty yellow. Like sunlight if it could be ill. Eventually it solidified into a hardlight outline of his armored body and dark purple armor.

"Reactive aura….. that means your at least gold-rank. Also… sorr—" Claude stumbled again as the imposing man shoved past him like he wasn't actually there.

He stepped further out of the way as the man's teammates followed in. Two silver-ranks with buzzed heads and tired eyes.

"How heroic." Claude grumbled as he left and headed for the C.S Academy of The Angelo's District.

On his way out he heard the Gold Ranker ask to buy DuskBringer….