Thursday, 12th May, 1004AA

The World Association of Sorcerers (WAS) has witnessed a revolutionary milestone: human sorcery has reached new heights. By integrating technology into sorcery, researchers are making groundbreaking discoveries daily, elevating the art of tenzen manipulation.

As a result, sorcerers are now categorized into a hierarchical grading system:

- 1st Grade sorcerers: The pinnacle of sorcerers, reserved for the strongest and most elite.

- 2nd grade to 8th grade sorcerers: A tiered system recognizing sorcerers of varying skill levels.

- 9th grade sorcerers: The least grade.

Typically, most sorcerers embark on their journey as 8th-grade or 7th-grade. The ultimate aspiration for many is to attain the esteemed 2nd grade. However, the pinnacle of 1st grade is often considered an unattainable goal, with many believing it's a realm reserved for the gods alone."

Unfortunately, only the weakest of sorcerers end up in 9th grade. And, as fate would have it, one of them is Code Weber.

Warsaw, Poland

7:30 am

In a dimly lit alley, Code Weber stood vigilant, scanning the shadows for potential threats. Having been robbed twice already that week, he couldn't afford to lose what little he had left. As he waited for the coast to be clear, his gaze drifted toward the Warsaw skyline. The city's lights twinkled like stars, casting a pale glow over the snow-covered rooftops. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional chime of a tram bell filled the air, a familiar symphony that accompanied his every move.

Code took a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. His legs ached, and his body felt weak from the endless struggles of living on the margins. His tattered clothes hung loosely on his frame, a testament to the harsh realities of his life.

"Hey, if it isn't Code Weber!" a voice called out from afar.

Code's eyes scanned the crowded streets, his name echoing in his mind. Codezener Weber, but everyone called him Code. He was just seventeen, and he was already well-known among the people, as he was the first person from Warsaw to achieve the infamous 9th grade. People respected him for that, since breaking records was no easy feat these days.

A man approached him, clad in black armor with a 5th grade sorcerer badge emblazoned on it. He appeared to be in his 20s, with a well-groomed goatee and black hair that fell to his shoulders.

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"Code Weber!" the man repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Code sighed, expecting another confrontation. "Look, I already told him I'd pay my debt. He should stop sending people," he said abruptly.

But the man's expression remained friendly. "Hahaha, I'm not here for that," he said, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

Code eyed Ran skeptically, his expression a mix of doubt and curiosity. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone cautious.

Ran's smile never wavered. "It's okay, Code. No need to apologize." He extended his hand, and Code shook it, his grip firm. "I'm Ran Cowell."

Code's eyes narrowed. "Ran Cowell? I've heard a lot about you. You're that incredibly strong sorcerer everyone's been talking about... So what brings you to my neck of the woods?" His tone was laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Ran's smile grew wider, but Code detected a flicker of nervousness behind his eyes. "Just making connections, Code," Ran said, his voice smooth.

Code raised an eyebrow. "Connections, huh? What kind of connections?"

Ran leaned in, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "The kind that say you're the go-to guy for dealing with... unusual problems." His eyes locked onto Code's, intense.

Code's expression turned serious. "What do you mean, Ran?"

Ran's brow furrowed. "Lodz, the textile town southwest of Warsaw. We've detected some...unusual signals coming from there. Demonic signals, to be precise. The WAS chapter in Samumbasa has been monitoring the signals. They indicate a mid-class demon is present in Lodz. And we need a team of sixteen sorcerers to take care of it, but we're one short. That's where you come in, Code."

Code's eyes widened, his mind racing. "Demonic signals in Lodz?"

Ran's smile was thin. "Let's just say it's a problem that requires a specialized solution. And I think you're the right person for the job."

Code's face was a mask of confusion, but Ran could see the gears turning in his mind. Finally, Code spoke up. "What's in it for me?"

Ran's tone turned serious. "We're willing to pay 1% of the mission's profit."

Code's frown deepened. He didn't like the idea of being paid so little for a mid-class mission.

Ran noticed Code's disappointment and smirked. "Look, I can always find someone else if you're not satisfied. Did you really expect a 9th grade sorcerer like you to command a high price?" Ran laughed, his tone dripping with condescension.

Code felt a sting from Ran's words, but he knew he wasn't in a position to negotiate. He needed the money, no matter how little. "You're wasting my time. Make a decision quickly," Ran pressed, his tone harsh.

Code sighed, resigned. "Alright Alright, I'll take it."

Ran burst into laughter."Tomorrow, 2pm at Lodz", he said quickly.

His laughter echoed through the alley as he walked away, leaving Code to his thoughts. "A 9th grade sorcerer like me can't command a high price," Code reflected, his eyes cast downward.

But then, a glimmer of determination sparked in his eyes. "Well, at least I'll make some money to survive for the next week," he thought, a hint of encouragement in his expression.

The next day, Code Weber stood at the bustling Warsaw Central Station, his eyes scanning the departures board for the train to Lodz. He rummaged through his worn wallet, counting the few złoty notes left inside. He had barely enough money to cover the train fare, let alone eat or afford any unexpected expenses. The mission with Ran Cowell was about to begin, and Code still wasn't sure what to expect.

As he waited for his train, Code's mind wandered back to the events that led him here. The countless nights spent sleeping on the streets, the endless struggles to find work, and the humiliating encounters with those who looked down on him as a 9th grade sorcerer. It was a label that had become synonymous with failure, and nobody wanted to involve him in their missions. He was the sorcerer everyone avoided, the one nobody trusted with their lives.

Code remembered the countless times he'd been rejected, the numerous guilds that had turned him down, and the few who had given him a chance only to regret it later. But Ran's offer had given him a glimmer of hope - a chance to prove himself, to earn some real money, and to maybe, just maybe, turn his life around.

As he boarded the train, Code found a seat by the window and gazed out at the cityscape giving way to rolling hills and countryside. The rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels echoed through his mind, a reminder that he was leaving the familiarity of Warsaw behind. Lodz, a city shrouded in mystery and demonic signals, awaited him. Code's stomach growled, a harsh reminder of his empty pockets and the uncertain journey ahead.

With a deep breath, Code settled into his seat, trying to push aside his doubts and focus on the mission ahead. He had to succeed - for himself, for his future, and for the chance to prove that even a 9th grade sorcerer like him could make a difference.