The café was tucked into one of Eidolon Station’s quieter districts, a small oasis of calm amidst the chaos of the bustling spaceport. Its walls were lined with warm, glowing mana lamps, casting a soft golden light over the sleek furniture and the patrons hunched over their drinks. The faint hum of mana engines provided a soothing backdrop to the low chatter.
Karyth hesitated at the entrance, tugging at the cloak he’d thrown on to cover the glowing scars that now traced his body. The faint purple light still bled through the fabric in the dim lighting, but he pushed the thought aside as his eyes scanned the room.
Myrith waved him over from a corner table, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. She looked relaxed, her platinum hair tied into a loose braid that draped over one shoulder. The faint glow of her silver prosthetics caught the light as she raised her mug, taking a casual sip.
“Karyth,” she called, her voice carrying easily over the hum of conversation. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”
He rolled his eyes, walking over and dropping into the seat across from her. “I was debating whether or not to show up. You’re lucky I like coffee.”
She laughed, a low, warm sound that eased some of the tension in his shoulders. “I figured that would be the clincher.”
A drone zipped by, depositing a steaming cup in front of him. Karyth took a cautious sip, savoring the rich, bitter taste before setting it down. “So, this is your usual spot?”
Myrith shrugged. “It’s quiet, out of the way. And the coffee’s good. Can’t ask for much more than that.”
For a moment, the conversation drifted to safer topics. Myrith teased him about his time in therapy, and Karyth countered by poking fun at her overly serious demeanor.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a beat, leaning back in his chair.
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did you expect?”
“Someone bitter. Closed off.” He gestured vaguely to her prosthetics, wincing a little as the words left his mouth. “Not... this.”
Myrith smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve had my time for bitterness, trust me. You learn to move forward, one way or another. It’s that, or you get left behind.”
Her words hung in the air for a moment, heavy but not oppressive. Karyth nodded, his gaze dropping to his coffee.
“So,” Myrith said, breaking the silence, “what’s next for you?”
Karyth blinked, caught off guard. “Next?”
“You’ve got a lot of time to fill now. The way I see it, you’ve got two choices: sit around feeling sorry for yourself, or find something to do with all that potential.”
“Potential,” he echoed dryly. “Not sure I see it.”
Myrith leaned forward, her silver eyes gleaming. “Then maybe you need someone to point it out to you. Ever thought about joining the guild?”
Karyth didn’t answer, his mind too weighed down by doubts to entertain the thought. Joining the guild felt like stepping into a spotlight he wasn’t ready for, his scars too fresh—inside and out.
The following day, a notification blinked in the corner of his vision:
Message Received from Myrith: “Training scheduled. Guild Training Hall. 0900. Don’t be late!”
He sighed, swiping the message aside as he stepped off the transport platform. The Guild Training Hall loomed ahead, its massive, reinforced walls glowing faintly with mana inscriptions that pulsed like a heartbeat. It was an imposing structure, both functional and awe-inspiring, a reminder of the adventurers who walked through its doors daily.
Inside, the air buzzed with quiet energy, the hum of training drones blending with the rhythmic clash of practice weapons. Adventurers moved with purpose, their gear glinting with enchantments, their conversations sharp and focused. Karyth hesitated, taking it all in.
Adjusting his cloak, he glanced nervously at the scars glowing faintly beneath the fabric. It had been two months since he’d begun his recovery, and while he could move without too much pain, he still felt like a stranger in his own body. The scars marked him as something different, something unnatural. He hated the way they caught the light, faint traces of purple and silver threading his skin like intricate tattoos he’d never asked for.
Shaking the thought away, he took a deep breath and stepped further inside. Here we go.
A sharp voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You planning to stand there all day, or are you going to show me what you’ve got?”
Karyth’s eyes landed on a grizzled man standing at the far end of the hall. The man was about his height, with a frame built from years of combat and a face marked by deep scars. His right arm ended in a functional shield prosthetic, the metal dull and unadorned but clearly battle-tested.
“You must be Karyth,” the man said, his tone as blunt as his expression. “Name’s Captain Havrek. Myrith says you’re looking to join the guild. I say you’re wasting my time unless you prove otherwise.”
“I didn’t exactly ask for this,” Karyth muttered, stepping forward.
“No one asks for my training, kid,” Havrek shot back. “But you’re here now, so pick that up.”
He gestured to a training sword lying on the floor. It was well-worn, its surface nicked and scarred from countless sessions. Karyth bent to pick it up, his grip awkward and hesitant.
Havrek snorted. “Pathetic. You’re holding it like a broom. Reset.”
The next hour was grueling. Havrek didn’t hold back, using his shield arm and practice blade to drive Karyth to his limits.
“Move your feet! You’re a damn statue!” Havrek barked as Karyth stumbled under a heavy strike.
Sweat dripped down Karyth’s face, his muscles screaming as he struggled to keep up. Havrek’s movements were relentless, every strike calculated to exploit his inexperience.
“Why are you hesitating?” Havrek shouted, his voice sharp. “Hesitation gets you killed!”
Karyth gritted his teeth, stepping to the side just as Havrek’s shield arm swung toward him. The motion felt... different. Smoother.
A faint pulse in his vision caught his attention:
Skill Unlocked: Dodge (Level 1).
He barely had time to process it before Havrek came at him again, this time aiming low. Karyth reacted instinctively, bringing the blade down just in time to deflect the strike.
Skill Unlocked: Parry (Level 1).
“Better,” Havrek said, though his tone remained gruff.
The pace of the training increased, Havrek pushing him harder with each passing moment. Karyth’s movements grew sharper, the system granting him new skills as he adapted:
Skill Unlocked: Swordsmanship (Level 1).
Skill Unlocked: Combat Focus (Level 1).
For a brief moment, Karyth felt like he was keeping up, his body moving with an efficiency he hadn’t known was possible. But then Havrek shifted gears.
The strikes came faster, harder, with no room to breathe. Karyth’s focus wavered, and Havrek’s shield arm caught him square in the chest.
Pain exploded through his body as he hit the ground, darkness creeping into the edges of his vision.
Karyth woke with a groan, the dull ache in his chest a stark reminder of Havrek’s final blow. His bed felt like heaven, but his body protested every attempt to move.
A note rested on the table beside him:
“You’ve got potential, kid, but don’t let it go to your head. Practice starts tomorrow. Same time, same place. Three times a week. Don’t disappoint me.” —Captain Havrek
Karyth let the note fall back onto the table, covering his eyes with one hand. “This is going to be rough,” he muttered, his tone resigned.
A week later, his apartment showed the signs of relentless practice. The once-organized clutter had turned into scattered remnants of training sessions—charred tool fragments, discarded materials, and scraps of failed constructs littering the floor. Karyth’s compact living space, already cramped, now felt alive with the energy of his experiments.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he cradled a mana ingot in his palm. The dim glow of his scars reflected off the salvaged tech surrounding him, casting faint patterns on the walls. His frown deepened as he channeled his energy into the ingot, the room humming faintly with tension.
Eirys’s holographic form flickered to life on the desk, her projection leaning casually against a stack of blueprints. Her sharp features softened as she raised an eyebrow, watching him.
“You’ve been staring at that ingot for twenty minutes,” she said, breaking the silence. “Are you planning to do something with it, or is this a new form of meditation?”
Karyth didn’t look up. “I’m trying to figure out how to shape it mid-combat. If I can refine the process, I’ll be able to craft weapons on the fly.”
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Eirys smirked, arms crossing. “You already can. I’ve seen you do it.”
“Not well enough,” Karyth muttered. “The process is still clunky. I need it to be seamless.”
He closed his eyes, visualizing the weapon he needed: a short blade, light and precise. The ingot began to glow faintly, its edges softening as the mana within responded to his will. Slowly, it stretched and reshaped, forming into a sleek, razor-sharp dagger.
Karyth opened his eyes, exhaling in relief. “There. Progress.”
Eirys clapped sarcastically. “Bravo, artisan of the year. Now, let’s see you do it under pressure.”
He shot her a glare. “Always the critic.”
Before he could respond further, a faint hum signaled the activation of a small drone hovering in the corner. Its sleek frame shimmered with mana as it zipped toward him, stopping just short of his face.
“Still tweaking the targeting system,” Karyth said, turning his attention to the drone.
The drone beeped, its sensors scanning him before firing a harmless burst of mana. Karyth swatted the shot aside, the glowing blade in his hand dissipating as he refocused.
“That’s new,” Eirys said, tilting her head. “Redirecting an attack mid-shift? Impressive.”
“I’m getting there,” Karyth said. “But I still need to test traps.”
Standing, he gestured to a corner of the room where a small, glowing glyph was etched into the floor. He grabbed another mana ingot and tossed it toward the glyph. The instant it landed, the trap activated—a wave of energy exploding outward and disintegrating a nearby training dummy.
“That’s... effective,” Eirys said, blinking. “Maybe a little too effective for your apartment.”
Karyth frowned, inspecting the remnants of the dummy. “The dispersion radius needs work. But it’ll do in a pinch.”
Eirys appeared beside him, her voice turning serious. “You’ve made a lot of progress, but you can’t brute force your way into mastering this. You need to give yourself time.”
“I don’t have time,” Karyth snapped, surprising even himself. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just... I feel like I’m behind. Like I’m always trying to catch up.”
Eirys softened, stepping closer. “You’re not behind. You’re rebuilding. And you’re doing a damn good job of it.”
Karyth didn’t reply, but the tension in his shoulders eased.
“Now,” Eirys continued, her tone brightening. “Are you going to keep blowing things up, or are you finally going to test that floating projector you’ve been tinkering with?”
Karyth smirked, turning to the floating projector drone perched on the table. “Fine. Let’s see what this baby can do.”
He activated the drone, its sleek form hovering smoothly above the table. A small lens extended, projecting a three-dimensional image of Eirys in the center of the room.
“Not bad,” she said, inspecting the projection. “Still a little grainy, though.”
“Give me a break,” Karyth replied. “I’m working with salvaged parts here.”
The drone beeped, adjusting the projection until it sharpened. Karyth watched with satisfaction as Eirys’s form solidified, her hologram flickering to life in the air.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the drone, “is going to be my ace. A combat assistant, recorder, and mobile interface all in one.”
“And,” Eirys added, “your future streaming rig.”
"Maybe,” Karyth admitted. “If I don’t blow it up first.”
Eirys laughed, her voice light. “Well, let’s hope your drones are as durable as your ego.”
Karyth rolled his eyes but allowed a small, fleeting smile to break through.
“Let’s call it a night,” Eirys said. “You’ve got another rematch with Havrek tomorrow, and you don’t want to be late.”
The days that followed blurred into a steady rhythm of training, repairs, and experimentation. Havrek’s relentless drills pushed Karyth to his limits, leaving him sore but sharper with each session. Nights were reserved for tinkering in his cramped apartment, where he painstakingly rebuilt the projector. Piece by piece, he refined its design, incorporating feedback from Eirys and salvaging components from past failures. Progress was slow but steady, and two weeks later, the polished device hummed to life at his command, its runes flickering with contained energy.
Now, as Karyth stepped into the Guild training hall, his body bore the familiar ache of yesterday’s session, but his determination was unshaken. Beside him, a small orb hovered in mid-air, its anti-gravity modules humming softly. The metallic shell of the device was etched with glowing runes, faint lines of mana coursing through its surface. A polished lens on the front swiveled slightly, recording everything with precision.
Eirys’s holographic form flickered to life beside Karyth, projected seamlessly from the orb. She appeared to walk alongside him, her arms crossed and an amused smile tugging at her lips.
“Back to the grind, I see,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “At least you’re consistent.”
Karyth adjusted the straps on his practice gear. “Someone’s got to keep up appearances. Speaking of which, did you really need to bring the projector today?”
“Of course,” Eirys replied, gesturing dramatically. “How else am I supposed to critique your technique? Plus, this gives me a proper angle to record your progress—or lack thereof. Besides, you never know when you’ll want to start streaming your training sessions.”
Karyth shot her a skeptical look. “Still not sold on the streaming idea.”
“You will be,” Eirys said confidently, leaning toward him as they walked. “Think about it. You’ve got a new class, a unique skill set, and—let’s face it—these glowing scars of yours practically scream ‘tragic hero.’ It’s a recipe for building a loyal following. And let’s not forget, we’re broke.”
Karyth sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve got a point. But let’s focus on surviving today’s session before we talk about fame and fortune.”
Havrek stood waiting at the center of the hall, his shield-arm gleaming under the training lights. His sharp, weathered eyes flicked between Karyth and the floating orb, his expression unimpressed.
“This new?” Havrek asked, gesturing toward the projector.
“It’s part of my training setup,” Karyth replied, stepping into the sparring ring. “And it doesn’t interfere with anything.”
Eirys crossed her holographic arms, smirking. “It’s also my way of making sure he doesn’t embarrass himself. I’ve got high standards.”
Havrek grunted, turning to Karyth. “Let’s see if you’ve learned anything since yesterday.”
Karyth took a deep breath, mentally reaching for his mana ingot storage. The extra-dimensional space felt like a reservoir in his mind, and with a subtle tug, he summoned two glowing ingots into his hands. He channeled mana into the chunks, and the air around him shimmered as the constructs began to form.
The metallic plates shifted and overlapped like liquid metal, gradually taking the shape of three sleek, quadrupedal figures. The constructs stood tall, their glowing eyes scanning the room with eerie intelligence.
“Alright,” Karyth said, stepping back as the dogs flanked him. “Let’s do this.”
The sparring began in earnest. Havrek charged, his shield-arm leading the way. Karyth directed one of the constructs to intercept, its jaws snapping as it lunged at Havrek. The older man deflected it with a swift motion, countering with a powerful swing that sent the second dog skidding across the floor.
Eirys’s voice piped up, her tone half-critical, half-amused. “You might want to work on coordination. That last move was sloppy.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Karyth muttered, his focus narrowing.
He summoned a short blade mid-motion, aiming for Havrek’s exposed flank. The veteran blocked effortlessly, delivering a sharp kick that sent Karyth stumbling.
“You’re relying too much on the constructs,” Havrek barked, his strikes relentless.
The system chimed softly in Karyth’s vision:
Skill Progress: Construct Mastery +10%.
Skill Progress: Drone Control +8%.
Karyth directed the dogs to flank Havrek, their movements faster and more coordinated. One darted under Havrek’s guard, forcing him to pivot sharply. Another leaped high, its claws raking against his shield-arm.
“Better,” Havrek said gruffly, his tone grudgingly approving.
The sparring continued, Karyth’s mana reserves dipping lower with each exchange. Finally, Havrek delivered a crushing blow that sent Karyth sprawling to the ground. The last construct dissolved as his focus wavered.
“You’ve got potential,” Havrek said, offering a hand to pull Karyth up. “But you’re burning through mana like a first-year recruit. If you don’t learn to control it, you won’t last in real combat.”
Karyth groaned, accepting the help. “Any suggestions?”
Havrek nodded. “Visit the Mages Guild. They’ve got techniques for mana management, capacity training, and recovery. It’s not just for spellcasters—anyone who relies on mana can benefit.”
Eirys’s holographic form turned toward Karyth, raising an eyebrow. “Finally, someone who agrees with me. Maybe you’ll actually listen now.”
Karyth sighed. “Alright. I’ll check it out.”
“Good,” Havrek said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Take tomorrow off from combat training and focus on this. Your constructs are strong, but without control, you’re just a liability. Fix that, and you might actually make something of yourself.”
As Karyth left the training hall, Eirys floated alongside him, her holographic presence keeping pace. “I’ll start compiling everything we need to know about the Mages Guild. With your Nexus Core, you should be able to pick up some decent passives or even a new skill.”
“Let’s hope so,” Karyth muttered, his body aching but his resolve firm.
The apartment was dimly lit, the single overhead light casting a pale glow over the cluttered space. Karyth sat at his small dining table, the surface worn from years of use and covered in stray bits of discarded prototypes. His plate was piled high with a mix of reheated stew and fresh bread he’d picked up on sale earlier that week. He ate with measured bites, though his hunger was noticeably sharper than usual.
The soft hum of the floating projector orb filled the silence. Eirys’s holographic form stood beside the table, arms crossed as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, her sharp gaze fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“You’re going through food like a Yilnox after a battle,” she teased, her voice light but with an edge of curiosity. “Training must be doing a number on your appetite.”
“More like trying not to die every day is doing a number on my appetite,” Karyth said, half-smirking as he pushed a piece of bread around his plate. “Havrek doesn’t exactly go easy on rookies.”
Eirys chuckled, brushing a strand of her holographic black hair behind her ear. “Good. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”
Karyth paused mid-bite, sensing the shift in her tone. He lowered his fork and glanced up at her. “Alright, what’s on your mind? You’ve got that ‘I’ve got bad news but don’t want to say it’ look.”
Eirys winced, her holographic projection flickering slightly as if mimicking a nervous tic. “You’re not wrong. I ran some projections earlier, and... we’re running out of credits. Fast. Between your training fees, equipment repairs, and, well, your growing appetite, our reserves are shrinking quicker than I expected.”
Karyth leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily. “How fast are we talking?”
Eirys hesitated before replying. “At this rate? A month, maybe less.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, the weight of her words settling on him like a lead blanket. “Great. Just great. Barely started training, not even in the Guild yet, and we’re already circling the drain.”
“Well,” Eirys began cautiously, “there’s something else. And I really hope you’re not going to be mad.”
Karyth narrowed his eyes, his voice low. “What did you do?”
She shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossing over her chest. “I... might have leaked some of your training footage online.”
Karyth froze, blinking at her. “You what?”
“It wasn’t the whole session!” Eirys said quickly, holding up her hands defensively. “Just a few highlights—the constructs in action, that neat dodge you pulled, and maybe a little of Havrek knocking you on your ass. Nothing too revealing!”
Karyth leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “Eirys, you can’t just—” He stopped himself, letting out a long sigh instead of shouting. “Why?”
“I thought it might help,” she said, her tone softening. “And... it did. People liked it, Karyth. A lot. You’ve already got people asking about you, trying to figure out who you are. And they’re calling you ‘The Shattered Architect.’”
Karyth raised an eyebrow, his frustration wavering. “The Shattered Architect?”
“It’s fitting,” Eirys said with a faint grin. “Given the whole ‘broken genius rebuilding himself’ vibe you’ve got going on. And honestly? It’s a solid nickname. People are already asking when you’ll stream your next session.”
Karyth shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Streaming... it’s a lot. I wasn’t even sure about the idea in the first place, and now you’ve gone and put me out there without asking.”
Eirys took a step closer, her holographic projection leaning toward him slightly. “I know I should have asked. But this could be big for us, Karyth. You know how much people love adventurers, and you’re something new. Unique. If we can build a following, it might give us the financial breathing room we need.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his mind racing through possibilities. Finally, he exhaled and nodded. “Alright. Fine. But next time,
you run it by me first.”
“Deal,” she said, a hint of relief in her tone.
Karyth stood and stretched, glancing toward the window. The glow of the city’s hover lanes cast faint patterns on the apartment walls, a stark contrast to the dim light inside.
“I’m turning in early,” he said. “The Magic Council’s offices are in the old district, and even with the hover train, it’s a long trip. I don’t want to risk running late.”
Eirys nodded, her voice taking on a softer tone. “Good call. Rest up, Karyth. Tomorrow’s going to be... interesting.”
He gave a slight nod, his thoughts already drifting to what awaited him.