Laks of Ira, The Broken Empire.
The everlasting darkness dissipated, and the world regained its colours—the hues of lush green and a bright blue sky covered by the canopy. And above all, there was no smell of blood or flesh, no entity with hostility.
Iris felt relieved, the tightness leaving her chest. She let go of a subconscious breath she had been holding—expecting a new beast, revenant, or death to await her on the other side.
She had escaped hell itself, not without a price, of course. Leaving hell without paying its fare was inconceivable,
She noticed her left hand, the lone hand with four fingers—the middle one missing, which divided her palm and turned it into a scissor-like shape, was still clutching the sword. Lihn, the Stormborn, took the other, or for clarity, crushed it like a hard glass.
With a tense sigh, she walked forward at the opening in the overgrown verdant. The smell of the forest, humidity, and cool air was a soothing lotion on her bare skin, which was a little more than half a face.
She wore a red robe with a crest—a flower petal entrapped by thorny vines—on the back and black pants. They were clean, a misrepresentation of how uninhabitable the Labyrinth had been.
Her eyes, concealed beneath bandages, were hard to distinguish from her ash-grey hair barely reaching her shoulders. She planned to let her hair grow if she, hopefully, found a place to live out the rest of her life in peace. Not a long life, of course; She was not delusional.
On her hair, a black cat—Winny, slept leisurely, unaware of the turmoil of her owner.
Iris found herself at the edge of a cliff. The cliff rose mightily, the clouds appeared within reach than the sea of green below. Iris blinked in surprise. Having lived in the real world, she knew clouds should be much higher. They were not close enough for her to reach out, although the prospect was enticing. The clouds were white and shining, soft and welcoming, unlike the perpetual storm clouds she had grown accustomed to seeing in the Labyrinth.
People thought the Labyrinth was a closed, dungeon-like place. It was not. It was a world of its own—a cruel world filled with things that wanted to kill her. Yet, from afar, it was a breathtaking world.
"Phew, I almost fell," Iris sounded like a child. Even after all the screaming in pain and misery, her voice still retained that young, innocent child.
Iris hoped to get a response from Winny, but she didn't. Winny could no longer speak or even understand her. It was a curse that had taken Winny’s identity—a sacrifice Winny had made for Iris so that Iris could continue to live after her battle with Stormborn.
‘I will save you, Winny.’
With delicate care, Iris removed Winny from her head and cradled her close to her chest, "We are very high. I am going down—you're safe. Don't be startled," she said, though she was reassuring herself, craving to treat Winny as a partner. In her hand, Winny lacked the emotions to feel afraid or other emotions. It was just a husk that still had a lingering attachment to Iris. Even being a ghost would be a better fate than this.
Iris wasn't planning on jumping down. On the far horizon, she spotted a small settlement bustling with life. Surrounded by high walls, it was so distant that Iris could barely make out the details. She decided that it would be her destination.
Iris created six Lightning Orbs, which she referred to as Weaver’s Orbs—as they were part of her Weaver class. They were smooth balls of strings that allowed her to craft various constructs. They were concentrated Lightning elements—black at the core and purple on the outer layer. Their weight caused the air around them to twist. They appeared captivating at first glance, but to someone with mana perception, they seemed bizarre and grotesque, potentially inducing a seizure.
She shaped all six of them into a meter-long pole. They soared into the sky, aligning straight toward the minuscule city. These rods acted as guideposts for her journey. While she could move as swiftly as lightning, at that speed, she couldn't process everything around her and might overshoot her goal, incinerating everything in her path. Her element’s very nature was to tear apart everything in its wake. The rods allowed her to maintain focus from one point to another, making it easier to control her movement.
The world transformed into a purple phantasm—losing its form—only the pole remained in sight. Her body became a mass of energy.
Zap!
A purple flash, and she hovered above the first pole, miles away from the cliff where she had stood.
Zap.
Zap.
Zap.
Zap.
Zap.
Iris landed in front of the city's gate, her explosive entrance drawing the attention of everyone around. The world was frozen, shocked, with its mouth agape—at her booming arrival. Iris felt conscious of the lingering eyes. No malice, only shock and mildly curious glances, better than she expected.
Merchants' heads popped out from carriage windows, all directed towards her. Iris couldn't comprehend why they were staring at her. She was sure that her appearance was ordinary.
She noticed two metal-plated, armoured guards standing at the entrance. Travellers formed a line in front of them. She needed their assistance to enter the city.
Ignoring the line, Iris walked to the front, and surprisingly, no one tried to stop her. Having lived in the Labyrinth, she was unfamiliar with the concept—waiting for her turn. They did stop her, so she assumed she had the right to go first.
"I wish to enter this city," Iris stated, waiting for the guard to explain the requirements. In the Labyrinth, similar entry points demanded keys and monster heads to pass through. She wondered what kind of requirement this city would have, especially given the apparent weakness of the guards.
"Y-you—" He stopped himself from shouting, "I need your Identification and six Silvers as entrance fees. Are you here for the tournament?"
The term "Identification" was unfamiliar to Iris. She had never heard of a tournament, but clarification seemed unnecessary. "Silvers" she knew would be a currency. Iris opened her item box and retrieved the white mana cores—six in total. Mayumi once mentioned that white mana cores were extremely rare and valuable.
"I know not what Identification is. Can you explain where I can acquire one? These are white mana cores; are these enough to cover the cost?" Iris inquired.
The guard's face flushed, his eyes shining with greed. He attempted to keep his expression composed. A sad attempt—if Iris had to say. "They are enough," he replied, somewhat rudely, snatched the cores and shoved them into his pocket. "You may pass."
Iris tilted her head in confusion, genuinely curious about this enigma, Identification, that had arisen and buried as swiftly as the mana cores appeared.
“Take the road straight and turn to the second left. It will lead you to the SinaHub, where you will find the Mercenary Federation. Register with them, and they will give you a license. It should serve as an Identification card. Get in before someone else sees you,” the guard explained.
Iris nodded, understanding that he was letting her inside due to the monster cores. She was more than content to enter without any conflict. With another nod, she followed the path before her.
…..
Iris had barely walked far when she encountered an energy-based creature. It trailed her for half a street before Iris decided to address it.
"Is there something you need?" Iris inquired, turning to face the creature.
"WHAT!! How did you see me!?" the creature exclaimed, stepping out from behind a store sign. It appeared to be a young witch sporting a large, pointy black hat on her head.
"Your hat was poking out," Iris responded, sensing no hostility from the stranger.
The stranger's eyes widened, and she quickly pushed her hat down. Her expression transformed into a mix of confusion and panic. "Ah! No, wait!" The stranger hurried to Iris's side.
"How did you see me—your eyes are covered!" she pointed at Iris's eyes, her tone taking on an accusatory edge.
"Why should I not be able to see?" Iris asked in genuine confusion.
The stranger placed both of her hands in front of her eyes. "When I cover my eyes, I see nothing."
"Oh," Iris comprehended the situation. "You have eyes. When you cover them, you don’t see anything. I don't, so when I cover mine, nothing happens."
"Hein?" The stranger's eyes widened again in a mixture of horror and surprise. Iris was puzzled by how quickly the stranger creature’s expressions shifted. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, bowing. "I didn't mean to be rude."
Iris could sense genuine remorse in the stranger's words. "It's okay—did that explain why you were following me?"
"Oh, no, I was just passing by when I saw you. I thought there was a new super cool mage in town—I must see where she goes. Are you here for the Federation?"
Was she considered super cool? Iris hoped so, but she was sure this might be a flattery tactic to extract information. Nonetheless, she had nothing to hide.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
"Federation? If you mean the Mercenary Federation, then yes, that is my next destination."
"Don't go!" The stranger almost jumped at her words.
"I need an Identification, and their license is something I should have. I don't see a reason not to."
"That! Ugh," the creature visibly lost her energy, sounding flustered. "You are correct. I'm sorry—I'll leave you to your destination for now."
"Thank..." Iris began, but before she could continue, the Witch ran away. Iris watched her departing silhouette, wondering if she would encounter more intriguing creatures like her. She found the stranger's existence warm and joyous.
…..
Iris found herself in front of the Mercenary Federation building, surrounded by people who appeared haggard and injured. She cautiously surveyed her surroundings. She was a little tense about the abnormal numbers of humans she was huddled in. Monsters were much easier to deal with; she could end them in a blink. Humans, however, were not something she should kill pointlessly.
"Excuse me..." Iris interrupted a receptionist who was busy dealing with another mercenary.
She was ignored until the receptionist finished with the other individual, and then she finally paid Iris any attention.
"Welcome to the Mercenary Federation, also known as The Guild. I'm Lesley. How may I help—" The receptionist paused as she finally looked at Iris.
"I want to register."
"Certainly," the receptionist replied after a moment. "Do you have a recommendation letter, or will you take the test?"
"I don't."
"Then, please have a seat while we appoint an instructor to assess your fitness." The receptionist pointed to an empty seat.
Iris nodded and took a seat. The idea of an assessment seemed a good one. After all, she knew that the mana cores had affected her body significantly. Would they have any idea about it? Iris wondered.
To her dismay, the assessment was a physical confrontation with a Level 2 brawler with less than adequate mastery over the element. People, for some reason, called him an Instructor.
Whom would he instruct? A child who had yet to grasp a sword? Iris didn't voice her thoughts or her disappointment. She needed the Identification, just in case she found herself in need to enter another city and didn't encounter a guard as lenient as the previous one. She wanted to avoid conflict as much as possible, not for any reason other than she was capable of not resorting to violence against everything in her path.
Her disappointment did show on her face, and the receptionist misunderstood it as dread and apprehension. She quickly reassured Iris, "The Instructor may seem harsh, but he's not cruel. He won't hurt you."
People assumed that a large physical stature meant the Instructor was strong, even though he wasn't. Or perhaps he was—against those without might.
"Do I have to defeat him?" Iris inquired for clarification. She was well aware that she could not kill him. Humans took decades to become functional individuals and reproduced at a relatively slow pace compared to most other species. Given their limited numbers in the guild, a total of 54, killing one for the sake of registration seemed implausible. How could they afford to dispose of one for every registration?
"As long as you perform adequately or, better yet, win—you can register. Winning, however, is not a requirement. So try not to push yourself too hard. Once you’re exhausted or injured, give up, all right?" the receptionist replied slowly, her words filled with genuine concern for Iris's well-being.
“Alright,” so she did not need to kill him or win—I will. The bar for registrations was unusually shallow.
The receptionist led her to a backroom filled with exercise equipment. She hadn't seen any of them before. Here, they would "spar," a word she was unfamiliar with. It referred to a battle without any stakes, as she understood it. It was puzzling, yet it made sense. Given decades of investment were required for every human, sparring was a logical choice, lest all that investment be destroyed without yielding any fruit.
Labyrinth had made her hyper-sensitive to everything and kept her on edge for every moment of her life. Even in the outside world, she remained trapped in those habits. She was acutely aware of the lingering eyes on her, though they weren't necessarily malicious—she hoped. These eyes belonged to the people who were practising here.
Iris gently placed Winny on the floor and raised a lightning barrier around her.
She then took a position on the stage.
"Begin," the old man announced. He served as the referee, responsible for stopping the fight before it became dangerous. He was stronger than the Instructor but still a level 2 though. Iris failed to deduce his class.
She also failed to understand how he would stop her, aside from hoping she would heed his words. What if she didn't? Confusion arose in her mind.
The battle commenced, and Iris patiently waited for the Instructor to make the first move. Mayumi once told her. "It is inappropriate to make the first move against a weaker opponent. That is the honour of a blessed."
Iris could only wait until he attacked.
The Instructor, it seemed, shared the same mindset. He, too, waited for her to make the first move.
"Have your legs frozen in terror? Come at me!" The Instructor roared, clenching his fist. Was he angry? Did he not appreciate her kind gesture? Or did he believe himself to be mightier?
Regardless, those words gave Iris enough reason to attack first.
Her hand lit up with a purple hue and sparks crackled around it. In the blink of an eye, she was in front of him.
[Disruption]
Iris slammed her hand onto his chest before he could react. Sparks erupted from his back, scattering into the air and filling the surroundings with a purple light.
Shikk! Shikk!
"ARGH!!" The Instructor roared before collapsing to the floor, sparks still emanating from his body.
"That's it," Iris murmured, turning to notice everyone gawking at her. It was a basic spell, so it shouldn't have been that impressive. If they found it so, then they must be living—a remarkably peaceful life.
"Winner, Iris," the Referee declared in panic as he rushed to the Instructor's side.
"He's just passed out. After waking up, he'll only feel minor stiffness, nothing more," Iris assured, sensing the tension in the Referee's countenance.
"Why go so far?" The Instructor's voice sounded accusatory.
Iris tilted her head in confusion. She hadn't drawn her blade or used any spell. It was the least she could do. "It was just a basic disruption spell, nothing noteworthy."
A realization seemed to dawn on his face. Perhaps, the flashy nature of her attack had given the wrong impression.
All her spells were designed to be flashy by choice, intended to deter weaker monsters. It worked to an extent.
The referee remained silent as Iris walked off the stage, picked up Winny, and approached the receptionist.
"You're stronger than you give off," the receptionist commented, leading her through a corridor.
"I've lived in a forest for most of my life. If I were any weaker, I would be dead," Iris explained. Mayumi had suggested that she hide her status as a Labyrinth Dweller, though Iris didn't quite understand why.
"An excuse used in too many tales, yet it's not my place to question," the Receptionist responded.
They entered a mostly empty room, save for a desk and some kind of machinery.
"Do you know how to read or write?" the Receptionist asked, taking a seat behind the desk and gesturing for Iris to sit in front.
"I can read," Iris replied. She never had the opportunity to write, except for carving runes into monsters’ flesh. However, she knew that wasn't the traditional sense of writing.
"Then, I'll fill out your registration form. Please answer all the questions truthfully."
The Receptionist pressed a button, and a screen lit up. The screen resembled the system Iris had, except her system floated in the air. The Receptionist used another device with too many buttons for Iris to make sense of.
"Your name."
"Iris."
"Just Iris?" The Receptionist looked at her.
"Is that a problem?"
"No, you're wearing clothing, which is similar to the royalty of a certain empire."
"Sakuragi's?"
"Yes."
"I have nothing to do with them. Except, maybe, I was once given these clothes out of kindness. I am an orphan."
"I see. Place of Origin?"
"I don't know."
"Unknown, okay. What about your current home?"
"I don't have any. I just arrived here."
"No settlement. Next, any guardian we can contact in case you go missing?"
"None."
"Any Familiar?" Iris picked the cat from her head. "Winny, a light spirit, Origin race: Might be a dragon, I'm not too sure."
"Huh, quite an unusual form for it to take."
The Receptionist's fingers never stopped clicking hundreds of buttons, yet she not once looked away from where her eyes should be. Iris learned something today: proficiency was achievable in things other than Magic.
"Notable Physical Traits: Severed Right Hand, Missing Middle Finger along with metacarpals of said finger. Do you have any particular problem with your eyes?"
"You can say I don't have them."
"Missing Eyes. Anything else?"
"Nope."
"That's it for this section. What is your class and level? Subclasses are not necessary to disclose."
"Level 6, Caster—Title 'Lightning Lord.'"
"Level 6 caster– Title…!" The Receptionist's eyes widened, and her fingers came to an immediate halt. "Level 6? Is that right?"
"Yes." However, the Receptionist didn't resume typing; she seemed lost in thought for a long pause. "Wait here, I'll be back."
The Receptionist left through another door behind the desk. After a few minutes, she returned, carrying a heavy white slate.
"Though looking at an individual's status is forbidden under RTR's treaty, we are allowed to conduct verification in case of outrageous claims such as yours. If you lie, the slate will turn red. If it does, you'll be barred from registering with the Guild."
Iris nodded and placed her hand on the slate covered in minuscule engravings and runes that appeared as texture to the naked eye.
Her stat screen appeared in front of her. Would the Receptionist also see the status screen? Iris frankly didn't care. She knew it was something that should be hidden.
[Name: Iris
Level: 6
Age:18
Rank: Lord
Class: Caster
Subclass 1- Weaver
Subclass 2- Manipulator
Title: Lightning Lord
Element: Rend Lightning.
Darkness: Material form
Achievement: Error
Skill: Error
Soul: 456,342
Arch Souls: 5
Lords Slain: 5]
"What is your level?" the Receptionist questioned, momentarily confusing Iris.
"You cannot see?"
"No, the Mercenary Federation never sees the status, lest we have one of the Round Table Rivals visiting us in person."
"I'm Level 6 Caster, Title Lightning Lord." The slate did not turn red. "What is Round Table Rivals?"
"If you're going to live in any human settlement, you'll hear about them sooner or later. For now, I would like to focus on the process. Are you wanted or accused of any crime by a nation or legislative entity?"
"I don't think so."
The slate didn't react once again.
"How many Souls do you have?"
"About half a million."
The Receptionist struggled to keep her expression in check.
"That is all. It will take half an hour to get your License ready. Until then, please wait here. I will explain the workings of the Guild."
‘Where the hell did you find half a million living things to kill!?’ the Receptionist mentally exclaimed.