The next day, as the sun rose in the east over the ocean, it illuminated the ship's path toward the barely discernible harbor. From a distance, the cadets gazed upon rocky cliffs that resembled imposing gates, adorned with piles of shingles at their bases. However, the sight before them was not that of a typical harbor, but rather a fortress. The expansive sandstone walls stretched wide, making the beaches on either side appear distant and diminutive. Waterfalls burst forth from gaps in the walls, their tranquil morning cascades growing into a resounding roar.
Thanistor summoned all the cadets together, proclaiming their arrival at Tolwich Harbor—a city renowned as the most populous settlement on the border between the Blaze Desert and the Mist Desert.
Meanwhile, Aleister sat nonchalantly at the edge of the deck, his pipe releasing wisps of smoke, while he observed the constellations that still twinkled above. It was as if they carried a hidden message, whispering to him. This man's background remained steeped in mystery, and there was a profound reason why he could hear Zelestria's star singing. Suddenly, his forehead beaded with sweat, and a shiver ran through his body. Destruction!
It was nearly inconceivable that this harbor, standing for centuries and enduring both the Chthonian Invasion and the Kaliyuga Explosion, would meet its end on this day. Aleister yearned to share this revelation with others, but deep down, he knew that a minuscule fraction—merely 0.1 percent—would believe his words. Rather than risk being dismissed as a lunatic, he opted for silence, maintaining his composed demeanor, and continued to blow smoke rings as if nothing had happened.
A tranquil bay formed by a stone promontory shielded the incoming waves, allowing the ship to pass through the open iron gate and enter the river. Just beyond the naval port, which resembled a formidable fortress, sprawled a bustling city with huts and buildings. A grand wooden bridge extended across the river, connecting to the docks where cargo was loaded and unloaded from sailing ships. Descending onto the pier, the cadets, having spent years at Dawnstrike Fortress, were unaware of the vibrant life that thrived along the coast, with fearless individuals who chose to reside in the shadow of sea monsters.
Passing a welcoming sign that read 'Welcome to Tolwich Harbor,' they were greeted by port officials and their seniors who guided them into the main hall. As they walked, they eagerly absorbed the conversations of officers, fishermen, and craftsmen, seeking to gather vital information about this place.
Their stroll led them to a bustling trading center with numerous markets. The first store offered consumer goods such as medicine, food, and beverages. The second shop stocked items with chemical compounds, including grenades, mines, syringes, and ammunition. The third shop displayed an extensive array of melee and ranged weapons. Finally, the fourth shop specialized in survival equipment, offering headgear, body armor, arm protection, and leg guards.
In addition to its renown as a prosperous trading hub, this port was also affiliated with the Assassin Academy and served as a designated green zone where any form of killing was strictly prohibited. Consequently, the three factions of Malazen—Nightblade, Demolitionist, and Occultist—dared not cause trouble in this area, aware that it would tarnish their future reputation. Their purpose in coming to this port was simply to recruit a new generation of cadets into their respective factions.
Inside the main hall of the harbor, where the new cadets had gathered, two senior members of the academy stepped forward to guide them.
"Welcome to Tolwich Harbor, new blood! I am Somnus," declared the rugged man, his body adorned with numerous scars.
"And I'm his sister, Somnia," added the female colleague standing beside him.
One cadet raised a hand, seemingly interrupting their conversation. Cadet number 322, Lucius, let out a yawn and asked, "May I use the restroom?"
"Go ahead," replied the slightly annoyed Somnus, secretly hoping that Lucius would never return.
As Lucius left the room, he noticed Aleister already outside, engaged in a discussion with a merchant, skillfully negotiating prices like a shrewd buyer. To the left lay the path to the restroom, while straight ahead beckoned the bustling open market. Lucius chose to venture straight ahead, departing from the main hall forever.
Inside the main hall, an attendant pushed a wheeled table filled with healing and immune drugs in front of the two seniors to distribute among the cadets. Somnus addressed them, saying, "The academy has assigned us to guide you to Moriath. Don't forget to take these potions for your journey; they're free of charge. It's crucial to understand that the weather in Malazen is among the hottest in the Runeverse."
Somnia chimed in, "By the way, representatives from the three factions are present here. If any of you are interested in joining a faction, you may register with them."
"Yes. The safest way to survive the journey to Moriath is to align with a faction, or alternatively, you can seek Somnia and me for assistance in exchange for two gold bars," added Somnus.
"Wait!" shouted Zain, stepping forward. "This is what I hate about the seniors. Why are you guys suddenly acting so friendly? Do you think we're naive children born yesterday? Enough with these poisons!" Zain concluded his outburst by kicking the table, causing the drugs to scatter onto the floor.
Zain's forceful kick reverberated through the main hall, instantly drawing the attention of everyone present. It was evident that the previous intense battle had left deep scars on Zain, and now he sought some form of release through his actions. His fellow cadets cheered in support of his audacity, criticizing the well-meaning behavior displayed by the two senior figures. Mason's laughter grew soft, his hands trembling with impatience, yearning to unleash destruction upon this place.
The security officers, senior assassins, merchants, and mercenaries stood frozen, their faces reflecting a mix of surprise and confusion at the unfolding chaos. They were uncertain about how to respond to the disruptive conduct of the new cadets, who seemed to enjoy special privileges granted by the academy and acted with impunity.
Somnus clenched his teeth in anger at Zain's lack of decorum. He scolded the cadet, "How dare you...kick our heartfelt gift! And label it as poisonous without even trying it!"
Somnia chimed in, her voice raised as a reminder, "That's the last straw! Many people out there suffer from the scorching heat of Malazen! I hope you don't meet the same fate as them!"
With that, Somnia departed, followed by the grumbling Somnus muttering, "Tch! This generation of cadets is the worst!"
Mason covered his mouth, struggling to contain his laughter. His hooded face concealed his identity, making it difficult for others to recognize him. Displeased with the crowd, he silently made his way out of the room, disappointed by the absence of a lively clash, despite his itching desire to wield his sword. Onlookers observed his peculiar behavior and concluded that this new generation had lost their minds, although there was nothing humorous about the situation. Nevertheless, they understood that the cadets had likely succumbed to madness due to the rigorous exams they had endured.
Thanistor bid farewell to the others and called out, "Listen, everyone! Instructor Hyoh instructed us to head to Moriath! But he never said we should blindly trust anyone! See you later!"
Karanzo and the male cadets dispersed, each going their separate ways, while the female cadets predominantly stuck together in groups. Since they rarely ventured beyond the confines of Dawnstrike Fortress, except for expeditions, they found themselves slightly perplexed as they studied the map leading to their destination.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
However, the journey to Moriath presented numerous challenges that could potentially be surmounted with the aid of a faction, should they choose to join. However, such assistance came at a steep cost—not in terms of money, but in terms of their lives and services, for the world beyond the harbor was a war-torn zone. On the other hand, if they opted to venture forth without the protection of a faction, their adversaries would multiply, placing their very existence at stake. This was a critical life-or-death decision they had to carefully weigh before embarking from the harbor.
*
In the expansive outdoor field, where the settlements of the three factions vied for attention, representatives eagerly awaited the arrival of new cadets, extending invitations to join their ranks. While some cadets showed little interest, the majority listened out of curiosity. Zain Wulmar, enticed by the lively crowd surrounding the Demolitionist tent, approached to get a closer look. It was widely known that without aligning with a faction, the journey ahead would be treacherous. In the unforgiving desert, new cadets risked falling prey to the clutches of the factions or other perilous groups.
Aware of the many dangers present in the red zone, Zain, who had ventured beyond the academy's confines before, understood that the true threat did not lie with the people, but with the sand monsters. As his friends incessantly extolled the virtues of one particular faction, he pondered whether their words would withstand his scrutiny. Disregarding the queue, he even challenged anyone to a middle-of-the-road fight, but nobody accepted and allowed him to pass through. His singular focus remained on going in and getting out; that was the sole thought consuming his mind at that moment.
"We are the Demolitionists! Join us, and we'll provide you with a free gun! Isn't that fantastic?!"
As the Demolitionists conducted their persuasive contest for the new cadets, Zain spotted one of his friends from his homeland in the midst of the crowd. "By the eastern wine of Valhalor! Skadj!" Zain called out, catching the attention of his Dwarf companions who turned toward him.
"By the beautiful chest of Goddess Ishilnor! Zain, my friend! I thought you were dead after the fourth test!" Skadj exclaimed, shaking Zain's hand and giving him a warm hug.
"Are you secretly considering joining the Demolitionists, you pufferfish?" Zain teased.
"No, I was just taking a stroll. By the way, Zain, don't believe a word Giltianos says. He's no true Viking; his talk reeks of horse farts."
"Who's Giltianos? I'm not done here, you idiot."
"Hah! Here's a piece of advice from your friend: Don't let the factions control your freedom! Like me, if anyone gets in my way, I'll split their heads like the fruits I used to smash long ago. See you in Moriath, chum!"
"Hey! You're such a savage! Don't die until you're dead!"
One of the Demolitionist representatives, a tall and robust man with a partially armored body, called out and welcomed Zain into the tent. "Cadet number 90! A fellow northern Viking, just like me! I am Giltianos the Draco Slayer, from Basilnos. Care to stop by for a moment?"
"I am Zain Wulmar, a Viking from Mars. Tell me, if I were to join this faction, what would I gain?" Zain inquired.
Giltianos picked up one of the firearms from the crate, loaded a bullet into the back of the barrel, extended his arms forward, and pulled the trigger, firing at a wooden dummy.
"That's how a revolver works. One lethal shot packs more power than a bow or magic, without the need for close-range combat. If you join us, this gun will be yours."
"No mead? Not worth it. Bye."
"Wait, Zain, I like your way of thinking. But think about the loot we'll acquire after the war, you feel me?"
"And in return?"
"We will brand you with the permanent Demolitionist mark on your hand. It's a hot stamp that signifies you belong to us. If Nightblade or Occultist spots the mark, it means to kill or be killed. Are you ready for it?" Giltianos asked with a serious expression.
Zain paused, pretending to contemplate deeply. "Hold on a minute! I've got a burning question here. Why on Goldin's beard would a fearsome Viking like me need such a measly, cheap gun? I mean, seriously! Skadj's face turns greener than a goblin's bum just thinking about it. That thing would make me lazier than a snoring troll! And what happens when the ammo runs out? I'll be flailing around like a headless chicken and get sliced up by those sneaky Nightblade rascals! It's like you folks are using new cadets as sacrificial lambs or something!"
Giltianos chuckled in response, unable to contain his amusement. "Oh, Zain, you've certainly got the spirit of a true Viking! Fear not, my friend. Let me explain. That gun may seem unimpressive, but it has its perks. It packs a punch from a distance, sparing you the trouble of engaging in close combat—"
"That's exactly what makes me want to puke on your lowly faction, dammit!" interrupted Zain, his voice filled with stern determination.
Giltianos let out a patient sigh, although deep inside he felt a pang of offense. Everyone knew, especially his peers, that the new cadet named Zain always resorted to arguments with loud shouting. It was a case of "whoever is louder, wins," with muscle taking priority over brains. Giltianos found it challenging to convince such an egotistical individual, as stubborn as reaching the moon.
However, a sudden realization struck Giltianos, and he feigned a laugh for a brief moment, recalling Zain's humorous remarks about the Demolitionist faction and the supposed awesomeness of Nightblade. He understood that Zain's words stemmed from years of new cadets being confined to the fort, solely focused on studying and training without venturing outside. The crowd began to gather, intrigued by the lively conversation unfolding between the two.
"You're absolutely right, Zain. Those cheap guns are merely a lure for newcomers seeking instant power without understanding the consequences. Those who become intoxicated by such power end up becoming our loyal minions, their judgment clouded by weapons. It's like a child given candy. But you, my friend, are different. You're just like me."
Zain furrowed his brow, taken aback by Giltianos daring to equate himself with the number one cadet candidate in the academy.
"What do you mean, 'the same as you'?" Zain questioned, his skepticism evident.
"People like us, hailing from the north, don't need a gun to survive," Giltianos explained with a knowing smile. "In this faction, I lead my own division: the Fighters. You can join me, for that division is a gathering of individuals like us—Valhalorians!"
One of the Demolitionist fighters approached, a burly woman with a stern expression who couldn't stand their rapid-fire conversation. "Can you two slow down and talk it out?! I've got a cadet here who wants to hear my explanation too!"
"Perfect timing," Giltianos remarked. "Zain, meet Mesaac Barbara. She's an Amazonian warrior from my division. Guns are more than just weapons for us Demolitionists, you see? And let me tell you about our leader, Ragnar Grom! He's a Viking legend who slayed Sigmund Luminar, the leader of Nightblade, in an epic one-on-one duel called Holmgang! So when you call us a lowly faction, it's actually quite amusing..."
The cadets were taken aback by the news of Sigmund Luminar's defeat. It was the first time they had heard anything about it after years of seclusion. Zain was left speechless, wanting to refute Giltianos' claims, but he could sense that the others were more inclined to trust outsiders. If the news was indeed true, it felt as if he had just traversed through time.
"Our leader, Grom, is destined to rule over Malazen," Mesaac chimed in. "He's a Dragonborn with a thunderous roar that even froze the noble bloodline of Sigmund Luminar. So you geeks better forget about Nightblade and join us if you want to stay alive!"
"Hey, I thought you were here to explain, not to intimidate," Giltianos scolded Mesaac.
"What do you mean intimidate? This is how I explain things so their shallow brains can understand!" Mesaac retorted.
Mesaac's attention was drawn to another Amazonian cadet, Ischel Naria, who was calling out to her from a distance. "Hold on a moment, I have an important guest," Mesaac said before leaving the tent.
"Giltianos!" Zain called out, his emotions running high. "I may not be a knight from Gesthar or a mage from Zandar, but mark my words: one day, Zain Wulmar, the Viking of Mars, will knock out anyone who dares to stand in his way! And if necessary, I'll shake Malazen to its very core!"
Fuming with anger, Zain stormed out of the tent, crashing into the crowd that blocked his path. His fury was palpable, causing one or two individuals to stumble and fall. The other cadets watched in awe as the fiery determination in Zain's eyes mirrored the intensity of his words. He was a force to be reckoned with, a passionate soul refusing to accept defeat.
Giltianos, standing by the tent entrance, watched with a knowing smile. He had seen this fire before, the burning ambition that pushed individuals to defy the odds and achieve greatness, igniting a spark of admiration for the young cadets.
As Zain disappeared into the sea of people, Giltianos turned his attention back to his original task, answering the questions of curious individuals about the Demolitionist faction. The commotion caused by Zain's outburst had drawn attention to their cause, sparking curiosity and interest among the onlookers.
In the aftermath of Zain's declaration of war, whispers spread throughout the camp. Unlike Aleister and Fenrius, he didn't care about being hunted; instead, he welcomed them with open axes. Now, the name "Zain Wulmar, the Viking of Mars," was carried on the lips of many, invoking a sense of both curiosity and apprehension.
As the news reached the ears of faction leaders and seasoned warriors, discussions, and debates ensued. Some saw Zain as a threat, a wild card that needed to be controlled or eliminated. Others recognized the spark of potential within him, a force that could reshape the dynamics of Malazen. Whichever camp they fell into, there was a sense that Zain had become a player in a game much larger than himself.