Chapter 6: A Transaction of Truths
The Forsaken, Kaelen, didn't wait for an answer. He simply turned and disappeared into the darkness of the doorway. The message was clear: follow or be left with the clueless herd. Ryley didn't hesitate. He stepped out of the fading daylight of the courtyard and into the cool, damp shadows of the ruin.
Inside was a small, circular chamber, likely the base of a collapsed tower. A single shaft of murky light pierced through a hole in the ceiling, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The room smelled of old stone, damp earth, and something else—a faint, acrid scent that reminded Ryley of ozone and burnt hair. Kaelen was already squatting by a small, cold fire pit, poking at the ashes with a rusted dagger.
"Cost me what?" Ryley asked, getting straight to the point. He remained standing, his posture wary. This man was not an ally; he was a source.
Kaelen didn't look up. "Information for information. You're new. You see things with fresh eyes. I want to know what the Architect showed you. The specifics of the decree. The exact number of you that arrived. The disposition of the crowd. You tell me what you saw out there, and I'll tell you what's in here." He finally glanced up, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Seems fair."
Ryley considered it. The information was worthless to him now, but it clearly had value to this survivor. It was a currency he could spend.
"Ten thousand, maybe a few hundred more," Ryley stated flatly. "The Architect appeared as a face in the sky. Stated the three rules: no log-out, permanent death, conquer the Spire to win. It then executed roughly a hundred players at random to prove its point. A monster tide—they called it a 'Calamity Tide'—appeared from the north immediately after. We ran. Less than a quarter of us made it to the gate."
Kaelen listened, his expression unchanging, though a muscle in his jaw twitched at the number. "Ten thousand. A larger batch than last time. The Architect is getting greedy." He shook his head. "And the Tide came right away? No grace period? It's accelerating."
He fell silent for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Your payment," he said, pointing his dagger toward the ground. "The Sanctum isn't safe. It's a sieve. The outer walls are the first line, but they won't hold a focused Tide. The real danger isn't just from the gates."
"Where, then?" Ryley pressed.
"The Rust," Kaelen said, his voice dropping. "It's not just on the walls. It's in the ground. In the water. There are places in this city where it's concentrated, like a poison welling up from a wound. Creatures form from it, born straight out of the corruption. You can be standing in what you think is a safe alley, and the ground will open up beneath you."
He gestured with his chin towards the courtyard. "That lot out there, huddling together? They're making noise. Drawing attention. Fear is like a beacon here. The Corrupted are drawn to it. Your 'heroes' at the gate are building a pyre, and they're the kindling."
Ryley processed this. It confirmed his instincts. Staying with the main group was a long-term death sentence. "And the classes? The evolution?"
A grim smile touched Kaelen's lips. "Ah, straight to the good stuff. The system isn't what you think. You don't just 'level up.' You don't get a new title for collecting enough monster kills. Evolution requires a catalyst. A test."
"What kind of test?"
"Something that breaks you," Kaelen said, his eyes distant. "Or forges you. You have to do something that fundamentally changes how you see this world, or how you see yourself. I've seen a man become a Juggernaut after he stood alone in a breach for an hour, holding back the Tide out of pure, unadulterated rage. I saw a woman become a Saint of the Lost after she gave her own life force to save a child she didn't know. The system recognizes will. Desperation. Sacrifice. Or utter, ruthless pragmatism."
His gaze sharpened, focusing on Ryley. "What do you think your catalyst will be, new blood? What are you capable of?"
Before Ryley could answer, a scream echoed from the courtyard outside—not a scream of panic, but of pure, unadulterated terror, followed by the unmistakable sound of tearing metal and a chorus of snarls.
Kaelen was on his feet in an instant, his weariness replaced by a predator's alertness. "See? The beacons are lit." He looked at Ryley. "Lesson one is over. The first night has begun. You can hide in here with me, or you can go see what your investment in that Healer is really worth."
Ryley didn't answer. He was already moving back towards the doorway, his mind racing. The information had been paid for. Now it was time to see if it could be used. He peered out into the courtyard. The chaos had returned. A section of the stone floor near the main group had, just as Kaelen said, opened up, and Corrupted beasts were pouring out, their forms slick and new, attacking from within their very sanctuary.
He saw Borin the Guardian, his shield already up, bellowing orders, trying to form a line. The Healer was behind him, her light flaring as she tried to mend a deep gash on a player's arm.
Ryley watched from the shadows. This was the test. Not of his strength, but of his strategy. He had the information. He had identified the assets. Now, he had to decide the most profitable moment to act—or to fade away into the ruins and let the "kindling" burn.