The grinding metal of the bolt slamming home felt less like sanctuary and more like the sealing of a trap. The village walls had shielded us from the Wraiths, but now they concentrated the suspicion of the residents.
We were standing in a cramped entry chamber, lit by sputtering oil lamps and the faint, blue luminescence of the low-grade Aether-Flow barrier humming just inside the timber wall.
Clork, the Gate Guard, was a mask of frustration and anger, split between Eiara's failure and my unexpected presence.
"Eiara," Clork demanded, his voice thick with the desperation of someone counting every resource. "You risked the Village barrier for a Trench-Rat? We need that Aetherite! Without those stones, the next Void breach will shatter these walls! And you bring back... this."
Eiara stepped between us, her voice sharp despite her fatigue. "He's not tainted, Clork! He's just an amnesiac I found near the cemetery. Tier-Zero. He's weak, but he can work. And the Wraiths was right on our heels."
Two other figures—a nervous woman with a crossbow and a hulking man named Mute—materialized from the shadows, their eyes fixed on us with fear and suspicion.
Clork lowered his voice, but the threat remained. "You know the rules. You bring a stranger in, you vouch for them with your own life and your own stores. You got enough Aether-Flow dust to pay the gate tax and cover his keep?"
Eiara sighed, reaching slowly into a small pouch. "I have enough for one night," she said, pulling out a handful of the grimy, crystallized Aether-Flow dust and tossing it to Clork. The Mana currency was quickly scooped up.
"Lorn Cairn," Clork said, turning his hard gaze back to me. "You look like you just climbed out of a shallow grave."
I met his gaze, letting the Mental Fortress keep my features neutral. "Amnesiac. I woke up alone in the ruins near the cemetery. Eiara saved me."
Mute, the silent hulking guard, stepped closer, his scarred face twisted in open suspicion. He reached out a massive hand toward my shoulder, his intent clear: a rough body search, likely to find hidden weapons or, worse, signs of spiritual corruption. In this godless society, trust was a terminal weakness.
I flinched. The Mental Fortress was working overtime to block the paralyzing fear, but the threat of physical violation was immediate.
Mute's hand landed, but before he could squeeze, a tiny, almost invisible flicker of energy discharged from my skin. It was a micro-burst of Aether-Flow, channeled defensively without conscious thought.
Mute instantly pulled his hand back, his eyes widening in confusion and pain. He stared at his palm, then back at me, his massive jaw hanging slack.
"What was that?" Clork barked, leveling the mace again.
I stayed silent, my heart racing, pretending to be as confused as Mute. I had just used Aether-Flow in a way I didn't know I could, a reaction catalyzed by the Eternal Core.
Eiara, ever the quick-thinker, stepped immediately between us. "Static shock! The kid's been sleeping in the dirt for weeks! He's just scared, Warden. Tier Zeroes always jumpy."
Clork hesitated, his desperation warring with his mistrust. An amnesiac Tier Zero was nearly useless, but the Aetherite mission had failed, and resources were short.
"Fine," Clork said, lowering the mace. "But he stays in the Common Quarters. And he works tomorrow. No free loading in Vorg." He pointed to a low, open doorway. "Follow Mute."
As Mute led me away, his eyes constantly darting back to my meager frame, the Omni-Mimicry silently registered the brief encounter. The sheer focus of the guards on security had provided a wealth of information:
[SKILL ACQUIRED: GATE WARDEN'S BRACE (F-RANK)] Source: Observed defensive stance and subtle Aether-Flow infusion of Gate Warden. Description: A basic defensive stance that hardens muscle fibers using minor Aether-Flow infusion. Can be activated passively when threatened. Mastery Level: 10%
The acquisition of this defensive skill, which could passively use the Aether-Flow from my Eternal Core, was a profound moment. I hadn't even meant to use it, yet the system had already integrated the necessary defensive protocol. Omni-mimicry was an adaptive machine, designed for impossible survival.
Mute led me across the central compound, which was a grim picture of survival. Shacks were cobbled together from scavenged metal and plastic, and the inhabitants—all looking worn, scarred, and armed—watched us with dull hostility. No one smiled. No one offered help. The Aether-Flow barrier kept the monsters out, but it couldn't keep the darkness out of human hearts.
"Common Quarters," Mute grunted, gesturing toward a large, barracks-style shed near the back wall. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and desperation.
As I entered the dim, noisy room packed with other low-ranking workers and refugees, I understood the reality: The outside world wanted my life, and the inside world wanted my labor. But in this den of desperation, I was the only one who had the tools of ascension hidden in plain sight.
I glanced back toward the gate, where Eiara was already disappearing into the shadows. She was the only tether I had in this cursed new life. I had to get stronger, and fast. The Wraiths was gone, but the Aetherite mission had failed, and that meant more dangerous patrols were coming. My work would start tomorrow, and my Omni-Mimicry would be hungry.
To be continued...