The Dragon Spire was not a building, it was a challenge carved out of obsidian.
Rising from the northern quadrant of the Sacred Grounds, it pierced the dusty sky like a black needle. It wasn't just the home of the Dragon delegation, its lower levels served as the Hall of Trials, the most prestigious and brutal mercenary guild on the continent.
To the Dragons, gold was secondary. They valued Strength. If you wanted to take high-paying jobs in their territory, you had to prove you were worth the air you breathed.
Nyx, Briar and Lyra stood at the base of the Spire. The entrance was a massive archway shaped like a roaring maw. Mercenaries of all races, Orcs with axes larger than Lyra, Elves with enchanted bows, and grim-faced Humans, milled about, comparing scars and sharpening blades.
"This is it," Briar said, adjusting the straps of her leather armor. She looked like a common sellsword, but the way she stood, hand resting on the pommel of Ignis, betrayed a lifetime of royal training. "The Hall of Trials. If we want gold and access to the inner circles, we need a rank."
"Statistically," Lyra murmured, scanning the crowd through her cracked, fake spectacles, "most new teams start at D-Rank. It takes months to climb to B-Rank. But given our current output..."
"We aren't aiming for B-Rank," Nyx said calmly. He looked up at the Spire. The Third Shackle wasn't vibrating, but he could feel a heaviness in the air, a residual pressure that tested the spirit of everyone who walked here. "We take the A-Rank test immediately."
A passing dwarf snorted, hearing him. "A-Rank? fresh meat? You'll be lucky if you don't leave in a coffin, lad."
Nyx ignored him. He walked into the maw.
The interior of the Hall was cavernous, lit by floating braziers of magical fire. In the center stood a series of testing stations.
They approached the registration desk. A Dragonkin, a humanoid with patches of red scales on his neck and hands, looked down at them with bored, slit-pupiled eyes.
"Name?" the Dragonkin grunted.
"Iron-Root Mercenaries" Briar answered. "We want to take the A Rank placement test."
The Dragonkin paused. He looked at Briar's scuffed armor. He looked at Lyra's mousy robes. He looked at Nyx's dusty cloak.
"A-Rank requires you to survive a cage match with a Razor Back Drake" the Dragonkin sneered. "or demonstrate damage output equivalent to a Solar Realm spell. The fee is fifty gold. No refunds for death."
Nyx reached into his pouch and dropped the heavy bag of coins they had earned in Rustwater onto the counter.
"We will pay," Nyx said.
The Dragonkin weighed the bag. He shrugged. "Your loss."
The testing area was a reinforced chamber lined with suppression runes. In the center stood a Black iron Golem. It was an enchanted product designed to measure the impact force of mercenaries.
"You have one minute," the examiner, an old Dragonkin with a scarred eye, barked. "Hit it with everything you have. The Golem will grade you."
"I'll go first," Briar said, stepping forward.
She didn't draw her sword immediately. She took a breath.
She remembered Nyx's voice back when she was breaking through to the intermediate Lunar Realm.
She gripped the hilt of Ignis. The Phoenix Scabbard on her hip pulsed, feeding heat into the blade.
"Azure Fang"
She drew.
It wasn't a roar of fire. It was a hiss.
A crescent of condensed, blue plasma erupted from her blade. It struck the Golem's chest.
There was no explosion. The blue flame simply ate through the enchanted iron. The Golem staggered back, a molten hole glowing in its center plate.
The runes on the wall flashed.
"DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: PEAK LUNAR REALM. RANK A"
The examiner's jaw dropped. He looked at the hole in the Black-Iron, metal that was supposed to be indestructible to anyone under the Solar Realm.
"Blue fire?" the examiner muttered. "At the Lunar stage? Who taught you that?"
Briar sheathed her sword, a smug grin on her face. "Family trade secret."
"Next," the examiner said, looking at Lyra with newfound interest.
Lyra stepped up. She didn't look like a warrior. She looked like a librarian who had gotten lost.
"I will demonstrate control," Lyra said softly.
She raised her wand.
She didn't fire a massive blast. She casted a Wind Bullet.
But she cast it fifty times in one second.
Zip, Zip, Zip, Zip.
The air in the room screamed. Fifty tiny, compressed pellets of air struck the Golem. They didn't hit random spots. They all hit the exact same point, the hairline fracture Briar had created on the edge of the melted hole.
CRUNCH.
The Golem's entire chest plate shattered from the accumulated stress.
"DAMAGE ASSESSMENT : CRITICAL HIT. RANK A"
"Monster," the examiner whispered, looking at the small girl. "She didn't even waste a drop of mana."
"And you?" the examiner looked at Nyx. " The big guy. What's your trick?"
Nyx walked up to the ruined Golem.
He didn't have magic. He couldn't use the Void without alerting the high-level sensors in the Spire. So he had to use the First Shackle.
Brute force.
"No trick," Nyx said.
He pulled his fist back. He didn't wind up. He just punched the Golem's head.
BOOM.
The sound was like a cannon firing.
The Golem's head didn't break. It detached. It flew off the neck, smashed into the back wall of the chamber, and embedded itself in the stone.
The headless body of the construct toppled over.
The runes on the wall flickered, confused, then flashed red.
"DAMAGE ASSESSMENT : INPUT EXCEEDED THE LIMIT. RANK S"
Silence filled the room. The other mercenaries waiting in line were staring. The examiner looked at the headless Golem, then at Nyx's unbruised hand.
"Iron-Root Mercenaries," the examiner swallowed hard, stamping three badges made of black dragon-scale. "You pass. Welcome to A-Rank."
"Do you want to try the S rank entry test?" the examiner asked with excitement.
"No need." Lyra said.
They didn't stay to celebrate. The attention was dangerous. They took a job from the high-tier board 'Hunt the Obsidian basilisk in jagged canyons' and left the Spire.
The canyons north of the Spire were a maze of razor-sharp rocks and deep shadows. It was the perfect hunting ground for a Basilisk, a sixty-foot lizard with stone scales and venom that could melt steel.
Usually, an A-Rank team would need ten people to take one down. A tank, healers, and heavy mages.
The Iron-Root team did it in five minutes.
"Right flank!" Lyra shouted, hovering above the canyon floor on a cushion of wind. "It's turning!"
The Basilisk roared, lunging at Briar.
Briar didn't retreat. She grinned. "Come on, ugly!"
She sidestepped the massive jaws, her blue flame coating Ignis. She slashed at the creature's leg. The heat was so intense it severed the stone scales instantly.
The Basilisk shrieked, thrashing its tail.
"Nyx, the tail!" Lyra warned, calculating the trajectory.
Nyx didn't dodge. He caught the tail.
The massive appendage, heavy enough to crush a carriage, slammed into his open palm. Nyx didn't budge. The ground beneath his feet cracked, but he held the beast fast.
"Sit down," Nyx growled.
He slammed the tail into the ground, pinning the monster.
"Briar, finish it!"
Briar leaped off Nyx's shoulder chuckling, using him as a launchpad. She drove her sword downward into the Basilisk's skull. The blue fire cauterized the brain instantly.
The beast slumped. Dead.
"Time," Lyra checked her pocket watch. "Four minutes and twelve seconds. A new personal best."
They harvested the valuable parts, the venom sacs, the heart, and the obsidian eyes, and set up camp in a secluded cave as the sun began to set.
It should have been a moment of triumph. They had gold. They had rank. They had power.
But as they sat around the campfire, the mood was heavy.
Nyx was cleaning Requiem, though he hadn't even drawn it during the fight. Briar was sharpening Ignis, her movements aggressive and jerky. Lyra was staring at her grimoire, but she wasn't reading.
"We are strong," Briar said suddenly, breaking the silence.
"We are," Nyx agreed, looking up. "You fought well today."
"We fought well for humans," Briar corrected bitterly. She stabbed her whetstone into the dirt. "But Nyx... you didn't even use your sword. You caught a Basilisk's tail with one hand."
She looked at him, her red eyes filled with a sudden, raw vulnerability.
"Back in the capital... I thought I could protect you. I thought I was the shield."
She gestured to the dead monster.
"But today? I realized something. You aren't just a step ahead of us. You're in a different league. When we face the Sun Legion... or the beings you spoke of, the outsiders lady Gaia mentioned... Lyra and I are going to be dust in the wind."
Lyra closed her book. She pushed her fake glasses up her nose, her voice trembling slightly.
"Statistically, she is right, Nyx. Your growth rate is exponential. Ours is linear. Even with the breakthroughs... the gap is widening. We are holding you back."
Nyx stopped cleaning his sword.
He looked at them. He saw the fear in their eyes. Not fear of the enemy, but fear of being left behind. Fear of being useless.
He set Requiem down and moved to sit between them.
"Give me your hand," Nyx said to Briar.
She hesitated, then offered her hand. It was calloused, covered in soot and monster blood.
Nyx took it. He placed it against his chest, right over the First Shackle.
"Do you feel that?" Nyx asked.
Briar frowned. "Your heartbeat?"
"No," Nyx said. "The silence."
He looked at Lyra and took her hand too.
"Before I met you," Nyx said softly, "there was only noise. Hunger. Chains. The Void screaming to be filled."
He squeezed their hands.
"You say I am strong. Yes. I can lift mountains. I can eat stars. But do you know what happens when a being of pure power has no anchor?"
Nyx looked into the fire with intellect.
"He becomes a monster. He forgets why he is fighting. He eats the world just to stop the pain."
He turned to Briar.
"You are not my shield, Briar. You are my compass. Your fire reminds me that anger can be righteous."
He turned to Lyra.
"And you are not just a calculator. You are my conscience. Your wind reminds me that there is more to the world than just destruction."
Nyx let go of their hands and wrapped his arms around their shoulders, pulling them into him.
"You aren't holding me back," Nyx whispered into the quiet cave. "You are the reason I am moving forward. If I have to fight the Sun-Legion alone... I will just kill them. But if I fight with you... I might actually save someone."
Briar leaned her head on his shoulder, hiding her face. "You're cheesy."
"I am honest," Nyx said.
"We just don't want to lose you," Lyra whispered, her voice small. "When you go to fight those God-Like beings... we want to be standing next to you. Not watching from the ground."
"Then we will take it slow," Nyx promised. He kissed the top of Lyra's head, then Briar's. "We won't rush to the Dragon Spire tomorrow. We will hunt. We will train. We will make sure that when we walk into that place to face everyone... we walk in as equals."
"Promise?" Briar asked, looking up.
"I promise," Nyx said.
They sat there as the fire burned down to embers. The vast, dangerous world of the Sacred Grounds was waiting outside, a world of Dragons,Beastmen,Witches,Vampires and Lastly Humans and the Heart of the Rot.
But inside the cave, there was warmth.
Nyx closed his eyes, feeling the steady breathing of the two women against his sides. He knew they were right, he was growing faster than them. But he also knew he would tear the world apart before he let that gap separate them.
If he had to drag them up to godhood with him, he would.
"Sleep," Nyx murmured. "Tomorrow, we hunt a Drake."
"Showoff," Briar muttered sleepily, snuggling closer.
"Calculator," Lyra whispered back, smiling.
And in the darkness of the canyon, the three fugitives slept, unaware that their legend was already beginning to spread through the camp, the legend of the Iron-Root Mercenaries, and the man who could catch monsters with his bare hands.