The wind howled through the jagged stone cliffs of the Shattered Vale, whistling between sharp outcroppings like the cries of lost souls. Chosa moved cautiously, his boots scraping against uneven stone as he hugged the canyon wall. Below him, the earth split into deep chasms, glowing faintly with the pulsing light of mana crystals.
"One misstep and you're a pancake," Luna muttered.
"Thanks for the mental image," Chosa replied, edging along a narrow ledge that cracked beneath his weight.
He'd been on the third floor for hours now. Already, he'd fought through insectoid creatures with armored shells, dealt with stone wolves that moved with eerie silence, and narrowly avoided being skewered by stalactites dislodged by winged beasts above. It was more than a test of strength; it was a trial of endurance and awareness.
Every corner, every slope, every overhang was a potential death trap.
"Energy levels are dropping," Luna said. "You need to rest soon."
"I'll keep going a little longer."
He pushed forward, only to duck behind a boulder as voices echoed from the cliffs ahead. Chosa peered out and saw a team of Raiders—at least six of them, all wearing matching insignias he recognized from the Government Guild database. This was a sanctioned expedition group.
He crouched, watching silently as they coordinated an assault on a trio of wyvern-like creatures perched on a cliff edge. The team was smooth, practiced. One cast an ice trap beneath the creatures' feet, another launched a barrage of flame arrows, while two more closed in from the sides with spears and blades.
"They're synchronized," Chosa whispered. "No wasted movement."
"High-B or low-A ranks, most likely," Luna said. "Efficient."
Chosa's eyes scanned each of them. The way they handled their abilities made him think—there were definitely skills worth copying. But then his mood sobered as he opened his skill interface. Only one slot remained in his bookmarks.
"Gotta make it count..."
Then he saw him.
A man standing at the rear of the group, separate from the others.
He was tall, with long black hair tied loosely behind him, wearing a dark coat that swayed slightly in the canyon wind. At his hip rested a katana, its hilt worn and chipped as if it had seen countless battles.
Chosa narrowed his eyes. There was something—off about him. Not in a dangerous way, but something deeper. He didn't flinch, didn't move, just watched.
One of the Raiders shouted toward him, motioning for help as a fourth wyvern dove into the fray.
The man didn't speak. He just sighed.
And then, he vanished.
Chosa's breath caught in his throat. The man reappeared in the blink of an eye—behind the creatures. For a moment, nothing happened. Then blood burst from each of the wyverns, bodies twitching before collapsing all at once.
The team froze.
"He didn't even draw it fully," one of them whispered.
"Freaking beast," another muttered.
Chosa stared, stunned. This was beyond talent. It was something... else.
"Luna," he said, "can I get that strong?"
There was a pause.
"He's different," she said finally. "I'm unable to scan his full parameters."
"What do you mean 'different'?"
"He's like you," Luna replied. "An anomaly."
Chosa frowned. "Anomaly?"
"In the last few years, some individuals have shown progression outside the Tower's expected algorithm. Some believe the Markers grew complacent, granting these few absurd potential and forgetting to prune them. Others... simply disappeared before they could be flagged."
Chosa kept his eyes on the man, who now sheathed his katana without looking at the others.
Anomaly. Like him.
Maybe he wasn't alone after all.
But that only made the climb more dangerous.
He turned away from the group, the image of that flash-step slash burned into his mind.