The Skyrail arrived at the southern district terminal with a soft hiss of equalizing pressure.
Vaelor and Kaelith disembarked separately, maintaining their mutual distance as they descended the platform stairs. A ten-minute walk through increasingly rural terrain brought them to what had once been an ordinary suburban town.
Now it was anything but ordinary.
The streets teemed with warriors of every description—some carrying spears taller than themselves, others with massive greatswords strapped across their backs, still more with firearms both conventional and exotic. Cold weapons and hot weapons. Men and women. Young fighters barely out of their teens and grizzled veterans with scars mapping decades of survival.
This was Hunter's Haven—the Abyssal Rift town located in Thornhaven City's southern sector.
Two stable spatial tears existed here: one Tier 1 Abyssal Rift and one Tier 2 Abyssal Rift, both heavily monitored by military garrison forces.
But beyond the army personnel, hundreds of independent professional warriors made this place their base of operations. They relied on no guilds, no major organizations—just their own skills and luck, venturing into the Rifts to hunt Abyssal Spawn and earn merit points for survival.
Such people were called Hunters.
And this place earned its nickname honestly: Hunter's Haven.
"So this is the famous Hunter's Haven," Vaelor murmured, his golden eyes taking in every detail with interest.
Both sides of the town's main street were lined with warrior-oriented businesses. Hotels advertising reinforced rooms that could withstand combat training. Taverns where fighters gathered to share intelligence and forge temporary alliances. Weapon shops displaying everything from basic alloy blades to exotic firearms. Pharmacies stocked with vitality restoration potions and antidotes. Material shops buying and selling Abyssal Spawn components. Clinics staffed by Medic-class professionals offering healing services.
Street vendors had set up impromptu stalls between the established shops, creating a chaotic marketplace atmosphere.
"Newly acquired rare-tier equipment! Come take a look!"
"Buying Venomspine Serpent poison sacs! Three merit points each!"
"Selling ten Razorboar tusks at discount prices! Quality materials!"
"Looking for party members for Tier 1 Rift dive! LV3 Guardian, fair split!"
"Need a healer! Paying premium rates!"
The cacophony of commercial negotiation filled the air, mixing with the smell of cooking meat from food stalls and the sharper tang of alchemical preparations from the pharmacy district.
"It's like a starter town from an old MMO game," Vaelor observed, genuine fascination coloring his tone.
He'd read about Hunter's Haven extensively online, studied its layout and common practices. But actually experiencing it—the energy, the danger, the raw mercantile desperation—was something else entirely.
Through his consciousness link, his main body absorbed every detail, filing away observations for future reference.
Kaelith, walking several meters ahead, glanced back with undisguised contempt. "You really are unsophisticated, aren't you?"
"What's so surprising about a Hunter town of this size?"
Her ice-blue eyes glinted with knowledge no teenager should possess. "If you want to see something truly impressive, visit Kane's Edge in the Worldcorner Territory. It's backed by an S-Rank Abyssal Rift. Tens of thousands of Hunters from across the globe gather there. Legendary-tier equipment gets traded openly. Tier 8 Warriors drink in the taverns. That place is genuinely shocking."
Vaelor's eyes narrowed with interest. "You seem remarkably well-informed. Have you been there?"
Kaelith's expression flickered for just an instant. "I... saw it online. Videos and forums."
Two high school students standing uncertainly on the edge of Hunter's Haven drew attention—particularly from the less savory elements.
"Hey, you two kids," a drunk warrior slurred from his position slumped under a tavern awning. His bloodshot eyes struggled to focus. "You lost or somethin'?"
He took a swig from his bottle. "This ain't... hiccup... ain't a place for children. Go back to your... your academies before somethin' bad happens..."
Kaelith ignored him completely, her attention drawn to a roadside stall operated by a one-armed, one-eyed elderly man. Despite his obvious injuries—testimony to a long and brutal career—he grinned at her approach.
"Young miss! Take a look, take a look! Everything here is quality merchandise!"
Kaelith's gaze swept across his wares: broken weapons in various states of disrepair, Abyssal Spawn bones and teeth, mineral crystals of questionable purity, and assorted monster components of dubious value.
Nothing useful. All junk or overpriced.
She lost interest immediately and turned away—only to find Vaelor crouched at the neighboring stall, examining a long combat knife with apparent seriousness.
"How much for this?" Vaelor asked the middle-aged stall owner.
"E-Grade alloy blade. Fifteen merit points." The man's tone suggested he wouldn't negotiate and didn't particularly care whether a sale happened or not.
Through the consciousness link, Vaelor's main body ran quick calculations. Merit points are valued at 10,000 currency points each in the exchange market. So this broken blade is effectively 150,000 points.
Overpriced for its quality, but not outrageously so given the captive market dynamics here.
Vaelor set the weapon down without further comment.
Seeing this, Kaelith's expression turned mocking. "Hmph. At least you're not completely stupid."
Vaelor looked at her questioningly. "Meaning?"
Kaelith thrust her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, adopting a lecturing tone. "Weapons like that can be purchased from certified forgers in the city for 100,000 points or less. He's trying to exploit your obvious inexperience."
"The people here aren't as simple as you seem to think. They're survivors who've spent years in the Rifts. Many are desperate. Some are outright predatory."
Her ice-blue eyes fixed on him with unusual intensity. "You came here alone without proper research or preparation. You're going to get exploited or worse. I'm advising you seriously—go back to the city."
Before Vaelor could respond, his attention was drawn to a proper weapon shop several stalls down. He walked over, drawn by a display of spears that showed considerably better craftsmanship than the street vendor wares.
The shop manager—a competent-looking woman in her thirties with the bearing of a former active Hunter—smiled warmly as he approached.
"First time in Hunter's Haven, young man?"
"That obvious?"
"The way you're examining merchandise tells me plenty." Her smile was genuine rather than predatory. "Let me share some wisdom. See how most Hunters here use cold weapons rather than firearms?"
Vaelor nodded, having noticed the prevalence of blades, spears, and bludgeoning weapons.
"There's good reason for that," she continued. "Abyssal Spawn have incredibly dense bone structures and highly resistant membrane defenses. Standard bullets bounce off harmlessly. You need armor-piercing or elemental rounds to penetrate—and those cost merit points per shot. The ammunition expenses add up fast."
She gestured to her display. "Cold weapons are more economical for sustained Rift diving. This alloy spear, for example—hybrid construction using processed spawn bones and modern metallic alloys. It's technically a damaged prototype, but it's still extremely durable and maintains a sharp edge. Currently priced at ten merit points."
"We accept both merit point transfers and standard currency. Whether you're buying for personal use or as a gift, it's excellent value—"
"I appreciate the explanation," Vaelor interrupted politely, "but I won't be purchasing a weapon today."
The shop manager blinked with surprise. "Oh? May I ask why? Going into a Rift unarmed is—"
"My combat style doesn't require conventional weapons currently." Vaelor smiled slightly. "Perhaps after I've evaluated my performance in actual Rift conditions, I'll reconsider."
The woman studied him for a long moment, her experienced eye noting details others might miss—the way he carried himself, the controlled power in his movements, the absolute confidence that suggested genuine capability rather than naive bravado.
"I see," she said slowly. "Well, the offer stands whenever you're ready. And a word of advice—if you're confident enough to enter unarmed, you're either exceptionally skilled or dangerously foolish. I'm hoping for the former."
"As am I," Vaelor agreed with dry humor.
He left the shop, noting Kaelith's expression of mingled disgust and exasperation.
"You're not even bringing a weapon?" Her tone suggested she'd reached her limit of tolerance for his apparent idiocy. "That's suicidally stupid. Even if you have high combat power, Abyssal Spawn are nothing like training dummies!"
"I'll manage," Vaelor said simply.
My fists are currently harder than most E-Grade weapons. My combat power exceeds 1.3 million. I could probably punch through a city block. Why would I waste money on inferior equipment?
Through the consciousness link, his main body agreed completely. Besides, I'm only here for initial reconnaissance. The Crimson Rose Guild will organize a proper high-tier Rift expedition soon. This Tier 1 environment is just... what's the expression? Mosquito meat is still meat. Any experience is better than none.
Kaelith made a sound of profound frustration and turned sharply, her long black hair whipping dramatically as she strode toward the Tier 1 Abyssal Rift entrance with obvious determination to distance herself from this apparent fool.
Vaelor followed at a leisurely pace, taking in the town's atmosphere and dynamics with analytical interest.
Tier 1 Abyssal Rift - Entrance Plaza
The military checkpoint came into view—a fortified position where army personnel monitored all Rift access. Beyond their station, an enormous spatial tear dominated the plaza, easily twenty meters tall and half as wide. Blue-white energy crackled along its edges, and through the semi-transparent barrier, hints of an alien landscape could be glimpsed.
Warriors gathered in small groups near the entrance, forming temporary parties or exchanging intelligence about recent Rift conditions. Vaelor noted their equipment quality and bearing—these were experienced Hunters, not academy students playing pretend.
A patrol soldier stopped Kaelith as she approached. "Danger zone ahead. Non-warriors prohibited from entry."
Without a word, Kaelith produced her Warrior Badge.
The soldier's eyes went wide. He took the badge, examined it thoroughly with professional skepticism, then looked at the teenage girl before him with completely revised assessment.
"You're... you're actually a certified warrior?"
"Obviously." Kaelith's tone could have frozen fire.
"My apologies." The soldier's demeanor shifted to respectful acknowledgment. "However, I still can't authorize your entry alone."
Kaelith's perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together in a frown. "What?"
"Tier 1 Warriors entering Abyssal Rifts for the first time require party accompaniment—minimum two persons, maximum five. Military regulation for safety purposes."
Damn it, Kaelith thought with intense frustration. I forgot about that stupid rule ....
She turned, scanning the plaza for potential temporary party members she could tolerate for a single dive—
And spotted Vaelor approaching the checkpoint.
Her eyes lit up with sudden calculation. She pointed at him decisively. "He's with me. We're a party."
The soldier looked at Vaelor with obvious skepticism. "He's also a certified warrior?"
"Yes."
The soldier's expression suggested his worldview was undergoing significant revision. "Are young people outside really this powerful now...?"
Registration Processing
After verification procedures and issuing both teenagers their record cards—devices that automatically tracked Abyssal Spawn kills and converted them to merit point earnings—the soldier gestured toward the Rift entrance.
"You're cleared for entry. Exercise extreme caution. Emergency extraction signals will summon support, but response time averages fifteen minutes. Don't rely on rescue—survive on your own capabilities."
Vaelor and Kaelith walked toward the spatial tear under the watchful—and highly skeptical—eyes of multiple garrison soldiers.
"Why should I have to party with you?" Vaelor asked with mild annoyance.
Kaelith's face was thunderous. "Shut up. I don't want to party with you either. Blame the bureaucratic regulations."
"Fine. We enter together, but don't slow me down."
"I should be saying that to you," Kaelith shot back coldly.
Behind them, several soldiers shook their heads with knowing expressions.
"Another pair of naive kids who think becoming warriors means they're ready for the Abyss," one muttered.
"Rich children who used genetic medicines to artificially inflate their vitality," another agreed. "We've seen this pattern before. They last maybe an hour before scrambling back out in panic."
"An hour? I'm betting thirty minutes maximum."
"Ten minutes," a third soldier predicted. "Probably scream and activate emergency extraction the moment they see their first spawn."
Laughter rippled through the checkpoint garrison.
None of them noticed the absolute confidence in Vaelor's bearing or the cold determination in Kaelith's eyes—the body language of individuals who knew exactly what they were walking into.
The spatial tear loomed before them, crackling with alien energy.
Vaelor and Kaelith exchanged one final glance—mutual acknowledgment between two exceptional prodigies, each carrying secrets that would reshape the world.
Then, together, they stepped through the barrier between dimensions.
The Abyssal Rift swallowed them whole.
And behind them, in the normal world, soldiers started a betting pool on how quickly the "naive kids" would come running back.
They were going to lose a lot of money.