The winds of the borderlands howled, carrying the scent of pine sap and the dry, metallic grit of the borderlands.
The Iron Swords cut through the gale like a spear tip. Their cycles hovered a foot off the cracked pavement of an old beaten path. Engines humming in a synchronized, low-frequency thrum that vibrated in their chests.
To their left, the sun began its descent, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and gold.
"You're slowing down, Milo! That butt of yours getting tired?"
Vera's voice boomed over the comms, distorted by static but heavy with amusement. She revved her cycle and pulled ahead of the scout.
"I'm protecting the cargo! Unlike you brutes, I have delicate valuables," Milo shot back. He tapped the bulging leather saddlebag strapped precariously to the back of his seat.
"Valuables?" Olin said from the rear position. He rode slightly behind Regius, his cycle humming smoothly. "Is that what we're calling that bag on your backseat?"
"Hey! It's not gaudy; it's elegant," Milo said. "Sarra's birthday is in three days. And Tavus... the kid's Rite is next week. I promised him I'd be there in the front row. I can't show up empty-handed."
"Formation check," Kael said. "Milo, stop fidgeting with your straps. You're weaving."
"I'm just checking the inventory! I need to make sure your gifts didn't crush my gifts. That gift Vera packed weighs a ton."
"My gift is indestructible, little man," Vera laughed. "It's a custom-weighted training mace. The boy turns fifteen next week; he needs to build muscle, not just read books like Olin."
"Knowledge is power, Vera," Olin chimed in. "The 'Introduction to Mana-Theory' guide I bought him will serve him far longer than a heavy stick. You can't bludgeon a written exam."
"Watch him," Vera snorted.
"He's going to love both," Milo said, his voice softening with genuine emotion. "Seriously. And Kael? You actually found an engraved iron dagger?"
"Had to call in a favor with a smith in the capital," Kael grunted, though he couldn't hide the pride in his voice. "It's balanced for a Rank 1 starter. Better than that rusted junk the War Camp lends out to rookies."
"You guys are the best," Milo sniffed loudly over the comms. "Sarra is going to flip when she sees the squad rolled up with a treasure hoard. And Regius..."
Regius adjusted his grip on the handlebars. He listened to the warmth in their voices, feeling a pang of something painful in his chest. The ache of a man looking through a window at a warm hearth he could never truly enter.
"Thanks for the advance on the pay, Boss. Couldn't have bought the sapphire necklace without it. It's perfect."
"You earned it, Milo," Regius said. His voice cut through the wind with calm, affectionate authority. "Besides, we can't have the Iron Swords' scout looking cheap in front of his wife."
"Just you wait!" Milo whooped, accelerating slightly. "We celebrate Sarra's birthday, we cheer on the Rite, and then drinks are on me for a week!"
"I'm holding you to that, short-stack," Vera warned.
Regius let a rare, unguarded smile touch his lips beneath his visor. This was the life he fought for. Simple, honest loyalty. Men and women who pitched in gifts for each other's loved ones.
"We'll make it," Regius said. "We hit Aurus City by sundown. We sell the Alpha corpse, rest up for two nights, and you'll be home with time to spare."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Aurus City rose from the landscape.
Situated on the edge of the Aethel Domain, the city served as the first line of defense against the lawless wilds. Massive defensive towers lined the perimeter, their mana cannons humming with dormant power. Along the high walls, uniformed guards patrolled in pairs, accompanied by their partners—summons.
"Civilization," Olin sighed, breathing in the smell of roasted meat and bustling activities. "I missed it."
They approached the outer gates. The traffic bottlenecked as merchants and travelers lined up for the entry scanners, which are massive crystalline gates that verified identity and deducted tolls automatically.
Regius felt a familiar, prickly heat crawl up his neck.
He hated the scanners. Every scan felt like a digital interrogation, a recurring reminder that his public existence was a fabrication. The device would read the official lie—Sovereign Grade, Elite-Tier—but the proximity of the crystal to his hidden Mark always made his skin crawl.
He adjusted his glove, ensuring it was tight.
"Iron Swords," Kael announced to the guard, flashing his digital hunter badge.
The guard, a bored-looking man leaning against a massive, dormant stone golem, waved them through.
The scanner swept over them. A beam of blue light washed over Regius's wrist.
Beep.
[IDENTITY CONFIRMED: REGIUS AETHEL.
GRADE: SOVEREIGN.
TIER: ELITE.
CLASS: DIVINE.
STATUS: CLEAR.
1 CREDIT DEDUCTED FROM BALANCE.]
Regius exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders.
Aurus City was an assault on the senses. It was the gateway between the untamed borderlands and the civilized interior of the Aethel Domain. Neon mana-signs flickered above taverns, and the streets were a gridlock of mana vehicles, cargo haulers, and summoned mounts.
It was a world built on the backs of summons. Construction crews used four-armed loader Constructs to lift heavy beams. Couriers rode swift striders above the traffic. Even the crates filled with common essentials were carried by transport summons.
They found lodging at a tavern frequented by Hunters. It was sufficient and they were regulars. The beds were clean, and the ale was cold.
They ordered a feast. Roasted fowl, root vegetables, and a cask of the local dark ale, paid for by the wealthy leader of the Iron Swords, Regius. The squad relaxed, laughing loud enough to shake the tables. Milo showed the serving girl a picture of his son, boasting about the upcoming Rite. Vera arm-wrestled a worker from a mining guild and won, slamming his hand down with a crash that rattled the utensils.
Regius sat at the head of the table, sipping his drink, taking bites of the side dishes. He smiled at their jokes and nodded at their stories, but his eyes never stopped moving.
He scanned the entrance. He watched the reflection in the window. He analyzed the flow of the crowd.
The prickling sensation on the back of his neck returned. Sharp and malicious.
He was being watched.