The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time Fynn finally pried himself away from his desk. His tiny fire elemental perched nervously on his shoulder, sparks flickering as if aware of the chaos it had already caused. Fynn adjusted his jacket, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.
The streets below were alive with light and noise. Neon signs reflected on puddles, drones zipped between buildings, and every few blocks, holographic billboards advertised magical devices, enchanted gear, and VRMMO tournaments. To an outsider, it looked like any other bustling city—but Fynn knew better.
A street duel had erupted a block away. Fireballs collided midair, ice spikes shattered on steel, and a small crowd of spectators recorded every moment on their devices. He winced. And I thought my fireball in the apartment was bad.
Fynn stuck to the shadows, hugging his elemental to his chest. He kept repeating a mantra to himself: Don't get noticed. Don't get noticed. Don't get noticed.
But luck wasn't on his side. A low hum came from a hovering drone—different from the one at his apartment. Its sensors tracked movement. Fynn froze as it hovered closer, a soft digital voice echoing from its speaker:
"Rogue spell detected. Level 8. Confirm identity."
Fynn's stomach churned. He glanced at the elemental. The little flame squeaked nervously, sparks flickering along his arm. He had no choice.
Typing quickly on his VR interface, he attempted a basic distraction spell, something he'd only read about in tutorials: a small flare of fire meant to draw attention away from himself.
The elemental copied the motion, its tiny flames leaping toward the drone. Sparks sizzled against the metal casing, and the drone wobbled before veering off.
Fynn exhaled sharply, relief washing over him. Okay… that actually worked.
As he continued down the street, he noticed other things he hadn't before.
A group of teenagers were levitating small objects with hand gestures and tablet commands.
A delivery robot had a faint protective enchantment overlay glowing around it.
Even ordinary streetlights flickered in patterns, apparently synced to someone's magic-enhanced grid.
The city wasn't just alive. It was aware.
Then he heard shouting ahead. Two players, clearly more skilled than him, were dueling for an audience. Sparks flew, wind whipped, and Fynn could feel the vibrations of raw magical energy even from ten feet away. One of them noticed him—just for a moment—but that was enough.
He ducked behind a dumpster, the elemental puffing nervously. Okay, Fynn, calm. You're level 8. You're still a nobody.
But as the duel ended with one player throwing a controlled firestorm across the street, melting a nearby drone into a puddle of molten metal, Fynn realized something he couldn't ignore.
Even a low-level player in this city had to be ready for anything. Every spell, every flicker of flame, could draw attention. And some attention… could kill.
Fynn hugged the elemental tighter. He was still weak, still inexperienced, but for the first time, he felt something that had been missing for weeks: a spark of determination.
I might be level 8. I might be a nobody. But if I want to survive, I'm going to have to learn… fast.