Northvale was nothing like Oakhaven.
Nova stood at the city's eastern gate, staring at structures that would have seemed impossible just a week ago. The buildings didn't simply rise—they flowed, organic curves of reinforced concrete and smart-glass that shifted tint as the morning sun crept higher. Holographic advertisements flickered above the streets, promising better cultivation techniques, stronger weapons, longer lives. Mag-lev trams whispered along elevated tracks, carrying workers and students and adventurers to destinations Nova couldn't even imagine.
This was Earth in 2123. This was the world the Great Awakening had built.
He had read about cities like this in school. Had seen vids and holos and virtual tours. But reading was nothing like standing here, feeling the faint thrum of mana-infused technology beneath his feet, watching people who moved with the casual confidence of those who had never known a smaller world.
You used to command armies across planets, a voice whispered—his voice, but not his. You used to walk between stars. This city should impress you about as much as an ant hill impresses a giant.
Nova pushed the thought away. That was his past life talking. That was the man he used to be, the man whose memories surfaced in fragments, the man whose soul shared his body.
That man could afford to be dismissive.
This Nova—the one with blistered feet and fifty gold coins and absolutely no idea how cities actually worked—could not.
He found the merchant quarter by following the crowds. The streets here were wider, lined with warehouses and trading posts and establishments that catered to the caravans that kept the continent's economy moving. Hover-loaders shifted cargo pallets with mechanical precision. Awakened workers with Physical Enhancement superpowers lifted crates that would have crushed ordinary men. A dwarf—Nova's first actual dwarf, short and broad and bristling with tattoos—argued with a human merchant over the price of refined ore in language that would have made Elder Marlow blush.
Nova approached the information kiosk at the quarter's center, a sleek terminal that rose from the pavement like a silver flower. He touched the screen.
NORTHVALE MERCHANT QUARTER INFORMATION SYSTEM
How can I assist you today?
"I need information about caravans heading to the capital," Nova said. "Specifically, one that's hiring guards and leaving within two days."
The terminal processed for a moment. Then a list scrolled across its surface—dozens of entries, each with departure times, destinations, and contact information.
CARAVAN OPTIONS:
Silver Road Trading Co. — Destination: Capital — Departure: Tomorrow, 0800 — Guard Slots: 3 — Requirements: 2nd Order minimum
Eastern Consolidated — Destination: Capital — Departure: Today, 1400 — Guard Slots: 0 — Status: Fully booked
Ferrowood Express — Destination: Capital — Departure: Day after tomorrow, 0600 — Guard Slots: 5 — Requirements: None listed — Note: High-risk route, accepts Awakened of all levels
Nova tapped the last entry. A location appeared on the kiosk's map—Warehouse 47, Ferrowood District.
High-risk route. Accepted all levels.
That meant either the caravan master was desperate, or the route was so dangerous that experienced guards wanted nothing to do with it.
Nova smiled. Desperate employers were easier to convince.
Warehouse 47 was a study in controlled chaos.
Crates of supplies lined the walls—preserved food, medical kits, portable mana chargers for the vehicles that would carry the caravan. A dozen hover-trucks waited in the loading bay, their anti-grav systems humming softly as workers loaded cargo. In the center of it all, shouting orders at anyone who cam within range, stood a woman who could only be the caravan master.
She was tall—taller than Nova by a head—with close-cropped gray hair and a cybernetic left arm that gleamed with exposed circuitry. Her eyes swept the warehouse with the precision of someone who missed nothing, and when they landed on Nova, they narrowed.
"You're lost, kid." Her voice carried across the noise without effort. "Recruiting office is three blocks east."
"I'm here about the guard position."
The woman's eyebrows rose. She crossed the warehouse in long strides, stopping inches from Nova and looking down at him with an expression that mixed amusement and irritation in equal measure.
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"Fourteen," she repeated. "And what order?"
"First. Just Awakened three days ago."
The woman stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed—a sharp, barking sound that drew glances from the nearby workers.
"First order, just Awakened, wants to guard a high-risk caravan through the Ferrowood." She shook her head. "Kid, I don't know who sent you here, but—"
"Teleportation," Nova said.
The laughter stopped.
"Say that again."
"Teleportation. A-rank. I can move myself—and anything I'm touching—up to fifty feet in any direction. With practice, that range will increase. With creativity, it becomes the difference between life and death for anyone traveling with me."
The woman studied him with new eyes. Nova met her gaze steadily, refusing to look away.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Nova. Nova Almond."
"Almond." Something flickered in her expression—recognition, quickly suppressed. "Unusual name."
"It's just a name."
"Sure it is." The woman extended her hand—her biological one, callused and strong. "I'm Vex. Vex Harrington. I run this caravan, which means I decide who lives and dies on the road to the capital. You want a job, you prove you're worth more than the trouble you'll attract."
"How?"
Vex smiled. It was not a comforting expression.
"We've got a problem. Warehouse got infested last night—probably from the dungeon spawn that wandered too close last week. Nothing dangerous, just gremlins, but they've nested in the eastern storage bay and they're not coming out peacefully. Clear them out, and you've got a job."
Nova considered. Gremlins were low-tier demons from the Abyss Planes—lesser creatures, barely intelligent, but dangerous in numbers. A nest might hold a dozen or more.
"How many?"
"Twenty, maybe thirty. We've been trying to smoke them out, but they're smart enough to block the vents." Vex's cybernetic arm whirred as she gestured toward the eastern door. "You clear them, you're hired. You die, I'm out nothing."
"Charming."
"Welcome to the real world, kid. Charming costs extra."
The eastern storage bay was dark.
Nova stood at the entrance, twin daggers in hand, letting his eyes adjust. The Godless System had offered no quest for this—apparently clearing gremlin nests didn't qualify as "growth opportunity"—but he didn't need a quest to know this was his only chance.
Behind him, Vex and a handful of workers watched. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to outright skepticism.
First order, they were thinking. Fresh Awakened. He'll last two minutes.
Nova hoped they were wrong.
He stepped inside.
The smell hit him first—rotten meat, unwashed fur, the distinctive sulfur tang of Abyss creatures. Gremlins weren't true demons, not really, but they came from the same planes and carried the same taint. In the darkness, their eyes glowed faintly red.
Lots of eyes.
Twenty to thirty, Vex had said.
Nova counted at least forty.
They saw him at the same moment. A chittering rose from the darkness, hungry and excited. Small bodies shifted in the shadows, claws scraping against concrete, tails lashing with anticipation.
Nova smiled.
Fifty feet, he thought. I can move fifty feet in any direction. What else can I do with that?
He had been practicing. On the road from Oakhaven, in the moments between exhaustion and determination, he had experimented. Teleportation wasn't just moving himself—it was moving space. Bending it, folding it, making the distance between here and there irrelevant.
He didn't have to go to the gremlins.
He could bring the gremlins to him.
The first one lunged. Nova reached out with his power—not to move himself, but to grab the space around the creature. He pulled.
The gremlin appeared directly in front of him, mid-lunge, its momentum unchanged. His daggers rose to meet it. One stroke, two—the creature crumpled, black blood spraying across the floor.
The others paused. Confusion rippled through the nest.
Nova didn't give them time to recover.
He grabbed space again, and again, and again. Gremlins appeared before him in twos and threes, their own attacks turned against them, their bodies piling at his feet. He moved through the bay like a nightmare—here, then there, then somewhere else entirely, never staying still long enough for them to surround him.
Control, he thought, is knowing where your enemy will be. Manipulation is putting them there.
The last gremlin died with his blade through its throat. Nova pulled the dagger free, wiped it on the creature's fur, and looked around.
Forty-seven bodies.
He was breathing hard. His mana was nearly depleted—teleportation, he had learned, was expensive. But he was alive. Uninjured. And standing in a storage bay that now belonged to Vex Harrington's caravan.
He walked to the door and stepped into the light.
Vex stared at him. The workers stared at him. Even the dwarf from earlier, who had wandered over to watch, stared at him.
"That was," Vex said slowly, "the most efficient piece of slaughter I have ever seen."
Nova shrugged. "Forty-seven. You said twenty to thirty."
"I said we thought twenty to thirty. Gremlin nests are hard to count." She shook her head, a smile spreading across her face. "Kid, you're hired. Full share, same as the experienced guards. Anyone gives you trouble, you tell them Vex said to shut up and watch their backs."
The dwarf let out a low whistle. "First order, just Awakened, and he clears a nest like that? What's your superpower, boy? Demon affinity?"
"Teleportation."
"Teleportation." The dwarf shook his head. "Never seen teleportation used like that. Usually it's just running away."
Nova looked at the bodies in the bay behind him. At the blood on his blades. At the faces of people who had expected him to die and were now recalculating everything they thought they knew.
"I'm not much for running," he said.
Vex laughed again—that same sharp bark, but warmer now. "Come on, kid. Let's get you fed and bunked. Caravan leaves at dawn, and I want you awake enough to teach my other guards a few tricks."
She threw an arm around his shoulders—her cybernetic one, cold metal against his back—and steered him toward the warehouse office.
Nova went willingly.
Behind him, the workers began the unpleasant task of clearing gremlin bodies. Above him, the Godless System remained silent, waiting for something worthy of its attention.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a fragment of his past life stirred with something that might have been approval.
Not bad, the voice whispered. Not bad at all.