The ground steamed with blood.
Ezra stood in the wreckage of the border wall, the mangled corpses of Reavers strewn around him. His chest rose and fell in ragged heaves, bones clicking with each breath as his summons returned to his side.
Ash was splattered with black ichor, its plated limbs twitching with residual aggression. Skulk limped slightly, one eye dimmer than the other, but still functional.
And Ezra…He felt alive.
[You have cleared a Tier-D Breach]
Contribution Score: High
Reputation Increased: +45
Stat Points Gained: +2
Guilds Notified: Yes
Achievement Unlocked: "Underdog's Bite" – Deliver the killing blow to 5 enemies of a higher tier within one breach event.
The notification faded from his sight, but its implications lingered.
People had seen him. Noticed.
He wasn't just a background rat anymore.
And that would come with consequences.
"Ezra Vale?"The voice was clipped, formal.
Ezra turned to see a woman in matte-gray armor standing at the edge of the ruined street. Her features were sharp, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, and a long silver blade hung at her side like a shadow waiting to move.
Behind her stood four more — all wearing the same armor bearing the insignia of a double-winged emblem.
A guild.
He narrowed his eyes. "Who's asking?"
"I'm Captain Lira Cain of Obsidian Wake. Your actions in today's breach drew attention. Our observers logged your tactics, coordination, and necromantic signature. Unlicensed. Unregistered."
Ezra's jaw tightened. "Didn't realize saving lives was a crime."
Lira didn't flinch. "It's not. But power without a banner is a threat in Sector law."
"Let me guess," he said, dusting off his coat, "this is the part where you offer me one?"
One of her men chuckled. Lira ignored it.
"We're extending a trial invitation," she said, "not a guarantee. Obsidian Wake is one of the Five Mid-Tier Guilds operating in the Lower Sectors. You'll earn resources, training, and—"
"No."
The word left his lips before he even considered it.
Lira's brow lifted. "Excuse me?"
"I'm not ready to serve anyone else's purpose. Not yet." Ezra stepped forward. "I'll grow on my terms."
Behind her, one of the subordinates stepped forward. "You're nothing but a rogue F-rank who got lucky. Don't let that go to your—"
Before he could finish, Ash was between them. One step. One growl. One skeletal hand on its hilt.
Lira raised her arm. "Stand down, Kai."
The subordinate did — reluctantly.
Lira studied Ezra for a long moment, eyes unreadable. Then she pulled a small card from her coat and tossed it toward him.
"Things will change now that you've been noticed. You'll need allies — or you'll be crushed under someone else's boot. When that happens, remember this moment."
She turned, cape whipping in the wind.
They vanished into the wreckage.
Sector 7 – Underlevel, Two Days Later
Ezra leaned against the wall of Riven's hideout, arms crossed.
"They want to recruit me. Obsidian Wake."
Riven sat at a small workbench, dismantling a mana-infused gauntlet. Sparks jumped as she pried a gear from the mechanism.
"And you said no."
He gave a slow nod.
She didn't even glance up. "Smart."
"Really?"
"You're not ready for guild politics. Not yet. They'll chain you with contracts, toss you at suicide missions, and then blacklist you the second you fail." She shoved the gauntlet away. "You're still building. Still becoming."
Ezra sank into the shadows of the room. "What would you do if you were me?"
"I'd learn fast. Get control over your affinities. Upgrade your summons. Maybe find a class trainer who doesn't hate necromancers." She finally looked at him. "And I'd lay low for a while. Fame in the Lower Sectors is a double-edged blade."
Ezra tapped his fingers against the bone shard in his coat. "Then where do I start?"
She slid a data pad toward him. "The Slaughterhold."
The Slaughterhold – Sector 5 Border
It wasn't a place. It was a zone.An underground arena built into the hollowed-out guts of a bombed metro station.No rules. No safe zones. No mercy.
And it was perfect.
Ezra stood in a metal elevator descending toward the depths. The cage rattled as neon lights flickered across names scrawled in blood, charcoal, and chalk — the fallen and the forgotten.
Welcome to the Slaughterhold.
Participation Waiver Active.
Tier: Open Match (F – E)
Spectators: 1,238
Betting Pool Active.
Opponent Found: "Brakka the Jaw" – Tier E (Strength User)
He rolled his neck. "Strength type, huh?"
He cracked his knuckles.
So was he.
Arena Floor
The crowd roared as Ezra stepped onto the battlefield — a crude circle of reinforced stone and sigil-runed fences. At the far end, his opponent emerged.
Brakka was huge. Seven feet of mutated muscle and scars. His face was covered by a bronze jawplate that gleamed with runes. He carried a blunt warhammer almost the size of Ezra.
The announcer's voice boomed over the speaker system.
"In this corner! We've got a first-timer — new blood, fresh from the Grave Sector! He calls himself the Hollowborn!"
"And in this corner! He's broken bones, ripped jaws, and buried dreams — give it up for Brakka the Jaw!"
Cheers erupted. Bets updated in real-time. Ezra was a 10:1 underdog.
Perfect.
The match bell rang.
Brakka didn't wait.
He charged, hammer raised like a meteor about to fall. Ezra moved fast, rolling to the side, the hammer slamming into the ground with a sound like thunder.
Ezra summoned Skulk mid-roll — the skeletal panther leapt forward, latching onto Brakka's arm with a snap of bone and teeth.
"ASH!" Ezra roared.
The Revenant dropped from the ceiling where it had clung like a spider, driving a lance of sharpened bone downward.
Brakka roared in fury, spinning violently. The hammer caught Skulk mid-spin, sending the creature flying into the fence with a crack.
Ezra surged forward.
Fists wrapped in bone — he struck low, hammering Brakka's thigh with enhanced force.
[Necromancer Passive: Corpse Weight]
Your strikes carry additional force based on the proximity of undead summons. +15% physical impact.
Brakka stumbled — only for Ash to slam into his back with bone claws outstretched.
Brakka roared, spinning, grabbing Ash by the throat and slamming him into the ground repeatedly.
Ezra pushed forward, slipping under the giant's guard and driving his elbow into Brakka's exposed ribs. He reached out—
[Bone Coil Activated]15 Mana Consumed.
The vertebrae of a fallen Reaver beneath the arena flared to life, launching upward in a twisting spiral that wrappedaround Brakka's legs.
Ezra didn't waste the moment.
He leapt — twisting in midair — and brought both fists crashing down on Brakka's head.
Critical Hit!
The giant swayed. Staggered.
Ash rose again, eyes glowing.
Together, they ended it.
Brakka collapsed.
The arena went silent for a heartbeat.
Then —Roars. Screams. Cheers.
[You have defeated a Tier E opponent.]
Reputation Increased: +20
Stat Points Gained: +2
Perk Unlocked: Gravewalker (I)
You now gain passive HP regeneration near fallen corpses.
Ezra stood in the middle of the chaos, bloodied, breathless, but victorious.
And for once, the cheers were for him.
Backroom – Slaughterhold
Riven leaned against a rusted door as Ezra wiped blood from his face.
"You broke his jaw."
Ezra spat a bit of blood. "He hit like a truck."
"You took him down like a tactician. You're learning."
Ezra didn't smile.
Instead, he asked quietly, "Is this it? Is this what strength feels like?"
Riven's face softened. "No. This is what earning it feels like."
She tossed him a pouch. "Cut of the winnings. Also — someone left a message."
Ezra opened the small folded note inside.
There were only four words.
"The Dead Remember You."
No signature. No symbol.
But something about it sent a chill down his spine.