The humid air of the Gale-Wind Valley pressed down on Techyon as he gripped his worn leather satchel. Inside, the 7 brown coins rattled—a pathetic reminder of his status. To anyone passing by, he was just a "Standard," a filler character in the story of the Great Eras.
Ahead, a group of five stood near the shimmering blue rift of a C-Rank Dungeon. Their gear was polished, etched with silver runes that hummed with Continental-level mana. These were the Vanguard Seekers, a well-known C-Rank party.
Techyon took a breath, his heart thrumming with a rhythmic, electric pulse that no one else could hear. He stepped forward.
"I heard you're looking for a Speedster," Techyon said, his voice steady despite the mocking glares from the group's heavy-hitter.
The party leader, a tall man with a scarred jaw named Kaelen, turned around. He tapped a glass monocle—a Rank-Scanner—and squinted.
"A Speedster?" Kaelen scoffed, the scanner chirping a dull, flat tone. "The system says you're D-Rank, kid. Barely off the mushroom-picking circuit. This is a C-Rank raid. One mistep in there and the wind-scythes will turn you into a red mist before you can even blink."
"Ranks don't tell the whole story," Techyon replied, his hand twitching. A microscopic Blue Spark danced between his fingertips, invisible to the naked eye. "I'm faster than any C-Rank scout you've hired. Guaranteed."
Kaelen leaned in, his C-Rank aura flaring slightly as a test. The pressure was like a physical weight, meant to make a "Standard" kneel. Techyon didn't flinch. He didn't even sweat.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. He didn't buckle?
"Listen, kid," Kaelen growled, stepping back. "Usually, I'd kick a D-Ranker out of my sight. But our regular scout just got hospitalized by a Flame-Boar, and we're on a schedule. If you've got a special ability—something that makes you more than just a body in a suit—maybe I'll let you tag along for a 5% cut."
Techyon looked at the shimmering rift. 5% was a joke, but it was 500% more than he'd ever made.
"I don't need a cut," Techyon said, his eyes turning a shade of sharp, electric cobalt for a split second. "I just need the Core of the boss. You keep the gold."
The group erupted in laughter. A D-Ranker asking for a C-Rank Core? It was insanity. But Kaelen didn't laugh. He saw something in Techyon's stance—a stillness that reminded him of the legends.
"Fine, 'Speedster,'" Kaelen smirked, unsheathing a heavy broadsword. "Try to keep up. If you die, we aren't carrying your corpse back."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[PARTY JOINED: VANGUARD SEEKERS]
[CURRENT OBJECTIVE: CLEAR GALE-WIND RIFT]
[WARNING: HOSTILE AURA DETECTED...]