The city of Mumbai, home to over thirty million people, was no stranger to chaos—but inside the cold, polished walls of the Warriors Union, order ruled.
Here, ranks weren't just numbers.
They were survival. Status. Power.
And today, Arjun Verma was here for none of those.
He just needed to renew his F-rank license.
---
"Just get in, renew, and get out."
That's what he told himself as he stood in the queue, holding his old license—faded, chipped at the corners, barely readable.
Ahead of him, a bulky warrior laughed with his guildmates about slaying a Thunder Lion in a B-rank dungeon.
Behind him, a skinny guy in robes muttered incantations, trying to memorize spell cooldowns.
Arjun?
He just wore a cheap hoodie, jeans, and a pair of dusty shoes.
The moment the receptionist called, "Next!", he stepped forward.
"Name?"
"Arjun Verma. Here to renew."
The receptionist typed rapidly, then frowned. "You're due for a power reassessment. Room 4B."
Arjun blinked. "I'm just here to renew."
"It's policy now. If you haven't had a scan in six months, reassessment is mandatory."
She waved him off.
---
Room 4B was quiet.
A glowing Assessment Orb sat in the middle, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
A bored technician motioned to him. "Hand on the orb. Don't move."
Arjun obeyed.
His fingers touched the cool crystal.
And then—
THUMP.
A pulse shot out from the orb. Not a flicker—an actual shockwave.
The technician flinched. "What the…?"
The orb turned dark, then deep violet, then glowed a solid sky blue—the mark of a C-rank warrior.
Words materialized in the air.
> [Rank: C]
[Mana Capacity: Moderate-High]
[Combat Potential: Elevated | Growth Detected]
The technician stood up, wide-eyed. "Wait… wait, you're F-rank!"
"I was," Arjun said quietly.
The man ran out without another word.
---
Ten minutes later, Arjun sat in a quiet waiting lounge when the door opened with a click.
A tall man in a black blazer and silver Union badge walked in—Raghav Mehta, Mumbai Branch Manager.
"Arjun Verma?" he said, stepping inside.
"Yes, sir."
"Follow me."
---
Raghav's office was spotless. One wall was lined with mana-infused swords. Another was filled with files and ranking charts.
Raghav leaned against his desk, crossing his arms.
"You've been an F-rank for four years. No guild record. No team-ups. No dungeon clears."
Arjun didn't speak.
"You show up out of nowhere, touch the orb, and jump two ranks?"
Raghav's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Arjun looked him dead in the eye. "I cleared a gate. Alone."
"What gate?"
"It appeared near Dharavi. It wasn't registered. Black mist. Monsters I've never seen before. When I came out… the gate disappeared."
"No core?"
"Gone."
Raghav didn't say anything for a long time.
"…You understand how insane that sounds?"
"I do."
"But you're telling the truth."
"I am."
The manager sighed. "There's no proof. Nothing on record. But that orb doesn't lie."
He tapped the desk. A new license ejected from a mana-printing slot.
> [Warrior License – C Rank – Arjun Verma]
He held it out.
Arjun took it silently.
"But listen carefully," Raghav said. "If you get involved in illegal gates again, or if anything happens tied to that surge—you'll be the first one we investigate."
"I understand."
Raghav's expression softened slightly. "Still… congratulations. Rank jumps like this don't happen often. Especially not from nobodies."
Arjun gave a small smile.
---
Evening – Verma Household
The old apartment wasn't much—cracked tiles, second-hand furniture, and a ceiling fan that groaned more than it spun. But to Arjun Verma, it was the safest place in the world.
He stepped in, gently closing the door behind him.
The smell of warm dal wafted through the air.
"Bhaiiii!"
Ayaan, his eight-year-old whirlwind of a brother, ran straight into him with a full-speed hug.
"Whoa—easy, tiger," Arjun laughed, hoisting him up with one arm.
From the kitchen, a voice called out.
"You're late," said Ananya, poking her head out. Her hair was tied up in a towel, and she wore a cooking apron dusted with flour.
"License renewal took forever," Arjun replied, setting Ayaan down with a soft grunt.
Ananya disappeared back into the kitchen.
But after a moment…
"Wait… what's this smell?"
Her voice sharpened.
Arjun froze.
He turned just as she reappeared, holding up a familiar paper bag—the red-and-white logo of HotCluck Fried Chicken clearly visible.
"…You bought fried chicken?!"
Her expression was pure murder.
"Do you even know how expensive this is?! Are you out of your mind?! We need to pay rent in two days!"
"I know—"
"Do you?! We live off rationed vegetables and you're out here splurging on premium bucket meals?!"
Ayaan slowly backed away like a small animal sensing an incoming storm.
Arjun sighed.
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a small card.
And handed it to her.
"…What's this?" she snapped.
"Check the color."
She paused.
Looked down.
And her breath hitched.
The silver-blue shimmer of a C-rank Warrior License glinted under the kitchen light.
"...No way."
"I got evaluated at the Union today," Arjun said calmly. "One orb test. Jumped straight to C."
Ananya stared at the card like it was a hallucination. Her fingers trembled just a little.
"You… You were F-rank last week."
"I know."
"No guild. No upgrades. No training sponsors."
"I know."
"…And now you're C-rank?" she whispered.
Arjun smiled, tired but proud. "Everything's going to be okay now."
The room fell quiet.
Ananya slowly lowered the bag of chicken.
Her shoulders slumped as the tension melted from her.
"…You still shouldn't have wasted money," she muttered.
"I know," Arjun chuckled. "But come on. Just this once."
She gave him a long glare.
Then finally—finally—rolled her eyes and handed the chicken back.
"Fine. But next time you buy chicken, I better see a B-rank license too."
Ayaan, watching the whole thing like a dramatic soap opera, punched the air. "Victory!"
They sat around the low table, tearing into crispy chicken legs, mashed potatoes, and way-too-sweet cola.
"I told you," Arjun said, ruffling her hair. "Everything's gonna be okay now."
She looked at him.
For the first time in a while, there was no weariness in his eyes. No exhaustion. Just… resolve.
---
Later that night, Arjun stood near the window, looking out at the distant skyline.
The system… the Abyssal Shadow…
He clenched his fist.
I need to grow stronger—faster.
This world wouldn't wait. Monsters, corruption, hidden factions… they were already moving in the shadows.
And he had to be ready.
---
ARM GUILD – Executive Office, 16th Floor
Tara Rajput, Vice-Captain of the ARM Guild and one of the youngest A-rank warriors in the country, sat behind her large obsidian desk. The Mumbai skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, but her sharp eyes were focused on the multiple holo-screens flickering in front of her.
Stacks of digital files hovered mid-air. Approval requests. Mission updates. Rank evaluations.
Most of it was routine. Mundane.
Until one particular notification caught her eye.
> [Weekly Rank Change Bulletin – Mumbai Branch]
She scrolled lazily through the list—dozens of warriors slowly climbing the ranks with expected progress.
Then she stopped.
[F-Rank → C-Rank | Arjun Verma]
Tara blinked.
"…What?"
She tapped the report.
> Name: Arjun Verma
Age: 21
Guild Affiliation: None
Mentor: None
Mission Records: No team-ups, no official gate clears
Orb Scan Results: Surge anomaly detected
Combat Mana Spike: 4.7x baseline
Remarks: Suspicious spike. No flagged behavior. Possibly awakened potential. Further review recommended.
Her eyes narrowed, scanning every detail.
No backing. No affiliations. No buzz around his name. Yet his mana output breaks past what's considered natural for a C-rank?
Tara leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking faintly.
She wasn't easily impressed. As the Vice-Captain of India's top warrior guild, she'd seen her fair share of genius rookies and overhyped prodigies. Most of them couldn't handle real combat. Fakes with connections. Noise without power.
But this?
This was different.
A clean record. A sudden surge. A complete unknown.
And… that look in his profile photo…
She pulled it up—Arjun Verma, dressed simply in a worn-out hoodie, staring directly at the camera. No forced confidence. No cocky smirk. Just a calm, composed look, like he didn't care what the world thought.
Like he was hiding something.
"…Arjun Verma, huh?"
She turned her chair toward the window, Mumbai's bustling city lights glowing far below. Her reflection stared back in the glass—steel in her eyes, fire in her veins.
She had trained with monsters. Stared down beasts that could swallow buildings. Sparred with World Rankers.
And yet, this mysterious rookie with no fame, no support, and a power spike that defied logic… sparked her curiosity.
Not just as a warrior.
But as a woman who had seen too much of the same.
A slow smile played on her lips.
"…Let's see what you're hiding."