The air in the Gate Zone always felt different. It hummed with a deep, strong sound that vibrated not just in Killian's ears but through his very bones. It was the sound of power, of something huge and old at work. For a hundred years, this hum had been Earth's constant companion, a reminder of the day everything changed forever. Killian took a slow, careful breath, the familiar smell of ozone and something faintly metallic filling his lungs. He was here again.
Before him, the Planar Gate pulsed with a steady beat. It wasn't just a hole in the air; it was a living swirl of pure energy. Swirling masses of deep purple, bright blue, and vibrant green colors moved inside it, like a small galaxy caught in an endless, silent storm. Staring into it was like looking into a mix of strange lights, pulling at his gaze, threatening to swallow his thoughts whole. The light from the Gate cast strange, shifting shadows across the ground, making the world around it feel both real and unreal at the same time.
Around this spinning light were the machines, smooth and dark, their surfaces shining under the zone's artificial lights. They were huge, tricky machines, all sharp angles and glowing lines, looking like something from a future movie. These were the Alliance's pride, the advanced cyberpunk-style machines that kept the Gates stable, stopping the raw energy from tearing things apart. Alliance workers, dressed in their practical, grey uniforms, moved quietly around the machinery, their faces serious as they watched glowing screens and adjusted complex dials. They guarded this new world, watching over humanity's future.
Where did these Gates really come from? Killian wondered. The question always popped into his head. He'd spent countless hours in dusty libraries, reading old books and new studies. The ideas were everywhere, each one crazier than the last. Some smart people believed they were a natural event, a part of Earth's own growth, a way to a higher state. Others, more daring, spoke of alien builders, old beings who had put these gates across the stars, waiting for people to reach a certain level of growth. Then there were the magic theories, whispers of forgotten gods and ancient spells, of a god's hand guiding humanity's "rise." And of course, the ones who saw it all as just a big, uncaring test by some unknown, powerful thing.
The voice that spoke a century ago, the genderless voice everyone heard, turning their AI Chip Implants into the personal Systems they used now – that was the biggest mystery of all. His own System, a faint, glowing screen only he could see, was a constant reminder of that moment. He could call it up with a thought, check his low stats.
Killian Storm
Tiitle: None
Rank: Bronze 1
Strength: 1
Agility: 1
Intelligence: 2
Durability: 1
Vitality: 3
Speed: 1
Skills: None
It was a constant reminder of how weak he felt. It was all so grand, so huge, so much that no one could fully grasp it. And here he was, Killian, about to step into one of these wonders, hoping to get just one more Vitality point by hunting creatures barely bigger than his thumb. He felt incredibly small, a tiny speck next to such huge, world-changing power.
"Killian! You going in, son?"
A rough but kind voice snapped him out of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. It was old Man Jenkins, one of the Alliance workers who had been here for decades. His face was filled with wrinkles from years of watching Rankers, but his eyes were always warm. He was like a grandfather figure to many of the younger Rankers, always ready with advice or a kind word.
Killian blinked, a faint blush rising to his pale cheeks. He hated getting caught daydreaming, "Yes, Mr. Jenkins. Just about to."
"Good, good," the old man nodded, adjusting the brim of his Alliance cap. "You take care in there, alright? Don't push yourself too hard. Know your limits, and don't get greedy. It's easy to lose track of time, or worse, yourself, in there." He paused, his gaze softening. "And if things feel too dangerous, you turn right back around, understand?"
A warm feeling spread through Killian at the old man's concern. He gave a small, polite bow. "I will, sir. Thank you. Just hunting some worms to get my Vitality up. Nothing too dangerous."
A few chuckles spread from a small group of higher-level Bronze Rankers nearby who had overheard. They were hanging out near a supply crate, their gear looking well-used and expensive.
"Still on worms, Killian?" one of them called out, a big man with a friendly smile and a scar on his face. His name was Borin, a Bronze 7 Ranker known for his loud laugh. "Thought you'd be fighting slimes by now! You're gonna run out of worms in this Gate soon!"
Another, a thin woman with sharp eyes named Lyra, added, "Careful, or a worm might actually beat you! Heard you nearly got slimed by a baby earthworm last week, Killian!" Her tone was light, but the words still stung him, like always.
Killian's face burned even hotter, a deep red blush spreading from his neck all the way to his ears. He knew they didn't mean any real harm; it was just how they joked, mixed with the plain truth of his situation. But it still stung, a dull ache in his chest. He was the "weakest Ranker" in their area, a fact everyone knew, a label he just couldn't shake off. He coughed, a small, dry hack that seemed to highlight how weak he really was.
Mr. Jenkins noticed his discomfort and patted his shoulder gently, his touch surprisingly firm. "Don't mind them, son. They're just messing with you. Everyone starts somewhere. You just focus on your own path, your own progress. Slow and steady wins the race, especially in these Gates."
At that moment, a few new and eager Rankers approached the group, their eyes wide with a mix of excitement and a little fear. They looked like they were on their first few runs. "What's going on?" one asked, looking confused by the laughter.
"Oh, that's just Killian," Borin explained, leaning back against the supply crate, a wide smile on his face. "Good kid, but he's been stuck at Bronze 1 forever. He only hunts the weakest monsters, like worms, in the newbie part of the Gate, just to slowly raise his stats. He's trying, bless his heart, but he's probably the slowest Ranker around here."
Lyra added with a sigh, "He's been coming to this same Gate for months, hunting the same low-level creatures. Most of us moved on to harder parts in weeks. He's got a real talent for finding the absolute weakest monsters."
Killian just lowered his head, wishing he could just disappear, trying to ignore the whispers and the pitying glances from the new Rankers. He could hear them whispering, their faces changing from curious to a mix of sympathy and writing him off. He knew his story was common knowledge, almost a local legend of someone who just couldn't get ahead. He was the poster child for "don't be like this guy."
He took another deep breath, the ozone smell a little sharper now. He straightened his thin shoulders, a flicker of stubbornness in his eyes. He might be weak and he might be the target of their jokes, but he was here. And he was going in. He walked towards the shimmering entrance of the Gate, the swirling energy pulling him forward.