The ruins loomed like the carcass of a forgotten kingdom. Shattered pillars lined the broken halls, and faint abyssal energy seeped through cracks in the walls, making the air heavy and suffocating.
Feifan moved at the front, blade in hand, his eyes calm and sharp. Behind him, Mingming walked lightly, daggers ready; Moli kept her bow half drawn, scanning the shadows. Hank and Zhuoluo held their shields firm, forming the wall of defense, while Xiaoqing's fingers shimmered faintly with magic. Ying lingered at the rear, silent as ever, his gaze unreadable.
The silence broke.
From the darkness rushed twisted beasts, small but vicious—creatures warped by the abyss. Their claws scraped stone, their mouths dripping black saliva.
"Front line—block them!" Feifan commanded.
Hank and Zhuoluo raised their shields, absorbing the charge. Mingming darted through the gaps, striking vital points with surgical precision. Moli's arrows pierced corrupted skulls, while Xiaoqing's flames swept across the horde, burning the weakest to ash.
Feifan struck with measured efficiency—no wasted movement, no reckless flourish. In minutes, the creatures were nothing but dissolving husks, leaving fragments of abyssal crystal behind.
But the deeper they went, the heavier the air became.
Then it came.
A monstrous Magtor Spider dropped from the ceiling, its body bloated with venom sacs, its mandibles dripping acid that sizzled as it hit the floor. Webbing sprayed outward, corroding stone and armor alike.
Zhuoluo cursed, barely dodging as the strands burned through his pauldron.
"Stay clear of the webs!" Feifan barked. His eyes traced the spider's movements—its legs armored, but its abdomen swollen and vulnerable.
"The abdomen—aim for it!"
Moli fired, her arrow striking true. The swollen sac burst, spraying acid across the floor. The spider shrieked. Mingming dashed forward, slashing its legs, while Hank forced it back with his shield. Xiaoqing froze its joints with a sudden blast of frost.
Seizing the moment, Feifan leapt in and drove his blade deep into its abdomen. The spider collapsed with a screech, its body dissolving into steam.
The group caught their breath—but the ruins offered no mercy.
From the shadows came a grotesque figure—lean, emaciated, its jaw unhinged into a hideous grin. Its speed blurred the air as it struck, claws raking across Hank's side before anyone could react.
Ghoulfeast.
"Too fast!" Moli shouted, firing an arrow that missed as the creature twisted unnaturally.
Feifan's expression stayed calm, his mind racing. Speed burns stamina. Force it to move… make it chase.
"Don't pursue!" he ordered. "Hold formation—make it come to us!"
The group obeyed, shields braced, weapons ready. The ghoul lunged, over and over, each strike more frantic than the last. Its rhythm slowed, its movements less precise.
"Now!" Feifan surged forward, Xiaoqing enchanting his blade with light. With a precise slash, he carved across its chest. The ghoul shrieked, convulsed, then melted into black smoke.
The team regrouped, binding wounds quickly. But before relief could settle, the ground itself shook.
From below rose a giant.
Its armored hide gleamed black as obsidian, its crimson eyes blazing with abyssal fury. The ruins crumbled under its weight, every roar collapsing stone walls.
Brutalis. The final guardian of the ruin.
Hank charged first, shield raised—but the beast's claw swatted him aside like an insect. Moli's arrows shattered uselessly against its armor. Zhuoluo struck with his spear, but the point barely scratched its hide.
"Fall back!" Feifan ordered, pulling Hank to safety. His mind calculated rapidly—every strike was worthless. The beast's armor was too thick.
Then Xiaoqing's stray fireball grazed the monster's chest. The chitin smoked, cracked slightly. Brutalis roared in pain.
Feifan's eyes narrowed. Not physical. It fears magic.
At that moment, Ying's voice carried softly from the rear, almost like a whisper meant only for Feifan:"Not all armor shields the soul."
Feifan understood.
"Xiaoqing—enchant me!" he ordered.
She hesitated, then thrust her hand forward, wrapping his blade in searing blue light.
Brutalis roared, charging with thunderous steps. Feifan's pulse slowed, his mind crystal clear. As the beast swung its massive claw, he rolled beneath, sprinting forward. He leapt, climbing its armored back, his blade glowing like a shard of the sun.
With one precise strike, he plunged the weapon into the seam between its plates. The enchantment flared, burning through abyssal flesh.
The monster screamed, thrashing wildly—but Feifan held firm. With a final surge, he drove the blade deeper, the light erupting in a brilliant burst.
Brutalis collapsed, its body shattering stone as it fell. The ruins fell silent once more.
Feifan pulled his blade free, breathing steady despite the battle's toll. His companions stared—not just relieved, but awed.
For the first time, they did not see him as the quiet outsider. He was their strength, their anchor, the one who turned defeat into victory.
And though Feifan said nothing, his gaze lingered on Ying, whose faint smile seemed to hide truths yet to come.
Feifan had long been aware of the human settlement. He had seen its walls rising in the distance, heard the faint clamor of life beyond, and even passed close enough to glimpse guards patrolling its gates. But in those moments, his cautious nature held him back. Survival came first, and without strength or allies, venturing into such an unknown place would have been reckless.
Now, walking side by side with his companions, Feifan finally stepped through the gates. The world that unfolded before him was far richer than he had imagined.
The settlement was alive with color and sound. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly at their forges, the clang of metal ringing like a heartbeat. Alchemists displayed potions that shimmered with unearthly hues, their shops filled with the fragrance of herbs and smoke of boiling concoctions. Merchants called out their wares: monster parts, enchanted trinkets, maps of hidden lands. Children laughed as they darted between the legs of armored adventurers, and banners fluttered above guild halls and inns.
Feifan's eyes, though calm, lingered on the scene. He was not one to marvel easily, but he could not deny the settlement's vitality. It was more than a safe haven; it was proof that humanity had carved order and hope out of the chaos of Sangluo.
At the center of it all stood the Adventurer's Guild, a towering structure that drew Feifan's attention. Here, strength was measured, acknowledged, and given purpose. He quickly learned that the guild alone had the authority to evaluate adventurer ranks, and that no matter how strong one appeared, recognition came only through their trials.
The ranking system was clear:
Rank One – Human: Proving one's ability to survive.
Rank Two – Elite: Defeating threats beyond the ordinary.
Rank Three – Top-Class: Renowned across the lands.
Rank Four – Super: Rare and influential, able to change the course of wars.
Rank Five – God: A rank hidden even within the guild's records, requiring permissions to speak of. It was not something tests could measure—achieving it meant surpassing the boundaries of common existence itself.
As Feifan absorbed this knowledge, his companions marveled at the settlement's energy. Hank was loud with excitement, Zhuoluo calm but clearly impressed, Mingming and Moli darting between shops in curiosity, Xiaoqing smiling warmly at the liveliness around her, and Ying, as always, silent in observation.
For Feifan, this moment was different. Alone, he had seen only walls and shadows. But now, with his companions, he saw the true beauty and uniqueness of the human gathering place. This was not merely survival anymore—this was the beginning of a new journey, one that demanded not only his strength but also trust in those beside him.
When Feifan stepped into the Adventurer's Guild with Hank, Zhuoluo, Mingming, Moli, Xiaoqing, and Ying, he assumed they were already recognized as a team. After all, they had fought side by side in the ruins, survived against monstrous threats, and even shared food and laughter afterward. To Feifan, those bonds were proof enough.
But when their names were recorded at the guild desk, the clerk looked up and shook his head.
"You are not yet a registered party," the man explained with faint amusement. "What you have now is nothing more than a temporary grouping—seven individuals working together out of necessity. To become a true party, you must first complete a trial under the guild's authority."
Feifan blinked, the words striking harder than expected. His calm expression did not falter, but inside, a rare ripple stirred. He had never asked—never thought to ask—about the formality of adventuring parties. To him, survival and cooperation had seemed proof enough. Yet here, in the guild, such proof carried no weight without recognition.
For a brief moment, Feifan felt… unsettled. Then, as always, his mind adjusted, analyzing swiftly. So this is the system. Our fight in the ruins was our choice. Now comes the test of acknowledgment.
The clerk handed over a parchment, sealed with the guild's crest. "Your trial has been assigned. Clear it, and you will be recognized as an official adventuring party."
Feifan unrolled the parchment. The task: eliminate a nest of lesser abyss-born creatures that had begun preying on travelers. On the surface, simple. Yet the wording caught his eye: a nest. That meant coordination, hidden numbers, and the possibility of a stronger foe lurking beneath.
Hank leaned over his shoulder and laughed. "Finally, something official! Can't wait to show them what we've got."
Zhuoluo crossed his arms. "Don't underestimate a nest. They're pests, but pests in numbers can kill."
Mingming's eyes sparkled with eagerness, while Moli tilted her head, already calculating supplies. Xiaoqing's gentle smile carried a quiet worry for the dangers ahead. Ying, as always, said nothing—his gaze unreadable, as if he already knew something more.
Feifan folded the parchment carefully. His calm voice cut through the chatter.
"This will not be like the ruins. There, we fought because survival demanded it. Here, we fight to prove we can be more than wanderers. Stay sharp. A nest is never as simple as it looks."
As they left the guild hall together, Feifan could feel the difference already. Before, they had been a group bound by chance. Now, the trial ahead would decide if they could become something greater—a true party, forged under the eyes of the guild.
And for Feifan, this was the first step into a world far wider, and far more dangerous, than he had ever imagined.