The journey from the ruins to the western borders was a blur of dust and starlight. For the first time in his life, Techyon wasn't running for survival—he was traveling with a legend.
Cinder was a strange mentor. One moment he was a terrifying S-Rank warrior, forcing Techyon to spark his AUTO COUNTER until his muscles screamed. The next, he was just a man sharing a tent, arguing over who got the last piece of dried meat or laughing at Techyon's stiff combat stance.
"We're resting here," Cinder announced, pointing his charred staff toward a horizon dominated by massive, rotating stone structures. "We've run through our rations faster than a D-Rank runs from a Monarch. We don't have enough food to reach Hydro City yet."
Techyon looked up, his eyes widening. Before them stood a gate so massive it seemed to pierce the clouds.
"What is this place?" Techyon asked, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade.
"Windland," Cinder replied, his voice dropping an octave. "The city where the air itself is a weapon. Keep your head down, kid. The people here have... egos as big as their walls."
As they approached the giant stone threshold, two armored Gatekeepers stepped forward, their spears crossing with a metallic clack.
"Halt. State your business and show your ID," the Lead Guard barked.
Cinder didn't say a word. He reached into his cloak and flicked a gold-trimmed obsidian card onto the table. The moment the guards saw the [S-RANK: VANGUARD] seal, the atmosphere changed instantly.
The spears vanished. The guards snapped to attention, bending their bodies in a perfect 90-degree bow, their foreheads nearly touching the dirt.
"Forgive us, Sir!" the guard stammered, his voice trembling. "We did not recognize a High-Vanguard of your stature. Please, enter Windland! Our city is yours!"
Techyon watched in silence as the gates groaned open. This is the power of a Rank, he thought. One day, they won't bow because of a card. They'll bow because of me.
After securing a temporary apartment, Cinder tossed a small pouch of coins to Techyon. "I need to handle some paperwork with the local Guild. Go to the market and buy enough bread for a week. Don't get into trouble."
Techyon nodded, heading back toward their quarters with a bag of fresh bread in hand. The city was beautiful, the wind whistling through the alleys like a song—until the air suddenly sharpened.
SWISH!
A blur of green energy sliced through the air, aimed directly at Techyon's neck. Without thinking, Techyon tilted his head by a fraction of an inch. The projectile—a hardened gust of wind—shattered against the stone wall behind him.
Techyon turned, his eyes narrowing.
A kid stood on a nearby rooftop, his hair whipping in the gale. He looked no older than Techyon, but his aura was erratic and wild.
"So, you can actually dodge a Wind-Blade," the kid smirked, leaping down to the street with impossible grace. "Not bad for a traveler. I am Kin, son of the Arcon of Wind. And I don't like the way you walk in my city."
Kin stepped forward, a swirl of green leaves rotating around his ankles. "I challenge you to a race to the Inner Sanctum. If you win, you keep your bread. If I win... you admit that 'Hope' is nothing compared to the 'Storm'."
The cobblestones of Windland blurred beneath Techyon's boots. He wasn't even using the White-Bolt—just the raw, conditioned speed Cinder had beaten into him during their trek.
Behind him, a cyclone of green mana desperately tried to close the gap.
"Wait... stop... for a second!" Kin skidded to a halt, his lungs burning, his face flushed bright red. He leaned against a stone pillar, gasping for air as if the very wind he commanded had abandoned him. "You... you're fast. But don't think... you're faster than a Storm."
Techyon stopped, his breathing perfectly calm. He looked at the bread in his bag, then back at the exhausted heir. "Do you need water? You look like you're about to collapse."
Kin snapped his head up, his pride flaring. "I am the Son of the Wind Arcon! I don't need 'water' from a traveler! This was just... a warm-up!"
"Suit yourself," Techyon muttered. He didn't have time for games. He turned and walked straight back to the apartment, leaving the Prince of Windland fuming in the dust.
Inside the apartment, Cinder was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. His eyes narrowed as Techyon walked in. "You're late. Did you get lost looking for a bakery, or did the Windland air make you lazy?"
"A kid named Kin challenged me to a race," Techyon said, tossing the bread onto the table.
Cinder straightened up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Kin? The Arcon's brat? Don't tell me you lost to a spoiled kid who thinks a breeze makes him a god."
Techyon pulled a chair out and sat down. "No. It wasn't any difficulty at all."
Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummeted. Cinder's eyes snapped toward the open window. In a heartbeat, his hand glowed with a violent orange hue.
"Who's there?!" Cinder roared, flicking a [S-RANK FIREBALL] toward the balcony. The projectile hissed through the air, exploding in a burst of sparks just inches away from a shadowed figure.
"Whoa! Relax, old man!" Kin tumbled into the room, coughing through the smoke. He brushed the soot off his green tunic and looked at Cinder with narrowed eyes. "You've got a temper. You didn't even introduce yourself before trying to turn me into charcoal. What's your name?"
"I am Cinder," the S-Rank growled, his aura still simmering. "And this is Techyon. Now state your business before I throw you off this balcony for real."
Kin ignored the threat, his eyes locked onto Techyon. The arrogance from the street was gone, replaced by a sharp, calculating look. "I didn't come here just to talk. And I didn't come here to lose another race."
He reached into his belt and pulled out a crumpled, gold-embossed poster, slamming it onto the table between the bread and the fire-blackened wood.
[THE GRAND GALE TRIALS: OPEN TO ALL HEIRS & VANGUARDS]
[PRIZE: 70,000 GOLD COINS & THE WIND-STEP BOOTS]
"The Winner gets seventy thousand gold coins," Kin said, a smirk returning to his face. "In this city, nobody beats me twice. I want you to join, Techyon. I want to see if that speed of yours can handle a real arena—and I need a partner who isn't a 'Standard' weakling to get past the semi-finals."
Techyon looked at the gold amount. 70,000. That wasn't just food money. That was enough to gear up for the Hydro City trek and buy the best mana-recovery potions in the world.
He looked at Cinder, then back at the poster. "Seventy thousand?"
"And a chance to prove the Heir of Hope isn't just a myth," Kin added.