Myr led the way through the Ark’s corridors, never slowing, never hesitating, moving with the

  confidence of someone who had walked these lower levels his entire life.

  Bash followed several steps behind, taking in the surroundings with a growing sense of disbelief. SC

  stayed quiet in the back of his mind, letting him process what he was seeing.

  They reached an internal transport platform. Myr stepped onto the circular pad and motioned for Bash

  to join him.

  “Stand here. I will input the coordinates.”

  Bash moved beside him, and the air hummed as Myr pressed a sequence into the panel. Soft rings of

  pale blue light traveled upward from the floor.

  “You have used these before, right?” Myr asked casually.

  “Yes,” Bash answered. “Gate transport was common in Eclipse Veil. And in the military.”

  “Good. This is the same, just older. And slower.”

  The platform flashed. Space warped around them, and the world dissolved into a curtain of shimmering

  light. Bash felt the familiar drop in pressure, the stomach-floating sensation, the brief tightening in his

  joints. Then everything snapped back into place.

  They arrived in a different part of the Ark.

  Darker.

  Colder.

  Worn.

  The lighting was so dim it cast everything in a dull bronze tone. The metal walls were no longer

  polished but scuffed and scratched, patched in random segments where entire sheets had clearly been

  replaced by lower-grade materials. The overhead fans rattled instead of humming. Even the air felt

  heavier, not carrying the same crisp purity Bash had always associated with the upper levels.

  Myr stepped off the pad with a satisfied nod.

  “This is the Grey district. If we tried to walk here from the upper rings it would take at least fifty days.

  Thankfully the Ark designers were smart enough to put portals in the internal structure.”

  Bash stepped off the pad and instantly felt the difference under his boots. The floor was uneven.

  Slightly warped. Not enough to be dangerous, but enough to notice.

  He murmured internally, “SC, what is going on?”

  SC’s voice responded with calm certainty.

  “This is the divide between the upper echelon and the lower levels. You are used to the Blue and Green

  districts. This is what the a lot of Spartors experience. Most are one ability users, maybe two if they are

  lucky. They get last pick of the bounty boards. All high paying missions are taken before they ever see

  them. Income is low. Progression is slow. And it is extremely difficult for anyone here to climb

  upward.”

  Bash looked around again.

  The difference was staggering.

  Myr continued speaking as they walked, unaware of the quiet conversation happening in Bash’s mind.

  He rambled about the district layout, the lack of supply routes, the way Grey guilds often had to share

  transport tokens just to take missions.

  But eventually they reached a corridor that felt more like a forgotten alley than part of the Ark. The

  ceiling was low. Lights flickered. A pipe overhead dripped in slow, rhythmic taps.

  Myr stopped beside a dull metal door.

  “Well,” he said, “this is it.”

  Bash blinked. “This?”

  “Welcome to our guild base.”

  Myr opened the door.

  The interior was shockingly small. Two rooms total. The main area barely fit the narrow table in the

  corner and the single chair beside it. The “kitchen” was nothing more than a sink, a small counter, and

  three mismatched cupboards. A cramped bathroom sat behind a sliding metal door with a worn handle.

  The entire base was smaller than Bash’s dorm room when he trained as a Novarch. Smaller than the

  private quarters he had in Eclipse Veil.

  Myr shrugged. “It is not much, but you will get used to it. You can stay here until you save up enough

  beast fragments to rent your own space.”

  Bash snapped his head toward him.

  “How much does rent cost?”

  Myr rubbed his chin. “A room like this goes for about three T1C fragments per day. If you ever want to

  get into the Blue district you would need at least three T2C per day.”

  Bash nodded slowly.

  Inside his mind he said, “SC, I have more than two thousand T3C fragments in storage right now. I

  could buy this entire room with one.”

  SC responded immediately. “And if you suddenly show up with two thousand T3C fragments, where

  do you think people will believe you got them? You would be interrogated within minutes. Lay low for

  now. Integrate. Do not draw attention.”

  Bash sighed. “Fine.”

  Myr continued, unaware of the internal discussion.

  “The rest of the team will arrive soon. And listen, I will be honest. You are the first non-grey we have

  ever had join us.”

  Bash nodded. He had assumed as much.

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  The door creaked open behind them.

  Spartors filed in.

  Five of them.

  Each one taking up space in the tiny room until the air felt thick and crowded. They all stared straight

  at Bash as they entered, their expressions ranging from curious to irritated.

  The last one closed the door.

  Myr raised his hands. “Team, I called you here to introduce our newest member.”

  Groans immediately erupted.

  One of the men muttered, “Our shares are going to get even smaller.”

  Another grumbled, “Great. One more to carry in the field.”

  Myr clapped sharply to silence them.

  “He comes recommended by Jouk.”

  The name stopped every sound in the room.

  Myr continued. “This is Bash. He is last cycle’s tournament champion.”

  The largest spartor in the group, a mountain of muscle with a squared jaw and thick forearms, stepped

  forward.

  “Wait. You are telling me Jouk recommended this dark Spartor who supposedly won the tournament to

  a Grey guild?”

  A few chuckles rippled through the group.

  Bash spoke before Myr could.

  “It is true. I won. But I also failed to unlock during my time as a Novarch. Eclipse Veil expelled me

  because they were unable to unlock me either. I went to Jouk after I was removed, and he reached out

  to Myr.”

  Silence.

  The large man narrowed his eyes. “So what then? Do you have one of the ultra rare abilities? Is that

  what this is?”

  Bash shook his head. “I have been exposed to every known resonance. I have not unlocked any of

  them.”

  The room went quiet again.

  Then the large man turned to Myr.

  “So you want us to split our beast fragments with someone we know nothing about?”

  Bash stepped forward.

  “How many fragments do you normally earn per day?” he asked.

  The large man crossed his arms. “We each walk away with about ten. We all contribute one higher

  ranked fragment per week to cover guild expenses.”

  Bash tilted his head. “By higher ranked, what do you mean?”

  Myr answered. “T1G. That covers the base cost and food.”

  Bash nodded. “Then if any run results in less than ten fragments per Spartor, I will yield my share to

  the team.”

  The reaction was immediate.

  Surprised looks. Raised eyebrows. A slow collective acceptance.

  Myr nodded approvingly. “All right. Then introductions.”

  He pointed to the large man. “Garret. Durability user. Tank. Sword and shield.”

  Garret grunted.

  Myr pointed to a woman with short brown hair and crossed blades at her hips. “Bryn. Mineral. Dual

  swords.”

  Then to a wiry man with restless eyes. “Nixon. Lightning. Dual axes.”

  “That is our frontline,” Myr said. “I am midline. I heal, and I have water ability.”

  He pointed to a tall archer adjusting the fletching on her arrows. “Cerny. Wind. Bow user.”

  Last was a woman cleaning her rifle with focused precision. “Mirran. Fire. Rifle.”

  Bash nodded. “I am midline. I use throwing knives and a sidearm. No affinities unlocked.”

  Myr slapped his hands together. “Good. Now for tomorrow’s bounty. We travel to a Grey portal. It has

  not been accessed in a long time. Beast activity has pushed dangerously close to the exit point. We

  clean it up. Payment is four T2C fragments, and we keep everything after the council tax.”

  Eyes widened.

  Four T2C outputs were rare in the Grey district.

  Bash raised a hand slightly. “When you say it has not been accessed in a long time, what does that

  mean?”

  Myr shrugged. “Forty cycles. Maybe a bit more.”

  Bash stared at him. “That is a very dangerous number. In the military we learned that portals left

  unattended for too long produce rapid beast evolution. We could see Blue-tier difficulty.”

  Garret scoffed. “Listen. We have been together a long time. We have not lost anyone. Do not think

  winning one tournament makes you our leader.”

  Bash shook his head. “I am not trying to lead you. I am saying caution is smart.”

  Myr raised a hand. “Enough. We meet here in the morning. Then we head out.”

  The team dispersed, leaving only Bash and Myr.

  “They will come around,” Myr said. “Once you prove yourself.”

  He gestured to the lone chair. “Get some rest. It is not great, but it is what we have. You will want to

  find your own place eventually.”

  Bash sat down. The cushion was thin. The metal frame groaned under his weight.

  As the door closed behind Myr, Bash rubbed his face with both hands.

  “SC,” he whispered internally, “I thought that room in the black guild was bad. Now look at me.

  Essentially homeless.”

  SC answered gently. “Do not worry. Jouk was right. You always land on your feet.”

  Bash leaned back in the chair, exhaustion washing over him.

  He fell asleep to the sound of distant pipes clattering in the walls.

  Hours later, the soft rattle of a doorknob woke him.