The first hint of trouble came wrapped in an unassuming brown envelope.
Chevie found it slipped under his apartment door, its edges creased as though it had traveled far.
He glanced at it suspiciously, flipping it over. No return address.
"Definitely not sketchy at all," he muttered.
Sliding the letter out, he scanned the neat but hurried handwriting:
Mr. Harley,
Your presence is requested in the Kaelith Empire for matters concerning a high-ranking Gate incident. You've been recommended by Commander Orlan. Your passage has been arranged.
At the bottom, the DDA seal gleamed faintly, stamped in red wax.
Chevie leaned against the doorframe, rereading the letter.
The Kaelith Empire wasn't just any nation. Known for its elite Gatewalker forces and militarized approach to Gates, it was one of the most powerful countries on the Blue Planet.
Their invitation—if you could even call it that—wasn't something to take lightly.
… ….
Two days later, Chevie stood at the bustling Avenridge transport terminal, a sleek airship looming overhead.
His travel arrangements had been first-class—an uncommon courtesy for someone under constant scrutiny by the DDA.
As the airship's engines roared to life, he settled into his seat, his mind racing with questions.
Why Kaelith? What could they possibly want from him? And more importantly, who vouched for him? Orlan didn't seem the type to do favors.
The journey was uneventful but offered a breathtaking view of the world below.
Rivers snaked through dense forests, glimmering under the sunlight, while sprawling cities dotted the landscape like jewels.
… ….
The Kaelith Empire's capital, Drakoria, was a sight to behold. Towering spires of steel and stone pierced the sky, their surfaces shimmering with traces of Gate-derived materials.
The streets buzzed with activity—soldiers marching in perfect unison, vendors hawking exotic wares, and Gatewalkers clad in armor that seemed as much for intimidation as protection.
Chevie stepped off the airship and was immediately greeted by a stern-looking woman in military attire.
Her sharp eyes scanned him from head to toe, and she gave a curt nod.
"Chevie Harley?"
"That's me," he said, offering a lopsided grin.
"I'm Captain Selene Alvara. You're expected at the Citadel."
With little ceremony, she led him through the city, her stride brisk and purposeful. As they passed through the bustling streets, Chevie couldn't help but marvel at the sheer scale of Drakoria.
It was nothing like Avenridge—everything here was larger, louder, and more intense.
The Citadel was an imposing structure at the heart of the city, its black stone walls radiating an air of authority.
Inside, Chevie was ushered into a vast chamber filled with maps, glowing panels, and murmuring officers.
At the head of the room stood a figure who commanded immediate attention.
Tall and broad-shouldered, with a scar running across his cheek, General Rael Vorran was every bit the intimidating presence Chevie had expected.
"You must be Harley," Vorran said, his voice a low rumble. "Take a seat."
Chevie complied, his casual demeanor not quite masking his curiosity.
"Two weeks ago," Vorran began, "a Red-rank Gate appeared in the northern Kaelith territories. Normally, this would be manageable, but the creatures that emerged weren't typical Gate beasts. They were coordinated, intelligent, and—most concerning—using tactics we've never seen before."
He gestured to a glowing map, which displayed a mountainous region marked with ominous red circles.
"Our initial team was wiped out. The second team barely escaped with their lives. We believe this Gate may be linked to a larger phenomenon, possibly tied to the anomalies reported in other parts of the Blue Planet."
Chevie frowned. "Anomalies? You mean like… Whiteholes?"
Vorran's eyes narrowed. "You've encountered one?"
Chevie hesitated. "Let's just say I've seen things."
The general nodded slowly. "Then you understand why we can't ignore this. We've been monitoring individuals with unique abilities, and your recent activity caught our attention. We need someone with your… versatility."
Chevie couldn't tell if that was a compliment or a veiled insult, but he let it slide.
"What's the mission?"
"You'll be part of a joint task force investigating the Gate. Your team will include Kaelith's best Gatewalkers, as well as representatives from other nations. The objective is to identify the source of the creatures' coordination and, if possible, neutralize the threat."
"Sounds straightforward," Chevie said. "What's the catch?"
Vorran's lips twitched into something resembling a smile.
"The catch is that this isn't a simple scouting mission. You'll be going deep into enemy territory, with minimal backup. Success isn't guaranteed."
Chevie leaned back in his chair, his mind already spinning.
This was big—bigger than anything he'd been involved in before. But it was also an opportunity.
If this Gate was connected to the Whitehole or the events that took his team, it could be the first step toward finding answers.
"I'm in," he said.
The following day, Chevie met the team he'd be working with. To his surprise, it wasn't just Kaelith Gatewalkers.
Representatives from the Aurion Federation, Virelia Dominion, and Zekros Union were also present, each bringing their own unique strengths—and egos.
The Aurion representative was a tall woman with piercing green eyes and an air of quiet confidence.
Her name was Lira Wynne, and she introduced herself as a Rank 4 Gatewalker specializing in elemental manipulation.
From Virelia came a burly man named Kieran Thorne, whose heavy armor clinked with every step.
"Beastmaster," he said, his deep voice rumbling.
"I handle things with claws and teeth."
Finally, the Zekros representative was a wiry man named Elias Kreed, who carried a sleek rifle humming with energy.
"Technomancer," he explained, smirking. "I make things go boom."
Chevie couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Quite the lineup."
"You're the wildcard," Lira said bluntly. "Let's hope you're worth it."
Before departing, the team was outfitted with specialized equipment tailored to the mission.
Chevie received an Aethergear-enhanced cloak designed to dampen energy signatures—a subtle nod to the fact that someone clearly didn't want him dead.
As they prepared to leave, Captain Selene approached him.
"Harley, one last thing," she said.
"This mission is important, but so is survival. Don't do anything reckless."
Chevie grinned. "Reckless? Never heard of it."
Selene rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. "Good luck."
With that, the team stepped into the Gate, the swirling energy engulfing them in a rush of light and sound.
The dimension on the other side was a stark contrast to anything Chevie had seen before.
Jagged peaks loomed against a crimson sky, and the air crackled with latent energy. The terrain was harsh, with rivers of molten rock cutting through the landscape.
"Stay alert," Lira said, her voice low. "Something's not right here."
Chevie's hand tightened around his sword as he scanned the area.
The air felt heavy, charged with an almost oppressive presence.
This wasn't just another Gate. This was something far more dangerous.