The Gates had changed everything. Five years ago, their sudden appearance had thrown the world into chaos, awakening latent abilities in humans and birthing Gatewalkers.
Now, the Gates were both a blessing and a curse—sources of power, wealth, and danger.
On the Blue Planet, four powerful nations dominate the global stage, each shaped by its unique geography, culture, and mastery of Gatewalker abilities.
The Aurion Federation, Kaelith Empire, Virelia Dominion, Zekros Union.
These nations, while diverse, share one common thread—Rank 5 Gatewalkers, whose extraordinary powers define their strength and influence.
Elthera, by contrast, was humble.
Its fertile lands and moderate climate made it a nation of artisans and traders rather than warriors.
Dawnvale, the capital, was a center of craftsmanship and commerce, but it lacked the grandeur of places like Radiance City or Drakoria.
Chevie's ascension to Rank 5 made him an anomaly.
Elthera had no great academies, no legendary Gatewalkers, and no armies of Rank 4s. Yet here he was, a single spark of power in a land often overlooked.
Beyond the nations, other powers operated in the shadows, their influence shaping the world in subtle yet profound ways.
Not all Gatewalker organizations were noble.
Chevie exhaled deeply, setting the katana on the table.
...
A few days later...
The streets of Avenridge hummed with the soft glow of Aetherium-powered lamps, their blue light casting faint shadows on cobblestones worn smooth by decades of foot traffic.
Chevie walked alone, Echo's Edge sheathed at his side. It was a quiet night, but his instincts prickled—a sensation he'd come to trust in his years as a Gatewalker.
It wasn't long before he caught sight of them. Two figures stood under the eaves of a boarded-up warehouse near the edge of the city, their movements furtive.
He slowed his steps, keeping to the shadows, and strained his ears to catch fragments of their conversation.
"...shipment's coming through tomorrow night. Same route."
"Good. DDA's still chasing their tails in Haven's Spire."
Chevie's jaw tightened.
Haven's Spire—Virelia's bustling capital—had been in the news lately due to rising rogue Gatewalker activity. It seemed the rogues had expanded their reach into Elthera.
He stepped closer, careful not to draw attention, and caught a glimpse of their gear. The mismatched armor and weapons were a dead giveaway—standard rogue Gatewalker fare.
These weren't independent hunters looking for a quick score; they were organized, and that made them dangerous.
The warehouse door creaked open, and the two figures slipped inside. Chevie followed, keeping his footfalls silent as he approached the rusted entryway.
Inside, faint voices echoed, accompanied by the scrape of crates being dragged across the floor.
He pressed himself against the wall and peered through a crack in the door.
A group of six rogue Gatewalkers stood in a loose circle, their attention focused on a small device glowing faintly with Aetherium energy.
It looked like a beacon—likely used for smuggling artifacts or illegal Aetherium-infused materials.
Chevie considered his options. He could call the DDA, but by the time they arrived, the rogues would be long gone. Besides, dealing with a handful of rogue Gatewalkers was well within his capabilities.
Pushing the door open with deliberate slowness, he stepped inside, his boots echoing on the concrete floor.
"Well, well," one of the rogues said, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek. "Looks like we've got company."
"Sorry to crash your party," Chevie said, his tone casual. "But I couldn't help overhearing. Something about a shipment?"
The rogues exchanged glances before one of them—a pretty woman with twin daggers—stepped forward.
"You've got guts walking in here alone," she said, her voice laced with amusement.
"Guts, power—take your pick."
The room erupted into motion as the rogues drew their weapons.
Chevie's hand rested on Echo's Edge, and in one fluid motion, he unsheathed the katana. Its runes flared to life, bathing the room in a pale blue glow.
The first rogue lunged, a massive hammer swinging toward Chevie's head.
He sidestepped effortlessly, the weapon smashing into the ground with a deafening clang.
Before the rogue could recover, Chevie's blade sliced through the air, disarming him with a clean strike.
Two more rushed him, one wielding a spear and the other a set of throwing knives.
Chevie activated Aetherstride, disappearing from their view and reappearing behind them.
A quick slash from Echo's Edge sent the knives clattering to the ground, and a well-placed kick sent the spearman sprawling.
The woman with the daggers circled him, her movements calculated.
"You're no ordinary Gatewalker," she said, her eyes narrowing.
"Flattered," Chevie replied, his tone still light.
She darted forward, her daggers a blur of motion.
Chevie parried the strikes with precision, his movements a blend of instinct and practiced skill.
The fight was over in moments, the woman disarmed and pinned against a crate.
"Talk," Chevie said, his blade pressed lightly against her throat.
The woman glared at him but said nothing.
Chevie sighed.
"Fine. We'll do this the hard way."
He activated a small Aetherium device on his belt, a communicator linked to the local DDA office.
"You've got five minutes before the authorities show up. I'd start talking if I were you."
"Hmmp."
The woman continued to ignore him.
"Alright. You can either tell me what you know or be captured by the DDA men naked, and have your information disclosed after interrogation."
Chevie tried to threatened her as he scrutinized her body lustfully.
"You should know that once you are captured, it's impossible for you to keep your secret from those guys. Of course you can also choose to kill yourself."
Chevie said with a gentle smile after he threatened her but for the woman it looks like no different from devil.
A few moments later, the hesitating woman agreed. In the end, she didn't want to die.
As the woman began spilling details about the shipment, Chevie's thoughts drifted.
The encounter had triggered a flood of memories—of how far he'd come and how much he'd endured since the Gates appeared five years ago.
He remembered the chaos of that first day, the terror etched into the faces of Avenridge's residents as magical beasts poured into the city.
He remembered the moment his mother had been taken from him, her smile forever frozen in his mind.