The Box: Fate
Chapter 73 — The Hearth of Ignis-Vail
The massive iron gates of the Crimson Citadel groaned open, welcoming the sixteen teenagers, Vahn, and the two ancient native leaders into a world of heat and stone.
Rivers of molten lava flowed safely inside reinforced obsidian aqueducts, casting a fierce orange glow over the bustling streets. The native citizens of Ignis-Vail—hardy warriors in thick leather armor and blacksmiths wielding heavy hammers—stopped what they were doing, staring in awe as Gideon the Ash-Bringer and Azureus led the group through the lower plaza.
"Listen up, you lot," Gideon bellowed over the roar of the distant furnaces, looking back at the group. "This city doesn't care about ranks or digital titles. You walk into the Grand Origin Guild as equals, or you don't walk in at all."
Zanaki laughed, tossing a small pebble into the air and catching it. "Suits us fine, old man. We never elected a boss anyway. We're just a bunch of idiots from a group chat trying to stay alive."
It was the absolute truth. To the native people of this world who had witnessed Kataki summon the terrifying Angel of Death back at the Capital, he looked like a grand general or a supreme commander. But within the Akatsuki squad, there was no hierarchy. Kataki wasn't their master; he was just the guy who had taken a massive gamble to keep his friends from turning into dust. They were a circle of equals, bound by blood, pizza memories from Tokyo, and shared survival.
Axel Hatanaki walked right beside Kataki, his heavy tower shield strapped tightly to his back. "You holding up alright? You've been quiet since you woke up on that mountain pass."
Kataki adjusted the dark collar of his cloak, the faint silver light in his eyes steady but distant. "I'm fine, Axel. Just thinking about what the reaper said. This world is concrete now. If we don't adapt together, the next hit won't just break a weapon—it'll take one of us out permanently."
"Then we adapt together," Sharky Bee chimed in, slipping his green-tinted daggers into their sheaths with a satisfying click. He looked back at the rest of the squad. "Hey, Murasaki, Akira, Kuro! Keep your eyes open. If we're getting these 'God Skills,' I'm choosing something that lets me move faster than Azureus's lightning."
Murasaki giggled, holding her catalyst staff close to her chest. "As long as it doesn't involve more scrambled eggs or running through crumbling castles, I'm down for whatever power this place has to offer."
Akira and Kuro nodded, their faces finally relaxing after days of constant, brutal combat. Behind them, the rest of the sixteen players walked in a tight formation, their footsteps echoing off the stone pavement. Even Vahn, walking at the rear with his arms crossed over his chest, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief seeing the teenagers talking like regular friends again instead of battle-weary soldiers.
The procession finally halted in front of a colossal, pyramid-like structure built from flawless white marble that contrasted sharply with the rest of the black volcanic city. This was the Grand Origin Guild.
At the top of the marble steps stood an ancient, triangular stone altar, humming with a pure, colorless energy that made the hairs on everyone's arms stand up.
"This is it," Azureus said, his humanoid form radiating a calm, protective blue aura as he stepped aside. "The Altar of the First Code. It doesn't care about your past levels. It reads the raw weight of your bond and your individual souls."
Gideon stepped up to the altar, placing his massive hand on the stone. The ancient runes on the marble flared with a brilliant, blood-red light, acknowledging his presence as an Apex King.
"Alright, brats," Gideon grinned, turning back to face the sixteen friends. "No more artificial screens. No more fake numbers. Who's going up first to see what kind of divine spark the True Creator put inside them?"
The teenagers looked at each other, smiles breaking across their faces. There was no order, no leader to give a command. Together, as a single, undivided front, they walked up the marble steps toward the blinding light of the altar.