Chương 2: The Summons

Three enforcers waited outside Ivan's office like vultures around a corpse. None of them looked as though they had come merely to escort him. Why were they wearing such faces…? Had he truly messed up in something? There were three of them. Big men in enchanted plate armor that gleamed even in the dim basement light. They were all Level 50 at minimum, probably higher. Ivan could feel the weight of their stats pressing down on him before they even spoke.

"Ivan Marcellion?" the one in front asked. He had a scar running down his jaw and eyes that looked bored.

"That's me," Ivan said, stepping out and closing the door behind him. His legs still felt weak from the mana exhaustion, but he forced himself to stand straight.

"I was told the City Lord wanted to see me?" The scarred enforcer grunted.

"Move." Ivan blinked.

"I just said I'm ready to go. There's no need to be–" The enforcer grabbed his arm. Hard. His gauntleted fingers dug into Ivan's bicep like a vice, and he yanked him forward.

"I said move, Scribe." Ivan stumbled, barely catching himself. Pain shot up his arm where the man's grip had been. A flicker of old pride, when self defence was still a thing, ignited in his chest but he forced it down. He opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. These guys aren't here to escort me. They're here to drag me. He couldn't do anything to help himself, either. Here, Levels ruled everything. The three enforcers formed a triangle around him as they marched through the basement.

Other Production Class workers peeked out from their offices, eyes wide, then quickly ducked back inside. Nobody wanted to get involved. They climbed the stairs out of the basement and into the main guild hall. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, and the space opened up into a marble-floored atrium filled with adventurers checking quest boards and haggling with merchants. The moment Ivan stepped into the hall, heads turned.

"Isn't that the scribe from the basement?" someone whispered. Another voice asked what he had stolen. Ivan kept his eyes forward. His face burned. He'd been in this guild for ten years. He knew half these people. Some of them had commissioned scrolls from him. Now they were staring at him like he was a criminal. The scarred enforcer shoved him forward again, and Ivan nearly tripped on the polished floor. A few people laughed. Keep walking. Just keep walking.

They exited the guild hall and stepped onto the cobblestone streets of Sky Reach. The city sprawled out around them in a mix of stone buildings, market stalls, and adventurers in mismatched gear. It was early afternoon, and the streets were packed. But above it all, hanging in the sky like a crown, was the Central Spire. Ivan had seen it a thousand times, but it never stopped being surreal. The Spire was a floating castle, a tower of white stone and crystalline glass that hovered above the city center.

Massive chains made of pure condensed mana tethered it to the ground, glowing faintly blue in the sunlight. They pulsed with energy, keeping the structure stable. The [Heart of Civilization] sat at the base of those chains. A monolithic structure that looked like a fusion of stone and circuitry, covered in glowing runes. It was the reason Sky Reach existed at all. Ten years ago, after the Tutorial ended and the Integration began, the System had scattered Civilization Hearts across the world.

Whoever claimed one could establish a city around it, and many such cities had risen since. Beyond protection and resources, the Hearts gave those cities access to System functions ordinary settlements lacked. Victor Hargraves had claimed this one. He'd fought off three other high leveled individuals in single combat to do it. The man was a legend in this new world. A powerhouse. The kind of person the System seemed to favor. And now, for some reason, he wanted to see Ivan.

The enforcers led him to the base of the chains. A teleportation circle was carved into the stone there, glowing softly. One of the enforcers stepped onto it, then gestured sharply at Ivan.

"Get on." Ivan sighed internally, accepting whatever awaited him, and stepped forward. The moment his foot touched the circle, the world twisted. Magic pulled at his stomach, and suddenly he was standing inside the Central Spire. The teleportation room was just as opulent as he'd imagined, with white marble floors and gold-trimmed pillars. A massive chandelier made of what looked like condensed light bathed everything in a warm glow.

"This way," the scarred enforcer said, his tone flat. They walked through hallways lined with enchanted paintings and sculptures that probably cost more than Ivan's entire life. Servants in crisp uniforms hurried past, not sparing him a glance. The deeper they went, the more expensive everything looked. Finally, they stopped in front of a set of double doors. The enforcer knocked twice.

"Enter," a voice called from inside. The doors swung open. The room beyond was ridiculous. It was an actual throne room, with vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows depicting old battles. Victor Hargraves sat at the far end on an equally real throne. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The City Lord, the ruler of this place, was everything Ivan was not. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome in that effortless way some people just were.

His dark hair was swept back, and his eyes were a sharp gray that seemed to cut through everything they looked at. He wore a mix of elegant robes and light armor, all of it enchanted to the point that the air around him shimmered faintly. Victor Hargraves. Champion of Planet Earth, at one point. Although now he'd fallen down a few ranks. Some said he was above Level 200, even. That a few of his stats were S-rank. Rumor also said Victor's Sponsor Deity had given him a True Blessing rather than a common one.

Ivan only half-understood the hierarchy, but even Divine Blessings supposedly sat beneath a True Blessing. Victor stood at the top of that food chain, with luck and probability bending around him. Ivan's stomach sank. Man, I just took a nap and woke up to this. But it wasn't just Victor in the room. Three high-level women occupied the places nearest Victor. A red-haired mage traced glowing runes beside his throne.

A silver-furred Beastkin sharpened a dagger from a cushioned bench, while an armored knight stood watch near the door. Among other servants and officials, then there was Hana. Ivan tried not to look at her. She stood near the far wall, half-hidden behind one of the pillars. She was dressed in an elegant black and silver robe, her dark hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her hands were folded in front of her, and she wasn't looking at him. Hana Kim. Of course she's here. She'd always been talented.

Even back when they were both low-level nobodies, both filled with ambition, she'd stood out. Ivan had saved her once, although nobody would ever believe him. It was a stupid, desperate fight against a dungeon boss that should have killed them both. He'd taken a hit meant for her, burned through all his mana to keep her alive. Hana had thanked him after the dungeon fight. Later, she had proposed. Ivan had refused, telling himself that the apocalypse was a terrible time to collect emotional baggage.

Whatever had existed between them ended there, before either of them had managed to call it romance. Now she was an [Enchantress] working directly for the City Lord. And Ivan was still in the basement. Victor leaned forward on his throne, resting his chin on one hand. He looked amused.

"There he is. Ivan Marcellion," he said, his voice smooth and confident.

"The last scribe in my city with [Deep Etching]... I've been hearing about you." Ivan wasn't the type to be scared, he'd been pushed around for far too long for that. However, perhaps because of some skill this man had, Ivan found it difficult to breathe.

"My lord." That title would get a laugh out of any modern man, but this wasn't the modern world anymore. Things had changed.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"No, my lord." Victor smiled as though Ivan's answer had already been decided.

"I have a job for you," he said.

"A very specific job. One that only you can do." Well, that sounded ominous. He made a small gesture, and one of the mages stepped forward. She carried a glass case, and inside it was a scroll. But it wasn't like any scroll Ivan had ever seen. The parchment was old, almost black with age. The runes on it were warped and twisted, like someone had tried to write them but couldn't keep their hand steady. Some of the lines didn't connect. Others bled into the edges of the page. Just looking at it made Ivan's head hurt.

"This here," Victor said, "is a Corrupted Mythic Scroll. A relic from the early days of the Integration. The System was still unstable back then, remember? Some claim this is from a previous Universe. Some of the spells it created were flawed." Ivan stared at the scroll. His [Pattern Recognition] flared to life unbidden, revealing fractals broken at points that should have carried mana safely.

"I've had three scribes attempt to copy it," Victor continued.

"One went insane. One died. The third is still in the infirmary, babbling about shadows."

"Why do you want it copied?" Ivan asked before he could stop himself. Victor's smile widened.

"Because I want to know what it does. And if it's useful, I want more of them." Ivan's throat went dry.

"My lord, if the others failed…"

"They all used [Flash Replication], that's why they failed," Victor cut him off.

"Fast, efficient, but ultimately shallow. You, on the other hand, use [Deep Etching]. You carve the magic line by line. You see the structure. Hah, isn't it exciting to finally have something that you're useful at?"

"...."

"My Sponsor Deity said someone with your set of skills should be able to do it. You know who it is right?" Victor asked as if he was asking 'you know what the sun is right?' Honestly, Ivan couldn't blame him. Victor's Sponsor Deity was the Serpent of Blackglass, the Father of the Obsidic Coil, one of the Twelve Primordials. He leaned back, studying Ivan like a specimen under glass.

"You're the only one left who can do this. So here's the deal. You copy the scroll, and I'll pay you one hundred thousand mana stones." The number knocked every other thought out of Ivan's head. One hundred thousand?! He could buy a house. He could quit the guild. He could live comfortably for years.

"And if I can't?" Ivan asked quietly. Victor's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered in his eyes.

"Then you're of no use to me. And people who are of no use in my city... well, they don't tend to stay long." The threat hung in the air like smoke. Ivan looked at the scroll again, at the warped runes. The broken geometry. His [Pattern Recognition] was screaming at him that touching this thing was a death sentence. But he didn't have a choice.

"I'll do it," he said. Victor clapped his hands once.

"Excellent. You'll start immediately. My attendants will show you to a workroom." One of the enforcers stepped forward ready to follow orders, but before Ivan could move, a soft voice spoke from the side of the room.

"My lord, if I may." Hana stepped forward. She didn't look at Ivan. Her gaze was fixed on Victor.

"The workroom has been prepared as you ordered. Starting from stabilized vellum, enchanted ink, replacement quills, and enough Mana Potions and Health Potions for repeated attempts." Her fingers tightened once where they were folded.

"But none of that will stop the damage to his mind. Let me monitor his Mental Integrity from outside." Victor glanced at the glass case, then at Ivan. He released a dismissive scoff, "Monitor him if you like. The door stays sealed until he finishes or can no longer work." Hana bowed slightly, then finally, finally, glanced at Ivan. Their eyes met for just a second. Her face remained politely blank. If she recognized the man he had once been, she gave Ivan none of it. She looked away. Ivan smiled a little. Right.

That's how it is. She must be trying to pay him back for saving her back then.

"Come," the enforcer said, grabbing his arm again. As Ivan was led out of the throne room, he caught one last glimpse of Victor. The City Lord was watching Hana now, his gaze lingering on her in a way that made Ivan's skin crawl. The doors closed behind him with a heavy thud. Ivan looked at the enforcer's hand around his arm and understood that Victor had not offered him a job. He had been thrown to the wolves.