Global Awakening: Starting With Ten SSS-Rank Talents

The first problem announced itself less than five minutes after Jet and Frey left the Information Hall.

Jet stopped beside a public bench, opened his Inventory, and counted the Lesser Monster Cores he had collected on the journey to Zenith Citadel.

After paying one at the gate and purchasing his half of the route package, the amount remaining suddenly looked embarrassingly small. Three days ago, he would have considered that irrelevant.

He had sold the Black-Fang Hyena, Myriapod Caterpillar, and Vorpal Bunny Cores on Earth for one hundred and sixty-one thousand dollars because he needed cash badly enough that keeping them would have been stupid.

Loans, his mortgage, equipment, Inez’s expenses, and the financial wreckage left by his month of preparation were all waiting for him. Now he was standing in a city where his bank balance might as well have been printed on toilet paper.

Frey looked over his shoulder and laughed. ”Don’t tell me the great financial genius is broke already.”

Jet closed the Inventory. ”I’m not broke. I’m temporarily experiencing a currency disagreement.”

”That’s broke with confidence.”

Unfortunately, Frey wasn’t swimming in Cores either. His first Descent had been short, and although he had hunted on his way back to Zenith this morning, neither of them possessed enough Beyond currency to walk through the markets buying whatever caught their attention.

They headed instead toward the expedition market near the eastern avenue, where shops catered to ordinary Walkers preparing for days outside the walls.

His first trip had taught him that surviving the Beyond had less to do with looking impressive than remembering the boring thing you wished you’d packed after everything went wrong.

A rope sounded unremarkable until you were staring down a ravine. Clean bandages sounded cheap until your arm was open and the nearest hospital existed in another world.

Their first stop sold expedition packs and field equipment from a wide storefront crowded with hanging gear.

Jet chose a reinforced black backpack with an internal frame, waterproof lining, quick-release straps, and enough capacity for several days without becoming large enough to interfere with fighting.

He added two water containers, preserved rations, a compact cooking set, fire-starting tools, rope, climbing hooks, a waterproof cover, and a small portable shelter designed for two-minute assembly.

Frey picked a similar pack but spent several minutes arguing with the clerk because the version he wanted had more compartments and, according to him, ”better visual balance.”

Jet left him to his crisis and moved toward the navigation shelf, where he found a palm-sized compass unit capable of loading the route package they’d purchased.

It couldn’t magically tell them where every monster was, but it could keep them oriented against known landmarks and warn them when they strayed too far from their mapped route.

Medical supplies came immediately afterward. Jet didn’t hesitate there. He bought disinfectant, compression bandages, wound-closing strips, painkillers, a basic splint kit, and two emergency Mana-restoration injectors after the clerk explained their limits.

They could replenish a small amount of Mana quickly, but overuse caused nausea, tremors, and Mana circulation problems, so they were emergency tools rather than convenient refills. Frey bought the same supplies without joking for once.

Both remembered Greyhaven too clearly. Jet also purchased a proper harvesting knife, sealed sample bags, and collapsible containers for valuable monster organs or materials that couldn’t simply be thrown into a pouch.

During his first Descent, he’d left money lying across the forest because he lacked the tools, knowledge, and carrying capacity to harvest it properly. He definitely wasn’t repeating that mistake again.

By the time they reached the armor shops, their remaining Cores had become a much more serious concern.

Jet ignored the displays containing enchanted plates and expensive equipment with embedded monster materials, walking instead toward the racks marked for beginner and low-rank expeditions. What he chose barely looked like armor when worn.

A flexible protective vest fitted beneath his tactical jacket, reinforcing the ribs, sternum, and upper back without turning his torso into a metal box.

Separate guards covered his forearms, shoulders, knees, and shins.

He could squat, twist, sprint, and draw the Vorpal Blade freely. Asura Physique worked best when his body could move freely; buying heavier protection that ruined his mobility would solve one problem by creating another.

Frey deliberately went even lighter. He chose a thin reinforced vest, forearm protection, and compact guards around his knees and shins, rejecting shoulder plates after testing his sword draw twice.

”They catch when I bring my arm across,” he told the attendant, rolling one shoulder before removing them. ”If something reaches my shoulder, I’ll move.”

Jet, tightening a forearm guard beside him, glanced over. ”That’s a fantastic philosophy until something faster than you disagrees.”

Frey smiled and tapped the hilt of one curved blade. ”Then Vritra can disagree with it.”

Their choices suited them. Neither set would stop a serious monster from killing them; it was protection against the strike that clipped rather than landed cleanly.

Neither considered buying new weapons. The Vorpal Blade was already better than anything Jet could afford without gutting his remaining Core supply, and Frey’s twin curved blades were high-quality weapons built for him before the Second Red Moon.

Instead, they bought whetstones, cleaning cloths, protective oil, sheath-maintenance supplies, and a compact repair kit.

Frey tested an expensive enchanted blade, checked the price, and carefully returned it.

”Public morale?” Jet asked.

Frey walked away without looking at him. ”The public will survive.”

They eventually found an open seating area between two market rows and unloaded everything onto the table to check what they had forgotten.

Packs, food, water, medicine, navigation, shelter, harvesting equipment, armor, weapon maintenance, and emergency supplies.

Jet went through the list twice.

Each item reminded him of some miserable moment from his first Descent: thirst after hours of walking, trying to sleep against a tree without knowing what was crawling nearby, tearing fabric for makeshift wrapping, abandoning useful monster parts because he couldn’t carry them.

Preparedness wouldn’t make the Beyond safe, but it could stop small problems from becoming fatal ones.

The only problem was that their Core reserves now looked miserable.

Frey counted his, looked at Jet’s, and frowned. ”If we spend everything feeding our Runes, we’re going to be standing outside the gate tomorrow explaining that two powerful Awakeners can’t afford admission.”

Selling his original Cores had been necessary, but repeating it would leave him rich on Earth and broke in the Beyond.

”We split what we earn,” he said. ”Not fifty-fifty between us. I mean by purpose. Some Cores go toward progression, some cover Citadel expenses, and we keep an emergency reserve that neither of us touches unless we need it.”

Frey considered it, then added that valuable monster materials could pay many expenses instead of sacrificing Cores every time. If something sold better on Earth, they could take it back; if Zenith offered more value, they sold it here. That was enough of a system for now.

By late afternoon, they had eaten again, refilled their water, checked the route updates one final time, and made their way toward the eastern gate. The crowd there felt different from the newcomers Jet had seen earlier.

Expedition teams were departing with loaded packs while others returned covered in dirt, dried blood, and the particular exhaustion of people who had spent several nights outside protected walls.

Porters hauled monster materials toward waiting carts. Guards inspected cargo. Beyond the open gate, the maintained road ran across a wide stretch of grassland before disappearing into distant trees.

Jet adjusted his backpack and checked the Vorpal Blade resting horizontally across his lower back. Beside him, Frey tightened one glove and shifted his twin sheaths until they sat comfortably behind his waist.

For the first time, neither was entering the Beyond by accident, chasing an emergency, or stumbling forward without a plan.

They had a route, supplies, a retreat path, and one week to find out how much progress two newly awakened idiots could make when they actually prepared.

Frey looked toward the wilderness and smiled. ”One week out there. No running back early because another rabbit humiliates you.”

Jet pulled his bandana higher around his neck and replied, ”One week. And if a rabbit appears, I’m feeding you to it first.”

Frey laughed as they started toward the gate. ”Fine, but whoever gets the first Relic keeps bragging rights for the entire week.”

Jet gave him a sideways look. ”Don’t start. You’re still angry because I found one before you, and pretending this is a competition won’t make that wound heal.”

Frey answered with complete seriousness, ”That wasn’t jealousy. That was righteous anger against an unfair universe.”

The ancient gates stood open before them. Jet shook his head, smiling despite himself, and crossed the boundary beside Frey. Behind them remained Zenith Citadel, its walls, markets, and safety. Ahead stretched the Thousand Boughs and a week neither of them could predict.

Their first deliberate Beyond expedition had begun.