Global Awakening: Starting With Ten SSS-Rank Talents

The Thousand Boughs seemed determined to make the return journey feel longer than the expedition itself.

Jet and Frey had been walking for hours beneath the enormous canopy, following the route stored in their map while the forest changed around them.

The tangled wilderness near the Palladium valley gave way to ground marked by old cuts, faded trail signs and occasional strips of cloth tied around trunks by previous expeditions.

Neither of them complained about leaving early. Their original plan had been simple: remain in the Beyond for at least three days, hunt Lesser-ranked monsters, gather Cores and materials, then return to Zenith Citadel once their packs were full enough to justify the trip.

That plan had become irrelevant the moment Cassian invited them into the Raid Team. They had already acquired more from one unexpected operation than they had expected to collect through several days of ordinary hunting.

Frey adjusted one shoulder strap as they stepped over a fallen trunk, grimacing when the weight shifted against his back.

”Three days was the plan before we accidentally walked into a fortune,” he said, glancing at Jet’s swollen pack. ”At this point I’m ready to empty my pockets, eat something that wasn’t preserved for six months, find a bed, and forget trees exist until tomorrow.”

Jet understood the sentiment. Among Walkers, emptying your pockets didn’t mean selling everything you possessed. It was the routine that came after a successful expedition: bring the harvest into a Citadel, have valuable materials appraised, sell whatever you didn’t intend to keep, settle shared goods, repair damaged equipment and convert the burden on your back into money or useful resources.

Their Monster Cores weren’t going anywhere. Jet had learned that lesson after his first trip into the Beyond. Cores were currency, but for an Awakener trying to develop a Divine Rune, they were also progression.

”We sell the materials and keep the Cores,” Jet said as he ducked beneath a hanging vine. ”Anything we’re uncertain about gets appraised before we decide. I’m not repeating what I did with the first three.”

Frey looked sideways at him, amusement returning to his face as he reminded Jet that those three Cores had paid extremely well on Earth. Jet conceded the point with a small shrug, but money wasn’t the problem anymore.

Their first expedition had taught him the stupidity of converting every Beyond resource into Earth currency simply because the numbers looked attractive.

A full bank account wouldn’t deepen his synchronization with the Eight-Armed Asura, and Earth money wouldn’t help much if he found himself standing in a Citadel market where Monster Cores were the practical language of trade.

They continued for another hour before the first signs of heavier traffic appeared. Boot prints overlapped along the trail.

Wheel grooves from reinforced carts cut through patches of mud, and the occasional chopped branch showed where larger loads had passed.

Soon they encountered a five-person hunting party moving in the opposite direction, then a group of porters hauling sealed crates beneath a pair of armed escorts.

Farther ahead, three Walkers rested beside a marker stone while one wrapped a fresh bandage around his thigh.

The closer they came to Zenith, the more the wilderness surrendered to human movement. Maintained routes widened enough for carts to pass each other.

Jet saw harvesting teams returning with rolled hides strapped across wooden frames, an exhausted party carrying the severed horn of something larger than a man, and a group of perhaps twelve Walkers marching outward with polished armor that had yet to collect a single stain.

Frey watched that last group pass before looking down at the scratches across his own equipment.

”We looked like that when we came in, didn’t we?” he asked, running a thumb over a dried smear he had apparently missed while cleaning his sleeve.

Jet glanced at the spotless group disappearing behind them and admitted that they probably had.

The comparison stayed with him as they walked. Their first arrival at Zenith Citadel had been filled with observation. Now the weight on his shoulders was real.

The Vorpal Blade at his waist had tasted enough blood that drawing it no longer felt unfamiliar. Scratches crossed his armor, his boots were stained with mud, and faint traces of monster blood remained around seams that cleaning in the wilderness couldn’t reach.

Beneath the skin on the back of his left hand rested the Red Seal linking him to twenty-eight other Walkers and a secret worth enough to make Guilds turn on one another.

Then there was the Palladium Fruit secured among his possessions. Even thinking about it made the entire expedition feel absurd. He and Frey had entered the Thousand Boughs expecting Lesser Monster Cores and combat experience.

They were returning with resources from a large Raid Team operation, contacts belonging to First Generation veterans, a share of Grade Three Origin Treasure, and firsthand experience fighting inside a battlefield containing Greater-ranked monsters.

Zenith Citadel eventually appeared through the trees.

The dark walls emerged gradually, their upper sections rising above the forest before the road curved and revealed the full structure. More than fifty meters of ancient stone and human reinforcement stretched across the horizon, muted blue lines glowing within sections that predated humanity’s arrival in the Beyond.

Steel platforms, watch posts and repaired battlements had been added over decades, yet none completely concealed the strange architecture beneath them. Traffic thickened as separate trails converged toward the enormous gate.

Expedition teams returned beside supply carts while outgoing Walkers disappear into the Thousand Boughs.

Frey exhaled when he saw the walls.

”Beautiful,” he murmured, though his eyes were fixed less on the ancient architecture than on the promise of civilization behind it. ”Somewhere inside those walls is hot food, and I intend to develop a deep personal relationship with it.”

The entry queue moved steadily. When their turn came, Citadel guards requested their Walker licenses and ran the usual verification. Jet presented his, and Frey did the same beside him. The guard then waved them toward the entrance after the standard processing was completed.

Passing beneath the gate felt different this time. The Citadel opened before them in layers of ancient stone, reinforced roads, warehouses, workshops and buildings constructed around structures whose original purposes humanity still didn’t fully understand. Walkers crowded the streets.

Porters pushed carts loaded with monster parts. Trading houses displayed acquisition boards outside their entrances, and smithies advertised repair work beside stores selling medicine, field supplies and replacement equipment.

The air carried cooked meat, metal, smoke, medicinal chemicals and the less pleasant smell of harvested creatures being transported toward processing districts.

Frey’s attention immediately drifted toward a restaurant where steam rose from an open kitchen.

Jet caught the movement and kept walking. ”Don’t even think about it,” he said, and Frey reluctantly followed while accusing him of cruelty toward a starving man who had recently risked his life for humanity.

Jet reminded him that he had eaten that morning. Frey replied that combat invalidated breakfast, which was apparently a principle he had invented within the last few seconds.

Their hotel lay in another district, but neither headed there yet. The commercial quarter came first. Jet checked the Citadel map and selected one of the established monster exchanges listed along the main trade road.

They could compare appraisal rates if necessary, but he wanted the perishable materials processed before worrying about everything else.

As they turned onto the broader avenue leading toward the exchanges, Frey slowed and looked at the two overloaded packs, then at the additional sealed containers hanging from their gear.

His exhaustion gave way to a satisfied grin. ”All right,” he said, rolling his shoulders before following Jet into the commercial district.

”Let’s empty our pockets.”