The Dark Ascendant

The Copper Hearth was warm and lively, the scent of rich stew and freshly baked bread blending with the hum of conversation. Raj and Dorian continued their meal, their conversation flowing easily until the sound of heavy footsteps disrupted the comfortable atmosphere.

A group of five men strode into the restaurant, their presence immediately drawing attention. They carried themselves with an air of arrogance, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it.

"Great," Dorian muttered under his breath, setting his spoon down. His easygoing demeanor didn't change, but Raj noticed the slight tensing of his muscles.

The leader of the group—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek—sauntered toward their table. His dirty brown cloak hung open, revealing a rough leather vest and a dagger strapped to his belt. He looked like trouble.

"Oi, this table's ours now," the man said, his voice a low growl. His eyes flicked between Raj and Dorian, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Be good lads and leave some coin for our drinks. You wouldn't want any… accidents, would you?"

The restaurant grew quiet. All eyes turned toward Raj and Dorian.

Raj remained calm, observing the situation. These men weren't ordinary thugs. The faint glow around their Bodies indicated they had awakened Gem Paths—low-level ones, but enough to be dangerous to the average person.

"Let me guess," Dorian said, leaning back in his chair. "You're from the Steel Fangs. Ruffians, thugs, and generally bad at making friends. Did I get that right?"

The scarred man's smirk faded, replaced by a sneer. "Watch your mouth, old man. We're not here to talk."

"Shame," Dorian replied, his eyes narrowing. "I like talking."

The group was clearly at Level 4 and Level 5 on the Warrior and Rogue Paths. Not particularly impressive, but their numbers made them a threat. Raj could see the tension rising in the room, the other patrons holding their breath.

The scarred man leaned in closer. "Last chance. Get up and leave your coin on the table, or things are going to get messy."

Dorian sighed, pushing his chair back slowly and rising to his full height. He didn't seem rushed or concerned—just mildly annoyed.

"You know," Dorian said, rolling his shoulders, "I was really enjoying my stew. But since you've gone out of your way to ruin my meal…"

The air around him shifted. It wasn't visible, but Raj felt it—a sudden weight, a palpable aura of power radiating from Dorian. It was subtle yet undeniable, like the calm before a storm.

Level 8 Warrior Path.

The thugs faltered, their bravado dimming as they sensed the difference in strength. Dorian took a step forward, his gaze locking onto the scarred man.

"Leave. Now," Dorian said, his voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, the leader hesitated, his hand twitching toward his dagger. His pride was clearly at war with his survival instincts. But one look at Dorian's calm, confident stance made the decision for him.

"Fine," the scarred man muttered, backing away. "We'll be seeing you around."

The rest of the gang followed him out, their footsteps hurried. The door slammed shut behind them, and the tension in the room dissipated.

Dorian sat back down, picking up his spoon like nothing had happened. "Where were we?" he asked casually, dipping it into his stew.

Raj raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. You didn't even have to draw your sword."

Dorian chuckled. "Nah, no point wasting energy on fools like them. They're bottom-feeders, always sniffing around for easy prey. Besides, they'll think twice before coming back here."

The other patrons slowly resumed their conversations, a few nodding at Dorian in appreciation. Raj, however, remained thoughtful.

"You mentioned they were part of the Steel Fangs," Raj said. "Who are they?"

"Local gang," Dorian explained between bites. "Mostly small-time thugs, but they've got a few awakened in their ranks. They run protection rackets, smuggling, that sort of thing. Nothing too serious, but they can be a pain if you cross them."

"And their leader?"

"Guy named Garroth. Level 10 Warrior, last I heard. He's not someone you want to fight without a plan. Strong, but not too bright. I've had my fair share of run-ins with him over the years."

Raj filed the information away for later. In a world driven by power, knowing who to avoid—and who to manipulate—was just as important as growing stronger.

Their meal continued in relative peace, though Raj couldn't help but feel that the encounter had been a glimpse of the challenges to come. Ravendale was a small town, but it was clear that danger lurked in every corner, from rival gangs to hidden threats.

As they finished their meal, Raj leaned back in his chair, his mind already planning his next move. He had learned much today—about the town, its power structure, and the lengths some would go for control. But most importantly, he had seen a glimpse of the power that lay ahead of him.

For now, he would keep a low profile. But when the time was right, the world would know his name.