September 25th, the forging of new steel was just over a month away. Anvil's call grew stronger day by day, yet many held onto a false sense of hope. Hope that perhaps they'd soon awaken from this nightmare because after all, they'd had no say in being chosen. Many had been graced by the touch of steel without any sort of training in their lives. Though mandatory survival lessons had been taught in every school, the teachers themselves could hardly teach it to a practical level, nor could it compare to the quality of a noble clan where countless Aspirants had already been forged, with some even having an Arisen or two in their midst . With each fleeting moment, the dread in the heart of the Steeled seemed to further corrode their hopes of salvation.

Ryn sat on the slightly rusty bench, despondent as usual. Countless bullet trains flew past him, the gusts of wind caused his raven coloured hair to fly around, with it sometimes even poking his own eyes. Not that Ryn cared of course, he had other things to worry about, other things to lament over.

"Sir Vira of the Eternal Sword, is there anything you'd like to say to this year's batch of Steeled before they are summoned to Anvil?"

Ryn turned his head towards the enormous screen on the other side of the station, where an interview seemed to be playing. A middle aged woman with blonde hair was talking to man of striking visage. Snow white hair cut moderately short, forming a slight disheveled fringe covering the upper third of his forehead. His beard, well stubble was a better word for it, was the same white, almost indistinguishable from his milky skin. Grey eyes which looked like orbs containing a brooding storm; Ryn couldn't help but feel power exuding from the man despite being across a screen. Ryn was well aware of the man, who wasn't?

Vira of the Eternal Sword was the head of clan Eternal Sword and one of humanity's only Arisen. Their Sword Path was deemed as the single most powerful path and most clans were willing to give anything for it. Sword Path's were only capable of being understood when one truly understood the essence of their Sword Heart. Only through constantly challenging Anvil could one truly temper their Sword Hearts and reach greater heights. The Arisen were those who'd faced the fourth forge of Anvil and had tempered their Sword Hearts for the fourth time. This year's Steeled were to face Anvil's first forge on October 31st, tempering their Sword Heart's to become Fledglings.

Ryn stared at the screen with awe and a begrudging sense of respect.

'He must be out of his mind… to challenge Anvil's forges four different times….'

The average Steeled were practically bedridden with anxiety, besides those of the Great Clans, fearing for their lives, some having already taken their own. Ryn was no stranger to the anxiety, he himself had come to this train station everyday for the past month, ready to end his own life, not wanting to be forged by Anvil. His lifeless onyx eyes stared at the screen ahead, waiting for Vira of the Eternal Sword's response.

"Anvil is a place of death, tragedy and hardship. I remember twenty-three years ago, when I myself was in the same position as all the Steeled of today. I too, was afraid and yearned for that salvation. Salvation which did not come. I had to fight, conquer and overcome all which barred my path, subsequently barring the path of humanity. But know this… through the death, the tragedy, the hardship… there is life, the blooming of unforeseen strength and talent like no other. Camaraderie between people you'd have never dreamed of allying with one day. Anvil teaches you pain, but it also teaches us to value life. Enter Anvil and embrace what it teaches and reject what it imposes on you. Become the masters of your own fate and allow your Sword Hearts to become the guiding lights for humanity."

Camera flickers and flashes of light seemed to go off around Vira's face, he seemed calm and composed as if this was any other day to him.

Ryn continued watching the screen as it slowly changed to a weather forecast for the next week. Dejected, he lowered his head and cupped his right fist in his left hand, bringing it to his mouth. Vira was motivating but… Ryn knew his chances of survival were dim. The noble clan's Steeled had much more of an advantage, having been trained since birth for their descents into Anvil.

Slowly, he decided to stand up and leave the station, his eyes casting one last fleeting glance at the railways before walking off.

Neo Nebulas was a city which was filled with an entire spectrum of people and made no effort to disguise its class system. When one walked in the streets they instantly knew the side of the city they were on, be it the slums or the noble clan territory. Ryn took slow and heavy steps home, not bothering to rush, he wouldn't be seeing this sight anytime soon anyways, he'd best cram it all into his memories now.

Ryn was an only child, him and his family lived relatively comfortably, not impoverished but neither wealthy. His pale skin slightly shuddered in the cold breeze meandering throughout the streets, all his hairs stood on end. His gaze landed on a small park to his left, a rusty swing set being the only thing to show it had once been used for activity. Ryn himself used to come here as a child, now that he was sixteen causing his Sword Heart to awaken, not playing enough in the park was the least of his worries. The swings gently swayed with the cold winds, Ryn could almost envision a younger version of himself sat there, almost. Now was not the time for nostalgia… He needed to steel himself for what was to come.

Ryn reached his home, an average terraced home, enough for his mother, father and him. The redness of the bricks had faded over time, becoming a lighter shade with some having pieces of moss growing on them. To an onlooker it was a rather shabby house but to Ryn it was home.

Entering the house instantly caused Ryn to feel much better than earlier, his numb fingertips and toes warming up enough to let him regain feeling in them. He slowly removed the light green field jacket he was wearing and hung it on the designated peg. It was slightly oversized on him, with it being a hand me down from his father but, Ryn didn't necessarily mind and liked the idea of inheriting his father clothes. It may not be a fancy Sword Path but the sentiment is what mattered to Ryn.

"Ah Ryn dear… you're back," a warm, honey-like voice resounded in the hallway in front of him. His eyes looked up to meet his mother's own pair of jewel like onyx eyes, it was clear who he'd inherited his eyes from. At the ends of her eyes were slight wrinkles showing signs of aging however it did not decrease from her overall beauty, still being maintained in her late forties. "Come into the kitchen quickly, your father will be home soon, let's get the table ready." An inviting, bubbly smile was plastered across her face as she beckoned her son to enter the kitchen.

"Coming." Ryn didn't hesitate to do as she'd asked, he only had a short while left with his parents after all. His mothers long black hair had begun showing signs of age, a few silver hairs mixed in with the black. Ryn didn't know if it was just him but… there seemed to be more than he could remember. As he entered the kitchen, the scent of various spices invaded his nostrils, warming his body up further. "What's for dinner?" Ryn questioned, despite having no appetite.

"I made a Spiced Carrot and Lentil Soup, it's awfully chilly outside, nothing like a warm soup on a day like this." Ryn's mother flashed him a cheery smile before giving the soup a few stirs. Ryn instantly got to laying out the plates and glasses onto the small mahogany dining table.

Not too long after, Ryn's father returned from work. His pale skin slightly red around his eyes and nose. Not even ten seconds after entering, his loud voice spoke up. "It smells lovely in here Alice, what's for dinner?"

Thus the conversation about soup repeated, all the while Ryn silently listened. He was really going to miss this.

Once the soup had been dished out and the three of them were all sat together at the table, light and amicable chatter occurred between Ryn's mother and father, nonsensical things and average day to day questions. For not one single moment did they remain silent, as if scared to, as if they'd have to face a reality they couldn't bear the thought of. Ryn could feel himself wanting to crumble under this building pressure, he knew what he needed to say, what he had to tell them, yet… His mind kept on making excuses.

'Let us finish dinner first. Let us all warm up first. Let us all rest enough first.'

The list went on and on, Ryn knew he was just making excuses, running away from reality just as his parents were. He just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth, to break the people who raised him's hearts.

"Mom….Dad."

Silence ensued, as if the concept of sound had never existed to begin with. Ryn's mother's eyes were shaky, a small layer of tears already forming over her onyx eyes. His father's hands were slightly fidgety, tense. They both knew what he was about to say but… what parent could accept such a thing for their child?

"Mom, Dad… Tomorrow. I'm going to go to the Centre tomorrow."