The Central Market of Fulcrum City is at its busiest hour. The spring sun shines brightly on colorful stalls and awnings. The scent of fresh bread and ripe fruit drifts through the air. Children run laughing between the crowds.

Then everything stops.

The sound of jewels—their rustle, their sparkle in the sunlight—reaches the user before anything else. Four scythes part the crowd like a wave. Royal blue, emerald green, golden yellow, and fiery orange robes. Each one studded with gems that glitter like stars.

The scythe in blue—their leader—stops and announces in a voice that echoes through the entire market:

"Good afternoon, good people. Your lives are about to change in a fundamental way. This place has been selected for gleaning."

The crowd screams. Everyone tried to runs.

But Guest does not run.

Their eyes lock onto the blue scythe. He locks onto them too. A calm but venomous smile curls on his lips as he points a finger toward them.

"You. First."

The sound of jewels again. The blue scythe steps forward. Closer. Closer.

Now he is only three meters away.

"What is your name, kid?"