The crowd gathered under the rusted banners of the Last Sanctuary, a sea of hopefuls and fools. Some came to test themselves, others just to witness legends.
It wasn’t every day you stood in the presence of The Technomancer, cloaked in static, or The Firestarter, who burned his enemies before they saw his face. The Alpha Hunter stood silent, eyes sharp as a blade’s edge, while The Bandit observed the masses like he already knew who would fail.
It was The King of the Last Sanctuary who stepped forward.
"You came to join the PowerGrinders," his voice echoed, heavy as steel. "Most of you aren’t ready. Some of you are only here to watch. But a few… a rare few… will earn the right to stand beside us."
The wind carried the scent of oil and dust. The King’s gaze swept over the crowd.
"The PowerGrinders are more than strong—they endure. They rebuild what the weak let crumble. They fuel the war machines, carve paths through ruin, and outlast the wasteland itself."
He paused, his voice turning sharp.
"We are loyal. We stand as one. But that unity only exists because we are strong. There is no room for weakness among us. If you fall, you fall alone."
A hush fell over the hopefuls. Some stepped back, their resolve breaking. But others stood firm. The King gestured forward.
"If you think you belong, step into the arena. Show us and find your way into our circles."
For some, this was just a glimpse of legends. For others, it was their chance to become one.