《I'm not into PvP, but got thrown into the Arena World》


 Prologue - A World Without Self-Evident Truths

    Prologue


    A World Without Self-Evident Truths


    Loose pages fluttered from a messy desk, scattering like snowflakes across the room, each carrying an unfinished dream, a wish that would never come true.


    Zi-Cheng lay on the cold studio floor, reaching out with his trembling hand. His fingers grasped only emptiness¡ªa fitting answer to the emptiness within him.


    A game. A dream. All the years he had poured into his project, everything he¡¯d sacrificed¡­ it was all slipping away. In just a few hours, it would all be over.


    Outside the window, the dark night sky was lightening, a faint shade of blue hinting at the arrival of dawn. Yet there was no hope in that light; it was merely a reminder that time was running out.


    ¡°Zi-Cheng¡­ what are you going to do?¡±


    The question came from his phone, a simple sentence from a friend, but it only deepened the hollow look in Zi-Cheng¡¯s eyes. What was he going to do?


    He didn¡¯t have an answer.


    Around him, the once-lively studio felt like an empty husk, like the hollowed-out ruins of his heart. A rent notice taped to the door, mocking him, while his mailbox overflowed with debt collection letters. This place had once been his battlefield¡ªa space where he and his comrades fought together, side by side, for the sake of their shared dream. Now it was nothing more than a graveyard for that dream, without even a headstone.


    ¡°Indie game development in this city? You¡¯ve got to be kidding me!¡± he remembered someone sneering at him, back when he¡¯d first started. ¡°You¡¯ve got no connections, no capital, and you still think you can pull off a startup?¡±


    (Do dreams truly require a wealthy background and capital to take flight?)


    Three years ago, Zi-Cheng had laughed off those words. He had refused to compromise, refused to believe in such a hopeless world. With nothing but determination and every last cent of his savings, he threw himself into this venture like a gambler with no second thoughts.


    And in the end, like a gambler, he lost everything.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re just being na?ve? What you did was laughable!¡±


    Perhaps it was na?ve, he thought, but that dream was never laughable.


    There were stories of other developers who¡¯d been betrayed, their teams poached, their data stolen, and their ideas ripped away by unscrupulous companies. Yet Zi-Cheng had never imagined that it would come from within his team¡ªfrom his most trusted partners.


    What a fool he was to believe in this adventure called ¡°entrepreneurship,¡± to think he could sail forward with his team like pirates marking their arms with an ¡°X,¡± pledging loyalty to the same dream, on the same grand voyage.


    (How could they do this? We all set sail on the same ship, didn¡¯t we? How could they stab me in the back before our ship even reached the Grand Line?)


    ¡°Well, my friend, that was mostly wishful thinking on your part.¡±


    Hearing the words from his phone, Zi-Cheng felt a taste of bitterness catch in his throat, and for a moment he almost wanted a cigarette¡ªan image he¡¯d never thought he¡¯d find himself craving. The faint bitterness of smoke, maybe, would match the bitter smile tugging at his lips.


    A moment of silence, then the caller pressed again, a mocking tone curling in his voice.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be a game designer? You should know that the world¡¯s obsessed with PvP games by now!¡±


    PvP¡ªPlayer Versus Player. It was more than a game; it was a phenomenon that thrived on battles, deception, and betrayal, an activity where participants clawed their way to the top, trading trust and violence for status, wealth, and that intoxicating sense of superiority over those they defeated.


    Zi-Cheng let out a bitter smile. ¡°So reality is nothing more than a PvP game, isn¡¯t it?¡± he muttered.


    The world is a battlefield. He understood that simple truth better than anyone. Yet¡­


    ¡°Yet you just can¡¯t go with the flow, and that¡¯s why you¡¯re nothing more than an arrogant bastard who thinks he¡¯s above everyone else.¡±


    Those words hit Zi-Cheng like a truck, leaving him breathless and speechless.


    They were the words of his business partner¡ªthe man who ultimately took everything from him.


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    Ming-Wei Shi.


    ¡°Look, even the Olympic Committee is talking about adding e-sports. The higher-ups are having meetings about building a top-tier e-sports arena downtown. Don¡¯t you get it? This is where the money¡¯s heading!¡±


    Ming-Wei¡¯s words echoed in Zi-Cheng¡¯s head with a tone as if he were explaining something obvious to a child. ¡°The Secretary of Trade just put together a small e-sports competition, and the government handed him a $30 million grant! Is there even easier money to be made?¡±


    Zi-Cheng said nothing, his hands clenched into fists. He had nothing against e-sports, and in fact, he enjoyed the occasional competitive game too. But this e-sports boom had transformed the gaming world overnight. Studios across the city were scrambling to cash in on the trend with MOBA games and live-service competitive shooters, abandoning the art of storytelling and depth in favor of pure, ruthless competition.


    In the world of Player Versus Player, games were no longer about immersion or exploration. Instead, it was all about becoming the strongest in the shortest possible time. Be the top dog, the ¡°king¡± of a virtual battlefield. Players eagerly poured their money into powerful and expensive equipment, even resorted to cheating or backstabbing others to reach the top. Meanwhile, game companies, seeing nothing but profit, happily churned out new weapons, stronger characters, and items to give players that edge in the eternal climb to ¡°glory.¡±


    (In other words, a small investment for a huge profit.)


    A perfectly sensible business approach¡ªbut one that filled Zi-Cheng¡¯s stomach with disgust.


    (That¡¯s just being lazy. Is this really what ¡°games¡± were meant to be?)


    The caller¡¯s voice grew colder. ¡°I can¡¯t understand this obsession of yours. How far do you have to go with this ridiculous idealism before you¡¯re satisfied?¡±


    A sharp snap echoed in Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart, like the shattering of glass. That one sentence¡ªdismissing everything he believed in as ¡°obsession¡±¡ªwas the final straw, cutting through the last thread of hope he had been clinging to.


    Is that it? he thought, his fingers trembling. If you don¡¯t follow the trend, you¡¯re not even worthy of a chance to survive?


    If you stand your ground and won¡¯t compromise¡­ you¡¯ll be betrayed?


    Emptiness grew in Zi-Cheng¡¯s chest, swallowing all the memories he once held dear. He had created games to bring people joy, to share stories, to let players experience and explore worlds that no one had seen before. But now, it seemed, the world didn¡¯t care about that anymore. All they wanted was power, status, and a fleeting sense of superiority.


    So¡­ where did that leave him?


    The sky slowly turned a pale, fish-belly white. As Zi-Cheng bathed in the cold, blue light of dawn, he felt like he was sinking into the depths of an endless ocean, in complete solitude and cast out by those he once called companions. Memories of his hard work crumbled before him like a sandcastle swallowed by the waves. Watching it all disintegrate, he felt a deep ache in his chest¡­ but strangely, there was no regret.


    ¡°I hate PvP, and I hate this world.¡±


    (The defeated dog¡¯s final bark.)


    Zi-Cheng chuckled bitterly as a single tear slipped down his cheek, as if draining the last remnants of strength from his body. He felt utterly exhausted, tired of fighting, of hoping.


    ¡°You signed a contract with the government,¡± the voice on the phone reminded him, cold and merciless. ¡°Even if your company goes under, they won¡¯t let you walk away. You should know they don¡¯t let things slide that easily.¡±


    The words barely registered.


    Once, they would have stung, but now, they felt as distant as a thunderstorm miles away. The rage, the heartbreak¡ªit just felt¡­ numb.


    Without a word, Zi-Cheng reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pill bottle. Inside, a single, crystal-clear pill red like a ruby glittered, rattling against the bottle as he shook it.


    The man on the other end of the line scoffed. ¡°They say desperate men do desperate things, but not many can actually take the leap.¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s fingers tightened around the bottle. ¡°And if I take that leap¡­ you¡¯ll help me get back everything I¡¯ve lost?¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°With pleasure.¡±


    And that was all he needed to hear.


    After everything he had endured, handing over his years of hard work to those who betrayed him, the idea of placing his vengeance in someone else¡¯s hands¡­ it almost felt like a relief.


    Without hesitation, Zi-Cheng twisted off the cap and swallowed the pill.


    Immediately, a strange icy sensation bloomed within him, spreading like tendrils of frost winding through his veins. It felt as if thousands of tiny, wriggling ice worms were crawling beneath his skin, filling him with a chill so deep it reached his bones.


    His vision blurred, and he slumped forward, the world around him slowly fading into mist.


    In the haze, he saw something ¡ª a door, perhaps ¡ª faintly glowing with an otherworldly light, materializing in the middle of the empty studio. It pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, calling to him.


    (What¡­ is this?)


    Zi-Cheng tried to reach out, to stand, but his body felt light and helpless, like a withered leaf caught in a storm. His mouth opened, but no sound came from it. Even his own breath was slipping away.


    His consciousness flickered, a weak and trembling flame struggling against the darkness. He felt himself falling, deeper and deeper, until that final sliver of awareness faded into an infinite void ¡ª silently extinguished like the last light of a dying candle.


    ¡°You don¡¯t belong to this world, not anymore,¡± the caller¡¯s voice sounded distorted and distant, like it was passing through the ocean. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of things for you. From here on, you and I are accomplices on the same boat.¡±


    The words echoed faintly, growing softer, as if drifting into the depths of an endless sea.

 Chapter 1 - What Kind of World Is This?

    Chapter 1


    What Kind of World Is This?


    Thump... Thump...


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart hammered in his chest, and each desperate breath he drew burned his throat, warning him that his body was nearing its limit.


    (Damn it! This wasn¡¯t what I signed up for!)


    He bit his lip and hurled his meager meal ¡ª today¡¯s only food ¡ª toward the guards chasing him, but it didn¡¯t slow them down for even a moment.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a damn piece of bread! You seriously have to chase me down like this?!¡±


    Zi-Cheng bolted down a muddy alley, his footsteps echoing through the narrow passage. If he didn¡¯t lose the guards soon, escaping would only get harder. So, with a quick shove, he toppled a nearby stall and vaulted over a low wall.


    ¡°Out of the way!¡±


    ¡°Stop him! Stop that thief!¡±


    Hearing the guards¡¯ relentless shouts from the other side of the wall, Zi-Cheng clicked his tongue, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Who would have thought¡ªa game designer, now reduced to a petty thief stealing bread. The irony was almost painful.


    (Is this really any better than what I had before?)


    Whenever this question crossed his mind, a sharp headache followed. Memories of the studio, of everything that had happened, were reduced to nothing but fragments¡ªlike a corrupted video stuck in a loop. No matter how hard he reached for those hazy images, the reality of them slipped further and further away.


    The only thing he could be sure of, was that he was now in an unfamiliar city¡­ or rather, a completely foreign world.


    Bang!


    A wooden door nearby burst open, and a massive hand lunged toward his head.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see where you can run¡ª¡±


    Before the guard could finish, Zi-Cheng ducked low and slid between the man¡¯s legs, then scrambled further into the depths of the alleyway.


    (All those stories about people becoming heroes or sages in another world, and here I am...)


    His bitter thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sudden stench of blood.


    Turning the corner, he nearly stumbled over a corpse sprawled at his feet. The blood-soaked body blocked his path, and he barely stopped in time to avoid tripping over.


    ¡°What the¡­?¡±


    The corpse lay staring up at the sky, an expression of terror and pain frozen on its face. Its throat, slashed open, seemed almost out of place, like some grotesque prop in a poorly orchestrated prank. Dark blood was still oozing from the wound, staining the garbage-littered alley a sickening shade of red.


    Zi-Cheng had seen his share of death scenes in VR games, but standing over a real murder scene was another experience entirely.


    A wave of dizziness surged over him, his mind buzzing, but before nausea could overtake him, his gaze caught on something in the pool of blood ¡ª a paper crane. Its wings, dyed a vivid red, stood out against the white folds of its body.


    ¡°It¡¯s the Crimson Plume!¡±


    The guard behind him cried out, stopping at the sight of the bloodstained crane.


    (Crimson Plume?)


    Before Zi-Cheng could react, his gaze locked with another ¡ª a pair of eyes, cold and emotionless, calm as the sky before a storm.


    He froze, and with the sharp ¡°shing,¡± the blade of the Crimson Plume flashed out of its sheath.


    Perhaps crossing over to another world was just a modern fantasy trope. In those stories, the protagonist always leave behind some sort of heroic legacy. But for Yuan Zi-Cheng, he never had the chance, he didn¡¯t even have the qualifications to be a ¡°hero¡±.


    And this¡­ this was never a story about becoming a hero.


    <hr>


    Two Weeks Earlier


    At the end of the endless darkness, a silver of light brought Zi-Cheng back to consciousness.


    A soft, warm light filtered through the branches above, casting a gentle glow across his face. It carried a sense of tranquility, almost like the opening of Dragon Quest he remembered from childhood¡ªa quiet invitation for a hero to awaken and begin a grand adventure.


    (A grand adventure?)


    This thought hit Zi-Cheng, then just as quickly, he bolted upright.


    What was he thinking? With his studio and everything he had worked tirelessly for crumbling, this was no time for any ¡°great adventures¡±!


    Then he remembered swallowing that ruby-like pill before losing consciousness ¡ª a pill that brought a chilling, bone-deep sense of despair and weakness, convincing him that he had brushed the edge of death itself.


    (Could I¡­ could I be¡­ dead?)


    He reached out and touched the tree beside him, the roughness of the bark felt as real as anything he¡¯d ever touched. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, filling the air with a soothing whisper. This place certainly didn¡¯t feel like the afterlife; it felt more like an isolated and untouched forest.


    (What if this is some sort of elaborate prank?)


    (No, that¡¯s not possible. We had a deal, didn¡¯t we?)


    A deal.


    But with whom?


    The thought jolted him, and he tensed. Yes, he made a deal with that person on the phone, to reclaim everything he had lost.


    (But who was that person? And what was my end of the bargain?)


    He froze again as his mind went blank.


    Frantically, he reached for his pockets. Perhaps if he could find his phone, he would at least know who he had been talking to.


    But his pockets were empty.


    Then he remembered ¨C the phone was left on the studio floor before he blacked out. So no phone, no call logs, no GPS, and certainly no way to contact anyone now.


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    (Don¡¯t panic, don¡¯t panic, don¡¯t panic¡­)


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m going to panic!¡± Zi-Cheng yelled, looking up at the sky in frustration.


    Thud!


    Just as Zi-Cheng let out his cry, something bumped into his calf. The impact was so light it barely registered, more like a soccer ball gently rolling against him.


    ¡°Take a deep breath, stay calm... There¡¯s no way I¡¯d forget something this important¡­¡±


    Thud!


    ¡°Come on! What was the deal about? Think... think¡­ Urgh! I can¡¯t even remember who was on the other end of the call!¡±


    Five people had once worked at Zi-Cheng¡¯s indie game studio. Lam Kai-Wen, the team¡¯s artist, was a sweet girl who had resigned some time ago. Chan Sze-Ki, a middle-aged man who managed incoming projects and kept their finances afloat, had suddenly cut ties and disappeared. The remaining two were the ones who had set him up: Mingwei Shi, his business partner, and Leung Pa-Tu, the lead programmer who¡¯d been poached by Mingwei and left Zi-Cheng saddled with an unfinished government contract.


    None of them had any reason to speak to Zi-Cheng now, let alone make a deal with him. That meant someone from the outside had reached out, made a deal with him, and offered him the red pill.


    Thud!


    ¡°I said, enough already!¡±


    Zi-Cheng growled, looking down to find¡­ a knee-high mushroom punching at his calf.


    ¡°Wha¡ª?!¡±


    He stumbled back, shocked at the sight of the creature. The mushroom had a face¡ªa human-like face starring at him with a stern look.


    ¡°Kikiki¡ª¡±


    The mushroom monster lunged forward with a strange laugh, charging straight at him!


    ¡°Gah!... Huh?¡±


    The impact wasn¡¯t much stronger than before and barely hurt at all...


    (Does this thing realize its squishy body doesn¡¯t make for a good attack?)


    Infuriated by Zi-Cheng¡¯s lack of reaction, the mushroom monster started beeping and shrieking, throwing punches at his leg like a tiny berserker.


    (It backs up, then charges¡­ once it gets close, it attacks with its fists over and over. This is practically robotic...)


    ¡°Wait¡­ Could this be¡­ basic programming?¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart skipped a beat. This absurdity, this clich¨¦¡ªcould it really be happening?


    (I am in a video game?)


    He inhaled the fresh forest air, felt the rough texture of the tree bark under his fingers, and even licked it.


    Smell, taste, and touch¡ªthe three sensory details that had always been the biggest barriers to creating a fully immersive game. Crafting a perfectly immersive VR world would take years of research, decades even, with unimaginable resources. But no, this wasn¡¯t a game. It was too real to be one.


    Zi-Cheng took his first step in this foreign land, and the mushroom monster kept up with him relentlessly, following and punching him wherever he went. Eventually, the two ¨C man and mushroom ¨C ended up side by side, standing at the edge of the forest.


    Beyond the trees, there was no Mushroom Kingdom, Zi-Cheng only found himself standing at a vast plain. Waves of green grass rolled under a bright blue sky, swaying like the waves of the ocean in the gentle breeze.


    This is truly breath-taking.


    As he marveled at the scene, a flock of birds flew past him and disappeared into the horizon.


    (A perfect moment for the game¡¯s title to appear¡­.)


    Yet, as he looked up, there was no title, no rousing soundtrack.


    He sighed, ¡°Guess this is not a sequel to the Breath of the Wild¡­.¡±


    This clearly wasn¡¯t some triple-A blockbuster game, nor was the persistent mushroom monster any creature he had seen in a game before.


    (At least one thing is certain ¨C this mushroom monster isn¡¯t some experiment that escaped from a lab.)


    Off in the distance, dozens of mushroom monster wandered aimlessly, looking like a bunch of background NPCs.


    With a wicked grin and irritation bubbling over, Zi-Cheng lined up a shot and kicked the mushroom monster like a star striker in a soccer match.


    ¡°Goal!!¡±


    ¡°Beeeeeeep ¨C¨C ¡°


    The mushroom monster let out a pitiful wail as it flew through the air, landing with a soft thud and transforming into a small mushroom.


    ¡°No way! This is¡­ an item drop!?¡±


    There was no mistaking it; this had to be a game-world phenomenon. Yet, when Zi-Cheng picked up the mushroom, it felt as real as one fresh picked from a grocery store.


    (A game-like world¡­ and yet, with real sensation¡­ What kind of reality is this?)


    Then, a line from an old superhero movie popped into his head: ¡°Don¡¯t apply the rules of your world to another.¡±


    In that movie, a doctor crossed the multiverse and found colors on the traffic lights had reversed meanings in another world.


    (Okay, so this isn¡¯t a game, but...another world in the multiverse?)


    Remembering all the isekai novels he read, Zi-Cheng decided to try something.


    ¡°Properties!¡±


    He shouted at the sky, striking a dramatic pose.


    ¡°Status! Menu!¡±


    Yet, nothing happened.


    ¡°Great. This is just perfect. How can you put a guy in another world without giving him any super powers?¡±


    ¡°So you thought you¡¯d get superpowers by yelling in the forest?¡±


    Zi-Cheng yelped and jumped forward, startled by the voice behind him.


    ¡°Holy ¨C¨C someone¡¯s here!¡± he called out, eyes wide.


    ¡°Yeah, someone who doesn¡¯t shout at trees,¡± the stranger retorted.


    Zi-Cheng took a step back and saw a burly, middle-aged man pushing a wooden cart loaded with mushrooms.


    ¡°No no no, I don¡¯t mean it like that!¡± Zi-Cheng said, relief flooding him as he quickly apologized. ¡°I¡¯m so glad to see someone in this godforsaken forest! Can you help me? I think I might¡¯ve been kidnapped.¡±


    ¡°Kidnapped, you say? You some noble or a merchant from the guild?¡± The man squinted, eyeing Zi-Cheng curiously.


    (Noble? Merchant from the guild?)


    ¡°They probably mistook you for someone important. That¡¯s why they ditched you out here,¡± the man said, scratching his chin.


    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m just¡­.¡±


    ¡°Hazelton¡¯s only half a day¡¯s walk from here. I¡¯ll take you there, and you can ask the guards for help getting back to your family.¡±


    Only now did Zi-Cheng realize something odd ¨C¨C he understood every word perfectly.


    (But how¡­.?)


    Just as the mystery deepened, he decided to run a quick test.


    ¡°Hey kid, you alright?¡± the man asked, his brows furrowed with concern.


    Acting preoccupied, Zi-Cheng turned around and casually asked, ¡°Can I borrow your phone for a sec?¡±


    In an age where even seniors were familiar with smartphones, if this man tried to fake ignorance, Zi-Cheng would spot it right away.


    But the man looked genuinely puzzled, ¡°a what?¡±


    If this was an act, it deserved an Oscar.


    ¡°I mean, do you have any long-distance communication magic?¡± Zi-Cheng tried again, a touch of desperation creeping into his voice.


    Magic was a typical fantasy trope, so it was worth a shot.


    But reality hit hard, and things weren¡¯t that simple.


    ¡°Kid, did you bump your head? You¡¯re old enough to know magic¡¯s just a fairy tale!¡± the man laughed, giving Zi-Cheng a hearty pat on the back with his large hand. ¡°Instead of silly fantasies, you should be working on your combat skills! Without them, you¡¯ll never stand a chance in the arena or earn your blessings at the Sanctum.¡±


    (Arena and Sanctum? What is he even talking about?)


    Before Zi-Cheng could react, the man elbowed him playfully, almost sending him sprawling.


    ¡°Whoa! Easy there!¡± Zi-Cheng gasped.


    ¡°The name¡¯s Chris Coleman,¡± the man said with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯m a silver-tier fighter at the Hazelton Arena. Well...ex-fighter, anyways. But back in the day, they called me the Silver Axe.¡±


    (Silver-tier? A mushroom gatherer has a fighting rank at the arena?)


    (What kind of twisted world is this?!)

 Chapter 2 - Hazelton (Part 1/2)

    Chapter 2


    Hazelton


    This city was once a beacon of hope that dazzled the world.


    Dreamers flocked here, eager for a chance to turn their ambitions into reality. Souls yearned for freedom, carving out their destinies, crafting miracles, and staking claims to their own piece of legacy. This city, once a jewel and a symbol of hope, was now literally shrouded in dark storm clouds¡ªyet not a drop of rain had fallen. All that remained was a heavy, suffocating air, like an invisible hand closing around the city¡¯s throat, stifling any attempt to lift one¡¯s head for a moment of respite.


    Suddenly, a roll of thunder cracked outside the tall windows of a massive skyscraper, nearly drowning out the knock at the door.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    A scarred hand pushed open the door, revealing a thin man. He wore a loose T-shirt, cheap black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, his presence clashed with the elegant surroundings of the room.


    Needless to say, this man didn¡¯t belong here. Yet today, he was the ¡°guest of honor¡± that Yong-Feng had personally invited.


    ¡°Ah, Jing-Xuan, there you are! Come in, have a seat!¡± Yong-Feng called out, waving his guest over. With his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, Yan Yong-Feng exuded authority in his immaculate suit.


    Despite the chasm between the two men in both status and appearance, Yan Yong-Feng raised his glass with a smile and extended it to Li Jing-Xuan.


    ¡°Relax, I didn¡¯t invite you here to discuss anything too serious. I just wanted to have a friendly chat, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Just a chat?


    And when had they ever been friends?


    Li Jing-Xuan forced a small smile and accepted the glass. In this city, where time meant power, wealth, and survival, who had the luxury to waste a second on someone deemed unworthy? No, such was not the nature of one among the city¡¯s elite.


    Yan Yong-Feng, one of the city¡¯s most influential angel investors, had a Midas touch that could turn ventures into gold. With pitch-black hair and penetrating eyes, he was known as the ¡°Chevalier Licorne,¡± the Unicorn Knight. His words could change the course of a person¡¯s fate. It was almost unfathomable to think that Yan Yong-Feng would reach out to a simple programmer, a complete nobody like Li Jing-Xuan.


    Unless...


    Ding¨C¨C


    The sound of their crystal glasses clinking resonated, crisp and clear.


    Ever since he received the call from Yong-Feng, Jing-Xuan had speculated on the Unicorn Knight¡¯s intentions, even though he had planned to catch Yong-Feng¡¯s attention when proposing solutions to the top AI experts¡¯ questions at the recent Sci-Tech Forum.


    ¡°Would you like a game of chess?¡± Yong-Feng said, moving toward the marble chessboard by the window and giving the white pawn a gentle push. ¡°They say life is much like a game of chess. True players can tell when opportunity knocks. The daring make their moves and turn dreams into reality, while others hesitate, letting their moment pass and watching as someone else claims victory.¡±


    Ah yes, the glory of seizing opportunities.


    But then, there was always the danger in dancing with the devil.


    Jing-Xuan downed his wine in one swift motion and placed a piece on the board, a slight smile forming. ¡°Opportunities are like moves in chess. They can lead to a breakthrough just as easily as they can become a misstep, depending on how far ahead you can see. I¡¯m sure you understand that well, Mr. Yan.¡±


    Yong-Feng¡¯s brows lifted, a flicker of admiration crossing his expression. Most who stepped into this office were dreamers, desperate and hungry for investment. But someone who could meet ¡°opportunity¡± with a steady hand and place a piece on the board without flinching? Rare indeed.


    But this game was just beginning.


    ¡°I know you¡¯ve been unwilling to use your AI research for speculative ventures, Jing-Xuan,¡± Yong-Feng went back to his desk, sliding a document across the polished mahogany surface, ¡°so I prepared a proposal that aligns with your principles.¡±


    Li Jing-Xuan¡¯s eyes widened in surprise.


    As a developer, he understood the significance of funding for R&D projects. It was the only reason he had agreed to this meeting, after all. However, he hadn¡¯t expected Yan Yong-Feng to anticipate his hesitation and craft a proposal tailored to it.


    Flipping through the document, Li Jing-Xuan¡¯s thoughts raced.


    Though he kept it well hidden, he was indeed desperate for funding. This decision went beyond just accepting an investment; it would impact Project Primrose and, ultimately, his entire future.


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    ¡°Mr. Yan, your offer is indeed enticing,¡± Jing-Xuan said, carefully closing the document, ¡°but every opportunity comes with risks. This is especially true with the nature of Project Primrose.¡±


    The two men¡¯s eyes met, and it was clear that this ¡°chat¡± had turned into a battle of wits and foresight.


    In the end, Jing-Xuan promised a response in three days and left the room with the proposal in hand.


    Once the door clicked shut, silence settled over the luxurious office. Alone at last, Yong-Feng¡¯s composed smile faded as he paced in front of the wide windows, a glint of ambition sparkling in his eyes as Jing-Xuan¡¯s words echoed in his mind.


    Everything in this room¡ªfrom the German-crafted desk, to the Italian leather chair, to the panoramic view of the city¡ªspoke of achievements and status, each acquired through memorable gambits. Yet, at the end of the day, none of these compared to the thrill of matching wits with an equal.


    ¡°And it¡¯s especially satisfying when the opponent is already ensnared in the game, still believing that they are standing on even ground.¡± Yong-Feng slowly sipped his wine, savoring every drop of this intriguing encounter.


    <hr>


    While the stakes of the ¡°game¡± in Yong-Feng¡¯s office played out with careful words and hidden motives, in another realm, a far less strategic struggle unfolded.


    Zi-Cheng stumbled forward under the harsh glare of an endless blue sky, each step a reminder of how unprepared he was for this world. The scent of the grassland, fresh and unrelenting, filled his lungs, but did little to offset the fatigue dragging down his body. For someone who had spent most of his life indoors, immersed in virtual quests and digital battles, walking for hours on rough terrain was its own kind of punishment.


    Behind him, Chris¡¯s wooden cart creaked as it rolled along, the man pushing it at an annoyingly steady pace.


    ¡°Young master, you look terrible,¡± Chris smiled, with a teasing lilt in his voice matched by a glimmer of sympathy.


    Zi-Cheng glanced at Chris with frustration, who, despite dragging a loaded cart, was moving faster than him. Panting, Zi-Cheng found himself too drained to reply, the complaints on the tip of his tongue swallowed by exhaustion.


    (Since when did walking become a boss-level challenge?)


    The beautiful scenery stretched out around him, vibrant and unyielding. Yet, even the brightest landscape felt like an enemy when each step was a battle against his failing stamina.


    In any typical isekai story, the protagonist would show up with unrivaled power, saving damsels in distress and recruiting beautiful women as loyal companions by the second chapter. So why was he, the supposed hero, trudging behind a rugged, muscular man, drenched in sweat and barely holding on?


    ¡°Damn it¡­ since that guy tossed me into another world¡­ couldn¡¯t he at least¡­ throw in some kind of perks¡­?¡± Zi-Cheng muttered between labored breaths.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Chris glanced back, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Nothing¡­ Just talking to myself¡­. I¡¯m not used to walking¡­ this far,¡± Zi-Cheng admitted, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.


    Chris let out a hearty laugh, the sound carrying over the open plains. From the start, he could tell Zi-Cheng wasn¡¯t exactly the picture of physical strength.


    ¡°Alright, young master! Climb onboard and take a breather.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not some pampered noble!¡± Zi-Cheng snapped, but the offer was too tempting. Despite the man¡¯s bluntness, there was a genuine warmth to Chris¡¯s words that stirred an almost forgotten sense of comfort.


    This world, Arina, as Chris explained, was teeming with demons and wild beasts. Ordinary folk never ventured far beyond the city walls if they value their lives. For someone like Zi-Cheng ¨C who couldn¡¯t even lift a sword ¨C survival out here was next to impossible.


    ¡°Lucky for you, the only thing you ran into was a harmless mushroom monster!¡± Chris burst into laughter again, pausing only when he noticed Zi-Cheng¡¯s legs shaking like a newborn fawn.


    With cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, Zi-Cheng reluctantly climbed into the wooden cart, sinking into the pile of mushrooms, resting his aching body.


    (So much for being a brave hero destined to save the world. What kind of hero needs to hitch a ride just to keep moving?)


    As he compared himself to the isekai novels he read as a teenager, the cart gave a small jolt as it  to move forward.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you this, young master,¡± Chris said, a knowing gleam in his eyes. ¡°Even if you¡¯re from a noble house, you can¡¯t survive in the arena just by relying on your family¡¯s battle techniques.¡±


    (Battle techniques? What is that supposed to mean?)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s curiosity flared, but


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it. hy  nobles risk their necks compet in the arena?¡±


    ¡°To sharpen their bloodline inheritance, of course!¡± Chris , as if  the most obvious thing in the world, ¡°Families with rare combat skills are destined to become the kingdom¡¯s pillars. Or did you think the title ¡®noble¡¯ was just for show?¡±


    Chris¡¯s explanation deepened Zi-Cheng¡¯s confusion, but there was something familiar about it. The connection between rare combat skills and statusonline games, where top-ranked players were  members of guilds decked out with rareand best gear. Yet, as he mulled it over, the idea of power and social status being concentrated in the hands of a select few felt different in reality. such a system really something to admire and uphld with pride?


    ¡°In the Kingdom of Izanish, we  glory and receive blessings through prowess in the arena.¡± Chris


    Zi-Cheng had heard words like ¡°glory¡± and ¡°blessings¡± , butnever  well with him. Seeing Chris¡¯s  made him realize  ¨C  a deeply held belief. For Chris and the people  this kingdom, th wlive by, strive for, and hld with pride.


    (So this the difference in values?)


    Zi-Cheng pondered, a pang of uncertainty tugging at him. As an outsider, should he blend in and adapt their ways, or should he hold onto his own beliefs?


    (Perhaps it¡¯s best to keep my real thoughts to myself... at least until I understand more about this Kingdom of Izanish.)


    While Zi-Cheng was lost in thought, Chris continued, ¡°You know, noble children from well-off families started training at the Academy of Valor from a young age. They sharpened their skills and learned strategy until they were arena-ready. We don¡¯t see many nobles like you, young master.¡±


    Zi-Cheng sensed a hint of unease at Chris¡¯s words, and sighed before deciding to clear the air once and for all.

 Chapter 2 - Hazelton (Part 2/2)

    ¡°


    ¡°


    Zi-Cheng quickly realized the cultural difference and corrected himself, ¡°That... that¡¯s my family name! My name is Ventus, Ventus Zi-Cheng,¡± he added, hoping it sounded convincing enough.


    ¡°


    For Zi-Cheng, the name Ventus was merely an alias he casually used when playing online games. Little did he know, such a simple decision would eventually become one of the cornerstones shaping the fate of this world.


    The journey continued under the open sky, with only the rhythmic creak of the wooden cart breaking the silence. Half a day  passed without incident.


    The cart creaked as it rolled out of the wilderness, its wheels clattering against the stone-paved road. Now that they were back on solid ground, Chris¡¯s pace quickened. Free from the burden of matching Zi-Cheng¡¯s struggling speed, they reached their destination just before sunset. Zi-Cheng, who had been resting in the cart, promptly sat up as the surrounding atmosphere grew livelier. Embarrassed, he quickly hopped down  walk beside Chris.


    ¡°"


    ¡°


    He pointed to the colossal tower rising in the distance. ¡°And that over there is our Colosseum, smack in the middle of the Arena District. For a few silver coins, you can get a hot meal and a bed at one of the inns nearby.¡±


    As Chris rambled on about the city, a carriage suddenly thundered past, its wheels rattling against the cobblestones.


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s eye widened, his gazed locked on the strange sight.


    Chris quickly noticed the stunned look on Zi-Cheng¡¯s face and chuckled, dismissing it as the reaction of a pampered young man who had never set foot outside the comfort of his estate, marveling at the mundane. But Chris didn¡¯t know it wasn¡¯t the carriage that caught Zi-Cheng¡¯s attention ¨C it was the creatures pulling it.


    Two massive beasts with six legs, each with the head of an eagle and the body of a towering horse.


    (That can¡¯t be CGI or animatronics¡­ right?)


    Chris then placed a firm hand on Zi-Cheng¡¯s shoulder, pointing to the spiral-shaped Colosseum tower that dominated the city¡¯s skyline.


    ¡°It¡¯s really something, isn¡¯t it? They say it was built by our kingdom¡¯s founding hero.¡±


    (Wait, did he just say ¡°the kingdom¡¯s founding hero¡±...and not a king?)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s eyes followed the tower¡¯s imposing silhouette. It rose like a crane standing among sparrows, dwarfing all the buildings around it. At its peak, a colossal brazier blazed, casting its glow across Hazelton and beyond, a beacon that seemed to light the very sky.


    A kingdom founded by a hero instead of a king, and a tower that shone as if it could be seen from miles away¡­ Zi-Cheng racked his memory, but the world he came from had no such marvel or tales.


    (So it¡¯s true then¡­ I¡¯ve been thrown into an entirely different world, where the arena reigns supreme.)


    Zi-Cheng trailed behind Chris, his expression hollow as reality pressed down on him. Lost in thought, he barely noticed when Chris suddenly came to a stop.


    ¡°


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s eyes drifted up, taking in the scene before him ¨C an intersection crowded with carts, carriages, and the clamor of people ¨C the evening rush. It was a familiar chaos set against the backdrop of an unfamiliar city. Even though he hadn¡¯t planned to rely on Chris for long, the thought of parting ways left him feeling adrift. Meeting someone trustworthy in this strange world had been a blessing, but now that comfort was slipping away.


    Chris seemed to notice Zi-Cheng¡¯s hesitation. He reached into the pouch at his waist, pulling out a few silver coins. ¡°Here, take these. They¡¯ll be enough to get you a room and a warm meal for a few days. Just keep walking down this road, and you¡¯ll hit the guard post in a few minutes. Tell them what happened, and they¡¯ll help you get back to your family.¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart clenched. Family? The word felt heavy, almost foreign. He hadn¡¯t mentioned to Chris that he had no family ¨C at least, not in this world. Memories of betrayal and the cold grin of his former partner were the last remnants of his old life.


    He¡¯d grown accustomed to facing challenges alone, bearing hardship in silence. Even so, parting with the only person he¡¯d connected with in this strange world felt like losing the last thread of familiarity. e forced a smile, nodded, and offered Chris his most sincere thanks farewell.


    With the wooden cart rumbling off, and Chris¡¯s broad figure gradually blended into the sea of people, Zi-Cheng was left standing alone, as silence pressed against him.


    What now? Do I really want to ask the guards for help?


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    A bitter smile played on his lips. If he went to the guards claiming he came from another world and wants a way home, certainly they would take him as a lunatic and perhaps lock him up for good.


    Being locked up in a cell in an unfamiliar world sounds like the worst kind of hell.


    But if not the guards, then who should he turn to? The thought of having forgotten every detail of the agreement with the strange caller gnawed at him. In the ebb and flow of the crowd sweeping by him, Zi-Cheng only felt like a lonely boat lost in the open sea.


    Then, out of nowhere, a girl in a sapphire-blue school uniform bumped into him, her shoulder grazing his. Before he could react, the girl has vanished into the crowd, carried away by the currents of people.


    They didn¡¯t even make eye contact.


    Not just her ¨C everyone around him seemed to be in a hurry, with determined expression fixated forward, driven by something he couldn¡¯t see. Though Zi-Cheng wore clothes that seemed out of place, yet not a single person spared him a second glance.


    (Cold... and all too familiar)


    Hazelton had no gleaming banks, no towering stock exchanges, no grand convention centers, but this cold indifference, this relentless pace ¨C it was no different from the city he¡¯d once called home. A city that pushed him, shaped him, and ultimately abandoned him.


    He, too had chased dreams so fiercely that he¡¯d forgotten to look around. Priorities narrowed to the here and now, complaints swallowed, life endured.


    Until the day everything came crashing down.


    Realization struck like a chill. All those years of grinding effort had amounted to nothing. The city, his connections, his life ¨C all had discarded him without a second thought. His very existence felt detached, like a spare part to be tossed aside, devoid of worth.


    Could he ever return to that world?


    The answer eluded him.


    ¡°


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s dazed thought were cut short by the bark of a guard with neatly trimmed mustache. The man¡¯s light armor clinked as he swaggered forward, eyes gleaming with suspicion and sharpness of someone who enjoyed exerting power.


    Great. Just when I thought I could keep a low profile.


    Zi-Cheng forced a smile, trying to suppress the unease rolling inside. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, I seem to have lost my way.¡±


    ¡°


    The sharp question brought back memories of Chris¡¯s probing during the cart ride, when he had shown skepticism about Zi-Cheng¡¯s origins. Now, the guard¡¯s imposing stance only deepened his discomfort.


    ¡°My name is Ventus. I came to Hazelton with my family to watch the arena matches, but we got separated on the way,¡± he said, fabricating the story of a naive noble¡¯s son, hoping it would sound convincing.


    Yet, the guard brow furrowed, his mouth curving into a smirk. ¡°To watch the games at the arena, you say?¡±


    In a city obsessed with arena battles, Zi-Cheng¡¯s answer should have been foolproof. Unfortunately, he overlooked one crucial detail: in a world where only the well-guarded or exceptionally skilled dared to travel between cities, who in their right mind would risk venturing beyond the safety of the city walls just to watch an arena match in another town?


    ¡°Torenzo, enough with the chit-chat. Make him show his arena tag,¡± an icy, commanding voice cut through the tension from behind Zi-Cheng.


    He spun around, startled to find a woman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Her light armor bore the insignia of rank, and a long sword with a golden hilt rested at her side. Chestnut-brown hair fell like a cascade down her back, as her eyes gleamed with disdain and impatience.


    Her fingers draped over her sword¡¯s hilt, a silent promise that she was ready to draw it at the slightest provocation.


    This was Julia Kinsley, one of the few female vice-captains of the town guard, and a formidable arena combatant who had reached the prestigious gold tier. Her unyielding gaze had made it clear: she wasn¡¯t here to play games.


    Though he felt hostility radiating from her, Zi-Cheng kept his expression composed. ¡°I won¡¯t come of age until next month, so I haven¡¯t received my tag yet.¡±


    Chris had mentioned that even the nobles weren¡¯t required to participate in the arena until they reached adulthood, thus his story should have held up¡­ or so he thought.


    Julia¡¯s lips twisted into a sneer, a cold, mocking chuckle slipping past, ¡°I thought you might be scrap metal, but turns out you¡¯re not even that.¡±


    Zi-Cheng didn¡¯t fully grasp what ¡°scrap metal¡± meant, but the venom in Julia¡¯s voice made the insult clear. It cut deep, stirring memories of the mockery he had endured in his world.


    As the head of an indie game studio, he had spent years chasing funding, only to be met with dismissive investors obsessed with quick returns. They didn¡¯t care about the experiences his games offered¡ªthey only wanted the next tech trend to ride to profit.


    ¡°Does your game use blockchain, NFTs, metaverse tech, or AI? Why should I waste money if it doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Player experience? Can that compete with flipping crypto or real estate?¡±


    He became a laughingstock in those circles, yet he learned to suppress his anger, don a brave face, and push his proposals forward, no matter how demeaning each meeting became. It always came down to two choices: retreat in shame and wait for the funds to run dry or swallow his pride and move to the next potential backer.


    The saying ¡°if one eats salted fish, one must be able to stand the thirst¡± was ingrained in him¡ªa constant reminder to endure the consequences of his path. Years of humiliation had sharpened his ability to bury his frustration under a composed facade, and this stoic demeanor seemed almost amusing to Julia.


    ¡°Torenzo, this one says he¡¯s here for the arena games. So how about I show him some courtesy and take him there myself?¡± Julia declared, her voice dripping with sarcasm.


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s eyes widened, a surge of panic seizing him, but before he could utter a word, Torenzo¡¯s laughter rang out. ¡°You¡¯re in luck, kid! The Golden Fox herself is taking you to the tournament!¡±


    (Chris mentioned he was called the ¡°Silver Axe¡±¡­ Does that mean this ¡°Golden Fox¡± is even stronger?)


    His mind raced for a way out, but before he could act, Julia¡¯s gloved hand seized his collar, lifting him like a stray cat.


    ¡°I¡¯m Julia Kinsley, vice-captain of the town guard. Ventus, wasn¡¯t it? You said you wanted to see the games? I¡¯ll make sure you have the best seat!¡± Her voice left no room for argument ¨C it was clear this was anything but an invitation.


    A sharp pain shot through his wrist as she yanked him forward. He opened his mouth to protest, but her iron grip left no room for resistance. With no other choice, Zi-Cheng let his body go limp, hoping to make himself a burden as she dragged him along the street.


    But Julia saw right through it. With a swift motion, she released her hold, and he crumpled to the ground in an undignified heap.


    ¡°Why did you let go!¡± Zi-Cheng muttered, holding his aching face, bewildered.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t trust anyone who tries to play dead. A little punishment is what tricksters deserve,¡± she said, her tone icy, eyes daring him to pull another stunt.

 Chapter 3 - Maiden of The Sanctuary (Part 1/2)

    Chapter 3


    Maiden of The Sanctuary


    All Zi-Cheng wanted was to rest his legs at a quiet tavern, sample some of this world¡¯s food, and maybe, finally, get a real night¡¯s sleep at an inn. But with Julia¡¯s sudden appearance, nothing seemed to go as planned. Every move this woman made, every word she spoke, was aimed squarely at him ¨C as if he¡¯d somehow earned her animosity on his very first day in this strange new world.


    (What¡¯s the deal with her?)


    He forced himself to play dumb, hoping to gauge her intention. ¡°I¡¯m being honest here! Are you really going to harass an innocent traveler?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s how we¡¯re playing it, huh?¡± Julia¡¯s smile turned to steel. ¡°Well, let¡¯s start with this, then: you claimed you came here with family, right? Funny thing ¨C my guards at the gate reported a total stranger entering our city, lounging in the back of Silver Axe¡¯s cart.¡±


    (They¡¯ve been watching me since then?)


    ¡°Well¡­ I got separated with my family outside the city, and Chris was kind enough to offer me a ride. How¡¯s that a crime?¡±


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll humor your story,¡± Julia crossed her arms, ¡°but you said you came to Hazelton to watch the tournament?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! You have a problem with that?¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s defiance only fueled her, like a cat finally setting its paw on a prey. She flashed a smile, clearly delighted. ¡°No problem at all, I¡¯m just fascinated.¡± She tilted her head, voice laced with mockery. ¡°Every city has its own arena, so unless you¡¯re part of a merchant caravan or one among the Royal Guards, which I doubt you are, no one would risks the wilderness just to watch a game.¡±


    ¡°That...that¡¯s my family¡¯s business¡­ Why should it concern you?¡±


    As Julia watched his temper flare, her smile only grew sharper. He was right where she wanted him.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s family matter, is it? Then do tell me, which city you¡¯re from and the names of these family members of yours who risked their lives so you could attend our humble little tournament?¡±


    Then it dawned on Zi-Cheng, outwitting this ¡°Golden Fox¡± was a terrible idea from the start, but it was too late, and too far to turn back now.


    In a split second, he bent his knee, preparing for his next move. But just as quickly, Julia closed the gap, her blade practically whispering from its sheath.


    ¡°Going somewhere? I believe you owe me a full explanation, Ventus.¡±


    Her taunt rang in his ears, her sword unsheathed, flashing under the afternoon sun.


    Yet, even with odds stacked against him, Zi-Cheng didn¡¯t flinch. He knew if Julia meant to kill him, she would¡¯ve already done so already. This was a game of intimidation ¨C she wanted answers, and her pride and confidence in her own skills and wits would provide the perfect opening.


    Even if that opening lasted only half a second, it would be enough.


    Smooch ¨C¨C¨C¨C!


    In that instant, Zi-Cheng¡¯s lips landed right on Julia¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°You ¨C¨C bastard!¡±


    Julia recoiled, her eyes widening in shock as a crimson blush spread across her face. She pushed the scoundrel before her, instinctively swinging her hand to slap him.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    But Zi-Cheng was one step ahead, catching the edge of a passing carriage, and vaulting himself onto its roof, flashing her a triumphant grin as he sped away.


    ¡°Get back here, you little ¨C¨C¨C!!¡±


    Julia¡¯s shout faded as the carriage hurtled down the street, leaving her behind in a cloud of dust.


    (I can¡¯t believe I pulled off a trick straight out of a manga¡­ and it worked!)


    A laugh escaped him as he climbed into the carriage, but his grin quickly froze as he noticed the passengers around gaped in shock, eyes wide with disbelief.


    ¡°That guy actually kissed the Golden Fox?¡±


    ¡°No way! Is he insane?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯d risk their life just to smooch her?¡±


    ¡°Did you see the way she chased him? They¡¯re totally in love!¡±


    ¡°So even she has a boyfriend now?¡±


    As the passengers continued their chatter, Zi-Cheng suddenly realize what he had gotten himself into. Who would have guessed that vice-captain was such a prominent figure?


    With the gossip swirling around him, Zi-Cheng only wished he could dig a hole in the carriage and bury himself. Nonetheless, the carriage was packed, and he could only brace himself, turn his head to the scenery outside, and pretend he hadn¡¯t heard a word.


    The carriage rumbled past narrow, timber-framed houses with steeply pitched roofs, a striking contrast to the skyscrapers Zi-Cheng was used to, and a constant reminder that he was truly a stranger in this foreign land.


    Lost in thought, he glanced down at his hands, a strange tingling sensation spreading through them. Back in his world, he¡¯d been an indoors person, spending countless hours typing away at his computer, chasing his dreams since college. Could these hands, hands that had rarely left the keyboard, really have pulled off such an incredible stunt with an agility he¡¯d never known before?


    Something didn¡¯t add up, but he didn¡¯t have the time to sort it out.


    ¡°We are arriving at Sanctuary Station. All passengers, please prepare to disembark.¡±


    The driver¡¯s announcement rang out from the front, snapping Zi-Cheng from his thoughts as the passengers around him began shifting, stretching and grabbing their belongings impatiently. The moment the carriage door swung open, everyone surged forward, sweeping Zi-Cheng along like an unrelenting current.


    Stumbling off onto a stone-paved square, Zi-Cheng looked up to find himself in a vast, bustling plaza. The space seemed endless, alive with movement, flanked by grand arches and towering statues that cast long shadows in the afternoon sun.


    ¡°So¡­ this is the Sanctuary,¡± he murmured, taking in the vastness. ¡°The place Chris was talking about¡­¡±


    The mention of ¡°Sanctuary¡± brought back memories of an old manga from Zi-Cheng¡¯s childhood. Although the Sanctuary before him didn¡¯t feature a towering Greek goddess statue, the stone temple beneath the sunset sky was still breathtakingly majestic. The golden glow from the setting sun bathed the entire structure, lending it an ethereal warmth.


    Along the main avenue to the temple stood twelve statues, each over ten meters tall and holding a torch. Their flames flickered against the evening sky, casting an almost sacred aura over the entire plaza¡ªjust like a scene straight from the manga Zi-Cheng had read as a child.


    ¡°Chris mentioned this Sanctuary was built by a hero, not a king,¡± Zi-Cheng remarked, still marveling at the architecture as he stood in the plaza¡¯s center. His gaze shifted to the massive Sanctuary Temple at the far end, the very place where a ritual known as the ¡°Invocation¡± was performed.


    Supposedly, this ceremony bestowed heavenly blessings upon the arena combatants, granting them all the riches and resources needed for a path to glory. Thanks to this ¡°Invocation,¡± the people of Hazelton gained access to rare supplies without ever having to venture beyond the city walls into the monster-filled wilderness.


    ¡°So, in a way, this whole ¡®Invocation¡¯ business is just a gacha mechanic from a mobile game in disguise.¡± Zi-Cheng shrugged with a smirk as he realized he was stepping right into one of the oldest tropes. ¡°It makes sense, I guess¡­ it¡¯s not like gacha pulls are rare in isekai novels anyway.¡±


    Mobile games had been around for over a decade, and most players today were familiar with the concept of a ¡°gacha pull.¡± For game operators, offering players a free ¡°first-time pull¡± was the cheapest, simplest way to hook new players and keep them engaged. So if this ¡°Invocation¡± really was a kind of gacha pull, then maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªa newcomer like Zi-Cheng could get something out of it to turn the tide in his favor.


    (The hero getting his cheat-like power from a mysterious gacha¡­ Yep, nothing screams ¡®overused trope¡¯ more than that.)


    ¡°Trope or not, I¡¯m not complaining if it gets me hero perks!¡± Eyes alight with barely-contained excitement, Zi-Cheng pressed his hands against the temple doors. As he pushed them open, he held his breath, anticipation and nerves swirling in his chest with each step inside.

 Chapter 3 - Maiden of The Sanctuary (Part 2/2)

    The instant he crossed the threshold, it was as though he¡¯d entered a world apart. The air grew thick and still, like even a single sound would be out of place here.


    The hall stretched out before him, built entirely of raw stone with no trace of opulence. Beige walls and muted gray marble created a vast, empty space that seemed to swallow sound and movement alike. Near the entrance, a towering 15-meter statue of a solemn-faced man watched over the quiet hall, casting long shadows across the stone floor.


    ¡°This¡­ must be the hero Chris was talking about¡­.¡±


    Zi-Cheng reached out, brushing his fingers over the statue¡¯s surface, surprised at how smooth and cool it felt. The stone was unfamiliar, yet that wasn¡¯t what left him speechless, it was the craftsmanship.


    Every scale on the hero¡¯s armor, every ridge on the blade of his sword, and the fierce yet noble expression on his face looked as if it had been carved by a master sculptor from his own world, or perhaps even better!


    ¡°Please, no cutting! The Invocation line starts here. Everyone, queue up from this point!¡±


    Zi-Cheng blinked, drawn back from his thoughts by the cheerful voice of a short-haired girl with golden locks and a playful tuft of hair that stood up at an angle. She was small, with an aura that reminded him of Little Red Riding Hood surrounded by a pack of wolves, or in this case, the fierce-looking warriors, each towering over her. Yet her warmth and bright smile seemed to soften them, making even the roughest of warriors grin as they obediently lined up.


    Watching the girl handle the crowd with charm and ease, Zi-Cheng decided to appraoch her as she finished giving instructions.


    ¡°Um, excuse me,¡± he began politely. ¡°Could I ask if there¡¯s a fee for the Invocation?¡±


    Zi-Cheng thought he¡¯d asked reasonably enough, especially compared to those brawny warriors, but at his question, the girl¡¯s bright smile dimmed slightly. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her eyes before she quickly smoothed it over.


    ¡°Why would earthly currency be needed to pray for a blessing from the heavens?¡± she asked, tilting her head as if genuinely puzzled.


    (Oh, right! Most gacha games require special currency for pulls!)


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right! We wouldn¡¯t use something earthly for this now, would we?¡± Zi-Cheng nodded as if this were the most natural thing in the world, then added, ¡°So, um¡­ where can I get hold of these ¡®special tokens¡¯? And¡­ is there, by chance, a free first-time pull bonus for newcomers?¡±


    Then, the girl¡¯s smile vanished. She blinked, her expression shifting from puzzled to visibly irritated. ¡°What nonsense are you babbling about?! This isn¡¯t some carnival game where you toss your ¡®tokens¡¯ around! This is Sanctuary Innovation, a sacred ritual where warriors receive blessings only after proving their worth in the arena! If you¡¯re not going to take this seriously, perhaps you should just leave!¡±


    Her voice echoed across the temple hall, and for a tense moment, there was silence. It finally dawned on Zi-Cheng that his one-track mindset had just caused another huge blunder.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m really sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to offend you!¡± he stammered, bowing his head. ¡°This is my first time here, so I really don¡¯t know how things work!¡±


    The girl looked him over, curiosity softening her frown, ¡°Never been to the Sanctuary before?¡± she asked. ¡°Usually, families bring their children here when they¡¯re young for an ability evaluation.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s because I was a sickly child,¡± Zi-Cheng replied, faking a few coughs for good measure. ¡°My family wouldn¡¯t let me out much, so I only recently got permission to travel on my own.¡±


    Thanks to his earlier run-in with Julia, the last thing Zi-Cheng wanted was another tense confrontation here at the temple.


    (Please, just let this one slide¡­)


    He shut his eyes, silently praying his story would be enough to steer him clear of trouble. For a moment, there was only quiet, then he felt a gentle hand take his own, and a soft voice broke the silence.


    ¡°¡­Poor thing, to think you¡¯ve never been to the Sanctuary all this time.¡±


    Zi-Cheng opened his eyes, blinking as he found the girl looking at him with an expression full of sympathy. Her hand held his firmly, and she seemed almost on the verge of tears.


    (Whoa! That actually worked this time!)


    As the girl¡¯s suspicions faded, she grew friendlier, warmer even, as she explained the Sanctuary¡¯s history and responsibilities while giving Zi-Cheng a short tour of the temple¡¯s grand hall.


    ¡°So, the Sanctuary¡¯s held several key roles since ancient times,¡± she said. ¡°Apart from performing the Invocation to provide arena combatants with resources and materials, we¡¯re also resp[onsible for healing the wounded, handling funeral rites, and evaluating people¡¯s abilities. Basically, everything from birth to death falls within the Sanctuary¡¯s duties.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Ah, I see¡­ Thanks for explaining, uh¡­¡± Zi-Cheng hesitated, unsure how to address her.


    ¡°Elena. Elena Cavanagh, junior assistant of the Sanctuary, at your service.¡± Her smile brightened again, this time with a silver of pride.


    ¡°...That¡¯s all?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean, no title? Nothing like ¡®Silver Fist¡¯ or ¡®Golden Foot¡¯?¡±


    Elena stared at Zi-Cheng¡¯s genuine expression before bursting into laughter, ¡°Golden Foot? Who would want a title like that?¡±


    ¡°Guess no one around here plays soccer¡­.¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing. Just forget it.¡±


    Still chuckling, Elena continued, ¡°Titles are only given to renowned combatants. I¡¯m just a lowly Obsidian Rank, no one gives titles to someone at my level.¡± Then she noticed Zi-Cheng¡¯s puzzled look and paused. ¡°Wait¡­. Don¡¯t tell me... You don¡¯t even know about the ranking system?¡±


    Zi-Cheng scratched his head and nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. Instead of teasing him, Elena kindly raised eight fingers. ¡°Alright, there are eight combatant ranks in all. The lowest is ¡®Iron,¡¯ and the highest is ¡®Grandmaster¡¯¡­.¡±


    (So that¡¯s why Julia called me Scrap Iron, She meant to call me the worst of the lowest rank!)


    ¡°Right now, the Grandmaster title belongs to none other than the second most powerful person in the Kingdom of Izanish ¨C our Royal Agent, Grandmaster Vladix Malvolia.¡±


    Elena then illustrated on a piece of paper of all the ranks there are in the arena, starting from the lowest rank.


    Tier 8 ¨C Iron


    Tier 7 ¨C Obsidian


    Tier 6 ¨C Bronze


    Tier 5 ¨C Silver


    Tier 4 ¨C Gold


    Tier 3 ¨C Platinum


    Tier 2 ¨C Master


    Tier 1 ¨C Grandmaster


    ¡°That¡¯s straight out of a leaderboard ranking system!¡± Zi-Cheng blurted in disbelief.


    ¡°A...leaderboard?¡± Elena asked, tilting her head looking confused.


    ¡°Oh, uh¡­ it¡¯s nothing, don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Zi-Cheng waved it off with a quick hand gesture. But as he glanced at Elena¡¯s sincere expression, he couldn¡¯t shake off the feeling that there was more to this world than he¡¯s first thought. All these game-like elements woven into this world¡­ It just didn¡¯t sit right.


    (Something¡¯s off¡­ it¡¯s like whoever made this world knew about video games¡­.)


    Oblivious to his thoughts, Elena continued with a cheerful tone. ¡°Usually, only fighters who accomplish something truly special earn a title. Maybe, if I keep working my way up the arena ranks, I might earn one of my own someday¡­.¡±


    ¡°You know, ¡®Elena the Smiling¡¯ would suit you perfectly,¡± Zi-Cheng remarked, half-jokingly.


    Elena blinked in surprise, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as his words sank in. ¡°E-Elena the Smiling¡­¡± she repeated softly, turning it over in her mind. No one had ever said something like that to her before. ¡°It¡­ doesn¡¯t sound too bad¡­ I guess¡­.¡± Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile, and for a brief moment, the hope of earning a title filled her with a quiet happiness.


    But just as quickly, her smile faded, and a flicker of doubt passing over her eyes as the fantasy slipped away.


    Noticing her expression shift, Zi-Cheng quickly changed the subject. ¡°Oh, by the way, you mentioned the Grandmaster is the second most powerful in the kingdom, so does that mean the Hero still rules over Izanish?¡±


    ¡°You¡­ really don¡¯t know?¡± Elena blinked at him, surprised.


    ¡°My family¡­ kept me pretty isolated,¡± Zi-Cheng answered, a sheepish laugh escaping. ¡°I was bedridden for most of my life, so there was a lot I never heard about.¡± He added a light cough to back up his story. Elena¡¯s expression softened, sympathy shining in her eyes.


    ¡°That would explain it.¡± she nodded, ¡°The truth is, the Hero has been missing for over 150 years. Since then, each Grandmaster has served as the kingdom¡¯s highest representative and Royal Agent.¡±


    (The Hero¡­ is missing?)


    The thought echoed in his mind. For over a century, the throne had remained empty, as if the kingdom were waiting for something ¡ª or someone ¡ª to fill the role again.


    (Wait¡­ didn¡¯t that guy on the phone say something about ¡®finding someone¡¯? Could he mean¡­ the Hero?)


    The idea ofover 150 years ¨C even in a world  ¨C seemed wildly improbable. What were the odds that the Hero was even alive?


    (Well, it¡¯s either that...or¡­.find somebody to fill the role?)


    Like¡­.


    ¡°Hey, since it¡¯s your first time at the Sanctuary, you should go and do an Invocation!¡±


    ¡°But... didn¡¯t you say that¡¯s a sacred ritual only performed after proven your worth in the arena?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s for the adults! The initial Invocation is something everyone does as a child here, and since you have never done yours...¡±


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Zi-Cheng¡¯s face lit up, his excitement growing, ¡°You¡¯re saying I¡¯m getting a free gacha pull?!¡±


    ¡°Wait, what... what¡¯s a gacha pull?¡±


    ¡°Unbelievable! This... this is amazing!¡± Zi-Cheng¡¯s mind raced, his heart pounding with exhilaration. Could this really be happening? The classic isekai ¡°cheat ability¡± handout trope, right here and now?


    Recalling the hardships he¡¯d faced until now, Zi-Cheng felt as though he was finally on the brink of seizing his fate. That old saying flashed through his mind, "When the heavens assign a great task, they first test one¡¯s endurance and spirit."


    (It¡¯s really happening!)


    "Ventus¡­ are you sure you¡¯re okay?" Elena¡¯s voice held a hint of worry as she observed him, clearly bewildered.


    "Oh, I¡¯m more than okay!" he grinned, brimming with a confidence he¡¯d rarely felt before. Everything suddenly made sense; the one meant to fulfill this destiny was him! He gave her a confident wink. "Just wait here¡ªI¡¯ll be back in a flash!"


    With newfound energy, he strode toward the Invocation chamber, as if each step brought him closer to claiming his place in this world. Reaching the heavy doors, he threw them open, ready to face whatever awaited inside.

 Chapter 4 - No Reason to Exist (Part 1/2)

    Chapter 4


    No Reason to Exist


    There¡¯s a saying among mobile gamers: ¡°Your gacha pulls depend on your karma.¡±


    Whether it was a way to cope with bad pulls or just self-consolation, pinning bad luck on ¡°karma¡± somehow linked two unrelated things feel connected. At least then, when things didn¡¯t go as planned, there was something, or anything, to blame, even if it would only soften the sting just a little¡­.


    But¡­.


    Did that really help this time?


    Did it make any difference?


    Did it?


    ¡°Not even close ¨C¨C¨C¨C!! ¡°


    Zi-Cheng let you a cry, something between a wounded animal and a frustrated child, then slumped like a deflated balloon as he stumbled out of the Invocation Chamber.


    ¡°Ventus!¡±


    Sensing something was clearly wrong, Elena hurried over. But with the look of someone who¡¯d lost everything, Zi-Cheng simply walked right past her, barely registering her presence.


    (Was it something I¡¯ve done?)


    (Was there something wrong with me?)


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with my karma¨C¨C¨C¨C!?!!¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s sudden outburst caused Elena to jump back, but with years of experience at the Sanctuary, she quickly pieced together what must have happened during the invocation.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Ventus. It¡¯s actually really common to get a few useless skills from the Inovocation! It happens to everyone!¡±


    As a Sanctuary worker, Elena had watched so many people walk away disappointed after their Invocations. Unlike her colleagues, who¡¯d long grown numb to these cases, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to stop caring; each new disappointment felt just as painful as the last. She sighed, her voice soft with empathy.


    ¡°Look at me, for example. My Empathetic Heart skill only boosts healing effects by a measly 5%, and Transference lets me pass on just 20% of that healing energy to others. Neither of them is remotely useful in matches.¡± She sat next to him, hoping that by sharing her own shortcomings, she could connect with him in his frustration. But instead, her words sparked something different in Zi-Cheng.


    ¡°What are you even talking about? Those skills are perfect for a support or healer role!¡± he said, indignant.


    ¡°Healer? Support? What does that mean?¡±


    When Zi-Cheng met Elena¡¯s wide-eyed, genuinely puzzled gaze, he realized something. ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯ve never heard of roles like tank, healer, DPS? You know, the holy trinity?¡±


    Elena shook her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she looked up at him. She wasn¡¯t faking it; she really didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°Are there... no team matches in the arena?¡± he asked cautiously.


    ¡°Of course not! Every match in the arena is a fair one-on-one duel,¡± she answered plainly.


    ¡°Like Street Fighter?¡± he blurted out, almost to himself.


    ¡°No, silly! We¡¯re not savages! Fighting on the street could get you arrested!¡±


    ¡°No, I mean¡­¡± Zi-Cheng facepalmed, muttering to himself, ¡°how do I even explain this?¡±


    It all made sense now. The arena¡¯s one-on-one format had no room for teamwork, which meant skills like healing or support were as good as useless in a match. It was like sending healers into a Street Fighter match¡ªthey could heal, but they¡¯d just be self-healing punching bags.


    In this world, where victors ruled and only certain skills were valued, the system felt twisted. Those stuck with ¡°useless skills¡± weren¡¯t just overlooked¡ªthey were left at the bottom of the social ladder, cast aside as a whole.


    ¡°In game design terms, whoever came up with these matches seriously did a lousy job.¡±


    ¡°The matches were created by the Hero!¡± Elena shot back, ¡°No matter how upset you are, what you¡¯re saying is way out of line!¡±


    Zi-Cheng hadn¡¯t expected his offhand remark to hit such a nerve, but as he looked up at the Hero¡¯s statue, everything made sense. With the Hero¡¯s revered status, no one would dare suggest that there were flaws to the arena rules, let alone propose new match formats.


    (Just like how bad games are usually made when leadership is tone-deaf.)


    Realizing he was in no position to change anything, Zi-Cheng felt his enthusiasm for the arena fading even further.


    ¡°Was the skill you got from the Invocation really that awful?¡± Elena asked suddenly.


    Before he could answer, she unhooked a small oil lamp from her belt and lifted it toward his face. As she raised it, a soft green light began to stir inside, pooling in the glass before spilling outward in shimmering, jelly-like tendrils. The light unfurled slowly, curling around him in delicate waves, casting a strange, enchanting glow that wrapped him entirely in its embrace.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Then, in a heartbeat, the green glow began to seep into him, like some peculiar, writhing creature searching for a way in. It slipped through every gap, invading every corner of his being. The more he struggled, the tighter it held him, rooting him in place. Each attempt to cry out only made the light burrow deeper, reaching places he hadn¡¯t known existed, as if determined to pry open the very core of his soul.


    ¡°Stop¡­ stop it¡­!¡±


    A wave of nausea and suffocation overtook him. The sensation of his soul being forcibly exposed felt worse than if he¡¯d been stripped bare in public.


    After what felt like an eternity, the green light finally released him, floating above the oil lamp in a swirling mass before slowly unfurling in the air.


    Zi-Cheng slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. He wanted to lash out at Elena, but when he looked up, her expression was empty, as though possessed by a spirit. In a voice that didn¡¯t seem to be her own, she murmured:


    ¡°Identification complete. Partial data failed to process.¡±


    The eerie green light continued to extend upward, projecting the results of the analysis in words that are foreign yet understandable for some reason.


    Name: Ventus (Age 20)


    Title: None


    Rank: None


    HP: CORRUPTED MP: CORRUPTED


    STR: UNREADABLE DEX: UNREADABLE INT: UNREADABLE


    CON: UNREADABLE CHA: UNREADABLE LUC: DATA NOT FOUND


    Skill:


    [Developer Mode]


    Activates [Construct], [Remake], [Terraform], and [???å±?] abilities, ineffective with living organisms.


    [??? Memory]


    Carries £¤???2¡ã???? Memory of ?ñÂ??


    (Why was my data...corrupted?)


    Zi-Cheng knew he had received a bunch of skills unrelated to combat during the Invocation, but he didn¡¯t expect even his basic attributes would turn out to be entirely unreadable.


    ¡°How could this happen...?¡± Elena¡¯s face went pale as she regained her bearings and looked over his status window. ¡°All your stats are unreadable? And your skill... ¡®Developer Mode¡¯? What¡¯s that even supposed to mean?¡±


    Zi-Cheng wasn¡¯t entirely sure either. The word ¡°Developer¡± naturally meant ¡°programmer¡± or ¡°software engineer¡± to him, but in a world without computers or coding, maybe ¡°developer¡± carried a different meaning here.


    (With abilities like Construct, Remake, and Terraform, it sounded more like a developer for land and buildings than any kind of programmer¡­)


    In other words, without any kind of ¡°cheat¡± abilities, he was nothing more than a low-tier laborer with a set of useless skills.


    The thought that he might become the next Hero still lingered at the back of Zi-Cheng¡¯s mind, but harsh reality had shattered that hope, leaving him with the bitter realization that he was nothing more than an insignificant side character. This crushing truth, on top of his recent bankruptcy and the loss of his life¡¯s work, finally pushed Zi-Cheng to the verge of a frustrated shout he could no longer hold in.


    ¡°Damn it all!¡±


    His voice, thick with bitterness, sliced through the temple¡¯s silence, drawing attention from all around¡ªand catching the ear of a nearby passerby.


    ¡°Elena, are you alright? Is this visitor giving you trouble?¡±


    The question came from Morris Percival, a member of the Sanctuary¡¯s medical squad who happened to be walking by. Morris approached with a stern expression, his gaze narrowing disapprovingly at Zi-Cheng.


    Elena quickly waved a hand to dismiss Zi-Cheng¡¯s status window before anyone else could glimpse it. She turned to Morris with a cheery smile, hoping to dispel his concern. ¡°No trouble at all, Morris. He¡¯s just having a bit of a rough day.¡±


    Morris, likely in his early twenties, remained unfazed by Elena¡¯s attempt to ease things. Standing beside her like a watchful guardian, he carried an air of authority that left little doubt about his connection to her. ¡°No matter the outcome, you should be thankful,¡± he said in a measured tone, almost like a sermon. ¡°Safety within these walls is already a blessing. Beyond them, such protection doesn¡¯t exist.¡±


    Zi-Cheng didn¡¯t miss the message, nor the way Morris stood close to Elena¡ªthe fair maiden clearly already had her knight. He let out a bitter chuckle, paying no mind to Morris''s action as he was still fixated on the disappointing results of the Invocation. Not wanting to overstay his welcome, he gave the two a final nod and turned, stepping away to leave the solemn halls behind.


    As he stepped out of the Sanctuary Temple, Zi-Cheng finally let his guard down, tilting his head back and releasing a long, weary sigh.


    He hadn¡¯t planned on entering the arena matches, but the sting of knowing his hopes of becoming a hero were nothing more than a laughable fantasy still hurt. Whether in his own world or this one, he remained a nobody¡ªswept under the rug and forgotten. Walking along the path downhill into town, he glanced up at the evening sky. A handful of stars shone faintly in the vast darkness above, distant and unreachable, reminding him that, here too, he was a stranger with nowhere he truly belonged.


    No option to uninstall, no reset, and no chance to be the hero of the story. How was he supposed to beat this ¡°survival game¡±? The skills he¡¯d gained were practically useless for getting ahead in the city, let alone surviving in the monster-filled wilderness beyond.


    Guuuu ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    His stomach let out a shameless growl, reminding him he hadn¡¯t had a single meal since coming to this world.


    Reaching into his pocket, his fingers brushed against the silver coins Chris had given him.


    (I guess a meal and a night¡¯s rest wouldn¡¯t be too much to ask for, right?)

 Chapter 4 - No Reason to Exist (Part 2/2)

    With his mind set on food, Zi-Cheng made his way back into the heart of Hazelton, following the tempting aromas that filled the air as he wove through the bustling streets and alleys.


    ¡°So this is the Gourmet District¡­.¡±


    He looked up at the signs on the building, taking in the lively scene. Though night had only just begun, the district was already packed with diners crowding into every restaurant and bar in sight. The cheerful, energetic atmosphere felt even more vibrant than the city he once called home.


    Resolved to finally satisfy his rumbling stomach, he relaxed and let himself go with the flow of people, immersing himself in the festival-like energy filling the streets.


    ¡°To my brother¡¯s victory at the arena! Another round of ale!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, folks! We¡¯re sold out of Roasted Drakes for the night! But there¡¯s still plenty of Herb-Crusted Cockatrice Wings!¡±


    The cobbled streets were full of workers wrapping up their day and arena fighters celebrating their victories. Everyone seemed in high spirits and eager to feast; clearly, the Hero¡¯s system with the arena and Invocations had brought prosperity to the city within these walls.


    (Partying every night, is that how they do things here? No wonder everyone worships the Hero!)


    As Zi-Cheng passed another group of high-spirited arena combatants, a rich, savory smell of grilled meat drifted his way, making his stomach growl even louder.


    ¡°Goblin skewers! Get your hot, fresh goblin skewers here!¡±


    Wait, what ¨C goblin?


    Images of nasty green-skinned creatures with gnashing fangs flashed through Zi-Cheng¡¯s mind. No matter how amazing that smell was, there was no way he would eat a goblin!


    And it seemed he wasn¡¯t the only one caught off guard by that name.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let the name scare you, kid!¡± the mid-aged vendor called out with a hearty laugh, ¡°We call ¡¯em Goblin Skewers ¡®cause they¡¯re cooked in goblin style ¨C a perfect blend of meats and spices. No actual goblin meat here!¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see¡­ I thought¡­.¡±


    ¡°Only an idiot would go hunting for goblins outside of the city,¡± the vendor laughed, waving his skewer for emphasis. ¡°All our meat here¡¯s supplied by the Dreslam Merchant Guild!¡±


    (The Merchant Guild!)


    That was the missing piece.


    Hazelton¡¯s thriving economy wasn¡¯t just built on the arena and Invocations; it was backed by the guilds pulling the strings. Arena fighters without noble lineage often ended up employed by these guilds, spending their Invocations on gathering resources only accessible outside the city walls.


    Zi-Cheng took a second look around¡ªthe packed restaurants, the vibrant commerce, the steady flow of supplies¡ªit was all fueled by this guild-backed system. Goods, logistics, construction, imports and exports¡­ one could only imagine how deep the guild¡¯s roots ran in Hazelton.


    In other words, there was far more to this city than its arena or the kingdom¡¯s rulers. The rules of survival here were woven into a system so complex it was impossible to escape. Without any cheat-like abilities to rely on, it was painfully clear that Zi-Cheng had no way of climbing up.


    ¡°Hey, young man, fancy a goblin skewer?¡± The vendor held up a skewer sizzling with savory juices.


    The vendor¡¯s offer was almost impossible to resist, especially with the rich, mouthwatering aroma wafting his way. But with just a few silver coins from Chris and no real means to earn more, even a taste of the Gourmet District felt painfully out of reach.


    As Zi-Cheng tried to back away from the vendor, searching his mind for words to excuse himself, someone bumped into him, shoving him to the ground.


    ¡°Hey! What¡¯s your problem?¡± barked a brawny young man, glaring down at him. His friends, who reeked of alcohol, snickered and began to close in around Zi-Cheng.


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t see you there,¡± Zi-Cheng replied, trying to keep his tone friendly, but his apology did little to help, as the young man¡¯s friends only laughed harder.


    ¡°Yo Karl, this punk says he didn¡¯t even see you!¡±


    ¡°What a load of crap, bet he did that on purpose!¡±


    Zi-Cheng frowned; these drunks clearly weren¡¯t planning to let him off easy, and the bystanders just backed away to watch the show.


    ¡°Listen up, dumbass,¡± Karl leaned in, ¡°I just hit the Bronze today, and my boys got me that drink to celebrate. Now it¡¯s all over the ground ¡®cause of you. So how you gonna pay for that, huh?¡±


    Zi-Cheng glanced at the tankard on the ground, not a drop of ale left in it.


    (Are you serious? This is the most clich¨¦d setup in the book¡­)


    ¡°What was that?¡± Karl snarled, grabbing Zi-Cheng by the collar.


    ¡°Nothing! I didn¡¯t say anything!¡± Zi-Cheng protested, holding his hands up in defense.


    ¡°Look at him, Karl! Guy¡¯s treating you like a joke, you really gonna let that slide?¡±


    Zi-Cheng shot a look at the guy egging Karl on, his frustration growing. If they decided to gang up on him, he¡¯d have no way out of a beatdown.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll pay for it!¡±Stolen story; please report.


    Desperate to diffuse the situation, Zi-Cheng decided it was best to part with his precious coins, his only means of food and shelter for the night, than risk further trouble. But before he could even reach into his pocket, Karl yanked his collar tighter, his scowl deepening.


    ¡°Pathetic. You didn¡¯t even try to stand up for yourself, you spineless loser.¡±


    Zi-Cheng froze, a chill crawling up his spine. Unlike his encounter with Julia, he couldn¡¯t make sense of Karl¡¯s actions. What did this thug even want from him?


    Before he could figure it out, Karl jerked him forward with brutal force. A sharp knee drove into his stomach, and the air was knocked from him in an instant.


    ¡°Ugh ¨C gah!!¡±


    A sharp burst of pain tore through Zi-Cheng¡¯s body as he crumpled to the ground. Clutching his stomach, he felt bile rising in his throat, his breath shallow and ragged.


    ¡°What... the hell is wrong with you...?¡± he croaked, his voice trembling. ¡°Didn¡¯t I... say I¡¯d pay you...?¡±


    Karl loomed over him, his grin widening with cruel satisfaction. ¡°Relax,¡± he said, cracking his knuckles lazily. ¡°I¡¯ll take the coins... after I¡¯ve had my fun.¡±


    (Damn it, he¡¯s not even listening!)


    Panic surged through Zi-Cheng as Karl¡¯s arm reached toward him like a predator¡¯s claw. Without thinking, Zi-Cheng¡¯s body moved on pure instinct, grabbing Karl¡¯s arm and spun around, channeling every ounce of his strength into a classic over-the-shoulder throw¡ª


    Throw...


    Throw¡­..


    ...but Karl didn¡¯t move an inch.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Karl tilted his head, his tone mocking. ¡°What¡¯s this? You trying do something with my arm?¡±


    Karl¡¯s feet stayed rooted to the ground, as solid and unyielding as steel. Zi-Cheng strained with everything he had, his muscles trembling from the effort, but Karl stood there, unmoving, like a mountain.


    ¡°Guys, did you see that? This dirt bag tried to do a shoulder throw on a martial artist!¡±


    (M..martial artist?)


    Zi-Cheng tried to connect the words with the situation before him, but it was too late, he couldn¡¯t let go even if he wanted to.


    A sudden, searing pain shot through his wrist, locking his arm in place and leaving him completely defenseless.


    ¡°Good reflexes,¡± Karl sneered, his grip so tight it almost crushing Zi-Cheng¡¯s bones, ¡°but your strength is pathetic.¡±


    Before Zi-Cheng could register the words, Karl¡¯s massive fist slammed onto his face like a sledgehammer, the impact reverberating through his entire body. Blows after blows struck down like a relentless downpour, each sending a fresh wave of agony as if bones were being shattered piece by piece.


    ¡°Don¡¯t black out on me yet, loser!¡± Karl barked, his voice dripping with malice.


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re not done watching the show!¡± one of Karl¡¯s friends jeered, their laughter echoing through the night.


    Dizzy and battered, Zi-Cheng barely heard the mocking voices around him. He hoped that someone would step-in, but the crowd just kept their distance, watching with interest but offering no help. Perhaps, he was nothing more than tonight¡¯s entertainment.


    (P...please¡­.help¡­.someone¡­..anyone¡­..)


    Pain, humiliation, and the metallic taste of blood consumed every fiber of Zi-Cheng¡¯s being. His body screamed in agony, yet his mind felt strangely lucid. Time seemed to stretch into eternity as his gaze wandered over the indifferent crowd, capturing every face, every expression, every glint of emotion, or lack thereof, in their eyes.


    And then, amidst the sea of apathetic onlookers, he caught sight of a familiar figure.


    ¡°C...Chris¡ª¡ª¡ª!!!¡±


    Desperation surged through Zi-Cheng as he cried out, his trembling hand reaching toward the one man he thought he could trust, the one he believed he could rely on.


    But then¡­


    ¡°Ah, bloody hell. You¡¯re making this harder than it needs to be.¡±


    Chris¡¯s voice cut through the crowd like a whip as he stepped forward, his expression hard and unfeeling.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to notice me, kid.¡±


    ¡°Chris... W-what are you saying¡­?¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s right eye was swollen nearly shut, and every inch of his body screamed in pain.


    Karl crouched down, rifling through Zi-Cheng¡¯s pockets until he fished out the silver coins Chris had given him.


    ¡°S-stop... Those... Those are from Chris¡­ he gave me...¡±


    Zi-Cheng weakly raised a trembling hand, but the sight that followed froze him solid. Karl handed the coins over to Chris without hesitation.


    His breath caught, his chest tightening like a vice.


    ¡°Here¡¯s your share.¡± Chris flipped a portion of the coins back to Karl with the same casual indifference as someone tossing scraps to a dog.


    ¡°What¡¯s... going on¡­?¡±


    Chris sighed, his voice low and edged with disdain. ¡°Not the smartest one eh? Don¡¯t make me spell it out for you, kid.¡±


    As Chris spoke, he pulled out a small oil lamp not unlike the one Zi-Cheng had seen before. As soon as it was lit before his face, the familiar green glow poured forth once again, wrapping around him like an invasive mist. That awful feeling of being stripped bare and exposed return, prickling at his very core.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with this guy?¡±


    (Stop¡­. Stop...it)


    ¡°Can¡¯t read any of his stats, and look at those useless abilities, I¡¯ve never seen worse than this!¡±


    ¡°What a piece of trash, does someone like this even have a reason to exist?¡±


    (I said...stop¡­.!!)


    Around him, gasps of shock, mocking laughter, and murmurs of pity echoed. Scornful faces leered from every direction, their expressions searing themselves into Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart.


    (Why¡­ why am I going through this¡­ suffering¡­ even in another world¡­.?)


    ¡°I only wanted to see what you¡¯re up to kid, but then you went and disrespected the most important person in my life.¡±


    Chris Coleman¡¯s voice was cold as ice, a stark contrast to the warm, friendly tone he had when pushing that wooden cart.


    ¡°Most important person? What¡­ are you¡­ even talking about¡­.?¡±


    ¡°I told you, Chris. This guy¡¯s not worth the trouble, just a piece of scrap iron at best. You believe me now?¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s body stiffened as he realized Julia Kinsley, the vice-captain of the town guards, had been standing beside Chris the entire time.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right, sis.¡± Chris nodded, his gaze cold and dismissive, like he was staring at a piece of grabage, ¡°not worth existing, let alone being a threat.¡±


    (They¡¯re siblings?)


    So it was a setup all along.


    (But...why¡­.?)


    ¡°If I¡¯m... just a piece of trash¡­ why didn¡¯t you just leave me to rot in the forest!¡±


    The words tore out of him like a dam breaking, releasing every ounce of anger, humiliation, and despair that came with the realization of this elaborate betrayal.


    Yet, Chris did not respond. Instead, he crouched down, with that same friendly smile from the forest stretching across his face.


    ¡°Ah, my bad,¡± Chris said with a chuckle, tilting his head slightly. ¡°Really sorry to have wasted your time, kid. But hey, it¡¯s all over now, so why don¡¯t you do us all a favor and crawl back to whatever hole you came from?¡±

 Chapter 5 - Hyakki Yagyo (Part 1/2)

    Zi-Cheng clutched his stomach as he staggered out of the Gourmet District, his steps weak and his thoughts in turmoil.


    (Why?)


    He had been so careful. So cautious.


    He avoided trouble wherever he could, staying out of people''s way. And yet, just like in his old world, the person he trusted the most had betrayed him. The man who once lent him a hand had thrown him away like trash, selling him out without a second thought.


    (Is this what they mean when they say ¡°history always repeats itself¡±?)


    Where had he gone wrong?


    "Stop whining and think about what you did wrong first!"


    His father¡¯s voice sliced through his thoughts, sharp and unrelenting.


    The old man never cared to hear the whole story, never bothered to figure out what had really happened. To him, Zi-Cheng was always at fault¡ªhis mistakes, his weakness, his failure to measure up.


    The older generation clung to their so-called virtues of self-restraint and introspection, calling them wisdom. To them, if trouble came knocking, it had to be their own fault. And if it wasn¡¯t? Then they were just unlucky. Better to endure than fight back.


    (That era is long gone!)


    To Zi-Cheng, their ¡°wisdom¡± was nothing more than the outdated nonsense of a bygone age.


    (Did I deserve this? Did I do something to wrong them?)


    "You always think you¡¯re right, don¡¯t you? That¡¯s your biggest problem!"


    The memory of his father¡¯s cutting words twisted in his mind. Zi-Cheng let out a bitter laugh, his chest tightening with frustration.


    Right. That was it. That was always the refrain.


    Growing up under his father¡¯s relentless, harsh criticism, Zi-Cheng had learned to suppress his emotions. No matter how betrayed, humiliated, or angry he felt, it was like a rope around his neck, tightening until he couldn¡¯t breathe.


    Bang!


    His fist slammed into a dirt wall by the roadside. His knuckles split, and bright red blood trickled down his fingers.


    Even on his deathbed, Zi-Cheng¡¯s father had never once offered him a single word of understanding.


    "You chose your own path. If you fall, don¡¯t cry and complain about it."


    Those were his final words ¡ª parting wisdom, or perhaps just a cruel taunt?


    Zi-Cheng would never know the answer.


    The only thing he did know was that no matter which world he lived in, his own or this unfamiliar one, those words would haunt him, trailing behind him like a shadow he could never escape.


    Desperate to avoid further humiliation, Zi-Cheng kept his head low and hurried away from the crowd. Only when the lights and noise faded into the distance, and he was sure there wasn¡¯t another soul around, did his legs give out. He slumped to the ground, his body wracked with pain and exhaustion.


    As he leaned back against a hard surface, something tumbled to the ground with a hollow thud.


    A wooden sign lay on the muddy cobblestones beside him.


    ¡°Three copper coins for one apple.¡±


    The words weren¡¯t exactly ¡°apple,¡± but somehow, Zi-Cheng understood their meaning instinctively.


    (The market¡­?)


    Turning his head, he peered into the shadows. The lively marketplace from earlier in the day was unrecognizable under the veil of night. The bustling stalls now stood silent and deserted, their skeletal frames casting weak, uneven shadows beneath the dim streetlights. Discarded wooden planks and crumpled boxes littered the ground, mingling with the faint, sour scent of rotting produce.


    Squinting, he let his eyes adjust to the dark. That¡¯s when he spotted them¡ªa few fat rats darting in and out of a nearby basket. Hunger gnawed at him, curiosity pulling him closer.


    He crawled over and peeked inside.


    Abandoned apples.


    Bruised and battered, they were rejects¡ªunsellable and forgotten. But despite their sorry state, they were still edible.


    Guuu...


    His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. Embarrassed, Zi-Cheng slapped his belly with a scowl. ¡°Seriously? Can¡¯t you at least pretend to have some dignity?¡±


    The memory of his last days at the game studio came rushing back. Even on the verge of bankruptcy, he¡¯d never been reduced to this¡ªdigging through garbage for food.


    Yet, his stomach had no shame. It grumbled again, louder this time, a relentless cry that refused to be silenced.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Defeated by hunger and his pride in tatters, Zi-Cheng held back tears as he reached into the basket and pulled out an apple. Without even looking at it, he sank his teeth into the fruit.


    ¡°Ugh... So sour¨C¨C!!¡±


    The sharp tang twisted his face into a grimace. There was no way anyone could eat this thing without toning down its acidity and making it even slightly palatable.


    If he had any other option, he would¡¯ve abandoned it right there. But penniless and starving, he didn¡¯t have much choice. Forcing himself to swallow the sour bite, he suddenly noticed a faint flicker of light glowing in his palm. The light seeped into the apple before disappearing entirely.


    Unaware of what had just happened, his stomach demanded another bite. Zi-Cheng took a deep breath, braced himself for the unbearable tang, and bit down again.


    But this time, the awful taste was gone. The second bite was crisp and refreshing, bursting with sweetness that almost seemed unreal.


    Startled, Zi-Cheng hesitated before taking a third bite, then a fourth. The delicious flavor remained consistent, and the bruised, battered fruit in his hand had somehow transformed into a beautiful, rosy apple that emitted a fragrant, sweet aroma.


    (What... What just happened?)


    Still stunned, Zi-Cheng quickly grabbed another damaged apple from the basket and bit into it. The overwhelming sourness hit his taste buds like a wave of punishment, just like his first bite had.


    (How did one of these rotten apples suddenly turn into something so fresh and perfect?)


    A thought struck him like lightning.


    At the Sanctuary, he had been granted two skills completely unrelated to combat. One of them, called [Developer Mode], included an ability known as [Remake].


    In the realm of game development, a ¡°remake¡± referred to taking an older game or program and completely rewriting and improving it from the ground up.


    Focusing his thoughts on improving the apple, a soft blue shimmer flickered in Zi-Cheng¡¯s palm, casting a gentle light onto the basket before him.


    ¡°[Developer Mode ¨C Remake]!¡±


    The entire basket began to emit a cool radiance, the damaged and decayed apples transforming before his eyes. The bruises faded, their surfaces smoothing out, and the faint scent of rot was replaced by a crisp, sweet fragrance that wafted through the air.


    Zi-Cheng froze, staring at the now-perfect apples with wide eyes. What he had assumed to be a useless skill, fit only for manual labor, turned out to be one of the game development functions he was most familiar with.


    (Was this... specifically designed for me?)


    An unsettling feeling crept into Zi-Cheng¡¯s mind.


    Whoever orchestrated the Invocation ritual clearly had knowledge of game development, granting him a skill that shouldn¡¯t exist in this world.


    Perhaps this was somehow connected to the cryptic instructions from the person on the phone. But with his memory still fragmented, Zi-Cheng felt as though he were groping blindly in the dark, no closer to solving the puzzle.


    He stared at the apple in his hand, its bright red skin glistening under the dim light. [Developer Mode] might not be a combat skill, but it was undeniably the key to surviving in this world. Yet, to wield such power and understand its limits, he needed a place far away from watchful eyes.


    He needed to get away from here.


    (Should I leave Hazelton?)


    The thought sent a chill down his spine. Venturing beyond the city walls meant facing monsters and untold dangers, but staying here without stepping into the arena or earning a place within the city¡¯s rigid system?


    If survival meant gambling with the wilds, then there wasn¡¯t much of a choice.


    "You chose your own path. If you fall, don¡¯t cry and complain about it."


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. He never thought his father¡¯s final words would become the push he needed at a time like this.


    ¡°Fine, then. Watch me choose, old man,¡± he muttered, his voice steady with newfound resolve.


    With his hunger finally sated, Zi-Cheng stood to leave the market. But just as he turned, beams of light, flickering and sharp, appeared at the market¡¯s entrance, piercing through the dim shadows.


    Were those the town guards? Or his pursuers? His instincts screamed at him as he ducked behind a nearby stall, pressing himself against its rough wood. The ache from Karl¡¯s earlier blows still throbbed in his body, but he also noticed something strange¡ªhis limbs felt lighter, his movements less stiff.


    (Did those apples¡­ heal me?)


    The idea seemed absurd at first, but the minor recovery he experienced was undeniable. It wasn¡¯t a coincidence or wishful thinking¡ªit was exactly the kind of phenomenon one would expect to find in a video game. Once again, this world revealed itself as a place where reality and game-like mechanics intertwined in ways he still didn¡¯t fully understand.


    But there was no time to dwell on the apples¡¯ strange effects as a faint hum drew his attention, the lights creeping closer.


    The sound was soft, like the fluttering of insect wings. Zi-Cheng peeked out cautiously and caught sight of what appeared to be fireflies. Their glowing bodies shone like miniature lanterns, casting beams of light onto discarded baskets and crates.


    One by one, the fireflies hovered over a basket before him. As their light flickered and faded, the basket was left empty, its contents seemingly whisked away.


    (They¡¯re... picking up the trash?)


    Fascinated, Zi-Cheng edged out from his hiding spot, watching as the fireflies drifted through the air. They weren¡¯t pests but caretakers, tidying the remnants of the market with an almost otherworldly grace.


    Driven by curiosity, his gaze followed the luminous trail the fireflies left in their wake. Cautiously stepping out of the market, Zi-Cheng stopped short as the world outside unfolded before him.


    The empty streets of Hazelton were bathed in an ethereal glow. Countless specks of light floated above the cobblestone streets. It was as if the stars themselves had descended, cascading like rivers to sweep through the city.


    Zi-Cheng stood frozen, entranced by the spectacle. In these quiet hours before dawn, with most of Hazelton asleep, the city had transformed into something out of a dream. The fireflies glided in waves through every street and alley, their soft glow brushing over houses, stalls, and trash bins alike.


    ¡°Hyakki Yagy¨­¡­¡± he murmured, his breath hitching as he took everything in.


    The dazzling scene before his eyes stirred a memory of Japanese folklore: Hyakki Yagy¨­, or the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. In the tales, anyone who stumbled upon the parade would be spirited away¡ªbut for an outcast like him, would that really be so bad?


    A faint smile tugged at his lips as Zi-Cheng walked among the shimmering lights, their glow reflecting in his eyes. For the first time since arriving in this strange new world, he felt no fear, no worry about being an intruder or a target of unfamiliar faces. The mistrust, the betrayal, the pain¡ªall faded into the background. Here, amidst the quiet beauty of the fireflies¡¯ procession, he felt something he hadn¡¯t felt in what seemed like forever: peace.


    As the warm, luminous light swirled around him, a childlike curiosity rekindled within. The wonder of this strange world, its beauty so captivating, washed over him in flickering celestial glow. Little did it matter where the lights would take him, as long as they continued leading the way.

 Chapter 5 - Hyakki Yagyo (Part 2/2)

    A soft breeze stirred the air as Zi-Cheng followed the trail of fireflies beyond Hazelton¡¯s gates, their radiant glow leading him onward beneath the watchful gaze of the moon. As the silver light cast a serene glow across the night sky, he heard the quiet murmur of flowing water grow louder near the riverbank.


    There, an awe-inspiring sight unfolded.


    Countless fireflies hovered above the meadow grasses, their lights weaving together like golden streams converging into an endless, glowing sea. The river calmly mirrored the scene, turning its surface into a vast canvas of shimmering light. It seemed that the boundaries of earth and sky had dissolved, leaving only a luminous expanse stretching into eternity.


    Zi-Cheng stepped onto the cool grass, his breath hitching as he took in the sight. The fireflies¡¯ glow mingled with the soft ripples of the water, creating a living tapestry of motion and light. Standing at the water¡¯s edge, he felt as though he had stumbled into the heart of a galaxy, with stars scattered across the dark expanse around him.


    (Who would have thought¡­ my first night in another world would turn out like this?)


    Motionless in the sea of light, Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart swelled with quiet wonder. His thoughts faded, replaced by a gentle sense of belonging in this fleeting moment. Without thinking, he stretched out his hand, as if reaching to hold a fragment of the brilliance before him. The fireflies¡¯ soft glow gathered above his palm, delicate and inviting, offering itself to his touch.


    But just as his fingertips brushed the delicate luminescence, a rusty kitchen knife materialized out of nowhere beneath the fireflies, slashing downward and narrowly missing his hand!


    ¡°Wha¨C¨C?!¡±


    Zi-Cheng yanked his hand back with a startled gasp. Before he could process what had happened, a loud clatter erupted around him.


    Crumpled candlesticks, cracked plates, broken clocks, and even scraps of uneaten food began raining down in a noisy cascade. The fireflies, so serene only moments ago, were now releasing all the trash they had collected from Hazelton into a massive heap.


    Zi-Cheng scrambled backward, narrowly dodging an old wooden bucket that crashed to the ground where he once stood. Breathless and shaking, he crawled to a safer distance before cautiously turning to look.


    A growing mountain of discarded junk had formed in the meadow, with the fireflies continuing to deposit their collected trash. From the heart of the heap, wisps of pale white smoke began to curl upward, spiraling ominously into the moonlit sky.


    ¡°Wait, is the trash... burning?!¡±


    Zi-Cheng squinted at the heap before him, realizing this wasn¡¯t the typical smoke of burning¡ªit was the trash itself breaking apart, flaking like delicate ash and then disintegrating into white smoke, drifting away in the faint breeze.


    The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. This wasn¡¯t just a cleanup¡ªit was total eradication!


    ¡°Hey, hey, hey! Hold on a second!¡± Zi-Cheng yelled, scrambling onto the heap. If he could salvage even one valuable piece, he might be able to use his newfound ability to turn it into much-needed cash!


    Yet, the dim moonlight above made it almost impossible to see. To make matters worse, piece after piece dissolved into ash, slipping through his fingers like sand. As the seconds ticked by, wisps of white began curling up from his shoulders and thighs. His tattered clothes were disintegrating, flaking away like ash carried off by the wind.


    ¡°Damn it, this isn¡¯t the Avengers! Don¡¯t you go Thanos on me!¡±


    He shouted in desperation, grabbing a handful of junk and pressing it tightly against his chest. Without thinking, he leaped from the collapsing mound, determined to escape with whatever he could hold.


    Unfortunately, the momentum carried him too far. His body slammed into a nearby tree, the impact knocking the wind out of him.


    As his surroundings dimmed into darkness, he instinctively tightened his arms around the small pile of items he¡¯d managed to grab. Whether they were treasures or worthless scraps, these were his only possessions in this strange new world.


    By the time sunlight warmed Zi-Cheng¡¯s face again, it was already nearing noon. The golden rays filtered through the branches above, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow. A gentle breeze rustled the grass, carrying with it the fresh, earthy scent of the riverbank.


    Sitting up with a groan, he quickly assessed his condition: a swollen lump on his head, tattered rags barely clinging to his body, and an odor so foul it could make anyone gag. Still, despite everything, he seemed to have escaped last night¡¯s chaos relatively unscathed. But as the memory of diving headfirst into a pile of disintegrating trash resurfaced, a cold shiver ran down his spine.


    (Lucky that living tissue doesn¡¯t seem to be affected¡­)


    Zi-Cheng let out a bitter laugh. ¡°There¡¯s certainly no Mr. Stark here if I needed to say I don¡¯t feel so good.¡±


    The dry humor did little to lift his spirits as he glanced toward the grassy meadow. The massive heap of trash had vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but an eerie stillness. A few slimes lingered in the distance, cautiously hopping about, their gelatinous forms wobbling with each movement. It was clear that they were keeping their distance because of his stench.


    ¡°So even the monsters can¡¯t stand me now, huh?¡± he muttered with a faint chuckle, shaking his head.


    Turning his attention to the items he¡¯d clutched tightly while unconscious, Zi-Cheng spread them out on the ground before him.


    A shovel with a broken handle.


    A filthy, threadbare towel.


    A rusty kitchen knife.


    And a sickly little white flower resting in a cracked, weathered vase.


    These were the fruits of his reckless endeavor¡ª¡°spoils¡± so worthless that even [Developer Mode] couldn¡¯t make them sellable. Zi-Cheng covered his face with his hands, the memory of how close he¡¯d come to losing his life for these scraps gnawing at his thoughts. He could almost hear Chris Coleman¡¯s mocking laughter in his head, adding salt to the wound.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Still, as meager and worthless as they seemed, they were all he had.


    Zi-Cheng gently picked up the vase, cradling it in both hands. A faint glow flickered from his palms, reflecting softly on the delicate petals of the flower.


    If losing everything had taught him one thing, it was to cherish even the smallest things, no matter how insignificant or worthless they might seem to others.


    Under the influence of [Developer Mode ¨C Remake], the cracked vase transformed before his eyes, gleaming as though freshly crafted. Even the murky water inside the vase turned crystal clear. The sickly little flower, once on the verge of death, now stood tall, its delicate petals catching the sunlight and radiating newfound vitality.


    ¡°Perhaps this so-called ¡®useless skill¡¯ has some real value aft ¨C ugh!¡±


    A sudden gust of wind carried the stench clinging to his body straight into his nose, almost choking him. Without a second thought, he quickly tore off the reeking rags and tossed them onto the ground before leaping into the river.


    The cool water sent a shiver through his body, but under the summer sun, it was so refreshing that it revived his spirit. As someone who used to spend all his days cooped up in a game studio, when was the last time he had felt this close to nature?


    (Like... never?)


    Zi-Cheng laughed and started swimming freely in the river, his movements sparkling under the sunlight, the sound of splashing water echoing across the quiet riverbank. This was a moment of pure liberation, far from the chaos and burdens of his past, a kind of carefree joy he hadn¡¯t felt in years.


    As he floated on his back, his gaze wandered to the endless blue sky above, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot about monsters, betrayal, and survival.


    (Maybe this world isn¡¯t so bad after all¡­.)


    After a long, satisfying swim and with all the grime washed away, an idea suddenly struck him. Zi-Cheng waded ashore, grabbed the filthy old towel from his pile of spoils, and tossed it into the river with a triumphant grin.


    ¡°Time to run some tests!¡±


    Zi-Cheng held up his glowing hands, his mind focusing once more.


    With the power of [Developer Mode], he discovered that as long as he could pinpoint the ¡°flaws¡± that needed improvement and clearly define the modifications, the outcome would be significantly enhanced. The result might not always align perfectly with his vision, but it would undeniably be an improvement.


    (Just like how we designers work with programmers...)


    Many people thought a game designer¡¯s job was about dreaming up creative ideas, but in truth, Zi-Cheng had learned that a good designer wasn¡¯t just a dreamer but a problem-solver¡ªsomeone who could pinpoint the root of a problem and provide clear, concise instructions for the team to implement.


    Applying the same logic here, Zi-Cheng realized that if he simply shouted ¡°Purify¡± at the old towel using [Developer Mode], it would likely tear the fragile fabric into shreds. So instead, he analyzed its condition carefully, issuing a command to ¡°refine¡± the fibers first, enhancing their strength and quality. Only once it was sturdy enough did he give the ¡°purify¡± command.


    The result? A luxurious bath towel, softer than velvet and absorbent as a sponge, emerged from the water like magic.


    ¡°Like it or not, it¡¯s always about the specifics,¡± Zi-Cheng muttered with a chuckle, recalling how his lead programmer, Leung Pa-Tu, had drilled into him the importance of meticulous details. Pa-Tu had refused to write a single line of code until every requirement was laid out in the open, a habit that had been frustrating back then but now felt like an unexpected blessing.


    Feeling a rare sense of accomplishment, Zi-Cheng ran the soft, freshly transformed towel over his skin. Standing naked on the riverbank, he reveled in the cool breeze brushing against his freshly cleaned body. However, his satisfaction was short-lived as his gaze fell on the tattered, reeking rags lying nearby.


    Sighing, he steeled himself to repeat the process on his clothes. But just as he activated [Developer Mode], an unexpected sensation rippled through his right eye, stopping him in his tracks.


    ¡°Wha¡­ what is this!¡±


    [Debug Failed]


    The words burned into his vision like fiery brands, each letter searing itself into his mind. Zi-Cheng instinctively clutched at his face, his right eye flaring with an unbearable heat that sent sharp pain shooting through his skull.


    When Zi-Cheng first arrived at this strange new world, his initial reaction was to shout at the heavens, hoping to summon one of those clich¨¦ ¡°status screens¡± often used as in isekai novels and manga tropes. Back then, he was met with nothing but silence, and the ridicule of Chris Coleman, who had mocked him of his naivety.


    Ever since that humiliating moment, Zi-Cheng had resigned himself to the idea that systems, status screens, menus, or anything remotely game-like simply don¡¯t exist in this world.


    He couldn¡¯t have been more wrong.


    A searing pain intensified, his nerves screaming in protest. The words ¡°Debug Failed¡± consumed his vision entirely, obscuring everything in sight. It was as though reality itself had been overwritten, replaced by the glaring letter and the overwhelming weight of something far beyond his understanding. A primal fear surged through him, his instincts roaring that he had violated some kind of rule ¨C and the price for such transgression might be far worse than death itself.


    ¡°Abort! Cancel the command! Cancel it now!!¡±


    The air around him shifted violently, and the world was swallowed by an oppressive crimson hue. A sharp, mechanical siren-like noise blared in his ears, piercing his mind and senses. The sound reverberated endlessly, grinding his whole being like shards of broken glass.


    Finally, two words appeared.


    [Debug Terminated]


    The glowing light in Zi-Cheng¡¯s hands flickered once, then faded entirely. His desperate cries echoed across the riverbank, but they were drowned out by the residual hum of the sirens that seemed to have embedded themselves in the fabric of this very world.


    When the searing heat in his right eye finally subsided, leaving him with an aching throb, Zi-Cheng hesitantly lowered his trembling hands. He stared at the spot where his tattered clothes had been just moments before.


    There was nothing left.


    The pile of rags he had been working on was gone, reduced to fine, gray ash scattered across the ground, soon to be swept away by the wind.


    Zi-Cheng collapsed to a crouch, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.


    (Why¡­?)


    Tremors wracked his body, not just from the exhaustion but from the sheer terror that still clung to him like a suffocating shadow.


    Why had the apple and the vase been successfully remade, while the clothes triggered such a terrifying phenomenon? Beads of sweat dripped onto the ground as he searched desperately for a reasonable explanation.


    There was none.


    The disparity between the outcomes made no sense. His thought swirled in a chaotic spiral, each theory collapsing under the weight of uncertainty.


    Still dazed, Zi-Cheng slowly slumped to the ground. The soft earth beneath him felt cool against his skin, but offered little comfort. The gravity of his situation pressed down on him, and a far more immediate problem began to dawn on him.


    His gaze drifted to the empty riverbank, to the open skies above, and then to his own body¡ªbare, vulnerable, and utterly exposed. Butt-naked in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by an unfamiliar and dangerous world, how was he supposed to survive?


    ¡°No¡ªhell no! This can¡¯t be happening!¡±

 Chapter 6 - The Forgotten Bloom (Part 1/3)

    Every game has its own set of rules.


    As a game designer, Zi-Cheng¡¯s most fundamental training wasn¡¯t about creating rules but finding loopholes within the existing ones. Yet, this very training had been causing him nothing but pain and anguish for the past two weeks.


    ¡°Ahhhh ¨C¨C hot, hot, hot ¨C¨C¨C abort, abort!¡±


    Zi-Cheng yelped in pain, plunging his face into the river to soothe the burning sensation in his right eye. While his head throbbed and his nerves screamed, the backlash from [Developer Mode] didn¡¯t deter him from experimenting. If anything, it only deepened his curiosity about this strange skill and its potential loopholes.


    (Well, to be fair, what else can you do when you¡¯re butt-naked in the middle of nowhere?)


    Hoping to scavenge some suitable clothing from the trash piles left by the ¡°Hyakki Yagy¨­¡± fireflies, Zi-Cheng set up camp near the riverbank. However, the wait stretched into days, much longer than he had initially expected. In the end, seven days passed before the next ¡°Hyakki Yagy¨­¡± finally occurred, reminding him of the garbage collection schedules back in his own world.


    (Thank goodness there wasn¡¯t a statutory holiday this week...)


    During the day, Zi-Cheng hid in the shade of the trees to avoid sunburn, foraging wild berries to stave off hunger. When night fell and the air grew colder, he used leaves processed with [Developer Mode] to craft a makeshift blanket, just sturdy enough to keep him warm as he curled up in the bushes.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to get by.


    By the seventeenth day, his efforts finally bore fruit. After painstaking work, he managed to assemble the basic tools for wilderness survival: clothing, a tent, a backpack, and even rudimentary tools to start a fire¡ªall fashioned from scraps and improvised with the resourcefulness honed by playing survival sandbox games. While he couldn¡¯t exactly build a house out of raw materials like a Minecraft player, for the first time since arriving in this world, Zi-Cheng graduated from running around naked like a caveman to a proper homeless person living in a tent.


    ¡°Taking it easy today, huh, Hana? Just chilling, sipping water, and soaking up the sun all day long.¡± Zi-Cheng stepped into his tent, toweling himself off as the little white flower in its vase seemed to bask cheerfully in the sunlight streaming through the opening.


    Though he had resolved most of the issues with shelter and clothing, the two weeks of surviving in the wilderness had been far harsher than he had ever imagined. If not for Hana¡¯s silent companionship, it would have been unthinkable to endure the danger and solitude for this long.


    ¡°Seventeen days, and I¡¯ve already eaten all the berries around here,¡± Zi-Cheng sighed, flopping onto his makeshift bedding. ¡°What now? Am I supposed to chase after those mushroom monsters or switch to eating slimes? Is this really what it¡¯s come to, Hana?¡±


    The little white flower gleamed quietly in response.


    As a flower that had once been abandoned, it understood its limits. There wasn¡¯t anything it could do to help, except quietly accompany the one who had saved its life, patiently waiting for him to find a solution on his own ¡ª even if that solution led Zi-Cheng to a life of crime as a bread thief.


    And so, after days of silent companionship with Hana, hunger and desperation drove Zi-Cheng back to Hazelton. All it took was a single, stolen loaf of bread to spark chaos, sending him racing through the narrow alleys with the town guards hot on his heels.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see where you can run¡ª¡±


    Before the guard could finish, Zi-Cheng ducked low and slid between his legs, scrambling further into the twisting maze.


    (All those stories about people becoming heroes or sages in another world, and here I am...)


    His bitter thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a sharp, metallic stench filled his nose. He turned the corner, and stumbled upon a corpse sprawled across the ground, nearly tripping him over.


    Zi-Cheng froze, his breath catching in his throat. The blood-soaked body lay with its lifeless eyes staring skyward, a slashed throat with dark blood still oozing to the ground.


    Then he saw it.


    A paper crane white as snow rested in the pool of blood, its white bottom stained vivid red.


    ¡°It¡¯s the Crimson Plume!¡±


    The guard behind him shouted the words in alarm, his tone trembling with fear.


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s gaze shot upward and locked with a pair of eyes ¡ª cold, sharp, and devoid of emotion. They pierced through the crimson haze of the alleyway, freezing time itself in place.


    It was the calmest and deadliest moment of his life.


    Then a sharp ¡°shing¡± sliced through the silence as Crimson Plume¡¯s blade flashed free from its sheath, its deadly arc aimed squarely at Zi-Cheng. In that instant, his chest tightened with bitter regret. He realized he had accomplished nothing before meeting his end.


    But he was wrong on two accounts.


    First, he misread Crimson Plume¡¯s intent.


    Second, he grossly overestimated his worth as a target.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    As a cold rush trailed down the back of his neck, the blade tore past him with blinding speed, hurtling toward the town guard behind him.


    (Was that¡­ a battle technique?)


    Zi-Cheng turned slowly, his eyes widening as the shattered fragments of the guard¡¯s freshly drawn sword came into view.


    The speed, the precision... it was unlike anything he had ever seen. But... didn¡¯t Elena say battle techniques only worked in the arena? That meant the strike had been achieved through nothing but pure swordsmanship!


    The masked man had his eyes on the now-defenseless town guard, but he soon noticed Zi-Cheng¡¯s eyes on him. With a slight tilt of his head, he cast a sidelong glance in his direction.


    And that single glance sent a chilling jolt through Zi-Cheng¡¯s body.


    Behind the mask, the man¡¯s cold eyes held an indifference so profound it was as if nothing in the world, neither people nor events, had any significance on him.


    ¡°Why were the guards after you?¡± Crimson Plume broke the silence, his voice calm and detached.


    What a strange question.


    If he didn¡¯t care about anything, then why even bother asking?


    ¡°This guy¡¯s a bread thief¡± the guard spat out, clutching his bleeding wrist in pain. ¡°Arresting him is only right ¨C¨C¨C¡°


    ¡°Only right,¡± Crimson Plume interrupted with a dry laugh. ¡°Who who decides what¡¯s ¡®right¡¯? Who writes those rules?¡±


    The guard froze, clearly unprepared for such a question. The notion of who created the laws he was so zealously enforced had never occurred to him.


    ¡°Rules are made by people, and depending on the perspective of those making them, entirely different laws emerge.¡±


    Although Zi-Cheng never studied law, but as a game designer, this was a truth he knew all too well. The rules of a game were defined by the creator, shaped entirely by their perspective and intentions.


    ¡°The perspective of the rule-maker, huh?¡± For the first time, a flicker of interest appeared in Crimson Plume¡¯s gaze. ¡°I never expected a mere bread thief to have such an interesting insight.¡±


    Zi-Cheng quickly noticed his mistake ¨C how could someone struggling just to fill his stomach think of such abstract ideas?


    Just as he was about to explain himself, Crimson Plume darted toward him, closing the distance in an instant.


    ¡°A reward for your words. Get out of my sight within one minute, and I¡¯ll pay for the bread myself.¡±


    Crimson Plume¡¯s tone was casual, but the weight behind the words was absolute, like a judge delivering an unappealable verdict.


    (Wait, what?)


    A murderer who had just killed someone and gravely injured a guard was now offering to cover the cost of a stolen loaf of bread, while letting an eyewitness walk away?


    ¡°There¡¯s no way this is legit,¡± Zi-Cheng muttered under his breath, his nerves prickling with unease.


    ¡°Fifty-nine... fifty-eight...¡±


    Crimson Plume calmly sheathed his blade, standing motionlessly as he began the countdown.


    Zi-Cheng hesitantly took a step forward, only to be pushed firmly back into place by Crimson Plume¡¯s hand. The force was heavy but precise, just enough to stop him in place but not cause any harm.


    ¡°Fifty-five... fifty-four... fifty-three...¡±


    ¡°Come on! I still need to get that loaf of bread over there!¡±


    Zi-Cheng exclaimed, throwing a quick glance toward the alley corner as he sidestepped, aiming to slip past towards the exit. But with a flick of his arm, Crimson Plume blocked his path once again, effortlessly shoving him back to where he had stood.


    ¡°Forty-two... forty-one...¡±


    The numbers echoed like a drumbeat, each one tightening the knot of tension in Zi-Cheng¡¯s chest.


    (This guy¡¯s toying with me. If he wanted me dead, why bother giving me the minute? If he wanted me gone, why does he keep stopping me?)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s mind swirled with questions as he desperately threw out every idea he could think of, but no matter what he tried, nothing worked against the black-clad figure before him.


    ¡°Ten¡­. Nine¡­¡±


    As the final seconds ticked away, Zi-Cheng was drenched in sweat, every attempt at escaping thwarted. It was like standing before an unyielding wall.


    (A¡­ wall¡­.?)


    An idea struck him¡ªa final attempt that required precise execution.


    ¡°Six¡­ five¡­.¡±


    Zi-Cheng crouched low, pressing both hands against the filthy alley ground.


    ¡°[Developer Mode ¨C Construct]!¡±


    The words had barely left his mouth when a dirt wall shot up from the ground, erecting itself between him and Crimson Plume, completely blocking the man¡¯s view.


    However, a mere wall was hardly an obstacle for someone like Crimson Plume.


    The instant his vision was obscured, Crimson Plume leapt effortlessly, pushing off the alley¡¯s walls with graceful motion, landing atop the newly constructed barrier. His lips curved into a faint smile as he uttered a single word.


    ¡°One.¡±


    Perched high above, Crimson Plume¡¯s gaze swept the alley below, every detail laid bare beneath him. Yet, the alley behind the dirt wall was completely empty, not a single soul in sight.


    A moment of silence followed, then a flicker of amusement crossed Crimson Plume¡¯s eyes before he burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the narrow passage.


    ¡°Well done, kid. A bet¡¯s a bet, I¡¯ll cover the cost of that bread.¡±


    A silver coin dropped with a crisp ¡°ding¡± at the guard¡¯s feet. By the time the guard looked up, Crimson Plume was already gone, vanished without a trace.


    After some time, the dirt wall crumbled away, collapsing into a heap of loose soil. From within, Zi-Cheng slowly emerged, his hair coated with dirt and his face smeared with mud, like a miner crawling out of a cave-in.


    (He knew I was in there¡­)


    It wasn¡¯t just luck that saved him, Zi-Cheng knew that much. Crimson Plume had seen through his ruse the moment he noticed the alley behind the wall was empty. But instead of exposing him, the masked killer stood atop the barrier and allowed the final second of his countdown to slip by.


    Zi-Cheng shuddered at the realization. If Crimson Plume had chosen to break his own rules, there was no way he¡¯d still be breathing. Worse yet, the humiliated guard would never have left the scene without dragging him into custody for questioning.


    (Why¡­? Why didn¡¯t he say anything?)


    Zi-Cheng pondered as he turned toward the corner of the alley. There, lying half-submerged in the muck, was the loaf of bread Crimson Plume had paid for. Technically, the bread was his now, but after everything it had been through, making it edible again would certainly take more than a few simple wipes.


    Shaking his head, Zi-Cheng could only hope this wouldn¡¯t turn into another ¡°Debug Failed¡± disaster.

 Chapter 6 - The Forgotten Bloom (Part 2/3)

    Stepping onto the cobblestone streets once more, Zi-Cheng felt like it¡¯s been a lifetime since he was last here. As the fine drizzle fell from the gray skies above, cool droplets landing on his face, the sensation felt strangely reassuring, a quiet reminder that he had beaten the odds to remain alive.


    Guuuu¡ª¡ª


    Yet, being alive came with its own struggles, his stomach¡¯s grumble reminded him that the single loaf of bread wouldn¡¯t be enough to get him through the day, especially in its current state.


    Thinking back to how he¡¯d been chased through the alleys earlier, a faint, bitter smile tugged at Zi-Cheng¡¯s lips. He knew all too well that stealing bread wasn¡¯t a solution he could rely on.


    (I can¡¯t go on like this. How am I supposed to complete the deal and get back to my own world?)


    It was only early summer, but the wild berries near the riverbank had already been stripped bare. When autumn came and the chill of winter following, foraging food in the wild would only become more difficult and he would have to find shelter in the city. For now, stealing kept him fed, but it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.


    (There¡¯s got to be something else I can do in the city¡­ something besides stealing and fighting...)


    While Zi-Cheng knew [Developer Mode] could be used outside the arena since it wasn¡¯t a combat skill, the challenge was figuring out how to use it without drawing unwanted attention¡ªor putting himself in even more danger.


    As he wandered the streets in search for inspiration, his gaze fell on a walls plastered with bold banners.


    ¡°Follow the Hero¡¯s glorious teachings! Raise high the banner of the Grandmaster¡¯s ideals!¡±


    ¡°Stand united under the Hero¡¯s leadership, march ever onward to secure victory for the Human Kingdom of Izanich!¡±


    The declarations were everywhere, loud and unrelenting in their message.


    (Secure victory? I¡¯d be happy just securing dinner¡­)


    Zi-Cheng stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth, the warmth from [Developer Mode ¡ª Remake] doing little to satisfy his still half-empty stomach. To him, the lofty declarations on the walls were nothing more than hollow platitudes.


    Just as he shifted his weight to keep moving, a burst of noise pierced through the drizzle ¡ª a rising commotion of voices from somewhere nearby. Then he saw her: a young girl standing at the center of the crowd, dressed in an immaculate white uniform, her beauty commanding attention like a beacon in the rain.


    The umbrella in her hand swayed gently as her sharp, unwavering eyes scanned the gathered people. Her lips, delicate and soft as cherry blossoms, only enhanced the charm of her porcelain-like skin, smooth and flawless as freshly fallen snow.


    Zi-Cheng had seen his fair share of beautiful women in his life, yet the sight of this girl in white still left him momentarily speechless.


    ¡°Move aside, street rat!¡±


    (¡­!!)


    Ever since the public beating by Karl, Zi-Cheng had made it a priority to tread carefully in Hazelton, avoiding unwanted attention. Yet, somehow, a stranger had managed to approach him from behind without a sound.


    Shifting his eyes slightly, Zi-Cheng caught sight of a young man dressed in a spotless white uniform, almost identical to the girl''s.


    (Another one in white!?)


    Before the young man could say more, a faint floral scent drifted through the air. The stunningly beautiful girl stepped gracefully to his side, her voice soft yet firm as she addressed him.


    ¡°Eric, you¡¯re better than this. Don¡¯t pick on the beggars.¡±


    (Beggar¡­? Me¡­?!)


    Zi-Cheng glanced down at himself. His clothes were smeared with mud and dirt from his earlier escape, his hair a mess and his face streaked with grime. Indeed, there was no better word to describe how he looked right now.


    ¡°Oh, come now, Sheryl. Surely you don¡¯t think I¡¯d stoop so low to bullying a beggar. That wouldn¡¯t suit the heir of the Clifford family, would it?¡±


    With a casual flick of his finger, Eric tossed a gold coin toward Zi-Cheng, the coin landing in the muck at his feet with a muted thud.


    Sheryl, however, said nothing. She simply turned and walked away, her pristine white uniform untouched by the drizzle or the grime of the streets.


    Not once did her gaze fall upon Zi-Cheng.


    No, it wasn¡¯t just that.


    It was as if, in her eyes, he wasn¡¯t even worth noticing.


    (So...this is how it feels for those people handing out flyers at the subway station....)


    Zi-Cheng picked up the gold coin, conflicting emotions churning inside him. Part of him wanted to hurl the coin back at the smug aristocrat¡¯s face, clawing back what little pride he had left. Butthe more practical part reminded him: this single coin was worth ten times what Chris had given him when he first arrived in Hazelton.


    (Are you really going to throw that away for the sake of pride?)


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s attention snapped to the voice. Across the street stood a tan-skinned girl with lively twin tails, casually waving at him. She wore a uniform similar to Sheryl¡¯s, but hers was an eye-catching navy blue. ¡°I don¡¯t know what pride means to you, but I do know a gold coin can buy you a week¡¯s worth of food. Better stash it before someone snatches it.¡±


    ¡°Why the blank look?¡± The girl tilted her head, clearly curious at his lack of response, and after a moment, she started walking toward him. ¡°Seriously, don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve never heard of ¡®White for the Privies, Blue for the Skinnies¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Privy, like... private?¡± Zi-Cheng blurted out.


    The girl froze for a moment, then doubled over laughing. ¡°Privy as in ¡®privileged,¡¯ you know, the noble-borns! But honestly, I like your version better, like the private club of smugs they are.¡±


    Zi-Cheng raised an eyebrow, shrugging slightly. ¡°And I¡¯m guessing ¡®Skinnies¡¯ are the scholarship students, hand picked from families that could hardly feed themselves, right? Chris mentioned something like that before.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say we are the ones who actually earned our place,¡± she said with a cheeky grin. ¡°But enough about that. What¡¯s your deal? You don¡¯t seem like the fighting type, so why¡¯d Eric Clifford come after you?¡±


    (Like I¡¯d know the answer to that...)


    ¡°White or blue, we¡¯re all students of the Ludis Academy of Valor,¡± she continued. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t pick a fight with someone who can¡¯t even swing a sword to defend himself.¡±


    (You¡¯d be surprised how many people enjoy doing exactly that¡­)


    Zi-Cheng let out a bitter chuckle under his breath and turned to leave. But the twin-tailed girl wasn¡¯t done. She followed him persistently, finally slipping around to block his path entirely.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a weirdo! A cute girl¡¯s talking to you, and you¡¯re just walking away?¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be weirder for a girl to talk to a beggar on the street?¡± Zi-Cheng shot back.


    ¡°Okay, but are you actually a beggar?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear what they called me?¡±


    To Zi-Cheng¡¯s surprise, the girl burst into laughter again. ¡°You might fool them, but not me! I¡¯ve seen you before, and back then, you didn¡¯t look anything like this.¡±


    Zi-Cheng stopped mid-step, and it all came back to him.


    On his first day in Hazelton, after parting ways with Chris Coleman, there was a brief moment when he stood by the roadside, overwhelmed by everything happening around him. At the time, a girl in school uniform brushed past him and quickly disappeared into the crowd.


    But¡­ how? How did she picked him out from so many faces?


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Cat caught your tongue, Mis ¡¤ ter ¡¤ Beg ¡¤ gar?¡±


    The girl¡¯s laugh rang out like a wind charm. Though her looks didn¡¯t rival the breathtaking elegance of Sheryl in her white uniformed, there was a mischievous charm to this girl in front of him that was hard to ignore.


    In the end Zi-Cheng could only sigh in resignation and raised his hands in mock surrender.


    ¡°Ha! I knew it! You¡¯re not just some ordinary guy!¡±


    (Not...ordinary?)


    Zi-Cheng pondered for a moment. To be honest, given everything that had happened to him recently, he wasn¡¯t even sure what ¡°ordinary¡± meant anymore. Still, learning more about the city from this girl seemed like a good enough reason to play along for now.


    ¡°For the last time, I¡¯m not some master of disguise, and I¡¯m not part of any cult!¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure, Mr. Beggar! Don¡¯t worry, your secret¡¯s safe with me!¡±


    (Sigh¡­ Another one who doesn¡¯t listen, huh?)


    As they continued chatting, Zi-Cheng learned more about the Academy of Valor and the surrounding Academy District. He also quickly realized the girl before him was something of a dreamer, fascinated by urban legends and whispers of secret cults lurking in the city. In particular, she mentioned a group called Origami, and Crimson Plume, who he had run into earlier.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of the Crimson Plume, but what¡¯s this Origami group you¡¯re talking about?¡±


    Origami ¡ª a Japanese word for paper folding that shouldn¡¯t exist in this world. Was it merely a coincidence, or did it somehow connect to that blood-soaked paper crane he had seen earlier?


    Before Zi-Cheng could press for an answer, a sharp crack of thunder rolled through the air, and the light drizzle began to thicken into heavy rain.


    ¡°Oh no! I got so caught up I completely forgot I was supposed to bring Winnie her umbrella!¡±


    The girl¡¯s flustered expression was so comical that Zi-Cheng couldn¡¯t help but chuckle softly.


    ¡°Go on, then. Maybe we¡¯ll¡­.¡±


    Before he could even finish, the girl was already sprinting away, her twin tails bouncing with each hurried step.


    In truth, they were just two strangers crossing paths. The odds of meeting again in such a sprawling city seemed slim, so there wasn¡¯t much point in saying, ¡°we¡¯ll meet again.¡±


    Yet, just as Zi-Cheng turned to leave, the girl suddenly spun around in the middle of the street, shouting over the rain, ¡°My name¡¯s Candace Aldar! Mark my words, one day I¡¯m gonna knock down that porcelain doll, Sheryl Heinz! You better be there to cheer me on, got it?¡±


    Zi-Cheng chuckled at Candace¡¯s bold declaration. He¡¯d seen countless PvP players consumed by their obsession with winning, their intensity often crossing into toxic territory. Candace¡¯s confident and cheerful energy, however, was a refreshing contrast, a rare kind of enthusiasm that wasn¡¯t weighed down by malice.


    Still, what she said was easier said than done. Defeating a noble who had inherited their family¡¯s battle techniques was no small task.


    (I have no intention to step into the ring, but perhaps as a spectator¡­.)


    As Candace¡¯s figure faded from view, the rain intensified, thunder rumbling loudly above. What began as a gentle sprinkle had now escalated into a full-blown downpour, hammering against the cobblestones and forming puddles on the uneven streets.


    With no intention to leave the city in such weather, Zi-Cheng resolved to put the gold coin he had received to good use. He paused at a nearby stall to buy some jerky and took cover under the awning of a shop, chewing on the dried meat as he waited for the storm to let up.


    Just then, a booming voice echoed from across the street.


    ¡°Gather ¡®round! Breaking news coming in! Beastmen scouts have been spotted outside Hazelton!¡±


    (Beastmen?)


    Decades ago, a brutal war raged between humans and beastmen, with Hazelton standing as a critical stronghold on the southern front of the Kingdom of Izanich. Now, after years of uneasy peace, the sudden reappearance of these furred assailants sent waves of anxiety rippling through the city.


    Despite the heavy rain, people started to gather, their expressions tense with worry.


    ¡°The City Guard has confirmed that Julia Kinsley, the Golden Fox, is on her way to eliminate the beastmen outside the city!¡±


    (Julia Kinsley!)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s chest tightened at the mention of the vice-captain¡¯s name. Of all the people to be sent, it had to be her.


    But something didn¡¯t add up. Zi-Cheng had been living outside the city walls for over two weeks and had never seen any beastmen.


    ¡°During the search, the City Guard advises all residents to avoid the riverbank area to ensure safety.¡±


    (Hold on... What was that?)


    Zi-Cheng froze, his mind racing.


    (Did the guy just say ¡°the riverbank?¡±)


    ¡°No... no way¡­ This can¡¯t be happening¡­¡±

 Chapter 6 - The Forgotten Bloom (Part 3/3)

    Beneath his drenched cloak, Zi-Cheng¡¯s palms began to sweat. There was no mistaking it, someone must have seen his camp by the riverbank and mistaken him for a beastmen scout.


    A vivid, blood-soaked image flashed through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. If being labeled an ¡°unknown¡± was enough to draw hostility from Chris and Julia, being deemed as a beastmen scout would literally make him a public enemy for all humankind.


    (I have to get back before they find my camp!)


    Without hesitation, Zi-Cheng bolted toward the city gates, his figure disappearing into the storm. The relentless downpour pelted his face, but getting soaked to the bone or falling ill was the least of his concerns now.


    Through the sheets of rain, he sprinted at full speed toward the riverbank, just in time to see the once-calm river transformed into a raging serpent, its frothing torrents devouring everything in their path. At this rate, even if the guards didn¡¯t come for him, the camp¡¯s location was already in peril.


    (Hana¡­)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s thoughts turned to his only companion at the camp. If he could save just one thing, it would be the little white flower still sitting quietly inside the tent.


    Fortunately, when Zi-Cheng reached the outskirts of his campsite, he spotted Julia and her team of five guards huddled under the trees. The relentless downpour had clearly made any further search impossible for the moment.


    Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Zi-Cheng ducked into the tall grass. Using the rain as cover, he crept closer to catch their conversation.


    ¡°Vice-Captain Kinsley, this rain¡¯s showing no sign of letting up. Maybe we should call it a day?¡±


    That raspy voice¡ªZi-Cheng immediately recognized it as Torenzo York, the same guard who interrogated him on the streets, and set off the chain of events that that led to his misery.


    Torenzo¡¯s words seemed to strike a chord with the other guards, who quickly nodded in agreement, their bodies weary and strained from hours of slogging through the rain.


    But Julia remained unmoved.


    ¡°Call it a day? Over a little rain?¡± Her voice was sharp enough to cut through the downpour. ¡°Tell me, would any of you have dared to say that to my brother when he was captain?¡±


    Torenzo stiffened. The mention of Chris Coleman seemed to hit harder than it should have, and it showed in the slight tightening of his jaw, the subtle shift in his stance. His face flushed, not from embarrassment, but from a deeper frustration that he couldn¡¯t let out.


    Though Zi-Cheng saw something unspoken flickered in the man¡¯s eyes, Torenzo said nothing in the end. It appeared Julia¡¯s rank, her skills, and the sheer authority in her tone left no room for argument. As the rain continued to pour, all Torenzo could do was to bow his head, swallowing whatever words might have come next.


    Minutes crawled by, and over an hour passed, but the storm showed no signs of relenting.


    As the sky dimmed with nightfall drawing closer, the guards grew increasingly restless. They shifted from foot to foot, the thick mud sucking at their boots as their patience began to fray.


    Yet Julia refused to back down. Her fists were clenched tight at her sides, her frustration palpable as rainwater streamed down her face, dripping from her soaked bangs. She gazed on the darkened sky as though sheer force of will could make the storm break.


    (Glare all you want, Julia, but even you can¡¯t keep your team out here forever. Once night falls, you¡¯ll have no choice but to head back.)


    Zi-Cheng smirked faintly from his hiding spot, the rain keeping him well concealed. Perhaps, against all odds, things were finally starting to work in his favor.


    Or so he thought.


    Out of the corner of his eye, something dark floated down the river¡ªand Julia noticed it too.


    ¡°The beastman¡¯s backpack!¡± her voice cracked through the air like a whip.


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s head snapped toward the river, and his heart sank. There it was, his black backpack, unmistakable, bobbing helplessly along the raging current.


    Frustration surged in his chest as the river roared louder, the water rising faster than he could have imagined. Everything he¡¯d worked so hard to gather was swept away, vanishing before his eyes. His heart twisted in pain, but all he could do was bite down on his arm to hold back the cry in his throat.


    Yet, he wasn¡¯t the only one unwilling to let go.


    ¡°No way I¡¯m heading back empty-handed!¡±


    ¡°Vice-Captain¡ª!!¡±


    Before anyone could stop her, Julia took off her armor and dove headfirst into the rapids.


    (She¡¯s insane! This woman¡¯s completely lost it!)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s thoughts raced as he watched Julia desperately fight against the current, pushing herself toward the floating backpack. The guards, still stunned by her reckless act, broke into a frantic sprint along the riverbank, panicking but unsure what to do.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Watch out!¡±


    Torenzo lunged to grab a guard who nearly slipped into the river, pulling him back just in time.


    ¡°The ground¡¯s too soft! There¡¯s no way we can pull her to the shore!¡±


    By now, Julia had reached the backpack, clutching it tightly in one hand. Yet, gold-tier or not, her body was no match for the river¡¯s wrath. She was tossed around like a withered leaf, utterly powerless as the raging water dragged her downstream.


    Zi-Cheng followed behind the guards, hoping they had some kind of plan to save her. But all they did was flail helplessly at the river¡¯s edge, shouting and screaming like a bad comedy troupe.


    ¡°Someone, help her! She¡¯s going to drown!¡±


    ¡°The current¡¯s too strong, our rope can¡¯t reach her!¡±


    It was almost pitiful to watch, but beneath the absurdity of it all, Zi-Cheng felt the weight of reality bearing down. Julia, gasping for air and barely keeping her head above water, was losing the fight. It was only a matter of time before the merciless river dragged her under for good.


    To be, or not to be?


    The classic question caught Zi-Cheng off guard, the two choices before him drawn like a fine line in the sand.


    (Seriously, risk my neck to save Julia?)


    (Yes, the very same woman who threatened me on the street and had me beaten to a pulp.)


    (Yeah, because you kissed her!)


    (What was I supposed to do? Surrender myself and let her lock me up?)


    (Why were you running away in the first place)


    (That¡¯s¡­.irrelevant¡­.)


    (Really? If you¡¯d just did what Chris told you, none of this would have happened in the first place.)


    (Oh, come on! That¡¯s easy to say now, but who could¡¯ve known how things would turn out?)


    ¡°It¡¯s all about probability¡­.¡±


    Indeed it was. It was probability, or rather, possibility that saved him from Crimson Plume¡¯s impossible countdown.


    (Saving this woman is a mistake. I know it. I¡¯ll regret this!)


    (So you choose to let her die because of uncertainty.)


    (No, but...)


    "You always think you¡¯re right, don¡¯t you? That¡¯s your biggest problem!"


    The sharp echo of his father¡¯s voice struck Zi-Cheng like a bolt of lightning, freezing him in place. His tone, as biting as ever, sent a chill racing down his spine.


    --------------------------


    Back at the riverbank, the frantic guards shouted desperately as Torenzo stood frozen, watching Julia being tossed around in the current like a rag doll. She vanished beneath the waves, only to resurface moments later, each appearance weaker than the last.


    ¡°Damn it, Julia¡­.¡±


    Torenzo¡¯s knuckles turned white as his mind screamed for action, racing for anything that could pull Julia from the clutches of the raging river. But there was nothing he could do against the sheer force of nature.


    ¡°We can¡¯t¡­ we can¡¯t lose you too¡­.¡±


    He staggered forward, his boots sinking into the mud. Every passing second felt like a cruel countdown to the inevitable.


    And then, through the relentless storm, a cloaked figure emerged.


    ¡°Who¡ª?¡± Before Torenzo could finish, the figure weaved through the chaos with his arm raised. An intense blue light erupted, bathing the riverbank in an otherworldly glow.


    ¡°Secured target area. Activate [Developer Mode ¡ª Construct]!¡±


    With those words, a low, guttural rumble tore through the storm¡¯s roar. The water¡¯s fury stilled momentarily as jagged rocks burst upward, rising from the depths to form a platform beneath Julia, lifting her above the deadly current.


    The guards stood in stunned silence. This was no battle technique; it was unlike anything they had ever seen and defied everything they thought possible ¡ª a demonstration of power that bent the laws of nature itself.


    ¡°What the hell are you waiting for? Throw her the damn rope!¡± the cloaked figure shouted, a command that snapped the guards into action.


    ¡°Ah, right, the rope!¡±


    Torenzo scrambled for the coil of rope at his side. Tying a stone to its end, he hurled it with all his might. The rope sailed through the air and landed just within Julia¡¯s reach. As she tied it around her waist, the guards began pulling her toward safety.


    ¡°So that¡¯s it. We¡¯re even now.¡±


    The cloaked figure mumbled the words as he turned and walked away. By the time Julia was safely back on shore, her mysterious savior had already vanished into the storm without a trace.


    ¡°Who was that?¡± The guards exchanged uneasy glances.


    A beastman saving a human was unheard of. But if it wasn¡¯t a beastman, then why had this person concealed his identity and set up camp outside the city?


    Julia, still dripping wet and catching her breath, seemed just as perplexed as her colleagues. She knew it wasn¡¯t her older brother Chris, but something about her savior felt oddly familiar, like a thread dangling just out of reach. Her gaze shifted to the backpack now lying at her feet. Perhaps the answer lay within.


    One by one, she pulled out its contents. Folded clothes, towels, a utility knife, and other basic toiletries, all arranged in a way that seemed more fitting for a human noble than a beastman scout.


    Finally, at the bottom of the backpack, Julia retrieved a small, delicate white vase. Though its water had spilled, the tiny flower it held remained unshaken, its petals still turned toward the dim light filtering through the stormy sky.


    ¡°What is this¡­?¡±


    Turning the vase over, Julia noticed a small note attached to its base. Unfolding it, she read two lines of writing:


    Though the stars abandon us,


    We shall prevail and thrive for decades to come.


    Julia read the words aloud, her voice soft but resolute. Whatever the truth about the owner, she felt certain this person was not a beastman. Staring at the little flower, she fell silent, the cryptic message drawing her into deeper thought. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to pause, to truly reflect, as if the storm outside mirrored the turmoil she¡¯d been suppressing within.

 Chapter 7 - The Leftovers (Part 1/2)

    Once again, Zi-Cheng sat in solitude among the low shrubs, unmoving for what felt like an eternity.


    The storm had finally passed, but it left him in the same wretched state as when he first arrived at the riverbank¡ªhomeless, with nothing to his name but the clothes on his back. By saving Julia, he had once again lost everything, including Hana, the little white flower that had been his only source of comfort during those lonely days in the wild.


    Yet, sitting there in the dark, the weight of his loss felt strangely distant. Zi-Cheng stared into the darkened horizon, his mind strangely clear, as though the storm had washed away his despair, leaving only his father¡¯s words to echo in his ears.


    ¡°You chose your own path. If you fall, don¡¯t cry and complain about it."


    Those mocking words, once a sharp sting, now served as a reminder that no amount of lamenting would bring back what he¡¯d lost. Besides, there were far more pressing matters demanding his attention.


    By this time, the rumors about beastmen had already swept through Hazelton, stirring the city into a frenzy. It was only a matter of time before the City Guard intensified their patrols along the riverbank and tightened security at the city gates.


    (Which mean, camping by the river and sneaking into Hazelton for food was longer an option.)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s gaze shifted toward the dense woods, their shadows an impenetrable black under the faint light of the moon. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. Heading into the forest empty-handed would be as good as suicide.


    ¡°So there wasn¡¯t much of an option to begin with¡­.¡±


    Letting out a long sigh, the cool night air filled Zi-Cheng¡¯s lungs, steadying his nerves. With only a few hours until dawn, it was time to make his next move.


    Under the cover of darkness, he made his way back to Hazelton, timing his entry perfectly with the guards¡¯ shift change at the city gates.


    (This was where Chris and I first entered the city¡­ The stone bridge where we parted shouldn¡¯t be far from here¡­.)


    Zi-Cheng spent many sleepless nights mulling over how to survive the coming winter in Hazelton. There were other options he could attempt, but none held the same promise of success as Chris Coleman¡¯s mysterious ¡°commission work.¡± However, the thought of trailing the man who had betrayed and publicly humiliated him was enough to ignite a bitter fear that stopped him from making such an attempt.


    Until now.


    With his back against the wall, Zi-Cheng steel himself to take the risk. Moving stealthily in the shadows, with every guard patrol route and blind spot etched into his memory, he navigated the maze-like alleys with cat-like grace, and reached the destination without incident.


    Then, there it was, the stone bridge where Chris had once shown him kindness and warmth, only to strip it all away with cruelty and humiliation.


    Zi-Cheng clenched his fists. This wasn¡¯t the time to succumb to the weight of those memories. The sky was beginning to lighten, faint hues of gray and orange creeping over the horizon. Chris should appear at any moment, but the area around the stone bridge was completely exposed. Its ends were clearly visible, with no cover or hiding spots to speak of.


    (Even a child could spot someone lurking nearby from a distance.)


    Just then, two voices echoed from the distance.


    ¡°Ugh¡ªIt¡¯s finally dawn. I thought this shift would never end.¡±


    ¡°At least there weren¡¯t any new victims last night.¡±


    The voices grew closer. Zi-Cheng cursed under his breath, then climbed over the railing to hide beneath the stone bridge.


    ¡°I can¡¯t take this anymore! Working overtime night after night.¡±


    ¡°I know, right? First, we had that Outsider Crimson Plume, and now they¡¯re saying beastmen are in the area?!¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Crimson Plume. He recalled what Candace had told him about these so-called ¡°Outsiders¡±.


    It was a term used for those cast out of humanity, deemed unworthy of the kingdom¡¯s protection. Whether they were traitors conspiring to overthrow the kingdom or serial killers leaving bloody trails in their wake, anyone branded an ¡°Outsider¡± would lose their status as a human being.


    In a world teeming with monsters, losing the protection of humanity meant becoming nothing more than prey for bounty hunters in the city or wild beasts beyond the city walls. It was a fate far worse than death.


    (Yet, some still dared to tread this path, driven by reasons only they could understand.)


    Zi-Cheng couldn¡¯t understand why Crimson Plume had spared him. But now, knowing the man bore the brand of an Outsider, the mystery only deepened. What kind of force could drive someone to embrace such a cursed existence? For a moment, the question gnawed at the edges of his curiosity, tempting him to dig deeper.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    But he quickly shook it off. This was a riddle best left unsolved. Dwelling on it any further would be no different from playing with fire¡ªor worse, inviting death itself to the dance.


    Besides, the rattling sound of a wooden cart was drawing closer to the bridge.


    ¡°Morning, Cap! Out early again today?¡±


    (He¡¯s here!)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s entire body tensed as he clung tighter to the underside of the bridge, holding his breath and straining to catch every word from above.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± Chris¡¯s gravelly voice carried a hint of bitterness. ¡°I¡¯m not your captain anymore.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, Cap. You¡¯ll always be our captain, no matter what.¡±


    Chris snorted at the remark. ¡°Yeah? Then do me a favor and keep that crap to yourselves. If Rupert Shave catches wind, he¡¯ll have you scrubbing the privies till your boots rot.¡±


    ¡°Cap, if you hadn¡¯t busted your wrist, that bastard wouldn¡¯t be wearing your badge right now.¡±


    ¡°Well, badges aren¡¯t worth two coppers up my arse. We serve the people; that¡¯s what we do,¡± Chris said bluntly. ¡°So stop running your mouth about hot cases while you¡¯re out here.¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah, got it, Cap. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°And for God¡¯s sake stop calling me that,¡± Chris sighed, the weariness in his voice plain. ¡°You¡¯re the damn face of order in this city. Last thing we need is folk losing sleep over something they can¡¯t do jack about.¡±


    Zi-Cheng couldn¡¯t see their faces, but the silence that followed spoke volumes. Even now, Chris Coleman had the presence to command respect with just a few words. This wasn¡¯t the man who had laughed and joked during their cart ride into Hazelton. For the first time, Zi-Cheng saw a different side of him ¡ª a man who had earned unwavering admiration, living up to the title of "the Silver Axe."


    Clack-clack-clack-clack¡­


    The wooden cart slowly rolled away as Zi-Cheng pulled himself out from beneath the bridge. Keeping a safe distance, he began following Chris through the awakening streets of Hazelton.


    By now, the city was stirring to life. Early risers filled the cobblestone streets with soft hum of activity as merchants opened their shutters and vendors set up their wares.


    Zi-Cheng had been restless all night, deliberately leaving himself exhausted to dull his presence among the crowd. Despite Chris¡¯s keen observation, the former captain couldn¡¯t notice the weary figure amidst the city¡¯s hustle and bustle.


    At last, Chris stopped in front of a towering, five-story building in the heart of Hazelton¡¯s commercial district. Zi-Cheng paused at a distance, quietly watching as Chris parked his cart outside, ascended the stone steps, and pushed open the heavy wooden door without a glance back.


    (So this must be the place.)


    Curiosity burned as Zi-Cheng approached. Who in Hazelton had the resources to hire the former captain of the City Guard? What kind of client would send the Silver Axe beyond Hazelton¡¯s safety, into the monster-infested wilds?


    As he drew closer, his eyes caught the words etched on the iron plaque beside the stairs: Dreslam Merchant Guild.


    (The Dreslam Merchant Guild? That¡¯s the name the skewer vendor mentioned¡ªthe biggest merchant guild in all of Hazelton!)


    Zi-Cheng stepped back, properly taking in the building¡¯s impressive facade for the first time.


    The guild headquarters loomed over its surroundings, its red-brick exterior split perfectly down the middle, flanked by stately, decorated columns. The symmetry was flawless, with identical, ornate windows and doors on either side. On the fourth floor, a gleaming white balcony jutted out, offering a view of the entire commercial district. Above it all, the guild¡¯s flag fluttered in the wind, its golden emblem gleaming against the deep blue fabric.


    It was certainly a fitting headquarters for Hazelton¡¯s most powerful merchant guild. Yet, Zi-Cheng didn¡¯t follow Chris inside. Instead, he chose to roam the lively district, stopping passersby in his search for information.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir! Do you know if there are any other merchant guilds around here besides the Dreslam Merchant Guild?¡±


    Where there¡¯s profit, there¡¯s always competition. Even Hazelton¡¯s king of commerce couldn¡¯t operate without rivals. If Chris had aligned himself with the Dreslam Merchant Guild, then Zi-Cheng¡¯s plan was simple: join their opposition.


    It was a perfect plan¡ªin theory.


    However, reality had other ideas.


    ¡°We¡¯re sorry, but we don¡¯t hire minors.¡± the clerk said with an indifferent tone, barely looking up from her ledger.


    ¡°Minors? Come on, look at me, I¡¯m an adult!¡± Zi-Cheng retorted, but his words were clearly unconvincing.


    ¡°Oh, sure you are.¡± the clerk said with a smirk. ¡°And I¡¯m the queen of Izanich. Look, no combat rank, no hire. Come back when you¡¯ve registered.¡±


    As the merchant guild¡¯s door slammed shut behind him, Zi-Cheng clenched his jaw.


    Combat rank.


    That was the part Zi-Cheng hadn¡¯t accounted for ¡ª the unique system of this world.


    Outside on the cobblestone street, the sun above cast a long shadow behind him. It was noon, and by now, he had knocked on the doors of eight different merchant guilds, but the results were always the same. No one wanted to hire an ¡°unregistered minor¡± with no combat rank or verifiable background. To them, he might as well have been a ghost.


    With nothing to show for his efforts, Zi-Cheng slumped onto the curb, his head hanging low.


    ¡°What kind of ridiculous system demands combat rank for a junior position? Damn it! Why don¡¯t they ask for AAA game production experience and Unreal Engine visual scripting skills while they¡¯re at it?¡±


    In typical isekai stories, the protagonists either possess overpowered abilities capable of defying fate or gain convenient leverage over a ¡°game system¡± to amass wealth, status, and power. But here? Zi-Cheng had neither. Sure, he knew game design like the back of his hand, but that skill might as well be completely useless!


    The gap between his expectations and the harsh reality made him mutter his frustrations aloud. Unfortunately, that single complaint summoned the last person he wanted to see.


    ¡°Ridiculous? The only thing that¡¯s ridiculous is trash like you thinkin¡¯ you¡¯ve got a shot at surviving here.¡±


    Zi-Cheng froze, his stomach sinking like a stone. The all-too-familiar venomous sneer sent a chill down his spine as he turned to face the source of his dread.


    ¡°Ca¡­ Carl Murray¡­.¡±

 Chapter 7 - The Leftovers (Part 2/2)

    In an instant, the world felt as if has frozen over. The pain and humiliation from the public beating resurfaced, like a blade plunging into his chest. His body started trembling uncontrollably, a crushing weight pressing down on him, squeezing him so tightly even breathing became a struggle.


    ¡°Oi, Carl, this the spineless weakling who tried that fancy move on you?¡± one of Carl¡¯s lackeys sneered, and it felt like history was about repeat itself again.


    (Don¡¯t look at me¡­.)


    The weight of their contemptuous stares dragged Zi-Cheng back to that horrifying night, his mind replaying every second of the humiliation and brutal beating in excruciating detail, each memory magnified and sharpened until it pinned him in place.


    ¡°Pfft, you serious? This loser shaking like a little rabbit?¡±


    (Don¡¯t look at me¡­.)


    Zi-Cheng felt as if he was plunged into ice water, his nerves frayed to the breaking point. Just enduring their gaze was enough to make his thoughts blur into static.


    ¡°You know he doesn¡¯t even have a single combat skill, right?¡± another jeered. ¡°No rank, no skills, no guts. What a sorry excuse to even exist.¡±


    ¡°Hey, why don¡¯t you just off yourself and save us from the embarrassment of looking at you?¡±


    The group erupted into laughter, but Carl stayed silent with his icy stare fixed on Zi-Cheng.


    (Don¡¯t look at me¡­.)


    Zi-Cheng knew he couldn¡¯t win, he had already tried and failed. Escape wasn¡¯t an option either, and the courage to even consider defending himself had long since withered away. With tears threatening to spill, he sank to his knees, like a condemned man awaiting the executioner¡¯s blow.


    Yet Carl did not lift a finger.


    ¡°P


    A single word, colder than ice and sharper than a blade, slipped from Carl¡¯s mouth. There was a flicker of disappointment in his tone as he turned and walked away, as if Zi-Cheng never existed in the first place.


    One step¡­ two steps¡­ three steps¡­


    Zi-Cheng silently counted as Carl and his gang disappeared around the street corner, their laughter fading into the distance. Only then did he force himself to his feet and start walking in the opposite direction, his legs heavy, his chest hollow.


    The world he had left behind, the world he now stood in ¡ª neither offered him peace. Every person who had turned their back on him, every contemptuous glance, every word laced with loathing clung to him like shackles. No matter how many times he tried to stand, no matter how hard he tried to move forward, they dragged him back down.


    Why even bother getting up, only to be beaten down again?


    He had been taught to stay calm and focus on the problems ahead, as if that was the only way to survive ¡ª to never give up, they said.


    (What a bunch of bullshit!)


    Betrayal after betrayal, he had crawled through each mess, forcing himself to stand up time and time again, even as everything he cared about was ripped away from him. He had buried his emotions, telling himself they didn¡¯t matter. But now, as he walked, he felt a stranger¡¯s voice creeping in. Faint at first, but growing louder with every step.


    A voice that sounded just like his own.


    ¡°What a pitiful excuse for a life.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you feel ashamed, dragging yourself along like this?¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s steps quickened, but no matter how fast he moved, he couldn¡¯t outrun the voice. Other people¡¯s words had cut him deeply, but this voice, his own voice, was sharper than all of them combined.


    ¡°You¡¯re a failure.¡±


    The words struck like a hammer. It wasn¡¯t just a thought; it was a verdict, final and absolute. And with it, something inside him snapped. Every emotion he had kept locked away, from the loss of his game, his team, his dream, his career, and his world, all of it flooded his mind at once. His throat tightened, and tears began to blur his vision.


    He broke into a run, but the voice followed him.


    ¡°Why are you still here, in a world that doesn¡¯t want you?¡±


    ¡°If life is nothing but the same endless cycle of being trampled on, stripped of your dignity,  wouldn¡¯t it be better to just end it once and for all?¡±


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s legs moved on their own, faster and faster, his breaths coming in ragged bursts, his stomach churning. He didn¡¯t know where he was going. He didn¡¯t care. He just wanted to escape the voice, the pain, the crushing weight of it all.


    But the voice wouldn¡¯t stop. It chased him, growing louder with each step, until his tears dried and exhaustion finally overtook him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the muddy road.


    Then there it was, a staircase without railings, about five stories high, steeply descending all the way to the bottom of the slope.


    Why isn¡¯t there a railing?


    Falling from this height would be certain death....


    A meaningless thought, yet one that sent a jolt through Zi-Cheng¡¯s entire body, like a key that unlocked a hidden notion buried deep inside that finally broke free of its last restraints.


    Perhaps... forcing himself to bear the pain and move forward was entirely meaningless.


    Perhaps... after letting go, things would finally feel easier.


    ¡°Its terror doesn¡¯t lie in its ability to lead someone to their demise, but in how it creeps into the deepest corners of a person¡¯s heart, flooding their mind with endless ¡°what ifs¡± that slowly drown and erase who they once were.


    Intoxicated by the poison and lost in his thoughts, Zi-Cheng drifted closer to the edge of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    (Just a little more, a little more and I¡¯ll be free¡­.)


    But as he was about to take another step, a voice called out behind him.


    "Hey, sir! Did you just kick these pebbles toward our merchant guild?"


    Zi-Cheng turned around, unsure how to respond, then noticed a girl with a ponytail tied by a bright red ribbon glaring at him.


    (Wait, did she say merchant guild?)


    His gaze shifted past the girl, and he noticed a quaint-looking building tucked into the most secluded corner of the commerce district. The two-story structure had outer walls formed by an intricate wooden framework, with spaces in between filled with gray bricks coated in a weatherproof layer. Its rustic charm gave off the distinct vibe of medieval European architecture, like something out of a children¡¯s book.


    ¡°What kind of merchant guild is this?¡±


    ¡°Pick up the pebbles first, then we¡¯ll talk.¡±


    The girl was clearly persistent, and there was nothing Zi-Cheng could do to change that.


    "Is this okay now?" Zi-Cheng picked up each of the pebbles lying at the doorstep of the merchant guild and stacked some neatly at the curb.


    "Good to see there¡¯s still someone who can follow instructions." The girl flicked her ponytail as if to brush him off, then turned and disappeared back into the building without so much as a glance in Zi-Cheng¡¯s direction.


    (That was it?)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s gaze lingered on the guild¡¯s doorway, then drifted back to the staircase without railings.


    Once again, time seemed to slow to a halt.


    With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he suddenly realize what had just happened.


    If it weren¡¯t for the girl¡¯s intervention, he would have taking the cleanest way to free himself from this world.


    (Did she know what I was about to do¡­.?)


    Another ¡°perhaps¡± stirred within Zi-Cheng¡¯s heart, but this time, curiosity got the better of him as his father¡¯s voice echoed through the fog.


    ¡°You chose your own path. If you fall, don¡¯t cry and complain about it."


    It was the same words, but somehow, they felt different.


    He was clearly at a crossroads: to take the easy way out or follow his curiosity to see where the path behind the merchant guild¡¯s doors might lead.


    ¡°Ah, screw it!¡±


    Zi-Cheng cursed as he pushed through the merchant guild¡¯s oak doors.


    The moment he stepped inside, a wave of warmth washed over him. Soft amber light spilled across the room, and the scent of aged wood lingered faintly in the air. The wooden interior exuded a quiet charm, almost like stepping into another time. If the Dreslam Merchant Guild carried the imposing aura of a king¡¯s palace, this place felt more like the refined, polite haven of a gentleman.


    ¡°Welcome to the Golden Clover. I¡¯m Reese Endalyn, the guild¡¯s receptionist.¡±


    The girl with a ponytail now stood properly behind the reception counter, her posture poised and professional. It was only then Zi-Cheng noticed the small four-leaf clover pin on her chest.


    ¡°Golden Clover?¡± Zi-Cheng repeated, his brow furrowed slightly as he has never heard anyone mention the name of this merchant guild throughout the morning.


    As he looked around, he realized that even the worn wooden floorboards were engraved with intricate patterns of four-leaf clovers. However, the design had faded over time, their edges smoothed by countless footsteps. If he hadn¡¯t looked closely, he never would have noticed them at all.


    ¡°Our guild¡¯s been around for ages,¡± Reese said, her chest puffed up with pride. ¡°Back when Verner Endalyn¡ªour third guild master¡ªwas in charge, Roger Dreslam was just starting out as our part-time staff here!¡±


    ¡°Wait, the Roger Dreslam? As in the head of the Dreslam Merchant Guild?¡± Zi-Cheng¡¯s jaw dropped, but Reese¡¯s expression tells him she¡¯s telling the truth.


    ¡°Yup! That old fox was just a teenager back then, doing odd jobs for us until, well, you know¡­.¡±


    (¡ªWait what?!!)


    Reese thought that mentioning Roger Dreslam had caught Zi-Cheng¡¯s attention, so she launched into a proud explanation of the Golden Clover¡¯s history, completely unaware of the subtle change in expression on Zi-Cheng¡¯s face.


    Wham!


    Zi-Cheng slammed his palms on the wooden counter, his pupils dilating with excitement. ¡°You... you¡¯re telling me that even kids without a combat rank can work part-time here?¡±


    Reese stumbled backward as she was clearly startled by this sudden outburst, ¡°Y-Yeah... that¡¯s right, but...¡±


    ¡°YES


    Reese¡¯s body jerked, momentarily stunned by the sheer force of his voice, ¡°What is wrong with you!?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with me?¡± Zi-Cheng asked as his entire body trembling with excitement, ¡°Do you have any idea how many doors have slammed in my face today?¡±


    ¡°You know you¡¯re not really making any sense here, right?¡± Reese had seen lots of desperate people but this is by far the weirdest of them all.


    ¡°Just... just give me a moment...¡± Zi-Cheng took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. There was no way he could explain that he was from another world, that would be like an alien suddenly walking in to apply for a job. The best he could do was stick to the story he¡¯d told Elena, give Reese a proper introduction, and leave out any ¡°otherworldly details.¡±


    For a moment, silence hung in the air. Zi-Cheng couldn¡¯t tell if Reese was buying his story or not, but when she finally let out a sigh, he knew it definitely wasn¡¯t a good sign.


    ¡°It¡¯s true that we¡¯ve been hiring older folks and kids to do lighter work since the time of our founding guild master, but...¡±


    ¡°But what!?¡± Zi-Cheng leaned forward, hanging onto her every word.


    ¡°But about half a year ago, our guild master left Hazelton to join a trade delegation in the elven kingdom of Antaurius. After that, the Dreslam Merchant Guild started spreading all kinds of nasty rumors about us, saying we exploit elders and hire kids as workers. Then the press got involved, and¡­ well, now everyone¡¯s turned against us.¡±


    Zi-Cheng let out a quiet sound of realization. No wonder there wasn¡¯t even a signboard of the merchant guild outside.


    Reese seemed to catch onto his train of thought. Her brows furrowed, and she glared at him. ¡°Don¡¯t lump us in with those shady merchants! This city is full of people who can¡¯t fight at the arena. If we don¡¯t give them work, they won¡¯t even have the means to survive!¡±


    While Reese¡¯s words might have sounded like the typical excuse from a sweatshop owner, Zi-Cheng knew better than anyone the harsh reality faced by those with nowhere else to turn to.


    ¡°Because of the scandal, we don¡¯t get many commissions anymore. No¡­ actually, it¡¯s more like we¡¯re stuck with the jobs other guilds don¡¯t want.¡±


    (So just scraps and left overs, how fitting for me....)


    Perhaps in the past, Zi-Cheng was too used to chasing after his dreams. Even at rock bottom, he had never needed to dig through the trash to survive. But now, circumstances had changed. Even if it were leftovers, he would consider it a blessing to find a job, or even just a task, that could help him scrape by. This shift of mindset was drastic, yet he didn¡¯t wasn¡¯t even aware of it.


    ¡°Just one thing. Are these jobs...dangerous? Like, do they require combat?¡±


    No, not exactly dangerous,¡± Reese replied, shaking her head. ¡°They¡¯re just... inconvenient, and the profit margin, well, it¡¯s honestly not the best of course.¡±


    She then retrieved a scroll from behind the counter, carefully unrolling it.

 Chapter 8 - Egg Peaches (Part 1/2)

    The scroll unfurled across the counter, its aged parchment crackling faintly under Reese¡¯s practiced hands. The fibers of the paper carried the faint scent of herbs, hinting at its origins¡ªan apothecary¡¯s careful work.


    ¡°This is one of our oldest commissions,¡± Reese began, her tone measured as her fingers hovered lightly over the text. ¡°but, well... let¡¯s just say it¡¯s not the kind of job people line up to take.¡±


    Zi-Cheng leaned in, his eyes narrowinzg as he scanned the meticulous handwriting on the parchment.


    ¡°Egg Peaches?¡± he muttered, half-convinced he had misread it. ¡°Is that... even a real thing?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Reese replied, a wry smile tugging at her lips. ¡°It¡¯s a type of fruit that grows on trees, with a shell-like exterior.¡±


    She tapped the scroll lightly as she continued. ¡°When they ripen, they fall from the branches. The shells crack open on impact, spilling juice and pulp everywhere. Once the beasts catch the sweet peachy scent, the whole place becomes a frenzy feeding ground. I think you get the idea.¡±


    ¡°So... we need to kill all the monsters before harvesting these fruits?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way of doing it,¡± Reese replied with a casual shrug. ¡°Or you could wait until the monsters are done their little buffet and head in afterward to see what¡¯s left.¡±


    Ah, so that was why even elderly folks could take on this job.


    ¡°Leftovers from the monsters? I doubt anything left behind would be worth much,¡± Zi-Cheng sighed.


    ¡°Egg Peaches in pristine condition are perfect ingredients for cooking or potion-making,¡± Reese explained, leaning on the counter. ¡°But most people don¡¯t want to risk their lives fighting monsters. Scraping up what¡¯s left is the safer bet, even if it¡¯s less profitable.¡±


    (Of course, the safest bet would be the leftovers... because why wouldn¡¯t it be?)


    Fighting monsters without combat skills wasn¡¯t just risky, it was outright suicidal. Still, the mental image of being elbow-deep in monster scraps wasn¡¯t exactly appealing.


    ¡°¡°Hey, want to give this job a try?¡± Reese asked, tilting her head slightly. ¡°I mean... the Egg Peach season¡¯s almost over, so whatever you manage to snag from the monsters, I¡¯ll buy it off you...uh....¡±


    Honestly, it wasn¡¯t even a question of whether Zi-Cheng wanted to take the job, it was the only option he had to scrape together enough for a meal.


    ¡°Ventus. The name¡¯s Ventus Zi-Cheng,¡± he said after a brief pause.


    ¡°Zi... Zising?¡± Reese repeated, clearly struggling with the pronunciation.


    ¡°Y-yeah, sure. That works too,¡± Zi-Cheng said with an awkward chuckle.


    ¡°Well then, the job¡¯s yours!¡± Reese said brightly, scribbling ¡®Ventus¡¯ into the logbook. And with that, Zi-Cheng¡¯s first quest in this strange new world officially began.


    ¡°Uh... about these Egg Peaches,¡± he added, scratching his cheek. ¡°Can you point me to where they are? I¡¯d like to... you know, do a quick site visit or something.¡±


    Reese nodded and gave him some quick directions, and before he knew it, he was outside Hazelton once again. It had been only half a day since he¡¯d snuck into the city, and barely an hour since he left the guild, yet it felt like the entire world had shifted.


    Sunlight filtered through the branches above, streaking the dirt path with shimmering rays so bright that he had to squint. The warmth felt as though it was melting away the heavy fog that had been weighing him down all this time¡ªand he hadn¡¯t even started the job yet.


    Zi-Cheng followed the path southeast, keeping close to another branch of the flooded riverbank. It seemed the water had receded substantially, leaving behind a marshy expanse caked with mud and debris. Before long, a sweet scent reached him, light and fragrant, reminding him of fresh peaches¡ªjust as Reese had described.


    Pressing forward, he spotted them. Among the ankle-deep mud stood several Egg Peach trees, their branches laden with fruit. But surrounding each tree were jelly-like slimes, wobbling lazily as they encircled the trunks. Their gelatinous bodies gleamed faintly in the sunlight, as though waiting for a feast to drop from above.


    Glorp. Glorp.


    (There¡¯s no way anyone could fight those things with the mud this deep....)


    Suddenly, one of the ripe Egg Peaches fell from a branch. Its shell shattered as it hit the muddy ground, sending pink juice and pulp flying in every direction.


    (And the mud doesn¡¯t do much to cushion the fall, huh.)


    In an instant, the slimes sprang to life. The lazy, wobbling blobs morphed into voracious predators, surging forward like ravenous beasts to devour every last trace of the peach¡¯s remains. The muddy clearing quickly turned into an absolute feeding frenzy.


    Zi-Cheng stared at the chaotic scene, his eyes wide. A chill ran down his spine as he recalled passing out near slime monsters by the riverbank¡ªand somehow surviving. He had even camped beside them for seventeen days, completely unaware of what they were capable of.


    Perhaps luck was at work after all.


    ¡°But I¡¯m going to need more than luck this time,¡± he muttered, taking a deep breath as his stomach churned. ¡°Even if I somehow climbed the trees to pick the fruit, there¡¯s no way I¡¯d survive the trip back to safety...¡± He let out a frustrated sigh and threw up his hands. ¡°No wonder this is one of those ¡®leftover¡¯ commissions.¡±


    Leftovers. High risk. But those notions didn¡¯t mean the task was impossible.


    Zi-Cheng promptly gave up on the Egg Peach trees surrounded by slimes and headed further out toward the riverbank instead.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Now, this is more like it,¡± he murmured.


    The flooded area from last night¡¯s storm still hadn¡¯t fully receded, with some spots knee-deep in mud and half-submerged in water, resembling a swamp. Yet Zi-Cheng gazed at the Egg Peach trees with a faint smile on his face, like a child handed a blank sheet of paper to draw on.


    An hour later, he returned to the Golden Clover Merchant Guild, caked in mud from head to toe, and asked for an unusual collection of items: a wooden cart, a shovel, several baskets, a few torches, and plenty of rope.


    ¡°What do you need these for?¡± Reese asked with a puzzled look crossing her face.


    ¡°Oh, you know... just to play a little game,¡± Zi-Cheng replied, flashing a mischievous grin.


    ¡°Wait, what...?¡±


    Before Reese could ask for more details, Zi-Cheng was already out the door with the supplies. Left standing in the empty guild, she crossed her arms with a sigh, hoping she hadn¡¯t just handed everything to a lunatic.


    <hr>


    Night had fallen once more, with a wooden cart clattering along the muddy road outside Hazelton.


    Zi-Cheng had passed through the city gates many times over the past few days, each trip burdened with a different set of emotions. But tonight, as he left the city with his cart full of supplies, there was something new in his heart ¨C excitement.


    It wasn¡¯t just about the task ahead. It was the kind of excitement that brought long-buried memories back to the surface, like the first time he ever played a game.


    ¡°Zi-Cheng, did you get your game taken away at school again?¡±


    Shen Yi-Ming opened the door, staring down at a fifth-grader standing at the doorstep.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my fault! Those backstabbing classmates of mine ratted me out!¡±


    Zi-Cheng stomped right pass the highschool graduate, threw his schoolbag onto the sofa, and puffed his cheeks like an angry pufferfish.


    For many years, Zi-Cheng¡¯s parents were constantly busy at work, so Shen Yi-Ming who lived next door, became the unofficial babysitter, and perhaps the first person to introduce Zi-Cheng to the world of game design.


    ¡°Hey, come now, why get so worked up over something trivial?¡± Yi-Ming laughed, casually leaning against the doorframe.


    ¡°Be...because you worked so hard to restore that game for me, and¡­ and they just took it like that!¡±


    Back then, young Zi-Cheng didn¡¯t realize that the game devices Shen Yi-Ming gave him were broken cast-offs from second-hand stores, restored to working order. But at a time when handheld consoles were still a luxury for most kids, Yi-Ming¡¯s ability to bring them back to life felt like wizardry, something Zi-Cheng deeply admires till this very day.


    ¡°We just have to accept that every place has its rules,¡± Yi-Ming said as he walked toward his computer, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on his face. ¡°And if you think of those rules like the ones in a game, then even the most mundane and boring ones can turn into a fun challenge.¡±


    Zi-Cheng knew a difficult problem wouldn¡¯t solve itself just because it was fun.


    But if a problem is fun, at least it would make someone want to face it head-on and conquer it.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m making this into a game tonight, Yi-Ming.¡± Zi-Cheng said, a rare glint of determination flickering in his eyes.


    Last night¡¯s torrential rain had left the roads outside Hazelton in a pretty bad state. Fortunately, the silver moon hanging high above cast enough light to guide Zi-Cheng around most of the obstacles. Before long, he arrived at the riverbank, where countless slimes sat motionless, their gelatinous bodies scattered across the muddy ground, glistening like dew drops.


    (Just as I thought.)


    If there was one thing Zi-Cheng had learned from his days camping by the riverbank, it was that monsters have their daily routine as well, and slimes fortunately, were deeper sleepers.


    Carefully skirting around the slimes, Zi-Cheng parked his wooden cart near a cluster of Egg Peach trees, and pulled out a torch.


    ¡°Remake!¡±


    The [Developer Mode] ability activated, and the torch flared to life, its brilliant light illuminating the area as if it were broad daylight.


    ¡°Next, [Terraform]!¡±


    With his hands pressed to the ground, the third ability from [Developer Mode] activated with a faint hum. As the earth softened and melted like butter, Zi-Cheng effortlessly carved deep trenches with a shovel, much like digging into pudding with a spoon.


    (Egg Peaches shatter when they hit the ground, but they¡¯re far less likely to break if they fall into water.)


    Zi-Cheng smiled as water from the flooded riverbank poured into the freshly dug channels, transforming and shaping the terrain into the game level he had envisioned ¡ª a level inspired by a game that was once confiscated by his teacher long ago.


    Back then, when Zi-Cheng first learned that the game units Shen Yi-Ming restored were called Game & Watch, he also learned they were created by Nintendo¡¯s legendary designer Gunpei Yokoi. The games were deceptively simple, using just a few buttons to catch falling objects or dodge obstacles, but their clever design, addictive challenge, and unmatched portability captivated kids everywhere.


    ¡°In fact, the Game & Watch series became so popular it saved Nintendo,¡± Yi-Ming had once said, his tone filled with admiration. ¡°It pulled the company out of financial crisis and paved the way for everything it would become.¡±


    ¡°Well, Mr. Yokoi, may I present, a new Game & Watch in an alternate world!¡±


    Zi-Cheng took a deep breath, steadied himself, and delivered a powerful kick straight at the Egg Peach tree.


    Wham!


    For a moment, panic flashed across his face. Did I overdo it? What if the whole thing collapses?! But instead of crashing down, the tree stood firm, so firm it might as well have been made of steel.


    "...Seriously?" Zi-Cheng muttered, awkwardly pulling his foot back, his pride bruised more than anything else. With a frustrated sigh, he kicked the trunk again. And again. By the third attempt, a faint rustling sound came from above.


    ¡°Finally!¡±


    Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.


    One after another, ripe Egg Peaches rained down from the branches, landing in the water-filled trenches Zi-Cheng had dug earlier. Other than a few unfortunate ones that hit the edges and shattered, most fruits landed perfectly intact, their shells gleaming under the moonlight.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Zi-Cheng¡¯s face lit up with excitement. Without wasting a second, he grabbed his basket and dashed toward the water¡¯s edge, scooping up the glistening fruits one by one like a kid scrambling for candy at a festival.


    He tossed the peaches into his wooden cart with a practiced rhythm, then sprinted to the next tree and repeated the process, his movements quick and efficient.


    Simple. Direct. Effective. Just like a classic Game & Watch game.


    ¡°If only I had a score counter floating above my head right now,¡± Zi-Cheng chuckled, his grin widening as he worked.


    The slimes finally stirred from their slumber, the sweet scent of Egg Peaches dragging them awake. They bounced and wobbled toward the trench, their gelatinous bodies jiggling with urgency, only to stop dead at the edge, trapped on the other side of the water-filled channels.


    All they could do was helplessly jiggle in place, watching their beloved Egg Peaches disappear into Zi-Cheng¡¯s cart one by one.

 Chapter 8 - Egg Peaches (Part 2/2)

    By the time morning came around, the Golden Clover was bathed in soft sunlight, its empty hall eerily quiet. Reese sat at the counter, idly flipping through a well-worn novel, though her eyes barely stayed on the page.


    It was only nine o¡¯clock, but for a merchant guild, the silence was a stark reminder of how far they had fallen.


    Even though she didn¡¯t have high hopes for this ¡°Ventus Zising¡±, but the thought of failing to deliver even a single Egg Peach to their client still gnawed at her. Sure, it was just a ¡°leftover¡± commission, but failing a trusted client could further damage the already fragile reputation of the Golden Clover.


    ¡°Not that we have much of a reputation left to protect,¡± Reese sighed as her eyes landed on the guild¡¯s signboard, tucked away in the cabinet, gathering dust. ¡°If Uncle¡¯s around, he¡¯d never let things fall apart like this¡­.¡±


    Her uncle, Verner Endalyn, the current guild master of the Golden Clover, had left Hazelton six months ago. Handpicked by the kingdom to lead a trade delegation to the elven kingdom of Antaurius, Verner¡¯s departure had been a grand event. Even Roger Dreslam, the head of Hazelton¡¯s largest merchant guild, had personally come to offer his congratulations. For a brief moment, Golden Clover had stood proudly in the spotlight.


    But not long after the trade delegation set out, rumors began swirling in Hazelton, all targeting the Golden Clover. At the same time, the trade delegation vanished without a trace. Despite Reese¡¯s repeated inquiries with the officials, all she ever received were vague, bureaucratic responses, claiming they couldn¡¯t share any details.


    Now that she has the time to sit on the matter, she finally realized everything felt too coincidental.


    ¡°Roger Dreslam personally recommending Uncle for the trade delegation, even going so far as to visit our guild in person to congratulate us¡­ That¡¯s way out of character for the likes of him.¡±


    Unfortunately, that uneasy feeling was all Reese had, a gut instinct with nothing to back it up. Without evidence, there was nothing she could do but watch as the Golden Clover¡¯s standing crumbled. One by one, their clients left, their influence shrank, and in the end, the guild was left barely hanging on, its operations all but shut down.


    Knock knock knock ¡ª¡ª


    A sudden flurry of knocks jolted Reese from her thoughts. She rose from her seat and walked toward the guild¡¯s front door. As she swung open the oak doors, she froze at the sight in front of her.


    Standing outside was Zi-Cheng, grinning from ear to ear, with an entire wooden cart piled high with Egg Peaches behind him.


    ¡°You¡­ you got all that in just one night!?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Zi-Cheng chuckled, casually waving her question away. ¡°Actually, do you have another cart lying around? I¡¯ve still got another load to bring over.¡±


    ¡°Whaaaaaat!?¡±


    Reese¡¯s knees buckled as her jaw practically hit the floor. She slumped against the doorframe, completely dumbfounded, as if the entire world had stopped making sense.


    News of the Egg Peach harvest spread like wildfire through Hazelton. By mid-morning, the entire city was buzzing. Everyone was asking the same question: What did the Golden Clover do to pull off the impossible? How had they managed to collect several years¡¯ worth of Egg Peaches in just one day?


    Curious rival guilds sent scouts to the riverbank, but all they found were bald, fruitless Egg Peach trees surrounded by slimes that looked ready to explode with rage. The clever trenches and waterways? Long gone, restored by Zi-Cheng¡¯s [Terraform] before he left the scene.


    Back at the Golden Clover, Reese placed a small pouch of coins on the counter with a satisfying clink.


    ¡°Here you go¡ªsixty silver coins,¡± she said, her tone professional. ¡°That includes both your commission reward and the amount we¡¯re paying you for the Egg Peaches.¡±


    Zi-Cheng blinked. Sixty silver coins? That was even less than what that smug rich kid at the combat academy casually tossed at him!


    ¡°Just sixty?¡± Zi-Cheng narrowed his eyes, suspicion written all over his face as he stared at Reese.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Reese replied smoothly, completely unfazed by his reaction. ¡°I deducted the rental fee for the wooden cart, it¡¯s all there in our contract.¡±


    Zi-Cheng sighed deeply, shaking his head.


    (Merchants, huh? No matter the world, they¡¯re all the same. The devil¡¯s always in the details.)


    Even though he felt a bit cheated, Zi-Cheng held his tongue. If he wanted to keep working with the Golden Clover, it was better not to push his luck.


    ¡°Hey, by the way, Ventus, what are you planning to do with the money?¡± Reese asked suddenly.


    (Sixty silver coins... If I use it to stay at an inn, it¡¯ll barely last me a month. If I¡¯m going to settle in this city, I¡¯ll need to find somewhere cheaper to stay.)


    ¡°Do you know any places I can rent for around twenty silver coins?¡± Zi-Cheng asked.


    ¡°Twenty silver?¡± Reese frowned, tapping her chin as she thought. ¡°That¡¯s a tough ask. These days, even the cheapest rent starts at fifty silver. If you want anything halfway decent, you¡¯re looking at eighty silver or even a full gold coin.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°F-Fifty silver coins for basic rent?!¡± Zi-Cheng¡¯s eyes went wide in disbelief.


    Doing some quick math, he realized that with one silver coin equal to one hundred copper coins, fifty to eighty silver coins meant five thousand to eight thousand coppers. And yet, a single apple at the market only cost three coppers!


    (Chris said three silver coins could get me a night at an inn with dinner included. That price actually seems like a bargain now. How on earth is rent this expensive? How do people even afford to live here?)


    Then it hit him.


    (No, they probably can¡¯t afford it. That¡¯s why Chris took on those commissions outside the city¡­ Even as an ex-captain, he has to risk his neck just to make ends meet.)


    ¡°Well, there are some cheaper options if you¡¯re okay with sharing a flat with someone in the old town district,¡± Reese said cautiously, ¡°but¡­ the conditions there are¡­ let¡¯s say, not ideal.¡±


    She paused for a moment, before suddenly perking up and raising a finger like she¡¯d just had a lightbulb moment.


    ¡°Oh! But if you¡¯re not looking for a regular place to stay, I may actually have a spot I can recommend!¡±


    Without wasting another second, Reese shoved Zi-Cheng out the guild¡¯s back door, locking it behind her as she ushered him forward.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Zi-Cheng asked, his steps faltering slightly.


    ¡°Just come with me,¡± Reese replied with a sheepish smile.


    Leaving the guild behind, the two walked down a narrow alley tucked between weathered buildings. Unlike the vibrant hustle of the nearby commercial district, the backstreets here felt almost frozen in time. Rows of crumbling old houses lined the road, their walls weathered and stained with age. Weeds sprouted stubbornly between uneven cobblestones, while a black cat dozed lazily atop a wooden fence.


    ¡°Back then, everyone was dirt poor,¡± Reese said, brushing her ponytail back. ¡°Most folks lived in the old town district or in places like this. Then the merchant guilds started teaming up with smiths and artisans, next thing we know, Hazelton is exporting to the capital and neighboring cities.¡±


    As Zi-Cheng looked around the backstreet, the stark contrast became apparent. Here, the run-down buildings looked like relics of a bygone era, forgotten by time and overshadowed by the city¡¯s rapid growth. Just a street away, the commercial district basked in the sunlight, its polished stone facades gleaming and intricate carvings showcasing wealth and progress, symbols of a world that dominated the main roads.


    ¡°People got rich,¡± Reese continued, her voice carrying a mix of pride and bitterness. ¡°And they started tearing down the old buildings, replacing them with fancier ones¡ªlike they were desperately trying to bury the past.¡±


    Reese pointed ahead, toward a stone bridge, and Zi-Cheng instantly recognized it.


    (That¡¯s the bridge I used to tail Chris yesterday!)


    ¡°When I was a kid, I used to love playing under that bridge,¡± Reese said with a soft smile. ¡°Summers were great back then. The stream nearby was full of dragonflies.¡±


    ¡°Wait, there was a stream here?¡± Zi-Cheng asked, as he could only see an overgrown, muddy ground beneath the bridge.


    ¡°Well, there was,¡± Reese said, her smile fading into a frown. ¡°But it dried up after the Dreslam Merchant Guild built their shiny new headquarters and cut off the waterway.¡±


    With her arms crossed, Reese¡¯s usual cheerful tone quickly gave way to something sharper.


    ¡°Roger Dreslam¡¯s a genius, I¡¯ll give him that. And sure, the arena¡¯s brought wealth and prosperity to Hazelton. But that doesn¡¯t mean the merchant guilds can just trample over everything and everyone. My uncle always said a business should exist to serve the people. No matter how profitable it gets, if you lose the heart of the people, it¡¯s all over.¡±


    Though Zi-Cheng¡¯s time in this world had been brief, he¡¯d already glimpsed the harsh reality faced by those without strength or status. Reese¡¯s words resonated with him, stirring something he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. For a moment, he felt genuinely thankful that he¡¯d crossed paths with the Golden Clover.


    ¡°Your uncle¡¯s a wise man.¡± Zi-Cheng smiled and said without missing a beat, ¡°and speaking of looking out for people, how about knocking the wooden cart rental off my tab?¡±


    Reese blinked at him, then burst into laughter. ¡°Nice try!¡± she said, sticking her tongue out playfully before turning and walking ahead.


    The two chatted as they walked, their laughter breaking the silence of the rundown backstreets. Before long, they arrived at a large, abandoned red-brick house.


    ¡°Okay... hold on,¡± Zi-Cheng said, stopping in his tracks as he stared at the building. Its walls were draped in thick vines, and the windows were boarded up with uneven planks. ¡°This is the place you¡¯re taking me? You¡¯re not seriously suggesting I live here, are you?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± Reese asked, tilting her head, her expression completely sincere, like she genuinely didn¡¯t see any problem.


    ¡°Where do I even start?¡± Zi-Cheng sighed, gesturing to the house like he was presenting a crime scene. ¡°This place looks like it could collapse any second! You sure there won¡¯t be ghosts waiting to jump out in there?¡±


    Ignoring him entirely, Reese walked up to the door and brushed away the thick layer of dust caked on its surface. Beneath the grime, a tarnished plaque caught the light, gleaming faintly.


    Golden Clover Blacksmith Workshop


    Reese turned back to Zi-Cheng with a satisfied grin. ¡°See? This isn¡¯t just some old house. It¡¯s a piece of history!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡± Zi-Cheng groaned, throwing his hands in the air. ¡°And why does the Golden Clover even have a Blacksmith Workshop? Aren¡¯t you guys supposed to be a merchant guild?¡±


    ¡°As a proper merchant guild, having our own blacksmith workshop is just the most reasonable thing to do!¡± Reese said, puffing out her chest with pride.


    (Yeah, common sense¡­ if this place didn¡¯t look like it¡¯s been rotting here for decades¡­.)


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Reese¡¯s eyes narrowed, sharp as daggers.


    ¡°Nothing! I didn¡¯t say a word!¡± Zi-Cheng waved his hands frantically to support his denial.


    Reese snorted, clearly unimpressed, and pulled out a rusty old key from her pocket. She jabbed it into the padlock binding the front door, twisting with a grunt. After a few clinks and a reluctant clunk, the ancient chain hit the ground with a dramatic clang.


    But just as she pushed the door open¡ª


    ¡°Hey! Who¡¯s there! What are you doing here!¡±


    A sharp voice rang out from behind them.


    Zi-Cheng slowly turned around, his eyes widening in surprise. Standing there was a blonde-haired girl, glaring at them with arms crossed. She looked as if she¡¯d stepped straight out of a painting, her golden locks glowing under the sunlight.


    (Th...that¡¯s the gacha girl from the Sanctuary!)

 Chapter 9 - The Meals We Shared Together (Part 1/2)

    ¡°


    The girl¡¯s soft voice carried a note of surprise, and recognition. Zi-Cheng stiffened, fighting the urge to bolt as he slowly turned his head away.


    The last time they met at the Sanctuary, he painted himself as some noble¡¯s sickly, bedridden son. Since then, his life had spiraled completely out of control. After being beaten on the streets, camping out in the wilderness, stealing bread to survive, and being chased as a bread thief, fate had brought her right in front of him again.


    With the memory of her pitiful eyes was still fresh in his mind, Zi-Cheng averted his gaze and pretended he didn¡¯t know her.


    ¡°That was close... I almost swung this at you,¡± the girl said, letting out a breath of relief as she lowered the wooden stick in her hands.


    Reese glanced sideways at Zi-Cheng, noticing how tightly he was clamping his lips shut, like he was avoiding an awkward ex. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not suspicious at all,¡± her eyes seemed to say.


    (Stay calm. Play it cool. Maybe she¡¯ll just go away¡­.)


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Elena!¡± the girl continued, stepping past Zi-Cheng with a bridge smile and bowed to Reese.


    (or not¡­.)


    ¡°I live in the Sanctuary dormitory next door.¡± she concluded.


    Elena¡¯s friendly demeanor caught Reese completely off guard, especially when Zi-Cheng looked like he¡¯d rather sink into the ground than face her. With a glance at him, clamping his lips shut like a man on trial, Reese rolled her eyes and stepped in.


    ¡°Well, someone has to keep this conversation moving,¡± she said with a practiced smile, slipping into her professional merchant¡¯s tone as she launched into a polished explanation of the red-brick workshop behind them.


    ¡°No way, you¡¯re saying this old place belongs to the Golden Clover?¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you have heard of us!¡± Reese puffed out her chest, looking far too proud for someone standing in front of what essentially seemed like a haunted ruin. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a ¡®house.¡¯ This is the Golden Clover¡¯s exclusive blacksmith workshop! A facility so advanced every merchant guild in Hazelton envied us... well, at least they used to....¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been living at the dorm for three years, and everyone always thought this was just an abandoned haunted house!¡± Elena said as she tilted her head, her blue eyes widening in disbelief like a curious child.


    And just like that, the pieces clicked into place. Reese glanced at the stick in Elena¡¯s hand and realized the girl wasn¡¯t just holding it for show¡ªshe had been trying to stop people from ghost hunting.


    For once, Reese was completely at a loss for words.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing supernatural going on here¡­ in fact¡­ you could say that the work they did here was magical in a way.¡± Reese waved off Elena¡¯s assumptions, completing dodging the question of why is the place abandoned in the first place. Luckily, Elena didn¡¯t seem to mind at all, and before long, the two girls were deep in conversation.


    As Reese moved the chains and locks aside, she pushed the creaky door open and the two quickly disappeared into the house, leaving Zi-Cheng alone, standing outside like he had been forgotten.


    Zi-Cheng knew what Reese¡¯s pointed glare earlier had meant, she was obviously not happy with him avoiding Elena, and truthfully, he didn¡¯t have any good reasons to keep ignoring her either. But¡­.


    He hesitated, his hands clenching unconsciously into fists.


    Over the past few weeks, he¡¯d learned to tread carefully. Too carefully if it needed be. The betrayal and disappointments he¡¯d faced had forced him to keep people at arm¡¯s length.


    Running into Candice on the street? He didn¡¯t pursue it further. Partnering with Reese? It was all business, a clear give-and-take relationship with nothing more.


    But Elena...


    She was different. The way she smiled so easily, offered kindness so freely¡ªit threw him off. That kind of warmth was dangerous. He couldn¡¯t explain it, but just standing here, watching her, he felt like bolting, like turning his back and running as far as he could.


    But then ¨C¨C


    A sudden scream from within the workshop shattered the silence.


    Zi-Cheng froze. His chest tightened.


    It was true that Zi-Cheng didn¡¯t want to get too entangled with the people of this world.


    But he also couldn¡¯t stand by and do nothing when someone was in trouble.


    Like the time he saved Julia by the riverbank, the instinct to take action kicked in almost instantaneously. Without hesitation, he darted toward the workshop, throwing the doors open¡ªonly to be hit by a wave of foul, musty air.


    The overwhelming stench of decay and dust stopped him in his tracks, forcing him to pull his cloak over his nose and mouth.


    Peering through the dim, dust-filled interior, he spotted the source of the scream: Reese and Elena were trapped beneath a partially collapsed shelf, both struggling to keep the rest of it from falling on top of them. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°


    ¡°Help...us¡­.I can¡¯t hold it¡ªachoo!¡± Elena¡¯s sneeze sent the shelf tilting dangerously as Reese shrieked, ¡°This is not how I want to go out!¡±


    ¡°[Developer Mode ¨C Remake]!¡±


    Zi-Cheng raised his hands, a warm glow started radiating from his palms. The collapsed shelf twitched, then slowly broke apart into neatly stacked planks of wood. Meanwhile, the swirling dust and floating particles gathered into a fine gray ball, leaving the air around the girls crisp and clear.


    ¡°This... this is what you got from the Invocation?¡± Elena asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. While she had worked at the Sanctuary her whole life, she had never seen anything like it before.


    ¡°You got this from the Invocation?¡± Even Reese, who prided herself on having seen it all at the merchant¡¯s guild, couldn¡¯t stop herself from gaping in astonishment either.


    Zi-Cheng, however, simply shrugged, puzzled by their reactions. ¡°It¡¯s not suitable for combat, right? It¡¯s just a useless skill.¡±


    ¡°Useless!?¡± Reese shot him an incredulous look. ¡°Sir, this is something straight out of a fairy tale!¡± She shook her head, trying to process how this man had completely misunderstood the value of his ability.


    Zi-Cheng frowned, still unable to wrap his head around their reactions. He had never tried to hide his [Developer Mode] ability, mostly because everyone seemed to dismiss non-combat skills as worthless¡ªand, to some extent, he believed it himself. But from Reese and Elena¡¯s astonished expressions, he started to feel like he was missing something.


    (Hold on... could this be why Crimson Plume let me go?)


    He smacked his forehead lightly, a wave of realization dawning on him.


    ¡°Your skill might not win you a fight in the arena, but it¡¯s so convenient!¡± Elena¡¯s cheerful voice chimed as she threw open a window to let in fresh air. Meanwhile, Reese took the opportunity to shove Zi-Cheng toward the dustier parts of the room, gesturing at every neglected corner.


    ¡°Hey, stop pushing me around like a vacuum cleaner!¡± Zi-Cheng protested, stumbling forward as Reese¡¯s hand stayed firmly planted on his back.


    Reese raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s a vacuum cleaner?¡±


    Elena burst out laughing.


    ¡°Ventus¡¯s family kept him indoors with nothing but books since he was a kid, so he ended up learning all kinds of weird stuff!¡±


    Reese shot a skeptical glare at Zi-Cheng, clearly not buying a single word of Elena¡¯s story. Zi-Cheng, for his part, tried to keep his composure, but Reese¡¯s gaze made him feel like he was standing trial, accused of feeding innocent girls made-up sob stories. There was no way someone who had hauled two cartloads of Egg Peaches back to the guild could pass as a ¡°sickly little boy growing up.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why being friends with Ventus is so much fun!¡± Elena declared confidently.


    (¡­Friends?)


    That word caught Zi-Cheng off guard. It felt oddly familiar, yet painfully distant.


    There was a time when ¡°friendship¡± wasn¡¯t such an abstract concept. Back then, Zi-Cheng was so sure of its meaning. Day after day, he sat at the same table with his team, sharing meals and stories, laughing about things that had nothing to do with work.


    Shi Ming-Wei, his business partner, was always brooding over where to buy his first house, weighing pros and cons like it was the most important decision in the world. Leung Pa-Tu, their lead programmer and die-hard anime fan, would go off on tangents about the latest show he binged, inevitably sparking heated debates about the best waifu.


    And then there was Lam Kai-Wen, a fresh art school graduate who was always polite and cheerful. She had a habit of teasing the others, calling them ¡°damn otakus,¡± before flashing an embarrassed smile whenever her designs were praised¡ªor blushing furiously when everyone teased her for being a ¡°walking Wikipedia of the best lunch spots.¡±


    Finally, there was Chan Sze-Ki, the eldest on the team and the pragmatic glue holding them all together. He was the one constantly reminding them about looming deadlines or how little money they had left unless they could land another project.


    Those days had been tough, but they felt... comfortable. Safe, even. Everyone had a sense of purpose, bound together by a shared dream. The laughter, the frustrations, the way they cheered each other on when a project came together¡ªit had felt so natural, so certain.


    How did it all fall apart?


    Zi-Cheng didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t want to dwell on it anymore.


    When Chris extended his hand to help him, Zi-Cheng had thought it was a fresh start. Instead, it became another scar he couldn¡¯t forget. Now, as Elena smiled at him with such warmth, something inside him twisted uncomfortably. Could he really trust her? Could he let himself believe that this time would be different?


    However, Elena didn¡¯t seem fazed by Zi-Cheng¡¯s cold attitude in the slightest. The moment she heard he was planning to move into the workshop, she ran back to the dorm and returned with an armful of cleaning tools. Not stopping there, she fetched several buckets of water herself and started cleaning the dusty old space with unwavering enthusiasm.


    (Why is she doing all this?)


    (We barely spoke back at the Sanctuary. Is this really necessary?)


    Zi-Cheng tried to keep his replies short and neutral, hoping Elena would get the hint and back off. Yet, she crouched beside him, her cheerful grin practically glowing as she leaned over the bucket of water, her big, curious eyes sparkling like she¡¯d just discovered a treasure.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± Elena suddenly blurted, pointing excitedly at the water. ¡°Do you even realize how crazy this is? You just stick your hand in, and all the dirt¡¯s gone! The water¡¯s so clear it¡¯s like magic!¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not magic if that¡¯s what you¡¯re wondering,¡± Zi-Cheng muttered with a sigh, holding up a lump of rock he ¡®extracted¡¯ from the water. ¡°I just activated my skill, pictured some clean water, and the dirt clumps together ¨C end of story.¡±


    Just as he was about to brush Elena off again, Reese practically charged into the scene, clutching the towel Zi-Cheng had [Remade] like it was the holy grail. ¡°Not magic huh? Explain this!¡± she exclaimed, waving the towel right in his face so much so he had to lean back. ¡°I dunked it in water, scrubbed it once, and it¡¯s clean as new! Not only that, this thing dries in seconds! You have any idea how quick this would fly off the shelves?!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the only one I managed to make, the rest either crumbled to dust or turned into spaghetti threads so¡­.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± Reese cut him off, hugging the soft fabric at her face, her eyes sparkled as if she was staring at a cart of gold. ¡°If you make more, I¡¯ll buy all of them. Every. Last. One. No questions asked!¡±


    Zi-Cheng blinked, glancing awkwardly at the two as they marveled at his handiwork. To him, these were just ordinary things anyone would find lying around in any house. Still, if something this simple could help him make a living in the city, then that was all that mattered for now.


    (Well, at least until I can remember what our little deal over the phone was all about¡­.)

 Chapter 9 - The Meals We Shared Together (Part 2/3)

    With details of the deal still feeling out of his reach, Zi-Cheng buried his head back into cleaning. Slowly but surely, as layers of dirt were scrubbed away, the workshop¡¯s forgotten charm began to surface.


    At the center of the main hall stood a massive forge, its blackened bricks silent yet sturdy, bearing testament to a smith¡¯s pragmatic craftsmanship. Surrounding it were anvils of various sizes, standing like silent sentinels, while a nearby workbench stretched long and steady against the wall. Above it, well-worn hammers, tongs, and chisels were carefully hung in neat rows, tools that had once shaped dreams drawn on the faded blueprints scattered across the bench.


    Beyond the workshop, doors opened into the living quarters, a space both modest and practical. The kitchen featured a simple stone hearth for cooking, the kind that spoke of hearty meals shared at the end of long days. A small bathroom stood tucked in one corner, and further down was a cozy sleeping chamber, no doubt reserved for the Chief of the workshop when deadlines loomed too close to leave.


    But what caught Zi-Cheng¡¯s attention most was the large wooden table in the center of the living area. Its surface bore deep scratches and faded stains, the kind only years of shared meals and late-night meetings could leave behind. For a moment, he could almost see it: the Chief and his crew gathered around, bowls of steaming stew in hand, their voices overlapping as they discussed designs and contracts.


    It felt familiar, too familiar.


    Like the scene that was etched into his memory, of the nights he used to spend with his own team, before everything fell apart.


    As the summer sun dipped below the horizon, the fruits of their labor slowly came to light.


    Zi-Cheng lit the oil lamps one by one, their warm amber glow spilling through glass covers and breathing life into the forgotten workshop. Dusty shelves and old tools, long buried under time, seemed to stir with a quiet coziness, as though the space itself had been waiting for this moment to shine once more.


    To someone who¡¯d been sleeping under trees and braving the cold wind every night, this humble shelter felt like pure luxury. For the first time in a long while, Zi-Cheng found himself breathing out a quiet sigh of peace.


    That is, until he heard the sound of cloth rustling behind him.


    Turning around, he blinked in surprise as Reese and Elena busily set down several cloth bags on the dining table in the middle of the room.


    ¡°Alright! That¡¯s enough cleaning for today!¡± Reese announced with a satisfied grin.


    ¡°And now we celebrate Ventus¡¯s new home!¡± Elena chimed in cheerfully, pulling steaming dishes out of the bags one after another.


    (Wait¡­ hold on a second. Did they just pull a full-course dinner out of some bags?!)


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s eyes nearly popped out of his head. His mind raced as he stared at the plates, bowls, and even a cake out of the bags.


    ¡°You good?¡± Reese asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve never seen a bag of holding before?¡±


    Zi-Cheng, still speechless, could only shake his head violently.


    ¡°Ventus gets worked up over the silliest things¡± Elena teased, placing another dish of food down with a soft thud. ¡°These bags are everywhere! You can even find them on sale at the market! Why are you acting like you¡¯ve never seen one before?¡±


    (Because I¡¯ve only seen something like this from that anime with the blue robot cat!)


    Noticing Zi-Cheng¡¯s face flushed in a deep crimson, Reese sighed and crossed her arm, ¡°It¡¯s not that special really,¡± she said, pulling a small leather pouch from her belt. ¡°The Bag of Holding is just another gadget crafted by artisans using arcane crystals.¡±


    She opened the pouch and fished out a few shimmering crystals, each with a distinct hue ¨C blue, red, yellow, green, and white. ¡°There are five elemental properties: Fire, Wind, Water, Earth, and Void,¡± she explained, holding up a crystal that gleamed faintly. ¡°This Void crystal can manipulate space and alters elements. That¡¯s how the bag gets its storage ability.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Zi-Cheng¡¯s shock was quickly swept away by his curiosity as his game designer instincts kicked in.


    ¡°Before you ask, no, human can¡¯t use magic. All we can do is refine the crystals and turn them into things like this. If you want the technical stuff, you¡¯ll have to apprentice under and artisan. I¡¯m just a girl that sells stuff.¡±


    While Reese made it clear that she wasn¡¯t going to entertain more questions, Elena paused, holding a plate of steaming meat pie she just pulled from the Bag of Holding. ¡°You know, Morris is always grumbling about how everything runs on crystals now. Even the Sanctuary needs them for its healing devices.¡±


    ¡°Well, your friend¡¯s not wrong,¡± Reese glanced at her, her expression softening. ¡°Once people saw what the crystal could do, there¡¯s no going back to the old ways.¡±


    ¡°What old ways?¡± Zi-Cheng asked, tilting his head.


    Already used to his strange questions, Reese simply shrugged, ¡°Before the market was flooded with crystals, people fought in the arena to get blessings for the invocation ritual at the Sanctuary. Food, medicine, tools, you name it. But then Roger Dreslam came along and started paying fighters to trade their blessings for crystals. Next thing you know, the city¡¯s golden age kicks off.¡±


    ¡°But people get hurt all the time in the arena!¡± Elena protested, clutching her hands together. ¡°Some don¡¯t even make it out alive¡­ it¡¯s awful. Is it really okay for people to suffer just so we can live comfortably?¡±


    Zi-Cheng leaned back, processing their words. The arena, the merchant guilds, the people chasing comfort while turning a blind eye to the cost, it wasn¡¯t just a system; it was a cycle, one he knew too well.


    Fighters bled for blessings, merchants turned those blessings into wealth, and the city thrived on a fragile foundation no one dared question. The irony didn¡¯t escape him. Even in another world, the same exploitative rules applied. The names were different, the stakes higher, but the essence remained the same.


    (This is not my world. Not my system, not my fight.)


    Or at least, that¡¯s what he wanted to believe.


    ¡°Over the past few years, the Dreslam Merchant Guild has been poaching fighters and artisans while secretly manipulating material prices,¡± Reese exhaled sharply, her fingers pressing hard against the edge of the table. ¡°One day, they¡¯ll claim the invocation ritual isn¡¯t producing enough crystals. The next, they¡¯ll blame the weather, saying it¡¯s impossible to harvest outside the city.¡±


    Her voice dropped slightly as she glanced toward the window, her gaze lingered for a moment as if weighing her next words, ¡°We...we¡¯ve tried pushing back more than once,¡± she continued, her voice weaker now, ¡°but Roger Dreslam always finds a way. A family friend of mine used to run a small smithy. Dreslam undercut his prices to the point he couldn¡¯t even afford rent. They either drive you out of business by buying out the competition, or get you by some¡­. other means¡­.¡±


    The last two words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved for a moment before she forced herself to let go, as if catching herself from saying too much.


    Yet, it was enough for the pieces to fall into place. The discounted rent for the workshop, the unexpected hospitality¡ªwhether he liked it or not, the moment he completed the Egg Peach commission, he had already been pulled into the rivalry between the Golden Clover and the Dreslam Merchant Guild.


    Perhaps he could walk away from it all, abandon the workshop and all the entanglements that came with it, but where else could he even go?


    ¡°Well, wouldn¡¯t it be nice if the invocation could just hand out everything people needed and call it a day?¡± Zi-Cheng sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. Unbeknownst to him, two shadows lingered just beyond the workshop window, listening silently in the crisp evening air.


    A faint crunch of gravel outside the window caught Zi-Cheng¡¯s attention, but before he could react, a calm and somehow oddly familiar voice spoke, ¡°If blessings were simply ¡®handed out,¡¯ do you think anyone would still find purpose in effort, or even value what they received?¡±


    Startled, everyone turned toward the window. Outside stood a man dressed in flowing white priest robes, his messy hair and easygoing smile completely at odds with the dignity his attire suggested. Beside him stood a bespectacled young man¡ªMorris, his arms crossed and posture stiff. His sharp gaze locked onto Elena, carrying the same overprotective air Zi-Cheng had noticed back at the Sanctuary.


    (When...when did they¡­.)


    ¡°Victor!¡± Elena exclaimed, immediately hopping off her chair and rushing to the window. She pointed enthusiastically to the two newcomers, her tone brimming with excitement as she introduced them. ¡°This is Victor Hunt, the Sanctuary¡¯s priest, and that¡¯s Morris Percival from the medical team. You¡¯ve met him before!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s intern, not trainee,¡± Morris corrected, adjusting his glasses with a wry smirk, ¡°At least I don¡¯t trip over myself and get scolded every other day.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s tripping over themselves? You¡¯re the one always dragging your feet and slowing everyone down!¡± Elena shot back, puffing her cheeks.


    Victor chuckled, waving off their exchange as if it were an old, familiar routine. ¡°These two grew up together in the Sanctuary. They¡¯ve been close since they were kids.¡±


    ¡°Close? With him?¡± Elena protested, glaring at Morris.


    ¡°With her? As if!¡± Morris fired back immediately, rolling his eyes.


    Reese¡¯s entire posture stiffened the moment Victor¡¯s eyes landed on her. The easygoing air she carried just moments ago vanished, replaced with a formal demeanor Zi-Cheng hadn¡¯t seen before. She glanced quickly at him, her lips pressing into a thin line when she noticed his blank expression. Panic flickered in her eyes as she stepped forward and bowed deeply, her voice calm but laden with respect.


    ¡°We are honored by your presence, Silver Priest Victor. Please forgive us if we have shown any disrespect.¡±


    Zi-Cheng blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in Reese¡¯s attitude. For a moment, he froze, uncertain how to react, before hurriedly bowing as well, awkwardly mimicking whatever Reese was doing.


    (This laid-back, scruffy guy is supposed to be a big deal? You¡¯ve got to be kidding me!)