《Re: Write [ Isekai /LitRPG]》 Chance A sharp sting on my cheek pulled me back into consciousness. My eyes blinked open, and I found myself lying on a cold marble floor, its smooth surface gleaming faintly under an unfamiliar light. ¡°...Hey.¡± The voice pierced through the haze, snapping my focus to the figure crouched beside me. He was tall, with a calm, collected demeanour that was both grounding and unnerving. His striking appearance bordered on surreal¡ªred hair that fell in soft, curtain-like strands framed a face so symmetrical and flawless it felt almost unnatural, like an alien interpretation of a human. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, a blend of tension and reassurance in his gaze, as though he was simultaneously analysing and studying me. "Ahh¡­ ahhhhh!" I screamed, scrambling backward in a frantic attempt to get away. My mind raced¡ªwhere was I? What was happening? My heart pounded as I tried to make sense of it all. Suddenly, my back struck something solid and unyielding, the impact jolting through my body and halting my frantic retreat. ¡°Whoa, hey! Chill!¡± A skinny guy with shoulder-length white hair crouched in front of me, his wide, pale eyes darting between me and the red-haired man. His hands hovered awkwardly near me, as if he wanted to help but wasn¡¯t sure how. ¡°You¡¯re freaking out, dude¡±. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My throat felt tight, my hands instinctively clutching at it. My body felt foreign, impossibly heavy, and suffocating. Panic surged through me as my breaths grew shallow and ragged. ¡°Haaa¡­¡± I wheezed, my chest heaving. ¡°¡­¡± The skinny boy tilted his head, his brows knitting together in visible confusion. It was clear he didn¡¯t understand what was happening to me, his expression a mix of puzzlement and uncertainty. The man with red hair moved closer, his expression softening with urgency. "Hey, breathe! Just breathe, okay?" He started demonstrating slow, deliberate breaths, gesturing with his hands. ¡°In and out. Just like this.¡± I tried to mimic him. My vision swam, but I focused on his calming movements. ¡°Haahhh¡­¡± A shaky exhale escaped me as I started to regain some control. His shoulders relaxed slightly, relief flickering across his face. ¡°You okay now? Sorry for scaring you. Didn¡¯t mean to startle you like that.¡± I nodded faintly, still catching my breath, my hands trembling as I slowly lowered them from my throat. For a moment, the world felt a little less overwhelming, anchored by his steady presence. He extended a hand toward me; the motion was deliberate and confident. Yet, something about him felt... off. His composure was comforting, yet it carried an unnatural precision, as if every movement and expression were meticulously calculated rather than instinctive. As I hesitated, my eyes caught a small marking on his forearm as his hand shifted¡ªa number etched into his skin: **777**. His gaze flicked to mine, catching my notice, and without a word, he swapped hands, extending his left instead. The movement was quick, almost instinctive, as though he wanted to hide the marking from view. I didn¡¯t dwell on it. My thoughts were too sluggish, my body heavy, as if I¡¯d woken from a long, unnatural slumber. I finally found my voice, though it came out hoarse and uncertain. ¡°...Where are we..?¡± He didn¡¯t respond right away. His expression tightened, his gaze sweeping across the room as if assessing something unseen. His hand, however, stayed outstretched, steady and patient. After a moment''s hesitation, I reached out and grasped it lightly. His grip was firm but careful as he pulled me to my feet. Pain shot through my sluggish muscles as I staggered to my feet. My legs trembled, threatening to give out, but his steady hand anchored me, holding the chaos at bay. Once upright, I took in the scene. Six others stood nearby, their faces pale and filled with confusion. Around us, a ring of silent soldiers stood with their spears levelled in our direction. Their armor gleamed faintly in the strange light¡ªbronze plates engraved with intricate patterns, worn with age yet still formidable. They were motionless, their cold, watchful eyes giving them the air of statues come to life. Looking down, I noticed I was wearing the same garment as the red-haired man. It was loose and simple, almost ceremonial, yet stripped of individuality, as though meant to erase who we were. Glancing around, I realized all six of us were dressed identically, the uniformity heightening the eerie tension in the air. I ran my fingers over the fabric¡ªit was coarse, unmistakably wool, the kind that made you itch just looking at it. The garment hung loosely, reaching down to my lower knees and covering my shoulders, but left my arms bare to the air. Not exactly the pinnacle of comfort or modesty. No undergarments either. Not a stitch. I could only assume everyone else was in the same itchy, breezy predicament. If nothing else, it was an oddly communal kind of discomfort¡ªlike we were all part of some scratchy, ancient fashion trend. ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± the red-haired man finally said, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. He withdrew his hand as he turned his attention back to the soldiers, his eyes scanning them warily. "¡­Am I¡­ are we in hell?" I whispered, my voice trembling as my fingers brushed my neck. The familiar sting flared under my touch, sharp but bearable. I recognized the pain instantly, but I pushed it aside, refusing to dwell on it. My focus shifted to the room around me, the unease in my chest growing heavier with every passing moment. ¡°No,¡± he replied firmly, his head turning slightly toward me. ¡°I¡¯m certain of that.¡± There was a moment of silence as the red-haired man surveyed the surroundings. Then his eyes settled on me, his expression tightening. "What happened to your neck? It''s bruised," he asked, his tone laced with concern. I froze, caught off guard. Shock rippled through me¡ªI hadn¡¯t realized there was a visible bruise. My hand instinctively went to my neck, brushing over the tender area. A faint sting confirmed his words. "Nothing," I replied quickly, the word sharp and automatic, though even I wasn¡¯t convinced by it. ¡°Hell?¡± a voice interrupted, light and dripping with mockery. I turned to see a lean young man with pale hair cascading to his shoulders, its silky strands gleaming faintly in the dim light. His skin was strikingly fair, almost translucent, and his unusually coloured eyes glinted with sharp amusement. A lopsided grin tugged at his lips, an eerie contrast to the oppressive atmosphere surrounding us. ¡°That¡¯s a bit dramatic, don¡¯t you think?¡± he said, tilting his head as if considering my words like a puzzle. ¡°Nah, I bet this is something way cooler¡ªlike we got thrown into another world! Sounds way more fun, don¡¯t you think? ¡°His words hung in the air, bizarrely incongruent with the fear that surrounded us. ¡°Shut up!¡± snapped a girl nearby, her voice sharp and trembling. She had short, choppy hair and piercing eyes that flicked anxiously between the boy and the soldiers. She stood protectively in front of another girl, her arms wrapped around her companion, who was visibly shaking. The second girl clung to her, sobbing quietly into her shoulder.- ¡°Is this funny to you?¡± the short-haired girl hissed, glaring daggers at the skinny boy. Her voice carried an edge of panic, her anger barely masking her fear. ¡°No, but¡ª¡± the boy began, his grin faltering as he raised his hands defensively. His movements were erratic, his messy hair falling into his face as he gestured. ¡°I mean, look at us! Weird clothes, ancient soldiers, and¡ª¡± He waved his hand at the marble floor and towering walls around us. ¡°This place screams ¡®otherworldly!¡¯¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± the short-haired girl snapped again, her voice breaking as she tightened her grip on her trembling companion. The long-haired girl¡¯s silent tears carved paths down her cheeks, her wide, tear-filled eyes darting between the soldiers and the rest of us, desperate for something¡ªanything¡ªthat might make sense of the situation. ¡°Hey,¡± I ventured quietly, taking a cautious step toward the girls. ¡°Are you okay?¡± The words felt thin, almost meaningless, but they were all I had. The short-haired girl¡¯s sharp glare turned to me; her suspicion unyielding. ¡°How do you think we¡¯re doing?¡± she spat, her words edged with frustration. ¡°We just woke up, surrounded by these... soldiers! We got kidnapped, dragged here while we were asleep! I don¡¯t even know where here is!¡± I didn¡¯t know how to respond¡ªshe was right, we were lost. But seeing her cry stirred something in me. I¡¯d been taught to ask when someone was upset, to acknowledge their pain, even if I didn¡¯t have the answers. So, without thinking too much, I asked. It felt wrong not to. A faint sound caught my attention, drawing my eyes to the edge of the group. There stood a boy with neatly kept brown hair, his expression a mixture of confusion and quiet dread. He seemed more disoriented than anyone else, his brows furrowed as if struggling to make sense of what was happening. His posture was tense but upright, not shrinking away like others might in the face of uncertainty. His wide eyes moved slowly, scanning the soldiers and the group around him, as though trying to piece together an impossible puzzle. Though he didn¡¯t seem like someone accustomed to fading into the background, in this moment, the weight of the chaos seemed to press on him harder than most, leaving him frozen in place. "Why don¡¯t we all take a moment to think back to what happened just before we ended up here?" the red-haired man suggested, his tone calm but commanding as his piercing blue eyes swept across the group. His gaze lingered on each of us, steady and unyielding, as if daring anyone to avoid his question. ¡°We can¡¯t make sense of this if we don¡¯t start somewhere,¡± he added, his voice softening slightly, though it still carried an edge that left no room for argument. ¡°Let¡¯s start with names. ¡°Why don¡¯t you start, leader?¡± the pale-skinned boy said mockingly, his grin sharp and almost teasing as he pointed at the red-haired man. ¡°Since you seem to be in charge and all.¡± He then gestured toward the man¡¯s arm. ¡°Oh, and what¡¯s up with that number on your wrist?¡± The red-haired man hesitated, his hand moving instinctively to cover the mark etched into his skin: 777. His expression faltered, momentarily clouded with something unreadable. ¡°Ah, this¡­¡± he murmured, his hand lingering over the mark as if it burned. ¡°My name is Victor,¡± the red-haired man said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of wariness. His piercing eyes flicked to the ground briefly, as though trying to piece together fragments of memory. ¡°The only thing I remember is being in my room. Everything felt normal¡­ until it wasn¡¯t.¡± He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. ¡°There was a light¡ªa bright, blinding light. It came out of nowhere, and before I could even react¡­¡± He gestured vaguely around the room. ¡°I woke up here.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain the number,¡± the skinny boy interjected, his voice sharp with curiosity. He pointed toward Victor¡¯s arm, his gaze flicking between the red-haired man and the faint marking etched into his skin. ¡°What¡¯s up with that?¡± ¡°...¡± there was a slight pause. ¡°This isn¡¯t my first time being held captive by a group,¡± Victor said, his voice steady and cold. His piercing gaze remained fixed on the skinny boy, unwavering and intense, as if daring him to push further. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me, that doesn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Do you ever shut your mouth?¡± the girl snapped, cutting him off sharply. Her tone was biting, leaving little room for argument. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he muttered, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. ¡°I¡¯ll back off.¡± A heavy silence hung in the air, stretching uncomfortably as no one seemed willing to speak. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go next?¡± Victor said, breaking the stillness. His eyes met mine, and he gave a subtle nod, urging me forward. Why me? My eyes narrowed in irritation, frustrated at being put on the spot. I had planned to listen to everyone else first, piece together their stories, and then come up with something of my own to say. But now that plan was out the window. Fine. Whatever. ¡°Umm¡­ the name¡¯s Beliah,¡± I mumbled, my voice slightly shaky. ¡°You can¡­ uh¡­ call me Bel.¡± My eyes darted between the others, feeling the weight of their stares pressing down on me. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t remember much. I was with my parents, and they, uh¡­ asked me to grab something from upstairs.¡± I scratched the back of my neck, avoiding eye contact. ¡°Then there was this¡­ this light, and¡­ well¡­ here I am.¡± My voice trailed off, my awkwardness filling the silence as I fidgeted with my hands, wishing the floor would just swallow me whole. Damn it. That was awful. I envisioned myself saying it so much better. My stomach churned with embarrassment as I realized how awkward I must have sounded. I¡¯m not used to speaking in front of a crowd¡ªespecially one like this. ¡°Well, I suppose I¡¯ll go next,¡± the short-haired girl said, her tone firm but carrying a hint of resignation. ¡°Sophie.¡± Her sharp eyes darted around the group before she continued, her voice steady. ¡°Unlike everyone else, the last thing I remember was falling asleep in my bed. Next thing I knew¡­¡± She gestured vaguely to the room around her, her expression unreadable. ¡°Here I was.¡± ¡°Nice to meet you, Sophie,¡± Victor said, his tone polite but pointed as his sharp gaze shifted to the trembling girl Sophie was holding. ¡°What about her? Think you can get her to speak?¡± He nodded toward the girl, his voice softening slightly, though it still carried an undercurrent of quiet authority.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. "Well, I¡¯ve been trying," Sophie said, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation as she glanced at the girl clinging to her arm. "She¡¯s been using hand signs to communicate, but I don¡¯t understand them. If anyone here can, that¡¯d be a big help." ¡°I know sign language,¡± Victor said briskly, his tone firm and assured. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s great,¡± Sophie replied with a small sigh of relief. She gently nudged the long-haired girl forward, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. Smiling softly, she pointed toward Victor, encouraging her to focus on him. The long-haired girl hesitated, her wide eyes flitting nervously between Sophie and Victor. After a moment, she turned her attention to Victor, her movements tentative. Victor raised a closed fist, then smoothly unfolded it into a quick salute¡ªa gesture that formed the sign for ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± As he performed the sign, he spoke the words aloud, his voice steady and clear, ensuring everyone else in the group could follow along. The long-haired girl blinked, her expression shifting as she processed both the gesture and his words. Slowly, her hands began to rise, readying a response, as the group watched in silence. She responded in sign language, her hands moving hesitant at first but gradually gaining confidence. Her fingers formed deliberate shapes as she spelled out her name, her movements smooth but cautious. Victor nodded, his expression calm and encouraging. He raised his hands again, performing another series of fluid, precise gestures. His fingers moved in rhythm, forming the question: "Do you remember what happened before all this?" As he signed, he also spoke the words aloud, ensuring the rest of the group could follow the conversation. ¡°Her name is Olivia,¡± Victor translated smoothly, his voice steady as he watched her hands move. ¡°She says she was on a ferry with her parents when a storm broke out. It caused the ferry to sink.¡± He paused, his tone softening as he added, ¡°The last thing she remembers is drowning.¡± As the words settled over the group, Sophie instinctively pulled Olivia closer, her arms tightening protectively around the girl. ¡°Oh no,¡± Sophie murmured, her voice trembling with sympathy. Wow, no wonder she was crying. The realization that her parents might be gone and the memory of drowning¡ªit must be utterly terrifying. My chest tightened at the thought of what she must be feeling. Not only that, but she¡¯s deaf and here without anyone familiar to support her. She must be completely overwhelmed, lost in fear and uncertainty. It was hard not to feel a deep pang of sympathy for her predicament. The skinny boy let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the moment bored him more than anything else. ¡°The name¡¯s Lucian,¡± he said nonchalantly, his voice carrying a detached tone. ¡°Honestly, nothing from my old world is worth remembering.¡± He glanced briefly at the group, his expression unreadable, before continuing. ¡°I was with my parents¡ªnothing special. Then, out of nowhere, there was this light, and suddenly¡­ I¡¯m here.¡± He shrugged as if the entire ordeal was just another inconvenience. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, though. That world wasn¡¯t exactly something I¡¯d miss.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried about your parents?¡± Victor asked, his tone sharp, cutting through the growing silence. His piercing gaze locked onto Lucian. Lucian didn¡¯t respond. His white hair, which fell to his shoulders in uneven strands, shifted slightly as he turned his head away. His pale skin, almost translucent, seemed to glimmer faintly under the room¡¯s dim light¡ªa stark contrast to the tension in the air. He exuded an eerie stillness, his albinism lending an otherworldly quality to his appearance. He ignored Victor¡¯s question entirely, his expression cold and unreadable, as if the words had simply evaporated before reaching him. Instead, he stared off into the distance, his body language signaling that he had no intention of entertaining the topic. Everyone, except for Olivia¡ªwho remained nestled against Sophia''s chest¡ªshifted their attention toward the brown-haired boy standing silently in the corner. The boy blinked, suddenly aware of the group¡¯s focus. His eyes widened, his expression caught somewhere between shock and confusion, as though he¡¯d just realized he¡¯d need to speak. He hesitated, his gaze darting around nervously, clearly stalling for time. A moment of silence hung heavy in the air, the group exchanging puzzled glances, wondering why he hadn¡¯t answered. ¡°Your name?¡± Lucian asked bluntly, his tone sharp, clearly impatient with the pause. The boy¡¯s eyes flicked to Lucian, his lips parting as he finally stammered out, ¡°Umm¡­ I¡­ I don''t know .¡± ¡°What?¡± Lucian¡¯s voice rose, his frustration spilling out. ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know ?¡± ¡°I mean it!¡± the boy said, his voice trembling slightly. His hands moved to clutch at his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as though he could wring out lost memories. ¡°I don¡¯t remember my name¡­ I don¡¯t remember how I got here¡­ Nothing!¡± Lucian threw up his hands, exhaling sharply. ¡°Great,¡± he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Just great.¡± The boy¡¯s panicked tone didn¡¯t sound like a lie. Even though his confusion didn¡¯t answer the bigger questions¡ªwhy we were here, surrounded by soldiers¡ªit was clear this conversation wasn¡¯t going to offer any clarity. As the tension lingered, I found my gaze drifting downward. That¡¯s when something caught my eye¡ªa faint, glowing pattern on the floor beneath us. ¡°Wait¡­ there¡¯s something here,¡± I said, taking a step back to get a better look. The group followed my gaze, and all eyes turned toward the intricate markings stretching across the room. The designs glowed faintly under the dim light, their sprawling, symmetrical lines forming what looked like a massive magic circle. The engravings seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive, radiating an eerie, otherworldly energy that sent a chill down my spine. ¡°Could this be it?¡± I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. ¡°The connection¡­ the thing that brought us here?¡± The realization settled over the group, a heavy silence falling as we all stared at the circle, the reality of our situation pressing down even harder. The heavy doors open, the sound reverberating through the room, silencing any thoughts. Instinctively, we froze, all eyes turning to the imposing figure who stepped forward. A large man emerged, dressed in sleek black attire adorned with two gold chains draped from his shoulder to his waist. An eagle insignia gleamed on his chest, a symbol of unmistakable authority. His build was broad and muscular, his stance deliberate and commanding, like someone used to giving orders that were followed without question. ¡°Stand at ease!¡± he barked, his voice loud, sharp, and demanding. It carried the weight of someone accustomed to absolute obedience. The soldiers responded immediately, snapping their spears upright before stepping back in perfect unison. They moved with practiced precision, reforming into two lines that flanked the path leading to the man. Their movements weren¡¯t just orderly; they were calculated, a display of the discipline he commanded. He paused, his sharp eyes sweeping over us as if assessing our worth. ¡°Jacquin Caltrich,¡± he announced, his tone firm and unrelenting, ¡°Vice Commander of the Amoptera Kingdom. ¡°Follow me,¡± he commanded, his voice as steady as before. ¡°I don¡¯t want any questions¡± Without another word, he strode forward, his steps deliberate, his presence demanding compliance. The soldiers stood firm, their silent vigilance urging us to follow. We all started following the man silently, our steps echoing softly against the pristine marble floors of the grand palace. The sheer scale of the place was overwhelming, with high vaulted ceilings and intricate carvings adorning every wall. Occasionally, a few soldiers would pause as we passed, snapping to attention and saluting the man. Their eyes would then shift to us, lingering with a mix of curiosity and disdain, as though we were pests who didn¡¯t belong. I didn¡¯t like the way they looked at us¡ªcurious, disdainful, almost pitying. Their eyes lingered just a moment too long, as if we were beneath them, unworthy of being here. It made my skin crawl, and the ceremonial outfits we wore only added to my discomfort. The thin, unfamiliar fabric felt more like a costume than clothing, leaving me feeling exposed and humiliated as we walked through the grand halls. How big was this place, anyway? Each step felt like it stretched the distance further. I just wanted to get wherever we were going and be done with this ordeal. Suddenly, the silence shattered. ¡°Hey, sir!¡± the Lucian called out, his hand half-raised, hesitating as if even he wasn¡¯t sure of his own audacity. The sound jolted me, and my head whipped toward him. I couldn¡¯t believe what I¡¯d just heard. Was he seriously speaking up? My chest tightened with irritation as I stared at him, my eyes pleading silently, Stop. Please, stop. But he wasn¡¯t looking at me. His focus remained locked on the man in front of us, oblivious to the sheer stupidity of his actions. Didn¡¯t he realize the situation we were in? Did he want to drag all of us down with him? The man didn¡¯t respond, his pace steady and deliberate, as though the interruption hadn¡¯t even registered. ¡°HEY! I¡¯m talking to you!¡± Lucian shouted again, his voice louder this time, echoing off the towering walls of the corridor. The man stopped. Everything felt like it froze in place¡ªthe air itself seemed heavier, like the calm before an explosion. Slowly, the man turned around, his piercing gaze locking onto the skinny boy. There was no anger in his expression, but that was what made it worse. His calm, cold demeanor was far more terrifying than rage. My stomach twisted as the tension crackled in the air, thick enough to choke on. The man strode toward him, his boots clicking ominously against the marble floor. Each step echoed louder than it should have, like a hammer striking a nail. My breath caught, and I instinctively took a step back, as did most of the others. Except for the Victor . He stood rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the scene. How could he stay so calm? My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might burst. ¡°Can you explain what¡¯s going on?¡± Lucian stammered, his earlier confidence melting away. His voice wavered, trembling like his outstretched hand. ¡°We don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening, where we are, or¡ª¡± The man moved in a blur, his large hand shooting out to grab the skinny boy by the face. The boy let out a muffled yelp, his voice silenced as the man¡¯s iron grip held him firmly in place. I flinched at the suddenness of it, my pulse spiking. The sight was enough to send a cold shiver down my spine. Idiot. ¡°Can you understand what¡¯s coming out of my mouth?¡± the man asked, his voice low, sharp, and cutting. The boy¡¯s muffled response was incoherent, his hands weakly gripping the man¡¯s wrist as though trying to pull away. ¡°CAN YOU?!¡± the man bellowed, his voice reverberating through the corridor like a thunderclap. The sheer force of it made me flinch, my legs instinctively wanting to take another step back, but I held my ground, my fists clenched tightly at my sides. Don¡¯t move, I told myself. Don¡¯t make it worse. ¡°All of you have received the Gift and ascended,¡± the man growled, his voice still loud but controlled, laced with authority. ¡°Which allows you to understand us. But why do you act like you can¡¯t?¡± His words felt like a blade cutting through the tension, cold and precise. The man shoved the boy back, releasing him with a rough motion. Lucian stumbled, crumpling slightly as he backed away, his hands trembling and his face pale with fear. I could feel the boy¡¯s humiliation like it was my own, but I wasn¡¯t about to speak up. None of us dared to. Victor remained unmoved, his gaze flicking between the man and the trembling boy, his expression calm but his jaw tightening slightly. The man straightened, brushing off his uniform as though nothing had happened. ¡°Follow me,¡± he said coolly, turning on his heel. ¡°And do not speak again until I permit it. This will be the last warning.¡± We followed. The weight of his words hung in the air like a storm cloud, suffocating and heavy. My thoughts raced, but I kept them to myself. What kind of "Gift" had we supposedly received? And what did it mean to "ascend"? Questions churned in my head, but I knew better than to ask them now. The man¡¯s warning echoed in my mind with every step we took. This is no place for defiance, I thought grimly. We¡¯re playing by their rules now. Following the man, the hallways felt strangely empty, with only the occasional guard stationed at their posts. The silence was unnerving. It was as if this section of the palace was unimportant, or perhaps the key members of its operations were elsewhere. The echoes of our footsteps against the marble floor only added to the eerie stillness. Eventually, we entered a large, stately room. It resembled a dean¡¯s office, austere and formal. A single ornate chair sat at the far end of the room behind a polished wooden table, its surface immaculate except for a few scrolls and what looked like a ledger. The man strode forward confidently, settling into the chair and leaning back slightly, his arms crossed as he stared at us with a measured gaze. ¡°Welcome to the kingdom of Ampotera,¡± he began, his tone authoritative. ¡°Ruled by Lord Greylark. To answer your most immediate question¡ªyes, you have indeed been transported here. Why? We do not know. But every five years, new individuals are teleported to this kingdom from¡­ elsewhere. It is a phenomenon we¡¯ve yet to understand.¡± He gestured vaguely toward the room as he continued, ¡°The circle you arrived in is the teleportation site. We guard it day and night in case of anomalies or disturbances. It is the only known link to your world.¡± His words hung in the air like a storm cloud. The weight of them settled over us, and for a moment, none of us spoke. It was as though we were all hoping someone else would voice the confusion and disbelief swirling in our minds. I glanced at Lucian, expecting him to say something¡ªanything¡ªbut he remained silent, his earlier confidence completely shattered. He seemed too shaken to even meet anyone¡¯s gaze. ¡°Why us?¡± Sophie finally asked, her voice cutting through the tension. There was a sharp edge to it, but it was clear she was struggling to keep her composure. ¡°As I said,¡± the man replied, his expression as cold and unchanging as his tone, ¡°we do not know. The phenomenon is random. Every five years, people like you appear here. That¡¯s the only certainty.¡± ¡°Are there others like us?¡± Sophie pressed, not letting the subject drop. The man¡¯s gaze flicked toward her. ¡°If you mean other outworlders still alive, I cannot say for sure. We do not maintain contact with them¡ªthey are rare to come across.¡± His voice remained steady, almost dismissive, as though it wasn¡¯t a question worth entertaining. ¡°What do you mean we¡¯ve received gifts? We didn¡¯t receive anything,¡± the Victor interjected, his tone calm but carrying a sharp skepticism. As the man mentioned that we had received gifts enabling us to understand them, I brushed it off at first¡ªit didn¡¯t make much sense. But then I started to wonder: was he speaking literally? Did we truly have these gifts? I was curious about what he meant, but I didn¡¯t want to ask¡ªI didn¡¯t want to risk looking foolish. The man¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, and for the first time, he paused, his gaze sweeping over us as if weighing his response. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice even but with a hint of condescension. ¡°I have done some research on your world. From what I understand, there are no gods governing it¡ªno divine presence influencing your existence. Here, however, our world is ruled by gods. They are real, active, and they bestow gifts upon chosen humans. These gifts allow you to ascend, becoming something greater. Those who do not receive these gifts remain earthbound¡ªordinary. There are still many in our world who have not ascended.¡± He gestured idly in the air, his finger tracing slow circles as he explained, his tone never shifting. ¡°You have received these gifts. Whether you realize it or not. To better understand, say the word ¡®Status¡¯ in your mind.¡± ¡°Status,¡± the brown-haired boy blurted out almost immediately, not even waiting for further explanation. We all turned to him, startled, and then glanced at each other hesitantly. Curiosity and apprehension hung thick in the air. One by one, we each murmured the word, letting it roll silently in our minds. ¡°Status.¡± Status - Level 1 Hate No man is truly equal; we are all born into a world of inherent inequality. People often tell me that hard work is the key to achieving anything in life, but such claims are nothing more than comforting lies fools tell themselves. This unfair world does not reward effort alone¡ªit favors the gifted, not just those born into privilege or high social status but also those endowed with unequal genetic advantages. Talent, intelligence, and physical capabilities are not evenly distributed, making success an uphill battle for some while others climb with ease. For some, these disparities are an abstract reality¡ªa truth they can acknowledge but never truly feel. For others, like me, they¡¯re a lived experience, etched into every corner of existence. There was only one entity I could blame for the mess that was my life: God. The same God who let my father abandon us, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken promises. The same God who gave me a stepfather who stuck around for reasons that never felt right. The God who allowed my mother to run off with my sister, leaving me stranded in a house steeped in bitterness and regret. While my stepfather¡¯s occasional violence¡ªletting his friends use me as their punching bag for "stress relief"¡ªshould have broken me, it didn¡¯t. That wasn¡¯t what gnawed at me the most. What truly crushed me was the realization that I had no future. I was 20, and I had nothing to my name¡ªno education to speak of, no friends to lean on, no girlfriend to share my burdens with, and no sense of purpose to pull me forward. Each day was a relentless grind, working a dead-end job that drained what little life I had left in me. The paycheck barely kept me afloat, leaving no room for hope or ambition. There was no dream to chase, no goal to strive for, only the suffocating monotony of an existence that felt more like a sentence than a life. I was utterly alone, trapped in a void of despair, with no end in sight. That night, as the weight of the world pressed harder against my shoulders, I sat alone in my barren room. The air was heavy, the silence suffocating, and the rope hanging above the chair seemed to call to me. It was freedom, I told myself¡ªfreedom from the pain, the guilt, the endless fight against a world that didn¡¯t care. I stood, my movements slow and deliberate, and stepped onto the chair. My hands trembled as I tied the rope around my neck, my breath shaky but calm. I stared at the empty walls, the stillness of the room matching the emptiness in my heart. There was no anger left, no fear¡ªjust a bitter resignation. Then I kicked the chair. The world jerked violently. ¡°Hhrrrgh¡ª!¡± Pain. White-hot pain. The rope bit into my throat, crushing, searing. My body thrashed involuntarily, clawing at the air, at the noose, at anything to stop the agony. I couldn¡¯t breathe. It hurt. It hurt so much. I wanted¡ª
Present What... What was all this? The gods wanted to use me now? After all this time? After abandoning me again and again, leaving me to fend for myself when I needed them the most? And Nyarava¡ªwhat was her game? She had a plan for me, sure, but why did she choose me¡ªout of everyone¡ªand why now? Where was she when I cried out for help, when there was no one, when everything was crumbling around me? Why now, when I¡¯ve already learned how to survive without their so-called divine mercy? Why do they care now? The man claimed we were brought here by chance, but that was a lie. I could feel it in my bones. It doesn¡¯t add up. If some people never receive these ¡°gifts,¡± as he said, then this wasn¡¯t random. We were handpicked. Selected. But for what? Some divine agenda? A war we never asked to be part of? It made me sick to think of it, like we were just pieces on a board, moved by forces who didn¡¯t care if we lived or died, so long as we served their purpose And me? They thought I¡¯d just play along? After everything I¡¯ve endured? My life has been nothing but regret, loss, and endless struggle¡ªfighting for scraps in a world that seemed determined to break me at every turn. There was no one to save me. No helping hand, no gods, no one. I¡¯ve clawed my way through every moment, bleeding and battered, only to be abandoned time and again. And now they think they can swoop in, make me their pawn, and force me to clean up their messes? Fulfill their selfish, petty schemes? I wasn¡¯t about to forgive them for their silence, for the years of suffering when their so-called gifts were nowhere to be found. If they wanted to use me, they¡¯d learn the hard way that I wasn¡¯t theirs to control. I¡¯d take their power, sure. I¡¯d let them think I was their obedient little tool. But in the end? I¡¯d make them regret ever choosing me. They had abandoned me. And now, I¡¯d make them pay for it. I¡¯d use them for my gain¡ªand mine alone. My gaze locked onto the screen, unblinking, as a sharp heat prickled behind my eyes. My lips pressed into a thin, taut line, and my nails bit into my palms, leaving faint crescents. Each breath I took came shallow and slow, as if holding back something about to break loose. ¡°You¡­ you can¡¯t be serious!¡± I shouted, my voice shaking with anger as I glared at Jacquin. My left hand scratched at my head furiously, the other thrust out in a gesture of frustration, as though trying to physically push the idea away. ¡°This isn¡¯t real... THIS HAS TO BE A JOKE!¡± my voice cracked as he took a step back, his face twisted with disbelief. ¡°Something like this¡ªthis isn¡¯t happening!¡± A sharp, nauseating churn twisted in my stomach. The sensation was unbearable, as if my insides were tying themselves into knots. I felt the bile rising, my throat tightening, and every breath tasted sour. My whole body tensed, and for a moment, I thought I might vomit right there on the marble floor. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of disgust. This so-called god wanted to use me now? Where were they before, when I truly needed help? Why now, of all times? The timing felt like a cruel joke, an insult more than a blessing. The room fell into an uneasy silence. ¡°This is real,¡± Jacquin said finally, his voice steady and unshaken. His calm demeanor only made the tension worse. ¡°Everything I¡¯ve told you is real¡ªthis world, your presence here. I¡¯ve met others like you before, other outworlders. It¡¯s not uncommon for someone to have a¡­ panic attack when the truth hits.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a fucking liar!¡± I spat, my hand dropping to my side, clenched into a trembling fist. The rest of us watched in stunned silence, frozen in place. No one dared to move or speak. Lucian shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixated on bel in an almost pleading manner, as though willing him to stop with sheer force of will. His eyes bore into Bel, silently urging him to back down, but Bel wouldn¡¯t meet his stare. Instead, Bel¡¯s gaze remained locked elsewhere, unyielding and defiant, leaving Lucian¡¯s silent attempts at intervention futile. With a quiet sigh of frustration, Lucian¡¯s eyes fell to the floor, his discomfort and helplessness palpable. Jacquin tilted his head slightly, a faint, almost condescending smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Oh? And what exactly did I lie about?¡± he asked, his tone calm but laced with challenge. ¡°This whole thing!¡± my voice grew louder, desperation bleeding into my words. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m stupid? That we were just picked randomly to come here? You obviously know why we¡¯re here¡ªdon¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Stop shouting, boy. This is an office, and I am an officer. Treat me with respect, ,¡± Jacquin¡¯s voice was cold, authoritative, his eyes narrowing on Beliah like a hawk sizing up its prey.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. My lips curled into a bitter smile. ¡°...Or else what? You gonna kill me? Come on, then. Do it,¡± I spat, his voice hollow, his mind a blank void. The words tumbled out without thought, a desperate attempt to push back against the suffocating tension. Jacquin exhaled deeply, the sound deliberate and composed as he reached for a pair of black leather gloves resting on the table. The faint creak of the leather broke the oppressive silence as he slipped them on with methodical precision, his movements unhurried and cold. ¡°This wasn¡¯t supposed to be my job,¡± he began, his voice calm but edged with an unsettling chill. ¡°Normally, the inspectors would have greeted you, explained things, and made this easier for everyone. But¡­ due to certain circumstances, they called for me in their absence.¡± His gaze never wavered from Beliah, sharp and calculating, as he adjusted the gloves with a detached ease. ¡°You see, the inspectors have another responsibility¡ªbeyond the niceties. Their duty is to root out weeds. Parasites that leech off what we¡¯ve built.¡± Jacquin stepped forward, the weight of his words pressing down on the room. His eyes locked onto Beliah with unnerving clarity, his voice dropping to a near whisper that cut through the air like a blade. ¡°And you, boy, are a weed.¡± The room froze. A suffocating silence gripped the air, thick and heavy with tension. Jacquin straightened to his full height, his imposing frame casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room. Each step he took toward Beliah felt excruciatingly slow, his boots landing with the finality of an executioner¡¯s march. Beliah stood frozen, unable to move, his legs rooted to the ground as if chained by fear. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body refused to obey. ¡°We don¡¯t let just anyone into our country,¡± Jacquin continued, his voice icy and resolute, each word delivered with a deliberate precision that made them cut deeper. ¡°We root out the dangerous ones. The ones who don¡¯t belong. And you¡­¡± He leaned in slightly, his piercing gaze boring into Beliah, stripping him bare. ¡°Your eyes tell me everything I need to know. You¡¯re a weed. A threat. I take no joy in this, but my duty is to protect my people. Surely, you can understand that.¡± His gaze flicked briefly to the others, who stood frozen, their faces pale with shock. ¡°Please, stop!¡± Sophia cried, her voice breaking the silence, trembling with desperation. Jacquin turned his head toward her with an almost gentle expression, a calmness that belied the cruelty in his actions. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, dear,¡± he said, his voice soft yet unyielding. ¡°This will be quick. You¡¯ll thank me when it¡¯s over.¡± He closed the final gap between me, his hand extending with eerie precision, fingers curling around my throat like a steel vice. The grip was immediate, cutting off my air. My vision blurred as the pressure mounted, my body instinctively struggling against the unrelenting force. His hand gripped my throat and lifted me effortlessly, like a rag doll. I didn¡¯t fight back. My hands instinctively went to his wrist, but it wasn¡¯t to stop him¡ªit was because of the pain. My chest burned, my lungs screamed, and saliva dripped from my lips as I struggled to draw even the faintest breath. ¡°...May the gods forgive you ,¡± Jacquin muttered coldly, his voice distant, as though this was nothing more than routine for him. ¡°... ¡­¡± My vision blurred, the edges of the world darkening with every second. Ah, how ironic¡ªto be dying like this. I hate it. I hate all of this. Every moment, every breath, it¡¯s all been so exhausting. Trying to stand, trying to push forward, only for the world to shove me back down over and over again. What¡¯s the point of it all? Maybe this is for the best. Maybe it was always meant to end like this. The gods¡­ they never cared. Not once. They only pick their favorites, twisting the rest of us into pawns for their games. And me? I was never one of the chosen. Maybe this is the mercy they couldn¡¯t give me. But I always wanted -- My fist clenched, tighter than ever before, driven by a force I couldn¡¯t explain. Before I could think, my arm shot up. My knuckles struck Jacquin¡¯s cheek with a sharp crack, the sound reverberating through the room. He hadn¡¯t expected it¡ªnot from me. Jacquin staggered back, his grip loosening. I fell to the ground, gasping and coughing, my throat burning with each ragged breath. My heart pounded, and I didn¡¯t know if it was from fear, anger, or¡­ something else. Even as I knelt there, clutching my neck and gasping for air, I couldn¡¯t understand why I¡¯d done it¡ªwhy I¡¯d struck him. I thought I wanted to die. I was ready for it to end, for everything to stop. So why had my body moved? Was it instinct? Some primal need to survive? Or something deeper I couldn¡¯t grasp? My mind replayed the moment¡ªthe crushing grip on my throat, the suffocating finality, and then my fist, striking without thought. I didn¡¯t know what scared me more¡ªJacquin¡¯s cold fury or the realization that some part of me, buried deep inside, still wasn¡¯t ready to let go. ¡°...Screw them,¡± I rasped, my voice hoarse but steady. I didn¡¯t care if I was talking about the gods, Jacquin, or the whole damn world. Maybe all of them. It didn¡¯t matter. ¡°I was going to give you a quick death,¡± he said, his voice cold and laced with menace, ¡°but you just had to do that.¡± "Strangling me to death doesn¡¯t exactly count as quick," I remarked, my voice edged with defiance. Before I could react, he rushed forward in a blur, his movements as swift as they were precise, like when he dealt with the skinny boy earlier. His fist was raised, aimed directly at my face, and I braced myself for the impact that never came. In an instant, I was no longer in his path. My vision shifted, and I found myself staring at his side. ¡°Boss, that¡¯s a bit much, even for you,¡± a voice said casually, the tone lighthearted and carefree. I turned my head to see a man standing beside me. He wore a grey uniform that stood in stark contrast to Jacquin¡¯s all-black attire. Slightly older than me, his curly hair framed a face with a neatly trimmed beard, and his entire demeanor exuded an effortless charm, as though the tension in the room didn¡¯t even register to him. Unlike Jacquin, whose uniform bore the insignia of an eagle, his displayed the symbol of a dragon, its intricate design coiled with a sense of power and mystery. ¡°How about we forgive and forget, yeah?¡± the man added, smiling faintly. Jacquin¡¯s anger didn¡¯t falter. His narrowed eyes turned toward the newcomer. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, Niru?¡± His hand suddenly held a pen, as if it had materialized out of thin air where I had been standing, and Jacquin caught it with effortless precision. Niru raised his arms in mock confusion, glancing between me and Jacquin. ¡°Helping a kid. What does it look like?¡± ¡°That kid is an enemy of this kingdom ,¡± Jacquin growled, his tone dripping with disdain. ¡°For talking back to you? Come on, Boss, if that¡¯s the standard, my head would¡¯ve been on a platter years ago,¡± Niru quipped, his grin widening. Jacquin took a step forward, his fists still clenched. ¡°Do you really want to do this, Niru?¡± ¡°Not particularly,¡± Niru said with a shrug, unfazed. ¡°Actually, I came to tell you the commander looking for you. So, your call¡ªdo you want to keep trying to kill this kid, or do you want to deal with the commander for keeping him waiting?¡± Jacquin froze, the weight of Niru¡¯s words settling over the room. For a moment, the tension was suffocating. "Are you serious, Captain? If you¡¯re lying, this would be a blatant violation," Jacquin said, his voice sharp and accusing, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Niru. Niru didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he shrugged nonchalantly, the corners of his mouth quivering upward in a faint, careless smirk. ¡°¡­Fine,¡± Jacquin muttered, his voice tight with restraint. He turned toward the door, his movements slow and deliberate, his composure unbroken. As he reached the doorway, Jacquin halted, his hand resting on the frame. ¡°Leave them here. None of them are to leave this room without my inspection,¡± he commanded, his voice cold and firm. He turned his head slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto Niru. ¡°And remember, Captain¡ªregardless of whose unit you¡¯re in, I am still the Vice Commander. Show some respect.¡± With that, Jacquin opened the door and walked out, shutting it behind him with a soft but decisive click. Niru let out a soft whistle, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Of course, sir,¡± he replied, his tone light and teasing, but just shy of outright mockery. Niru turned his gaze to Bel, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. ¡°Damn, kid, you¡¯ve got guts¡ªstanding up to the Vice Commander like that? Not many walk away from something like that in one piece.¡± With a casual grin, he reached out and ruffled Bel¡¯s hair. ¡°...Uh,¡± I muttered, my tone awkward but sincere. Strangely, I didn¡¯t mind the gesture¡ªsome small, buried part of me even found it comforting. Still, determined to keep up a strong front, I lightly swatted Niru¡¯s hand away, my expression guarded. I wasn¡¯t used to receiving complaints, and when I did, they always stuck with me. There was a time when my entire purpose seemed to revolve around trying to earn even the smallest acknowledgement from my stepdad, even if it was a complaint. But no matter how hard I tried, he never did. Niru chuckled, unfazed, and straightened up. ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s time for me to figure out what comes next.¡± He turned to the group with an easygoing grin. ¡°Alright, everyone¡ªlooks like you¡¯re under new management now.¡± The Start He turned to the group with an easygoing grin. ¡°Alright, everyone¡ªlooks like you¡¯re under new management now.¡± Niru¡¯s grin widened as he placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, almost as if proud of himself. His demeanor carried a mix of authority and nonchalance, as though this chaotic situation was just another day at work for him. ¡°Normally, this would take a long time to explain,¡± he began, his tone brisk and tinged with urgency. ¡°But we don¡¯t have that luxury- ¡°Can I just go home? I don¡¯t want to be here anymore. Why are we even here?¡± the brown-haired boy asked, his voice trembling with frustration. We all turned to look at him, then shifted our gazes to Niru, silently waiting for an answer. Deep down, though, I already knew what he¡¯d say¡ªit was impossible. ¡°Sorry, kid,¡± Niru replied, his tone soft but firm. ¡°There¡¯s no way to travel between worlds. Only the gods have that kind of power.¡± I sighed inwardly. Of course. It made sense. It seemed the gods were pulling all the strings here, deciding our fates as if we were pieces on their board. He clapped his hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the tension like a whip. ¡°Alright, everyone, I need you to form into groups of two.¡± A group? I couldn¡¯t quite grasp the reasoning behind putting us into groups at this point¡ªit didn¡¯t make much sense given the situation. Still, I wasn¡¯t about to question it. The only thing on my mind was getting out of here as quickly as possible. A brief silence followed as the group exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of who to pair up with. Olivia and Sophia instinctively huddled closer together, their bond apparent. Meanwhile, the rest of us stood awkwardly, hesitant to make the first move. ¡°Alright,¡± Niru said, breaking the pause before it could linger too long. His sharp gaze scanned the group before landing on Lucian. ¡°You¡ªjoin the girls. That¡¯s one group.¡± Lucian¡¯s lips twitched slightly, a faint frown threatening to appear, but he didn¡¯t argue. His pale eyes flicked toward Olivia and Sophia before he shrugged and moved toward them, his steps slow and deliberate. Sophia shot him a glare but kept her distance. Niru turned his attention back to the rest of us. ¡°You¡ªredhead,¡± he said, pointing at me, ¡°you¡¯re with him and¡­¡± His hand gestured toward the brown-haired boy lingering at the edge of the group. ¡°That makes our second group. Got it? Another clap of his hands punctuated the decision, final and resolute. ¡°No debates, no swaps. This works. Let¡¯s roll with it.¡± I glanced at Victor, catching his calm, reassuring nod. His steady presence was a small comfort amidst the chaos. The other boy, however, looked as though he might collapse at any moment. His eyes darted nervously between us and Niru, his discomfort etched plainly on his face. But there was something different about him now¡ªhis posture was less tense, his movements more deliberate. Oh¡­ the status. It must have told him his name. I thought about asking him for his name but decided against it. He didn¡¯t seem to be in the best frame of mind, and I didn¡¯t want to risk making things awkward. It wasn¡¯t that I lacked the courage¡ªit just felt more considerate to give him some space. I could always ask later, when the timing felt more natural. ¡°Alright, first things first¡­ clothes, money, explanation¡ªyeah, okay, I got this,¡± Niru muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck with a casual shrug. His tone was light, but there was a determination beneath it that made me feel like maybe we were in capable hands after all. We exchanged uncertain glances. After everything we¡¯d been through, anyone had to be better than Jacquin. At least, that¡¯s what we told ourselves. ¡°Follow me,¡± Niru said, motioning for us to move. ¡°Normally, someone would take your measurements properly before sorting out clothes, but we don¡¯t have time for that. I¡¯m taking you to the storage room where we keep the spare uniforms. With any luck, we¡¯ll find something that fits you.¡± As we stepped through the door, Niru paused, holding it halfway open. His brows furrowed slightly as he seemed to weigh his next move. ¡°Umm,¡± I muttered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. I immediately regretted drawing attention to myself. My gaze dropped to the floor, my fingers fidgeting nervously. Inside, my thoughts churned. Jacquin¡¯s suffocating presence still lingered in my mind, a dark storm cloud that refused to dissipate. The thought of him returning made my chest tighten. Every second spent here felt like borrowed time, like we were waiting for something terrible to happen. ¡°...Actually,¡± Niru muttered, half to himself, ¡°now that I think about it, this might take too long.¡± He turned back to us with a sharp nod, his decision made. ¡°Change of plans. We¡¯re going to meet the Vice-Captain. With his help, we can speed this up. Let¡¯s move!¡± Our pace quickened under his command. The halls stretched endlessly, their vastness amplifying the eerie silence. Occasionally, we passed guards stationed at attention, their presence a stark contrast to the otherwise desolate surroundings. ¡°If you¡¯re wondering about the lack of people, don¡¯t worry,¡± Niru said over his shoulder, his tone casual yet reassuring. ¡°Most of the units are out on a classified operation. They¡¯ll be back tomorrow, so we¡¯ve got a little breathing room.¡± I glanced at him, observing his carefree demeanor. Despite having just met him, there was something about Niru that felt¡­ trustworthy. He had saved my life, defying orders and risking his position¡ªfor what? For nobody like me? The thought stirred an unfamiliar and unexpected sense of gratitude within me, knowing he had chosen to stand against Jacquin¡¯s command just to keep us safe. ¡°Ahh¡­ thank you,¡± I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°For saving me.¡± I didn¡¯t look at him when I said it, my gaze fixed firmly to the side, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Gratitude wasn¡¯t something I was used to expressing. Niru turned to me, his grin as unwavering as ever. "No problem... just promise to buy me a drink next time we cross paths. I¡¯ve got a feeling this isn¡¯t the last time we¡¯ll meet. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what had changed in me, but ever since the confrontation with Jacquin, I felt a strange weight lift off my shoulders. The tension that had been a constant in my life seemed to ebb away. Maybe it was the faint hope that this was a second chance¡ªa new life where I could leave my past behind. For the first time in a long while, I felt something unfamiliar stirring within me. Was it exciting? Maybe. The thought of starting fresh was oddly exhilarating. Victor stepped closer, his hand resting firmly on my shoulder. His piercing gaze met mine, steady but tinged with concern. ¡°You okay?¡± he asked gently. ¡°You didn¡¯t seem in the best state earlier.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine now ,¡± I replied quickly, forcing the words out. I glanced back at him, nodding faintly. It wasn¡¯t a lie¡ªnot entirely. ¡°You scared me, man,¡± Lucian piped up, his pale eyes flicking toward me. His tone was sharp, though not unkind. ¡°I thought we were all gonna die.¡± I stayed silent, letting his words hang in the air as I focused on the path ahead. My mind replayed the earlier events, each moment weighing heavy on my chest. I guess he was right. My anger had clouded my judgment, making me act without thinking. I hated the idea that the gods suddenly had a use for me now, after ignoring me for so long. Where were they before, when I needed them? The thought of being nothing more than a pawn, a tool for someone else''s agenda, infuriated me. I let that frustration consume me, let it push me past my breaking point. I needed to get a grip. Letting my anger control me like that¡ªit was reckless ¡°We¡¯re here. Just let me do the talking,¡± Niru said, his tone calm yet firm as he stopped in front of a large wooden door. With a slight push, he swung it open, revealing a modest lounge. The room¡¯s quiet comfort stood in stark contrast to the tension-filled halls we had just walked through. Two sofas facing each other across a low wooden table, their simple arrangement inviting a sense of ease despite the circumstances. On one of the sofas sat a man with sharp, chiseled features, his jet-black hair falling in soft, curtain-like strands that framed his face. His eyes stayed fixed on the steaming cup of tea in his hands, his calm and unhurried demeanor a stark contrast to the tension in the room. His posture struck a delicate balance between relaxed and authoritative, exuding a quiet command that was hard to ignore. He wore a gray uniform identical to Niru¡¯s, marked with the same dragon insignia stitched into the fabric. Unlike Niru and Jacquin, his uniform lacked the gold plates that signified higher rank, subtly signaling his lower position in the chain of command. The broad lines of his powerful frame and a scar that ran from his neck to his chin hinted at a life shaped by combat. Despite his unassuming demeanor, the scar and his bearing revealed him to be a seasoned warrior. Yet he didn¡¯t look up when we entered, his focus remaining on his tea. The lack of acknowledgment, combined with the normalcy of his presence, left an unsettling unease hanging in the air. ¡° Theo¡­ buddy, Vice Commander Jacquin asked us to take care of the outworlders,¡± Niru said, his tone breezy as he strolled over to Theo and casually took a seat on the sofa opposite him. ¡°Could you handle the basic procedures with them? Oh, and they¡¯ll need 30 silver,¡± he added, gesturing toward us with a light wave of his hand. Theo didn¡¯t respond immediately. He remained focused on his tea, lifting it for another slow sip before finally raising his gaze. His sharp, fish-like eyes shifted from us to Niru, studying us all with cold precision. There was something unnervingly calculating about his stare¡ªso much so that it made him seem even more intimidating than Niru, despite the latter¡¯s apparent higher rank. ¡°Sir, Jacquin asked you for a favor?¡± Theo asked, his voice low and quiet, laced with skepticism. ¡°Yes, he did,¡± Niru replied, flashing a wide, carefree grin as if this was the most natural thing in the world. ¡°Jacquin?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°Bullshit,¡± Theo snapped, his calm demeanor cracking ever so slightly. ¡°He¡¯d never ask you for a favor.¡± ¡°Well, I assure you, he did,¡± Niru said, feigning indignation as he leaned back and spread his hands in mock innocence. ¡°Why would I lie about that?¡± Theo¡¯s glare hardened, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Even if he did, why would he ask you? You¡¯re not even in his squad.¡± ¡°Good question!¡± Niru said, shrugging exaggeratedly. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡ªask him. If you don¡¯t believe me, go ahead, talk to him yourself.¡± Theo exhaled sharply, his irritation evident. His gaze flicked toward us before settling back on Niru. Running a hand through his hair.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°What did you tell them.. the outworlders ?¡± Theo asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of his frustration. ¡°Nothing..,¡± Niru replied smoothly, his grin steady.. Theo¡¯s piercing eyes locked onto Niru, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. ¡°You¡­¡± Before Theo could say more, Niru stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his uniform. He pointed toward Lucian¡¯s group, gesturing for them to come closer. ¡°Take the three boys,¡± he said casually, ¡°while I take care of these ones.¡± Theo¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier as he watched Niru. Niru approached us, his usual carefree smile unwavering, though there was a noticeable shift in his tone¡ªmore serious, more deliberate. ¡°Before we move forward, there¡¯s something every gifted individual is warned about.¡± He paused, letting his gaze settle on each of us. ¡°As you already know, being gifted makes you an Ascendant¡ªsomeone who stands apart from the average person. But listen carefully¡ªnever share the details of your abilities or your rank with anyone.¡± His voice dropped slightly, carrying a quiet weight. ¡°The more people know about your powers, the harder your life here will become. Word travels fast, and once people understand your strengths, they¡¯ll waste no time finding ways to exploit your weaknesses.¡± We all exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. It made sense. If others knew the specifics of someone¡¯s gift, they could devise ways to counteract or exploit it. Knowledge like that was dangerous in the wrong hands. Sophia offered a faint smile and gave a small nod. ¡°We¡¯ll see you all later,¡± she said, her voice warm but carrying the weight of uncertainty. The rest of us returned her nods, brief but sincere, before parting ways. The reality of our separation began to settle in, a quiet acknowledgment passing between us. With that, Niru turned toward Theo, giving him a cheeky salute before heading out the door. His departure left us alone in the unsettling silence of Theo¡¯s watchful presence, the air heavier in his absence. The shift in the room was palpable, the air growing noticeably colder as an uneasy silence settled over us. Theo, seemingly unfazed, calmly picked up his tea and took a slow sip, his movements deliberate and precise. Despite the casual gesture, his sharp, unblinking gaze fixed on us, making the moment feel anything but ordinary. The weight of his stare pressed down on the room, amplifying the awkwardness that lingered between us. ¡°Did he explain why he split you into groups?¡± Theo asked, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of scrutiny. So there was a purpose to splitting us up. Is this what they usually do to outworlders? Niru did mention something about a procedure, so I¡¯m assuming this is part of it. I had just assumed it was a way to make it easier and faster for them to manage us in smaller groups. ¡°Is it because it¡¯s easier for you to take care of us when we¡¯re split into smaller groups?¡± Victor ventured, his tone measured but curious. ¡°No,¡± Theo replied curtly. ¡°It¡¯s because you¡¯re going to have to take care of each other,¡± Theo explained, his eyes briefly scanning the room. He stood up and walked to the desk behind him. Opening a drawer, he retrieved three small brown pouches that clinked faintly as he picked them up. ¡°There are 20 silver coins in each pouch,¡± Theo said, placing them on the table before us. ¡°This money isn¡¯t a gift. The kingdom expects you to pay it back after one month.¡± One month? That didn¡¯t sound like a lot of time, especially for people like us, unfamiliar with this world and its systems. ¡°Do you know why you were placed into groups?¡± Theo asked again, his sharp gaze shifting between us. So they do put some thought into these things. I had assumed they¡¯d just throw us out into the world without any explanation at all. I have a feeling it¡¯s designed to keep us all in line, ensuring they get their money back. It¡¯s likely tied to making the group responsible for covering someone else¡¯s debt if they fail to pay. ¡°If someone in our group dies, we have to pay off their debt. And if someone fails to pay, the entire group faces the consequences,¡± Victor said, his voice steady but grim. Theo nodded. ¡°That¡¯s correct. You are given one month to repay the 30 silver. If you fail to pay, you will be jailed and put on trial. If someone in your group doesn¡¯t pay, all of you will be trialed together. And if someone in your group dies, their debt will be transferred to the surviving members of the group.¡± Of course, it made sense that the kingdom would want their money back, but the implications of the system were harsh. If the entire group died, I supposed the debt might vanish, but even thinking about that seemed bleak and absurd. The kingdom¡¯s system was harsh, pragmatic, and efficient, but it felt unnecessarily cruel. Still, I couldn¡¯t deny that it drove the point home. ¡°Wait here.¡± Theo stood up and walked to the door without another word. Minutes passed. The silence stretched on, and I found myself moving to the sofa, sitting down with a quiet sigh. Milo and Victor followed, settling in without a sound. None of us said a word, and I was perfectly fine with it. The quiet was better than awkward chatter, especially after everything that had just happened. My eyes flicked to the three pouches Theo had left on the table. They were just sitting there, filled with what I assumed was the silver we¡¯d been promised. Didn¡¯t he think we might just grab them and run? This Theo guy was either confident or reckless. ¡°Do you know your name?¡± Victor asked, his calm gaze settling on the brown-haired man. Good job, Victor. I was thinking of asking that myself, but I couldn''t find the right moment. The man, who had been nervously glancing around before, now focused on Victor. His expression was less tense, but a faint shadow of confusion lingered in his eyes. ¡°Milio,¡± he said quietly, his tone uncertain. ¡°That¡¯s what it says, at least. Not sure if it¡¯s even right, you know? I just¡­ have to trust it.¡± He looked down, sadness flickering across his face. "You¡¯re looking a lot better now," Victor said, flashing a warm smile. Milio gave a small nod in response, but his demeanor remained distant. Victor hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice steady but laced with conviction. ¡°I know Niru said we shouldn¡¯t share our abilities with anyone, but¡­ I think we should. At least with each other. We¡¯re all we¡¯ve got right now, and knowing each other¡¯s strengths could really help us in the future.¡± His words hung in the air, drawing our attention. I glanced at Milio, whose expression remained conflicted, and then back to Victor. The logic in his suggestion was clear, but I couldn¡¯t ignore the nagging hesitation in my chest. I didn¡¯t want to share my ability. Not yet. I didn¡¯t trust them¡ªnot fully, not now. Maybe in time, as I learned more about who they were and how they acted, I could reconsider. But for now, keeping that part of myself guarded felt like the safest choice. I stayed quiet, observing their reactions as I mulled over Victor¡¯s proposal. ¡°No offense, but I don¡¯t trust any of you,¡± Milio said bluntly, crossing his arms as his wary gaze shifted between us. Victor turned to me, his expression contemplative, before nodding slightly in agreement with Milio sentiment. ¡°Alright,¡± Victor said after a pause, his tone calm but deliberate. ¡°How about this¡ªI¡¯ll start. I¡¯ll tell you my rank and the god I¡¯m linked to.¡± I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden openness. ¡°I¡¯m a C rank,¡± he continued, ¡° by the God of Solitude. My ability is pretty basic¡ªit¡¯s called Amplify. It enhances my physical body.¡± Oh, he was the same rank as me. Not that I knew what it truly meant yet. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªhow low did the ranking system go? Was C close to the bottom, with ranks going down to E? Or did it climb to something like S, or even Z, at the top?. Victor raised his hands slightly, palms outward in a gesture of reassurance. ¡°You don¡¯t have to share anything if you don¡¯t want to. I just wanted to show that I trust you guys and that I hope you¡¯ll trust me in return. We¡¯re all we¡¯ve got out here, and we need to have each other¡¯s backs.¡± I couldn¡¯t deny the sincerity in his words. Victor¡¯s willingness to be vulnerable was disarming in a way, and I felt a flicker of gratitude that he was part of my group. He seemed capable, steady, and genuine¡ªqualities that would be invaluable in a place like this. But even with his gesture, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to share. Not yet. Trust took time, and I wasn¡¯t ready to let my guard down. Instead, I nodded faintly, keeping my thoughts to myself for now. The door creaked open after a few minutes , and Theo returned, carrying a bag slung over his shoulder and a box cradled in his hands. His expression remained unreadable, as if this were just another routine task. We all stood up instinctively, the tension in the room sharpening. He didn¡¯t acknowledge us immediately, instead walking toward the table and placing the box down with deliberate care. ¡°Before you change into your clothes, take this,¡± he said, opening the box. Inside, nestled in soft padding, were three small green crystals. They shimmered faintly, their polished surfaces catching the dim light of the room. Despite their size, they looked valuable¡ªprecious, even. ¡°This is a Veilstone,¡± Theo said, his tone calm and steady. ¡°Go ahead, take it.¡± I reached out cautiously, curious to examine the crystal. The moment my fingers brushed its polished surface, it vanished. No¡ªvanished wasn¡¯t quite right. It felt as though it was pulled into me, absorbed through my skin in a brief flash of light. ¡°Ahhh!¡± I yelped, instinctively jerking my hand back. A faint warmth lingered in my palm where the stone had disappeared. Theo¡¯s gaze shifted to me, his expression as unamused as ever. His sharp eyes were steady, almost bored, as if my reaction was just another minor inconvenience. ¡°Settle down,¡± he said curtly. ¡°It¡¯s not going to hurt you.¡± ¡°What just happened?¡± I asked, staring at my hand, half-expecting the crystal to reappear. ¡°That,¡± Theo began, pointing at me, ¡°was the Veilstone binding to your body. It¡¯s now linked to you. In one month, if you haven¡¯t paid what you owe, it will activate.¡± ¡°Activate?¡± Victor asked, his tone edged with caution. Theo nodded. ¡°The Veilstone will mark you. Black sigils will start appearing on your body¡ªvisible, permanent markings that identify you as a criminal.¡± I stared at him, trying to wrap my head around what he¡¯d just said. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. That¡¯s¡­ insane.¡± ¡°If the marks appear, even if you later pay your debt, they will remain. The only way to avoid them is to pay what you owe before the month is up.¡± This place is insane. I get that the Veilstone is supposed to mark us for identification, but come on¡ªcan¡¯t we catch a break? And of course, they¡¯re dead set on getting their money back. Bunch of money-hungry assholes. Theo, unfazed by my unease, continued in his usual calm tone.¡± There¡¯s a guild on the outskirts of the city. Join it and start with odd jobs, like gathering materials. After a week or so, once you¡¯ve stabilized, try finding steadier work¡ªsomething like carpentry. Don¡¯t be an idiot and run out to become a hunter right away. It¡¯s not as easy as you think.¡± Victor and Milio followed suit, reaching out for their Veilstones. Victor showed no hesitation, but Milio paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the crystal before he finally took it. Just like with me, the crystals were absorbed into their bodies with a faint flash. Neither of them reacted outwardly, though Milio¡¯s face betrayed a flicker of unease. Theo then opened the bag slung over his shoulder, pulling out a pile of clothes that looked like they¡¯d seen better days. The shirts were stained and worn, some coated with dirt, and there were significantly fewer trousers. The smell wasn¡¯t pleasant. It was clear these were hand-me-downs, likely meant for peasants. Not a single piece of undergarment was in sight. I rummaged through the pile and found a white shirt that looked somewhat decent. It wasn¡¯t great, but it was the best option. I swapped out the garment I¡¯d been wearing, pulling the shirt over my head. The others did the same. Victor chose a black vest over a white shirt paired with some slightly dinghy trousers, while Milio ended up in similar attire, though his shirt had a large brown stain splattered across the front. These clothes were awful. They didn¡¯t even have enough decent shirts for everyone. It was like they wanted to remind us of just how low on the ladder we were. Theo motioned for us to follow. ¡°Come on. It¡¯s time for you to go.¡± Without another word, we trailed behind him in silence, the echo of his footsteps guiding us through the dimly lit corridors. His earlier words still weighed on me, pressing against my thoughts. There was a shift in his tone¡ªgraver now, more resolute. "One more thing," he said, his voice edged with something unreadable. "Don¡¯t rely too much on your gifts. The gods¡­ they¡¯re not what they seem." There was something about the way he said it¡ªsomething almost pained. He didn¡¯t elaborate, and from the way his posture stiffened, it was clear he wouldn¡¯t entertain any further questions. Whatever he meant, it was something we¡¯d have to figure out for ourselves. Before long, we arrived at a towering stone structure, its surface engraved with strange symbols, similar to the ones from the room where we had first awakened. Theo stepped aside and gestured toward it. ¡°This is a Gate,¡± Theo explained. ¡°It will transport you to the center of the inner city. From there, head straight, and you¡¯ll eventually reach the outer city. That¡¯s where you¡¯ll want to find a place to stay. If you ask the locals, they¡¯ll point you to an inn. It shouldn¡¯t cost more than a silver for the night.¡± He paused for a moment, his gaze sharp. ¡°And don¡¯t bother looking for a place in the inner city¡ªit¡¯s far too expensive. A single night there would cost you at least 20 silver, which you can¡¯t afford. Stick to the outer city if you want to make your money last.¡± His tone left no room for debate. It wasn¡¯t just advice¡ªit was a warning. His arms crossed over his chest as he regarded us with a quiet intensity. It wasn¡¯t just a farewell¡ªit was a finality, a silent acknowledgment that from this point on, we were on our own. We exchanged glances, a silent confirmation passing between us before we stepped forward. As we neared the Gate, the inscriptions on the stone began to glow, pulsating with a faint shimmer. The moment our feet touched its surface, a sudden burst of light engulfed us¡ªblinding, brilliant, and absolute. In that instant, the world around us disappeared, swallowed by the dazzling radiance as we were pulled into the unknown. The kingdom In front of us stood a grand fountain, its water arching gracefully into the air before cascading down in a soothing rhythm. The crisp scent of seawater drifted through the evening air, carrying a refreshing coolness that mixed with the distant hum of the bustling city. At the center of the fountain stood a statue¡ªa man with a thick mustache, his sword raised high toward the darkening sky. His left hand was missing, either worn away by time or intentionally sculpted that way. Despite its weathered state, the statue exuded an undeniable presence, standing as a silent guardian over the square. I took a moment to take in my surroundings. The buildings that lined the streets were striking, their refined architecture illuminated by the warm glow of street lamps flickering to life. The soft golden light cast long shadows along the cobblestone paths, adding a touch of quiet grandeur to the city¡¯s atmosphere. People moved with ease through the streets, their attire reminiscent of Victorian-era fashion¡ªtailored coats, crisp shirts, and neatly pressed trousers, many adorned with stylish hats. The majority dressed in dark hues, giving the city an air of sophistication as they strolled under the lamps¡¯ gentle glow. Children laughed as they ran along the walkways, weaving playfully between adults, their silhouettes darting past the pools of warm lamplight. The entire scene before me was nothing short of enchanting¡ªa perfect blend of structured elegance and lively energy, as though I had stepped into a painting brought to life beneath the soft embrace of the evening lights. It took me a moment to fully absorb the atmosphere before turning my attention to the others. Victor, too, seemed lost in the ambiance, his gaze sweeping across the cityscape, while Milio''s face twitched briefly, an unreadable expression crossing his features before he returned to his usual neutral state. "Can we start moving?" Milio asked, his eyes shifting between us. "Shouldn''t we wait for the others?" I questioned. "No," he replied firmly. "We don¡¯t know if they were teleported somewhere else or if they¡¯ve already gone ahead. We should hurry to the outer city¡ªI¡¯m assuming this is the inner district." That made sense. The others could have already moved on, and with nightfall approaching, I didn¡¯t want to be wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar streets in the dark. Victor took the first step forward, leading the way, and I soon followed alongside Milio. As we walked, my eyes flickered toward the base of the statue, curious to see if it bore any inscription. Sure enough, words were etched into the stone: "God of the Sun ¨C Lugh." He must be important to the people here if they dedicated such a prominent statue to him. We continued forward, noticing a narrow drainage channel stemming from the fountain, guiding a small stream of water along a carved path. It seemed to lead toward another fountain in the distance, acting almost like a subtle guide through the city. Beyond it, towering above the buildings, stood a massive stone wall. ¡°That must be the outer city,¡± Victor noted, his eyes fixed on the towering barrier ahead. The direction seemed logical. If we wanted to leave the inner district, following the water¡¯s path toward the wall was likely the best option. Without further hesitation, we pressed forward, moving purposefully through the softly lit streets as the city settled into the quiet hum of the evening. ¡°Wait, let me ask to double-check,¡± Victor said before stepping forward. He approached a child sitting near the fountain while Milio and I stayed behind, waiting. I let my gaze wander toward the towering stone wall in the distance. The road leading to the outer city sloped downward, a clear indication that we were in the higher part of the city. I turned back for a moment, taking in the massive castle looming above everything else. Of course, it was positioned at the highest point¡ªallowing those in power to look down on the rest. Despite our sudden appearance at the teleportation site, the townspeople barely spared us a glance. It was as if this was a common occurrence, something so routine that it didn¡¯t warrant any curiosity. However, there was something about us that did draw their attention¡ªour clothes. It was subtle, but I noticed how people avoided coming too close. No one stared outright, but they made sure to give us a wide berth as they walked past. Compared to their refined, Victorian-like attire, our worn, ill-fitted clothing stood out like a stain on a pristine canvas. We didn¡¯t belong here, and from the way they distanced themselves, they wanted us to know it. Victor returned, his expression unreadable. ¡°If we follow the drainage leading from the fountain, we should reach the gate to the outer city,¡± he said. I waited for him to continue, but he hesitated mid-sentence. ¡°And¡­?¡± I prompted. Victor sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± His vague response only made me more curious. I followed his gaze back to the child he had spoken to. The kid was holding his nose with his fingers, eyes squinting slightly as he glanced in our direction. Ahh¡­ so that¡¯s what this was about. He thought he stank. I chose to ignore it and kept walking forward, though I noticed that Victor was subtly adjusting his path, deliberately putting more distance between himself and any passing pedestrians. ¡°Did he say anything else?¡± I asked after a moment. ¡°Like¡­ What''s the deal with the statue?¡± "Not much," Victor admitted. "Just that there are ten fountains in total, and this is the eighth one. Apparently, the statues represent ten gods who were involved in the creation of this country." "The creation of this country¡­ I remember Jacquin mentioning that gods are more active here. Does that mean they actually come down and help humans build civilizations? And if so, what exactly did they do? As we continued walking, I noticed a dimly lit entrance to what looked like an underground bar. A wooden door hung open, revealing a staircase leading down into the depths below. Men shuffled inside, their voices low and rough, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol wafted up from within. The place had an old-world feel to it¡ªfar less advanced than what I was used to. I noticed Victor and Milio shivering from the cold, while I remained unaffected. Maybe it was my blessing at work. Still, not wanting to stand out, I nodded along, pretending to feel the chill just like they did. Eventually, we arrived at the eighth fountain. The statue here was different from the last one¡ªlarger, more imposing. It depicted a woman draped in a long, flowing dress, her face completely concealed beneath a veil. She knelt with her head bowed low, exuding an aura of quiet reverence. I stepped closer to read the inscription at its base: "Goddess of Dreams and Illusions, Vaelora." Something struck me as odd. The language carved into the stone¡­ It looked like English. Wait¡­ were they speaking English in this world too? Jacquin had mentioned that our gifts allowed us to communicate with others, but it seemed they also enabled us to read. That realization sent a strange sensation down my spine. ¡°Are you guys reading this in English?¡± I asked aloud. ¡°Yeah,¡± Victor confirmed, his brows furrowed in mild confusion. Millio shrugged. "I highly doubt they actually speak English. More likely, the gift is translating everything for us in real-time." That made sense. Oddly enough, Millio seemed to be in better spirits since the teleportation¡ªmaybe he was relieved to finally be out of that place. ¡°It¡¯s weird, but I guess there¡¯s no point in thinking too hard about it,¡± I muttered, shaking off the unease. We had bigger things to worry about. We finally arrived at the last statue, and before us stood the figure of a woman, tall and imposing. Her hair was styled in an unusual fashion¡ªpiled high on her head in a conical shape, giving her an almost regal presence. Her expression was blank, unreadable, as if she were lost in thought or gazing beyond the world itself. In one hand, she held a curved weapon, its blade elegantly arched, while a long pole stood beside her, resting against her form. She was draped in a flowing dress that concealed her entire body, adding to her mysterious aura. Etched into the base of the statue was an inscription: "Goddess of the Moon, Selene." Ahead of us loomed an enormous wall, stretching so high it seemed to vanish into the sky. At its base stood a large gate, flanked by a group of guards. Unlike the ones we had seen at the palace, these guards appeared far less imposing. Their attire was simple¡ªworn brown leather suits instead of armor, and each carried a basic spear. They lacked the disciplined presence of the palace guards, looking more like hired sentries than true soldiers. I hoped their lack of proper gear meant they wouldn¡¯t give us any trouble. As we moved forward, I let Victor take the lead¡ªnot because I was shy, but because it was simply easier. He had a way with people, a natural ease in conversation that I lacked. So, I stayed a step behind, letting him handle whatever came next. As we approached, the guards narrowed their eyes, their grip tightening on their spears as they crossed them in front of the gate. "Who are you guys? You don¡¯t look like you¡¯re from around here," one of them said, his gaze sweeping up and down, sizing us up with suspicion. Victor opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the second guard smacked the first one on the shoulder. "You idiot, they¡¯re outworlders. Captain Niru just escorted a group wearing the same ragged clothes not too long ago." The first guard flinched, scowling at his companion. "How was I supposed to know?" "You were supposed to know," the second guard shot back, exasperated. "They literally just came¡ª" The second guard was a woman with short black hair and a small mole on her cheek, while the first guard, a man, had a full head of hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. Their contrasting appearances made for an interesting pair. The woman gave a curt nod. ¡°Head straight down from here. You¡¯ll come across a sign that says ¡®Jatel.¡¯ Go inside¡ªthat¡¯s an inn where you can eat and rest for the night. ¡°What about the guild?¡± Victor asked, his tone laced with impatience. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that yet,¡± she replied firmly. ¡°Just go to the hotel first.¡± Victor looked visibly annoyed, but I simply shrugged and started walking. There was no point in arguing. He hesitated for a moment before following, with Milio trailing behind.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Well, that was easier than I expected. For some reason, I had been bracing for a confrontation or some kind of trouble. As I stepped through the gate, I noticed that the drainage system continued, leading toward yet another fountain further down the road. However, the scene before me was vastly different from the structured elegance of the inner city. The outer city was chaotic¡ªcrowded and sprawling with buildings stacked haphazardly, some towering over the narrow streets below. The air was alive with noise, a mix of voices, laughter, and the distant sound of merchants calling out their wares. Unlike the pristine order of the inner city, this place felt congested, cluttered with people moving in every direction. The streets were noticeably filthier, with the once well-maintained stone paths giving way to uneven, grime-covered cobblestones. The crisp scent of seawater still lingered, but it was now intertwined with the heavy aromas of sweat and food. Right outside the gate, beggars lined the entrance, their hands outstretched as they pleaded for spare coins. Some sat hunched against the walls, their hollow eyes following passersby with quiet desperation. It was a stark contrast to the well-dressed citizens of the inner city, a harsh reminder of the divide between the privileged and the forsaken. This was the true heart of the city¡ªthe place where survival was a struggle, and wealth was a distant dream. We walked forward , while eventually we reached a foundation but there seemed to be no statue like they rest. Next we reached the hotel, in the engraving, hopefully this place would be cheap. "Should we share a room to cut costs?" Victor asked, glancing between us. Milio raised an eyebrow, clearly about to comment, but before he could, I shut it down with a firm, "Not happening." There was no way I was sharing a room with a bunch of strangers¡ªabsolutely not. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically drained, and the last thing I wanted was to constantly be on guard while I slept. Sure, sharing would be cheaper, but I wasn¡¯t willing to sacrifice my peace of mind for a few extra coins. I needed rest, real rest, without worrying about someone hovering nearby. We moved forward, approaching the reception area. The entrance opened into a lively space filled with wooden tables, where patrons sat drinking and chatting in low murmurs. The scent of ale and smoke lingered in the air. To the left, an elderly woman was behind the counter, handing out drinks to customers with practiced ease. Further down, another young girl, likely no older than ten, was helping carry drinks to the tables, though she was clearly struggling with the weight of the trays. As we reached the reception desk, I instinctively fell back, letting Victor handle the talking¡ªjust like before. It was easier that way, and besides, he seemed better at dealing with people than I was. Victor approached the reception desk and requested a room for the night. The receptionist, a young woman with a short bob cut, glanced up from her ledger and responded, "One night is 25 copper, or 30 copper if you want a bath included. If you''re looking for a longer stay, we offer a weekly rate¡ªthree silver for seven nights, bath included." The mention of different currencies caught me off guard. Copper? Silver? I hadn¡¯t even considered how money worked here. Victor, thankfully, was quick on his feet and explained to her that we were outworlders unfamiliar with the local currency. Her eyes widened slightly at the revelation, but she didn¡¯t question it. Instead, she offered a brief explanation, "Fifty copper makes one silver." Smart move on Victor¡¯s part. By waiting until after he got the price to ask about the currency, he made sure they couldn¡¯t change it on us. If he had asked beforehand, they might have taken advantage of our ignorance and charged us more. Now that we knew the conversion rate, we could avoid being scammed. After hearing the prices, it was obvious that staying for just a single night wasn¡¯t worth it. The weekly rate, while not a massive discount, was still a better deal¡ªit saved us 25 copper, which wasn¡¯t much, but every bit counted. Even with that, though, our funds wouldn¡¯t last long. At best, we had about six weeks'' worth of lodging before we were completely broke¡ªand that didn¡¯t even account for food, supplies, or any gear we might need down the line. We needed to start looking for work as soon as possible. We had no choice. The moment morning came, we¡¯d have to start looking for work. I wasn¡¯t about to sit around and let those Veilstones mark me permanently. We all agreed that staying for a week was the best option, so we handed over three silver coins. In return, we were given our keys and a brief rundown of the facilities. The receptionist mentioned that the bath was open, but there were only two communal areas¡ªone for men and one for women. Apparently, it was more of an open shower space with a large bath at the end. Great. So I¡¯d have to strip in front of strangers. Victor seemed eager to wash up immediately, while Milio looked like he just wanted to head straight to his room. I, too, preferred to go to my room¡ªI had other things on my mind. I wanted to test out my gift, to see what kind of abilities it had granted me. Before parting ways, we agreed to meet in the morning. With that settled, we headed off in different directions. My room was on the first floor, and as I stepped inside, I took a moment to take it in. There was no bed¡ªjust a simple mat on the floor. A single towel rested on a small wooden table beside it. A lone cupboard stood against the wall, empty except for dust. That was it. It was bare, but at least it was something. Better than sleeping on the streets, I supposed. ¡° Status¡± Status - Level 1 Mmm¡­ it says Frost Manipulation, but how do I actually activate it? I stretched out my hand, palm open, and focused, trying to will the ability to work. Nothing. I changed my hand posture, clenched my fingers, and concentrated harder¡ªbut still, no ice, no chill, no sign of anything happening. Frustrated, I even muttered the words Frost Manipulation under my breath, hoping that maybe speaking it aloud would trigger something. Nothing. With a sigh, I glanced back at my status screen, searching for any clues I might have missed. Is this some kind of hoax? Am I just imagining that I have this gift? No¡­ that wouldn¡¯t make sense. If it wasn¡¯t real, then how was I able to read the inscriptions on the statues earlier? That had to be part of the gift¡¯s effect. Maybe the problem wasn¡¯t that the ability didn¡¯t exist¡ªmaybe I just couldn¡¯t use it yet. I glanced at my status screen again. Level 1. Could that be it? Maybe I needed to level up first before I could actually use my abilities. And then it hit me. Oh my god. I think I know why it isn¡¯t working. Without wasting another second, I hurried down the stairs and made my way to the bar. The moment I stepped inside, the heavy scent of alcohol, sweat, and wood smoke filled the air, wrapping around me like a thick haze. I had a plan¡ªask the bartender for ice. But then I hesitated. Who the hell asks for just ice? That would be weird, wouldn¡¯t it? What if he refused or just laughed me off? I didn¡¯t want to risk looking like an idiot. Stepping back, I quickly changed my approach. Instead of asking directly, I scanned the room, searching for an easier way to get what I needed. Instead of drawing attention to myself by asking the bartender, I scanned the room, searching for an abandoned cup that might still have some leftover ice. My eyes landed on a half-finished drink sitting on one of the tables, a few melting ice cubes floating inside. Jackpot. The seat was empty, no sign of an owner nearby. I quickly glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then hurried toward the cup, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Just as I was about to reach for it, I felt a small tug on my pants. ¡°Hey! What are you doing, mister?¡± I froze. "That''s not yours," a small voice piped up. A sudden chill crept up my spine, my muscles tensing involuntarily. My fingers twitched, my breath hitched, and a slight shudder ran through my body before I could stop it. Looking down, I saw the young girl who had been serving drinks earlier. She barely reached my waist, her big eyes staring up at me with suspicion. Thank god, it was just the kid. Maybe she''d let this slide. Thinking fast, I put on my best smile and handed the cup to her. "I was just trying to help. You looked like you were having trouble." She blinked at me, then at the cup in her hands. For a moment, I thought she might call me out, but instead, she gave me a bright, innocent smile. "Thank you, mister!" she chirped. "But please don¡¯t disturb my work, okay?" With that, she turned and walked off, carefully balancing the cup as she carried it away. I exhaled in relief. In my palm, two small ice cubes rested¡ªthe ones I had managed to grab before she interrupted me. That was close. Maybe I could have just asked to borrow some ice, but I didn¡¯t want to seem weird. Besides, this outcome worked in my favor. Without wasting any more time, I hurried back to my room. I stared at the ice melting in my palm, concentrating as hard as I could. Then, finally, I felt it¡ªa shift, a connection. The once-transparent ice cubes in my hand began to change, their color deepening into a striking shade of purple. Their shape, too, was no longer fixed. Slowly, they shifted, elongating until they formed a small, sharp knife. So that was it. The description had said Frost Manipulation, not Creation. I should have realized it earlier¡ªcreating ice from nothing would have been ridiculously overpowered. My ability wasn¡¯t about generating ice, only controlling what already existed. I turned the blade over in my hand, inspecting it closely. The purple hue was unusual¡ªunlike any normal ice I had seen before. Was this a result of the Goddess of Bitter Chill¡¯s influence? Could there be different types of ice, unique to the deity they originated from? One thing was certain: my ice was different. Even as I held it, it barely melted, its edges staying sharp and solid. It had a dangerous feel to it, as if it could genuinely be used as a weapon. I experimented further, shifting its shape again¡ªthis time into something harmless, like a pen. It worked, but I noted something important: the transformation wasn¡¯t instant. It took roughly five seconds for the ice to shift into my desired form. That delay could be a problem in battle. I let out a sigh. At the moment, this ability felt¡­ useless. Unless I was constantly surrounded by ice, I couldn¡¯t do much. Carrying ice around with me wasn¡¯t exactly practical either. Victor¡¯s ability, Amplify, had clear practical benefits. Enhancing his physical strength could be useful in countless ways. In contrast, my ability¡ªshaping ice¡ªfelt limited, a situational trick rather than a true advantage. Then there was Niru. When he saved me, I was certain he had swapped my position with a pen. That had to be his ability¡ªSpatial Swap or something similar. If that were the case, it was undeniably more useful. I wanted to test something else. Placing the ice-formed pen on the ground, I focused and attempted to reshape it. It worked¡ªbut much slower than when it was in my hand. The transformation took longer, eventually morphing into a small sphere. Curious, I grabbed a fresh piece of untouched ice and placed it on the ground. This time, no matter how much I concentrated, I couldn¡¯t manipulate it at all. Interesting¡­ I was starting to understand the mechanics of my ability. Ice that I had already manipulated could be altered again, even without direct contact. But untouched ice¡ªnatural ice¡ªhad to be in my grasp first before I could exert control over it. Another discovery: I could only manipulate my ice as long as I had a clear line of sight. To test this, I closed my eyes and attempted to shift its shape again¡ªnothing happened. It confirmed that I needed to see my purple ice in order to control it from a distance. Well, since this purple ice was clearly different from regular ice, I might as well give it a name. Bitter Ice¡ªfitting, considering it came from the Goddess of Bitter Chill. I could only hope that when I leveled up, my abilities would improve. Because right now¡­ this power felt far too limited to be of any real use. That left one more thing to test: how long this bitter ice lasted. I placed a piece next to my bed and observed it. Unlike regular ice, it melted at a much slower rate, likely due to the influence of the Goddess of Bitter Chill. I had no way to track the exact time, but it was roughly 30 minutes before the last remnants of the ice finally disappeared, leaving only a small puddle in its place. I attempted to manipulate it again, but once it had melted, it was completely beyond my control. Sigh. Well, at least it was better than nothing. I couldn¡¯t deny it¡ªI felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing I had something. This ability, while limited for now, was still mine. It was definitely better than nothing. I already had a few ideas on how I could make use of it, but for the time being, there wasn¡¯t much I could do. With that experiment done, I grabbed the towel from the table and made my way to the bath. It was time to wash off the exhaustion of the day. As I reached for the door handle, a sudden knock echoed through the room, stopping me in my tracks. Bathhouse Just as my fingers brushed against the door handle, a sharp knock rang through the room, freezing me in place. My head snapped toward the door, heart pounding. Had the staff figured out I¡¯d taken the ice? Were they here to confront me, to demand payment for something so trivial? My mind spiraled with worst-case scenarios, but I forced myself to take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. After a brief hesitation, I stepped forward and pulled the door open. Relief washed over me. It wasn¡¯t about the ice. Standing there was a man with medium-length brown hair, slightly tousled and falling just over his forehead. His haircut was simple, unremarkable, but the faint stubble on his chin hinted at the early stages of a beard. His dark eyes met mine with an unreadable expression, his posture relaxed yet purposeful. It was Millio. "... Is it okay if I come in?" Millio''s voice was even, his expression unreadable. I hesitated for half a second before stepping aside. "Uh¡­ yeah, sure." Damn. Why did I always make things awkward? Milio walked past me into the room, his movements steady and deliberate. I closed the door behind him, turning to face him. It was strange¡ªMilio didn¡¯t seem like the type to initiate conversations, especially not like this. What could he possibly want? "I spoke with one of the cleaning ladies earlier," he started. "She told me a bit about this world. Apparently, there are four major kingdoms in this country. Do you remember Jacquinn mentioning this place was called the Amepotera Kingdom?" "Uh¡­ yeah," I answered, though, in truth, I had almost completely forgotten that detail. Milio nodded slightly before continuing. "Well, according to her, there¡¯s a rumor floating around. The kingdom in the north, Thiles, is supposedly researching ways to travel between worlds." He paused, letting the weight of that statement settle before adding, "Once we clear our debt next month, I plan on heading north to check it out. I wanted to ask if you¡¯d come with me." I blinked. "You''re planning to leave?" "Yeah," he said without hesitation. "I already talked to Victor. He has no interest in returning to our world. But I wanted to hear your answer." So Millio wanted to go back. It made sense¡ªhe had no memories of this world, no connections to it. Of course, he¡¯d want to find a way home. For him, this place was nothing more than an unknown, dangerous land. But I didn¡¯t feel the same. I had no ties to my old life, no family waiting for me, no future worth returning to. This world, for all its uncertainties, was a fresh start. A second chance. Something I never had before. "I don¡¯t want to go back," I said after a beat of silence. "But I¡¯ll go with you to the north¡ªif I don¡¯t have other plans by then." Millio''s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he studied me. "I don¡¯t get it. Why wouldn¡¯t you want to go back? It doesn¡¯t make sense." His voice had a sharp edge now, frustration creeping into his tone. "There¡¯s a real chance we could die here. You almost died the moment we arrived, and you still think this place is better than our world?" He jabbed a finger in my direction as if trying to shake some sense into me. I met his gaze without flinching. "There¡¯s nothing for me there." Silence stretched between us. He looked like he wanted to argue, to pry into my reasons, but in the end, he just stood there. The air between us felt heavy, filled with things neither of us said aloud. Finally, his expression shifted, something softer slipping through the frustration. "I don¡¯t have any memories," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But I wonder¡ªwhat were my parents like? Did I have siblings? Was there anyone waiting for me?" His hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Ever since that incident in the palace, I¡¯ve felt like this world isn¡¯t safe. And honestly¡­ I just want to get the hell out of here." I understood his reasoning. Unlike me, he wanted to return to something familiar, even if he didn¡¯t remember it. But I couldn¡¯t say the same. If I went back, all that was waiting for me was a dead-end job and a life of mediocrity, working myself into the ground until I was too old to do anything else. "I¡¯ll help you get back," I said, voice steady, "but I¡¯m not going with you." Millio scoffed, shaking his head. "You¡¯re insane." Maybe I was. But I''d rather take my chances in this world than return to the life I left behind. He didn¡¯t argue anymore. Instead, he stepped toward the door, pausing for just a moment before glancing over his shoulder. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice quieter this time. "I¡¯ll take the help." Then he was gone. I let out a slow breath before stepping outside, making my way toward the bathhouse. The receptionist had said it was on the second floor. I could still feel the weight of our conversation lingering in the air, but for now, I let the thought of hot water and steam distract me. I sighed and stepped outside, heading toward the bathhouse as the receptionist had instructed. She mentioned it was on the second floor. Upon reaching the second floor, I found a large open doorway leading into the bathhouse. Just inside, a man sat behind a table, positioned in front of two separate entrances¡ªone likely leading to the men¡¯s section and the other to the women¡¯s. I approached hesitantly. "Male showers?" He barely looked up, merely extending his hand in expectation. Realizing he wanted my key, I fumbled for it and held it up for verification. With a quick nod, he gestured toward the entrance, signaling that I could proceed. Stepping inside, I was met with a long row of open cupboards. Some were empty, while others held neatly folded clothes. The space stretched far, but something immediately felt off. I scanned the area, looking for a private changing room. There was none. Wait¡­ was I supposed to change here? Out in the open? That couldn¡¯t be right. I hesitated, glancing around. The area was eerily empty, yet there was no enclosed space for privacy. Maybe I was missing something. Determined to find a better option, I walked past the cupboards and entered the next section of the bathhouse. What I saw made me freeze in place. The room was lined with shower heads¡ªat least twenty of them¡ªall affixed to the walls like something out of a prison bath. Steam curled through the air, mixing with the sounds of running water. And then¡­ I saw them. Several men stood beneath the showers, completely naked, casually washing up as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I backed out immediately, retreating into the cupboard area. Were people really this comfortable exposing themselves in public? I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. So, this was how it worked. There was no private changing space, no partitions, no stalls. Just an open cupboard, an open bath, and zero modesty. I hesitated, glancing around again. Still no one nearby. Fine. I quickly changed but kept a towel wrapped around my waist. There was no way I was walking in there fully exposed. I didn''t care how normal it was for everyone else¡ªI had limits. I stepped into the shower room, keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead. Without bothering to glance around, I made a beeline for the nearest showerhead. My fingers found the cool metal button, and I pressed it without hesitation, bracing myself for the rush of water. ¡°Ahhh¡ª!¡± I nearly jumped from the shock. The water was ice-cold, sending a shiver straight through me. Great. Just great. I didn''t want to shower without my towel, so I kept it wrapped around my waist. Of course, that meant it became completely drenched, clinging uncomfortably to my skin. I stood there stiffly, arms crossed over my chest, trying to endure the awkwardness. I glanced around and noticed the other men using some sort of soap. Right¡­ I hadn¡¯t brought anything with me. Well, that was an oversight. After about five minutes of standing under the freezing water, I decided I¡¯d had enough. The real reason I came here was for the bath. That was the part I was actually looking forward to. Moving toward another entrance, I stepped through and found myself in a massive bathhouse. The first thing I noticed was the water¡ªa light green hue, steaming gently in the dim lighting. The air was thick with warmth and the scent of minerals, instantly more inviting than the frigid showers. Despite the number of people already soaking inside, the bath was large enough that there was still plenty of space. I quietly made my way to a corner that seemed relatively unoccupied. The moment I stepped into the water, my body reacted instantly. A deep, almost involuntary exhale left my lips as the warmth wrapped around me, chasing away the lingering chill. Goosebumps prickled across my skin as I slumped back, resting against the edge. The steam was thick enough to obscure the figures around me, which was a relief¡ªI didn¡¯t particularly want to make eye contact with strangers while half-naked in a communal bath. For the first time in a long time , I felt genuinely relaxed. I sank further into the water, letting the heat soak into my muscles. This place¡­ was incredible. How had they even come up with something like this? I had never experienced a bathhouse before, but I was already a fan. "You do realize you''re supposed to enter the bath without the towel, right?" "Ah¡ªhah¡­" I was too lost in the sheer comfort of the bathhouse to care. The warmth seeped deep into my bones, melting away every ounce of tension. My body felt weightless, my mind drifting in the steam-filled haze. Then, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Blinking lazily, I turned my head, still caught in the blissful daze, and found myself looking at a man with red hair parted in the middle, draping over his face like curtains. "Vic?" Victor arched an eyebrow before settling into the water a few spaces away. His shoulders slumped as he let out a long, satisfied sigh, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the bath¡¯s embrace. "I saw you here, so I figured I''d join you. Hope you don¡¯t mind." "Ah¡­ hah," I murmured, letting my head tilt back against the bath¡¯s edge. The heat curled around me, soothing every inch of my body. For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt truly at ease. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself a moment of pure, uninterrupted rest. The silence stretched between us, comfortable and unforced. It felt good¡ªreally good¡ªto just exist without worrying about survival, debts, or the unknown dangers lurking ahead. Thank god we came here. It was worth every bit of the three silver. A thought lingered in the back of my mind¡ªif the bathhouse in the outer city was this good, what were the facilities like in the inner city? Everything there was supposedly more advanced, more luxurious¡­ and, of course, more expensive. I leaned back, letting the warmth of the water seep deeper into my muscles. Yeah¡­ I needed to start making money fast. The sooner I could afford to move there, the better. Did Millio talk to you?" Victor asked, his tone indifferent, as if the answer didn¡¯t really matter to him. "Yeah..." I muttered, sinking further into the water until only my head remained above the surface. "I told him I¡¯d help him get back to our world, but I¡¯m not going with him."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Victor tilted his head slightly, watching me. "Why not?" I exhaled, staring at the ripples in the bath. "There¡¯s nothing for me there. Here¡­ maybe I can be something. Maybe I can make something of myself." A brief silence settled between us, heavy yet unspoken. Then, I finally turned my gaze toward him. "What about you?" Victor¡¯s expression remained unchanged, but there was something about the way he sat¡ªrigid, almost restrained. His voice was quiet, yet firm. "There¡¯s something I need to do.. only then will I truly be free." I studied him carefully, the weight behind his words lingering in the air. What did he mean by free? For a moment, I wondered if he was like me¡ªsomeone with nothing waiting for him in the other world, someone desperate to carve out a new path here. But something about him felt different. Then, the image of the number 777 burned into his wrist surfaced in my mind. What did it mean? I couldn''t shake the feeling that Victor was hiding something. Victor barely moved, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Noticing my stare, he finally muttered, "What?" His tone was indifferent, but I could tell he was aware of my lingering gaze. "I was just wondering where the other group is," I said, glancing around absentmindedly. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of uncertainty. The more familiar faces we had, the better. We hadn¡¯t seen the others since we were separated, and if they were here¡ªhopefully staying for the same week as us¡ªwe could at least figure out how to repay our debt together. Victor let out a low hum of agreement. "Hopefully, they¡¯re here..." A pause followed before he added, "Did you talk to anyone? Pick up any information?" I froze slightly at his question. I turned to him, blinking in realization. Both Victor and Milio had already started gathering information about this world. Meanwhile, I hadn¡¯t even thought about it. I had been too caught up in adjusting, trying to process everything, and hadn¡¯t considered taking a more proactive approach. For a split second, I considered telling Victor what Millio had told me¡ªjust to save face. But he probably already knew. No point in pretending. "...No," I admitted reluctantly. "What did you find out?" Victor leaned back slightly, his tone calm but informative. He explained that he had been gathering intel about the area, and one of the biggest things he discovered was the significance of the statues in the inner city. They weren¡¯t just decorative monuments¡ªthey were representations of the ten A-Rank gods that resided in this world. Beyond them, only two S-Rank gods were known to exist, while the number of B, C, D, and E-Rank gods was so large that people had lost count. He also managed to locate the guild¡ªone of the first things he had set out to find. However, when it came to understanding how it actually worked, he ran into a wall. No one he spoke to seemed to have enough knowledge to explain its structure or function. I couldn''t help but be a little impressed. He was already gathering useful information while I had just been going with the flow. Still, a part of me felt an unexpected sense of relief knowing that my god wasn¡¯t at the very bottom of the ranking system. It was strange¡ªinsignificant, even¡ªbut for some reason, that small fact filled me with a subtle sense of pride. Victor¡¯s god was also C-Rank, the same as mine, which made me wonder¡ªhow rare was it for someone to be connected to an A-Rank god? What exactly determined these ranks? And, more importantly, how did a god ascend from one rank to another? From what I had gathered, my goddess, Nyvara, wanted to ascend to a higher rank . That much was clear. But it also seemed like she planned to use me as a means to achieve that goal. The thought unsettled me. I also began to wonder about the leveling system of our gifts. Was it like a game where I had to gain experience?The simplest method I could think of was combat. Did I need to kill something to level up? Curious, I asked if he had any idea how the leveling system for our gifts worked, but Victor Victor shook his head. "I didn¡¯t ask," he admitted. "I don¡¯t want people to know I¡¯m gifted." That struck me as odd. Back at the palace, it seemed like all outworlders were gifted. Could he really keep up that lie forever? It felt like something that would fall apart eventually. I frowned slightly. "Aren¡¯t all outworlders gifted?" "Supposedly, yeah. But I don¡¯t think that kind of information is made public..." Victor mused, his voice thoughtful. "Honestly, I think it¡¯s because outworlders are rare here. Meeting one probably only happens once in a blue moon." That made sense, but it left me wondering¡ªhow long had people from our world been coming here? Every year, millions of people go missing. Was this where some of them ended up? And if so, when did it all begin? How many generations of outworlders had been pulled into this place before us? After ten minutes of soaking in the bath, we finally decided to leave. Victor, far braver than me, had no problem strolling in without a towel. But when it came time to step out of the bathhouse, completely exposed to the open space? Yeah, that was a whole different level of awkward. As we re-entered the shower area, a new problem hit me. How the hell was I supposed to dry myself when my towel was already soaked? Was I just supposed to stand there like an idiot and wait until I air-dried? I hesitated before turning to Victor. "Uh¡­" He glanced at me, then at the dripping mess of fabric wrapped around my waist, and let out an amused scoff. "You''re an idiot, you know that?" Harsh. But¡­ not inaccurate. Victor shook his head before tossing something my way. "Here, use this. I brought an extra." Relief washed over me as I caught the dry towel. "You¡¯re a lifesaver." After drying off and changing back into my clothes, I nodded to Victor. "See you in the morning." He gave a simple nod before heading off in his own direction. As I made my way back to my room, a strange sense of ease settled over me. This world was still unfamiliar, still filled with unknowns. But for the first time since arriving, I wasn¡¯t dreading tomorrow. Just as I was about to open the door to my room, I caught a glimpse of someone carrying a stack of plates so tall that I couldn¡¯t even see their face. From the size of their frame, it looked like a short person. As they walked by, I recognized them¡ªit was the same young girl I had run into earlier. She seemed determined, but I couldn''t ignore the heavy huffs and puffs escaping her lips. I hesitated, glancing between her and my path forward. Maybe she didn¡¯t need my help. She did tell me not to interrupt her, after all. Sigh. I¡¯m too nice, aren¡¯t I? Without another thought, I hurried over and grabbed some of the plates from the top of her pile. "You''re going to drop these if you keep going like that. Let me help," I said, taking more than half. "Ahh¡­ No, no, no! I can do it, mister!" she protested, her big brown eyes staring up at me in defiance. I ignored her and started heading downstairs. "Mister, I can do it¡­ Ahh! You¡ªyou''re the weird one!" "Weird?" I raised an eyebrow. Maybe I should just give the plates back. Actually, why were these plates even upstairs? Isn¡¯t the dining area downstairs? "Ahh, sorry! But I can do it, weird mister!" she insisted, walking alongside me. I chose to ignore her. Something told me that if I responded, she¡¯d just keep calling me that. I glanced at her, taking in her disheveled appearance. Her shoulder-length brown hair was unkempt, and her apron bore stains of dirt and food. Smudges of grime streaked her round face, giving her a slightly worn-out look. "What''s your name?" I asked. "Give¡­ me¡­ the plates¡­ or Aunty will get mad," she muttered, her words slow and deliberate as she descended the stairs. Her tone was sharp, edged with impatience, as if she were bracing for trouble. "Relax," I said, keeping my grip on the plates. "How about I hand them back to you just before we reach her? That way, you get the credit." She blinked, hesitating before nodding. "Ahh¡­ okay," she mumbled, a faint trace of relief in her voice. Damn, this girl was something else. I looked ahead and noticed that most people had already left. Only a few remained at the front, scattered here and there. I continued walking but soon realized¡ªI had no idea where to go. Stopping in my tracks, I waited for her to lead. For some reason, she stopped too, staring at me. ¡°Hurry up, we need to go,¡± she said, her face twisted in annoyance. ¡°I don¡¯t know where to go.¡± ¡°Ahh, you¡¯re right¡­ follow me,¡± she said before quickly hurrying ahead. As we moved forward, I glanced around at the people in the area. Something felt off. None of them looked like ordinary civilians. Many were dressed similarly to the guards we had encountered in the inner city, clad in leather armor. In fact, if I was being honest, I didn¡¯t see a single person in casual civilian clothing. Was this place some kind of hotspot for adventurers? "Look, boys! The plates are bigger than she is!" "You''re right," another voice chimed in, followed by bursts of laughter from the table ahead. I glanced over and spotted a bald man clad in black leather armor, a metal chain draped across his chest. Beside him sat two others¡ªboth sporting full-grown beards and dark brown hair¡ªchuckling as they exchanged looks. Turning my attention back to the girl, I caught the slight tremble in her lips. She was looking away from them, her expression tense, a deep frown etched on her face. It looked like she was on the verge of tears. They were mocking her. A flicker of irritation stirred in me, but I was smart enough to keep my head down. Getting involved with a group like that wasn¡¯t worth the trouble, especially when I knew nothing about them or the kind of power they held in this world. As we passed, I stole a quick glance in their direction before shifting my focus back to the path ahead, choosing to walk behind the girl. Picking a fight with three men wasn¡¯t a smart idea. The best thing to do was ignore them. People like that existed everywhere¡ªarrogant, drunk on whatever sense of power they thought they had. The safest bet was to keep moving. "What are you looking at?" the bald man sneered, his gaze locking onto me. Was he talking to me? No way, right? I wasn¡¯t even doing anything. I kept my eyes forward, ignoring him. Just as I was about to move past, one of his lackeys stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "You ignoring the boss?" He was around the same height as me, maybe a little bulkier. I met his stare with a calm, unreadable expression, then glanced over at the bald man. "Can I just put the plates back?" I asked flatly, my voice devoid of any real concern. I¡¯d been in situations like this before¡ªpeople trying to throw their weight around, puffing themselves up, hoping to get a reaction. It was a game I had no interest in playing. "What?" the lackey barked, clearly offended by my indifference. "Leave him," the bald man interrupted, raising a hand to silence his lackey. His gaze lingered on me for a moment before he smirked. "Go put the plates back. I know you. There¡¯s something I want to talk about when you return." The lackey stepped aside, and I continued walking, following the girl into the kitchen. She hurried inside, setting the plates down before turning to me with teary eyes. "I¡¯m sorry," she mumbled, staring at the floor. "It¡¯s my fault¡­ It¡¯s always me." I sighed, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair before crouching slightly to meet her gaze. "It¡¯s okay," I said with a small smile. "We¡¯re just gonna talk, that¡¯s all. Can you do me a favor and get me some ice? It helps cool me down." The girl blinked at me, puzzled. "You¡¯re a weird one, mister," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. Still, she quickly scurried away, returning moments later with a handful of ice cubes. I took the ice cubes, slipping them into my pocket. With a focused thought, I willed them to change¡ªwithin seconds, they shifted, reshaping into a small, sharp ice knife in my grasp. Better to be prepared. They didn¡¯t seem openly hostile, but I wasn¡¯t taking any chances. With a quiet breath, I turned and walked back toward their table. The bald man gestured to the seat across from him, and as I approached, the two lackeys shifted aside, making space for me to sit between them. "You''re an outworlder, aren''t you?" the bald man asked, leaning forward, his gaze sharp as he studied me. "Yeah, I am," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. A slow grin spread across his face as he let out a chuckle. "Well, well¡­ It¡¯s rare to meet one of your kind." His laughter grew louder, drawing the attention of his lackeys. Then, with an exaggerated smirk, he added, "So tell me¡­ is it true that outworlders eat shit?" I stared at him, unimpressed, choosing not to dignify that with a response. It was clearly meant to be a joke¡ªor rather, an attempt to provoke me. The bald man caught on to my annoyance, his smirk widening as he leaned back. "Relax, kid. I¡¯m just messing with you. Learn to take a joke." His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was testing me. Then, he tilted his head slightly, his grin never fading. "Do you know who I am?" I frowned slightly. How the hell was I supposed to know who he was? Was he someone important? Dangerous? Damn it. I slipped my hands into my pockets, fingers grazing the cold edges of my ice-formed knife, ready for anything. A tense silence hung between us before I finally spoke. "No." The bald man smirked, clearly amused, and tapped the badge pinned to his chest. It bore the Roman numeral III. "Third-class hunter, Dunstan," he introduced himself, voice laced with arrogance. Hunter. That was a new term. Another ranking system, maybe? Was third-class the highest, or was it somewhere in the middle? He didn¡¯t seem like someone who was gifted, but I wasn¡¯t ruling anything out. Dunstan watched me carefully, his smirk widening. "I can see it in your face¡ªyou don¡¯t even know what that means. Knew it. You outworlders really are dumb as rocks," he chuckled, running a hand over his bald head while his lackeys burst into laughter. Annoyance flickered in my chest. They were mocking me. Not that I cared much about their opinions, but something about their smugness irritated me. "What do you want?" I said flatly. "If you¡¯ve got nothing to say, I¡¯m leaving." I stood, turning to walk away, but before I could take a step, one of the lackeys grabbed my wrist. I stopped, staring at him, then flicked my gaze toward Dunstan. "Where do you think you''re going?" the lackey sneered, his grip tightening around my arm. I yanked my hand back with little effort, breaking his hold. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by my strength. He was about to stand, probably ready to escalate things, but¡ª "Wait, boys," Dunstan drawled lazily, waving a hand. "No need to get violent. I¡¯m just saying¡­ I know you outworlders get a fat sum of money from those noble families." His grin sharpened. "If you need information, I can help¡ªfor a price. Want to know how the guild works? Or maybe you¡¯re curious about the Eight Great Families?" I wasn¡¯t interested. "Not buying," I said bluntly, stepping away. Dunstan¡¯s smirk twitched. "You¡¯ll regret it," he warned. I didn¡¯t even look back. I kept walking. What a bunch of assholes. They thought they could scam me out of my money¡ªprobably expected me to be clueless and desperate. I wasn¡¯t interested in dealing with bottom-feeders, especially not someone who enjoyed picking on children. I stepped into my room and shut the door behind me, pausing for a moment before double-checking the lock¡ªonce, then again. Letting out a slow breath, I turned toward the bed and sank onto it, staring up at the ceiling. The day had been going well¡­ until it wasn¡¯t. I hated that feeling¡ªpowerlessness. It reminded me too much of my old life, where I had no control, no way to change anything. My fists clenched involuntarily, frustration simmering beneath the surface. I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to let it go. Dwelling on it wouldn¡¯t change anything. Tomorrow will be better. It had to be. With that final thought, I shut my eyes and willed myself to sleep. Guild I had no idea what time it was when I woke up, but it wasn¡¯t by choice. The noise outside was impossible to ignore¡ªit sounded like a battlefield. The rhythmic clatter of horse hooves echoed through the streets, blending with the chaotic shouts of merchants and townsfolk. Even from the first floor, it was loud enough to jolt me out of sleep. And then there was the smell. A rich, savory aroma drifted through the air, seeping into my room and wrapping around me like an invisible lure. My stomach clenched, letting out a low, hungry growl. My mouth watered instinctively as I imagined sinking my teeth into something warm and filling. It had been too long since my last proper meal. Maybe they served breakfast here. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t cost too much. I got up and stared at the small hole that I made in the cupboard, I was going to have to pay for that aren''t I. I clenched my fist , I let my anger get the better of me again. Dam it I got up and stared at the small hole I had made in the cupboard. Great. Just great. I was probably going to have to pay for that, wasn¡¯t I? A frustrated sigh escaped me as I clenched my fists. I let my anger get the better of me again. I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. There was nothing I could do about it now. Dwelling on it wouldn¡¯t fix anything. The only thing I could do was move on and do better. Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside my room, the cool morning air brushing against my face. As I walked, I wondered where people washed up around here. I recalled seeing an area on the first floor that seemed to be designated for toilets, so I assumed that was my best bet. A new thought crossed my mind. What did people here even use to clean their teeth? Did they even brush at all? Hopefully, they did. The last thing I wanted was to walk around with disgusting breath all day. As I stepped into the toilet area, my eyes landed on an elderly man hunched over one of the sinks, brushing his teeth. His toothbrush immediately caught my attention¡ªit had an unusually large wooden handle, and the bristles extended longer than any toothbrush I¡¯d ever seen. The entire thing looked about as long as my forearm. Beside the sink sat a small white cylinder. Toothpaste? Or at least, this world¡¯s version of it. I made my way to the sink next to him, splashing cold water onto my face as I mulled over my predicament. I didn¡¯t have a toothbrush. That much was obvious. But did I really need one? As long as I had the paste, it should be fine¡­ right? I casually lingered, waiting for the old man to leave, hoping he¡¯d forget the paste and leave it behind. A few minutes later, he set his brush down on the sink and shuffled toward the toilet behind him, leaving the small white cylinder unattended. Perfect. I snatched it up and turned it over in my hands. Written on the side were the words: "Tooth Soap." Tooth soap? Well, that explained why the paste looked a bit different from what I was used to. "Sorry, old man. I promise I¡¯ll only borrow this for today," I muttered under my breath as I twisted the container open and dabbed a bit onto my finger. Without a second thought, I started brushing my teeth with my finger. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it was better than nothing. The taste was strange¡ªbitter, a little chalky, but not unbearable. After a few moments, I placed the white cylinder back on the sink, just in time for the old man to return. He barely spared me a glance as he picked up only his toothbrush and left, leaving the tooth soap right where it was. So¡­ it was free to use? Lucky me. I made my way downstairs and immediately spotted Victor sitting alone at a table, quietly eating. His focus was on his meal¡ªsome kind of soup with a piece of bread in his hand¡ªbut as I approached, he glanced up at me. Curious, I asked, "Did you brush your teeth?" Victor''s expression shifted, looking almost offended. "Of course I did." His tone was firm, as if the question itself was an insult. I smirked. "Did you use the public toothpaste?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "No way. I went outside and bought my own toothbrush and toothpaste. Didn¡¯t care how much it cost." I raised an eyebrow at that. It seemed like Victor took pride in keeping himself well-groomed, something I hadn¡¯t really considered before. He wasn¡¯t just surviving¡ªhe was making sure he lived with some level of dignity. He asked me what I used for a toothbrush, I hesitated and then said my finger. He asked me what I used for a toothbrush. I hesitated for a moment before reluctantly admitting, "My finger." Victor immediately recoiled. "That''s disgusting." He shook his head, looking genuinely disappointed. "You need to buy a toothbrush after we go to the guild." I groaned. "Oh, come on. I saved money, and my teeth are clean!" Victor wasn¡¯t convinced. I tried to defend myself. "I heard somewhere that brushing with your finger is actually good for your teeth." Victor gave me a look that screamed disbelief. Deep down, I had to admit¡­ he probably had a point. Fine. I¡¯d buy a toothbrush. My gaze drifted to his food. The soup smelled incredible¡ªwarm, rich, and savory. The bread in his hand looked fresh, soft on the inside with a crisp, golden crust. "Cheapest thing on the menu," Victor said, noticing my stare. "Five copper." Five copper? Not bad. At this point, anything edible sounded good. Deciding to get the same meal, I turned toward the counter¡ªonly to feel a small, familiar tug on my trousers.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. I glanced down and immediately recognized the young girl from before, her small hands clutching onto my trousers. She hesitated, her lips pressing together as if struggling to find the right words. Still gripping onto my clothes, she finally spoke in a quiet voice. "Did they¡­ hit you?" Her wide eyes searched my face, concern evident in her expression. I let out a small chuckle at her concern¡ªit was nice to have someone worry about me for once. "No, of course not," I reassured her with a confident grin. "Don''t worry about me. I''m actually pretty strong, you know." I said it mostly to ease her mind, hoping she¡¯d see me as capable. She studied me for a moment before releasing her grip. "Was it my fault?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not at all," I said, ruffling her hair gently. A small smile crept onto her face, and with that, she turned and dashed back toward the kitchen. I walked over to the counter to order my soup. The setup was simple¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just a bar for alcohol, but also a place to order food. Customers had to provide their table number, pay upfront, and then wait for a server to deliver their meal. After glancing back at Victor¡¯s table, I noticed the Roman numeral IV engraved on it. I told the bartender my order, handed over the payment, and then returned to my seat. A few minutes later, a waiter arrived with my food. At first glance, the meal actually looked pretty good. The soup had chunks of potato floating in a greyish broth, and a single piece of bread was placed beside it. As I took my first bite, a wave of warmth spread through me. The combination of the soft bread and the savory soup was perfect. I dug in immediately, savoring every bite. I glanced over at Victor, expecting him to feel the same. Instead, he looked like he was barely tolerating it. "You don¡¯t like it?" I asked. He sighed, stabbing at his food. "No salt, no pepper. This is just hot water with a weird grey tint. The only thing saving it is the bread¡ªit¡¯s crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. That part¡¯s decent." I frowned slightly. "I think it''s good," I said, taking another bite. Victor shook his head, a look of quiet disappointment crossing his face, as if he had expected me to take his side. But I wasn¡¯t about to insult food¡ªespecially when it tasted fine to me. Besides, if Victor ended up leaving leftovers, that was free food for me. No complaints there. We ate in silence for a few minutes until I noticed Millio trudging down the stairs, heading toward us. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed¡ªhis hair was a tangled mess, and sleep still clung to his half-lidded eyes. Judging by his appearance, he hadn¡¯t even bothered washing his face before coming down. As he sat down, I asked him the same question I had asked Victor earlier. "Did you use the public toothpaste?" I wasn¡¯t expecting much, but part of me wanted someone to relate to¡ªsomeone who wouldn¡¯t judge me for brushing my teeth with my finger. It really wasn¡¯t that bad! Funnily enough, Millio¡¯s response was even worse than I expected. "I didn¡¯t brush my teeth. Didn¡¯t feel like it," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. Victor and I exchanged looks. That was all the fuel Victor needed. He launched into a full-on lecture about hygiene, stressing the importance of dental care and how taking care of yourself reflected your discipline and character. Milio, to his credit, endured it for about ten minutes before he finally gave in. "Fine! I¡¯ll go brush my damn teeth!" he huffed, stomping off. I called after him. "Just use your finger¡ªit works!" Victor sighed heavily, clearly unimpressed but choosing not to comment. In his mind, even a poor substitute was better than nothing. Milio eventually returned, looking much neater than before, and went up to the counter to order the same meal that Victor and I had. To Victor¡¯s shock, Milio actually liked the food. "You seriously like this?" Victor asked, staring at him like he had just admitted to enjoying raw dirt. Milio shrugged. "Yeah, it¡¯s not bad." Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. "What kind of food were you eating before? If you think this is good, then I¡¯m seriously questioning your past meals." That reaction all but confirmed something I had already suspected¡ªVictor probably came from a rich household. The way he took care of himself, the way he criticized the food, even the way he spoke sometimes¡­ It all fits the picture. He acted like an old noble stuck in a peasant¡¯s world. As Millio finished the last bite of his soup, something unexpected happened¡ªVictor actually finished his meal too. Not that I had been looking forward to his leftovers or anything¡­ but still. A small part of me was disappointed. With breakfast out of the way, we all agreed to head to the guild and look for jobs. The moment we stepped outside the inn, the sheer chaos of the outer city hit us. The streets were alive with movement¡ªhorses clattered by, pulling carts laden with goods, while merchants shouted prices over one another, advertising fish, fabrics, and trinkets. The entire place pulsed with an endless wave of noise, voices overlapping in a never-ending barrage of sound. Thankfully, Victor seemed to already know the way to the guild, so Millio and I simply followed him. According to him, it was about a ten-minute walk from where we were. As we moved through the streets, something caught my attention¡ªtwo fountains stood in the outer city, similar in structure to those in the inner city, yet they lacked the statues of gods that had been present before. It struck me as odd. Did they originally plan to have twelve statues instead of ten? Or had the last two been removed or never placed for some reason? It was strange, but not something I could make sense of at the moment. As we walked, I decided to share the information I had gathered about the Hunter Ranking System from the Third-Class Hunter I had met the night before. I explained that the guild operated on a ranking system, with Third-Class Hunters being one of the tiers¡ªsomething we¡¯d need to be aware of if we wanted to find work and advance within the guild. I also briefly mentioned the Eight Great Families, though I admitted I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what role they played or how significant they were in this world. Victor nodded, appreciating the heads-up, while Milio remained indifferent. As we continued, something in the crowd caught my eye. A young boy with shoulder-length white hair was sweeping the entrance of what appeared to be a carpentry shop. His movements were slow, almost sluggish, and there was an exhausted, almost disturbed look in his eyes. It wasn¡¯t hard to notice him¡ªhe stood out starkly, the only person with white hair in the entire street. It took me a second to recognize him. Lucian. I gestured toward Victor and Millo, and without hesitation, we made our way over to Lucian. As we approached, I lifted a hand in greeting. Lucian¡¯s eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, his lips curled into a small smirk. He set the broom down, visibly relieved to see us. But before I could say anything, he lunged forward, grabbing me by the collar with an almost desperate look in his eyes. "Please let me join your group!" he blurted out frantically. "I¡¯m done here¡ªI want to go on an adventure! Please, please let me switch groups with you!" He started shaking me as if his life depended on it, his head bobbing up and down like a madman. "Calm¡­ down¡­" I grunted, prying his hands off me and pushing his face away. His sudden outburst had drawn some attention from passersby, making the situation even more embarrassing than it already was. Victor, unfazed, crossed his arms and asked, "What happened?" Lucian let out a deep sigh before launching into his explanation. Apparently, after Niru had escorted their group to the outer city, he introduced them to the owner of this carpentry shop. The arrangement seemed decent¡ªthey were given free lodging and meals in exchange for helping out with chores around the shop. On top of that, they were even being paid for their work. I frowned. That doesn¡¯t sound bad at all. Lucian continued, explaining how Sophie and Olivia were content with the setup. They planned to work here, pay off their debt, and then figure out their next steps from there. But Lucian? He hated it. "I don¡¯t want to sit around sweeping floors and stacking wood," he groaned. "I want to explore! I want to fight monsters! I want to go to the guild!" Victor raised an eyebrow. "So you have gone to the guild ?" Lucian¡¯s gaze shifted away for a split second. "¡­No." I narrowed my eyes on him. He was lying. It was obvious. I considered pushing the topic further but decided against it. Whatever his reason was, it was his business. In the end, we told him we were sticking with our own groups and wished him luck. Lucian looked disappointed but didn¡¯t argue. With that, we left him behind and continued toward the guild. It seemed like Niru had taken good care of his group, unlike Theo¡ªbut oddly enough, I didn¡¯t feel angry about it. Maybe Theo believed we didn¡¯t need the extra support and trusted us to fend for ourselves, or maybe¡­ he just didn¡¯t care. As we walked along we reached the guild. The Test As we entered the guild, the first thing I noticed was its size¡ªeasily twice as large as the inn we were staying at. The high ceilings made the space feel even grander, and there was a constant buzz of activity throughout the hall. To the left, a wide staircase led to what I assumed was the second floor. To the right, an entire wall was covered in fliers, neatly pinned to wooden boards. They varied in color, size, and detail¡ªsome written in fine ink, others scrawled in messy handwriting. Curious, I took a closer look. However, my eyes narrowed as I spotted a restriction at the bottom of the goblin quest: "Only available for Third-Class Hunters and above." Huh¡­ so monster-related jobs had some sort of rank requirement. The place was bustling, with people moving between different areas¡ªsome gathered around the quest board, others chatting at tables, and several forming lines in front of a long wooden counter at the center of the hall. There were five receptionists, each handling their own line, and every one of them was swamped with adventurers. We made our way toward the front, weaving through the crowd, before stepping into one of the lines. The goal was simple¡ªfigure out what we needed to do to start making money. As we spoke with the receptionist, she explained the process of taking a quest. To accept a job, we first had to grab a flier from the quest board and bring it to the counter. Before we could take the job, we had to pay half of the reward upfront as a deposit. If we failed to complete the quest within 24 hours and returned empty-handed, the guild would keep the deposit and repost the quest for others to take. However, we would still have the option to attempt the same quest again¡ªprovided we paid the deposit a second time. For example, if I took the goblin hunting quest, which offered a reward of 2 silver, I would need to pay 1 silver upfront. Upon completing the quest, the guild would return my deposit along with the 2 silver reward, meaning I would receive a total of 3 silver. But if I failed, they would keep my 1 silver, ultimately making a profit while ensuring that only serious applicants took on quests. This entire system was designed to maximize the guild¡¯s profits while ensuring only serious applicants took on quests. The receptionist also explained the hunter ranking system to us. Hunters were classified into three main ranks¡ªThird Class, Second Class, and First Class. Third Class was the entry-level rank, while Second Class could only be attained through a recommendation from an existing Second-Class hunter. As for First Class, it was a special designation granted solely by the guild masters, making it an exclusive and prestigious title. Now, all that was left was for us to do what we needed to become official hunters. "Five silver to take the test," the receptionist replied bluntly. Milio froze. His jaw dropped open, and he stared at her like she had just announced the end of the world. "Can you¡­ repeat that?" he asked, his voice hollow. "Five silver to take the test," she repeated, unfazed. Milio blinked rapidly. "Once more, please." At this point, he sounded like a broken record, completely shaken by the price. I sighed. Of course, there had to be a catch. The receptionist further explained that if we failed the test, we wouldn¡¯t be allowed to retake it for an entire year¡ªunless we received a recommendation from an existing hunter. That meant we had only one shot at this, and failure would set us back significantly. When we asked about the test itself, the only response we got was: "A combat trial. Judges will determine if you''re qualified." That was it. No details. With that information in mind, we returned to the quest board, now painfully aware that we couldn¡¯t even attempt a job without enough money to pay the deposit. Milio, still shaken, looked like he had just been slapped across the face by reality. ¡°We''re doomed. We¡¯re never paying that money back¡ªwe¡¯re stuck in this debt,¡± Milio groaned, gripping his hair as he anxiously paced in circles around us, his movements growing more frantic by the second. ¡°What are we even supposed to do?! Forget about getting permanently branded as criminals¡ªwe might not even survive the next month at this rate!¡± Milio threw his hands up in frustration, his voice rising with panic. ¡°We¡¯re done!¡± He gestured toward the quest board, his expression darkening. ¡°Some of these fliers only pay 25 copper for gathering plants! Even if we split those jobs between us, it would take forever just to scrape together 20 silver to pay off our debt.¡± His shoulders slumped as he let out a defeated sigh. ¡°We¡¯re completely screwed.¡± He suddenly paused, his eyes darting toward the ground as if considering something. ¡°Maybe I should swap places with Lucian¡­ there¡¯s still time.¡± Milio was spiraling, his panic growing by the second. I watched him, a bit taken aback. I had expected him to be more confident, maybe even the type to crack a joke in this situation. But no¡ªhe was genuinely freaking out. Meanwhile, Victor stood still, deep in thought, his brows furrowed as he processed the situation. Then, after a long pause, he finally spoke. ¡°I say we take the test,¡± Victor said, his voice calm and decisive. ¡°What? You can¡¯t be serious¡­ I don¡¯t know how to fight! I might¡ªno, I will fail!¡± Milio said, his voice rising as he turned to Victor, his expression filled with panic. I couldn¡¯t blame him. Honestly, I felt the same way. Whoever was running this test had to be skilled, and while I had some combat training, I wasn¡¯t confident it would be enough to pass. Victor, on the other hand, didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re gifted. We have abilities. We¡¯re different from the normal folk.¡± ¡°Easy for you to say!¡± Milio snapped, stepping closer to Victor. ¡°My ability is useless!¡± ¡°Calm down,¡± Victor said, unfazed. ¡°I¡¯m certain being gifted doesn¡¯t just mean having abilities¡ªit must have made us physically superior too. We aren¡¯t normal anymore. They won¡¯t stand a chance.¡± Something about his certainty made me pause. Maybe he was right. Maybe we weren¡¯t just regular people with gifts¡ªwe were something more. ¡°I say we do it,¡± I said quickly, surprising even myself. Why was I so confident? For some reason, even knowing I might fail, I wanted to try. Milio glanced between us, his expression shifting between disbelief and frustration. He groaned, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache. ¡°You guys can¡¯t be serious¡­¡± He let out a long, defeated sigh before muttering under his breath, ¡°Fine¡­ there goes five silver down the drain.¡± As we approached the receptionist, we requested to take the hunter exam. Each of us handed over our five silver, though Milio was visibly hesitant, gripping his coins so tightly that his knuckles turned white. ¡°Milio,¡± I muttered, nudging him.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. But he didn¡¯t budge. The receptionist, clearly impatient, let out a sigh before snatching the silver from his hand, prying his fingers open. Milio, looking like he had just been robbed, deflated. After the payment was settled, we were escorted to a back room. Stepping inside, I was met with an open training area, the floor covered in fine sand, likely to soften falls. In the center of the room stood a raised podium, accessible by a short flight of stairs. On the platform stood a man with short black hair, gripping a wooden sword. His stance was sharp, disciplined. A third-class hunter badge gleamed on his chest¡ªa clear sign that he was skilled. Off to the side, another man dressed in a formal suit stood with a clipboard in hand, carefully observing the matches and jotting down notes. In front of the podium, a line of applicants had already formed¡ªa mix of burly men, hardened warriors, and a few who looked fresh and uncertain. I could already tell. This was not going to be easy. As the first applicant stepped forward, I felt my stomach tighten. The man was massive¡ªtowering over everyone in the room with bulging muscles and thick arms that looked like they could snap a person in half with ease. His mere presence was intimidating, radiating raw brute strength. At the base of the stairs leading up to the podium, a collection of wooden weapons was neatly arranged¡ªswords, axes, spears, and more. It seemed like they were provided to give participants a fighting chance. The muscular man, however, didn¡¯t spare them a single glance. Instead, he strode straight up the steps with complete confidence, his heavy footsteps echoing as he reached the center of the podium. Rolling his shoulders, he cracked his knuckles with a grin, exuding the kind of certainty that made it clear¡ªhe fully expected to win. The examiner in the suit gave a nod and spoke calmly. "Begin the test." I leaned forward slightly, anticipation creeping in. Come on, the guy is huge. He has to win, right? I wanted to believe it. I needed to. If this man got demolished, what hope did I have? But the fight was over in seconds. The hulking man charged forward, aiming to grab his opponent. The swordsman, unfazed, simply angled his wooden blade forward, twisting his body in a fluid motion. A single precise strike¡ªfirst to the leg, then the head. The giant collapsed. Unconscious before he even hit the sand. I felt my heart drop. Yeah. I¡¯m done for. Beside me, Milio was shaking, his breaths uneven, his face pale. "You can do it¡­ You can do it¡­ You can do it¡­" He was muttering the words under his breath like a desperate prayer. Damn. He was more screwed than I was. Meanwhile, Victor stood completely composed, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. It was like the brutal display we had just witnessed hadn¡¯t even fazed him. I swallowed and clapped Milio on the back, forcing a grin. "Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll win." Did I believe it? Not at all. But I couldn¡¯t let him spiral. If he panicked, then I panicked. Milio took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. Then, after a pause, he muttered: "Welp¡­ I¡¯m screwed." He let out a humorless laugh. "When you two become hunters, just leave me behind. I¡¯ll accept my fate as a beggar." This guy was done It became clear that the test wasn¡¯t necessarily about defeating the opponent, but rather about proving if you were a good match for the role. As the fights went on, a pattern began to emerge¡ªone that I hadn¡¯t noticed at first. Some applicants were awarded third-class status simply for enduring a lot of hits, proving their resilience. Others managed to land just one clean hit, and that alone was enough for the judge to stop the fight and deem them worthy of becoming a hunter. Could I do that? I had already started accepting my fate¡ªfailure seemed inevitable. I told myself I didn¡¯t really care if I failed, that I was just here for the experience, trying to keep my expectations low. And then it was Victor¡¯s turn. He stepped up confidently, choosing a wooden sword, just like the examiner. Even now, he was completely calm¡ªunimpressed by everything he had seen so far. He climbed onto the podium, gripping the wooden blade with both hands. The way he held it¡­ It looked natural. Like he had done this before. "Begin." The examiner rushed forward, unleashing a barrage of rapid strikes. Victor didn¡¯t flinch. With precise movements, he parried each blow effortlessly, his posture never breaking. It was almost casual¡ªlike he wasn¡¯t even taking it seriously. Then, he took a step to the side, smoothly repositioning himself. And that¡¯s when I saw it. His stance shifted¡ªhis weight balanced, grip tightened, blade angled forward. He was ready to strike. But before he could even move¡ª "Stop. You pass." The judge interrupted the fight, making his decision instantly. Wow. No wonder Victor had been so confident. I stared in disbelief. Where the hell did he learn all that? Milio, standing beside me, turned with wide, panicked eyes and grabbed my hand tightly. "Hey, man¡­ you wouldn''t leave me behind, right? If we fail, we fail together?" I swallowed. "Uhh... sure." Milio stepped forward, hesitating slightly before picking up a wooden axe in his right hand and a sword in his left. It was almost as if he believed, "The more weapons I have, the better my chances." He moved toward the podium much slower than the others before him. As he climbed up, I noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his hands trembling slightly. As he stepped onto the podium, he raised the axe awkwardly above his head while keeping the sword pointed downward. His stance looked unbalanced, unnatural. A part of me hoped¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe could pull this off, but the odds didn¡¯t seem in his favor. His hands were visibly shaking, betraying his nerves. I glanced at his opponent and caught the subtle shake of his head, as if he had already decided the outcome. "Begin!" The examiner lunged forward, aiming a swift downward strike at Millio¡¯s head. For a split second, I thought it was over. Then¡ª Milio reacted. Fast. With perfect timing, he raised his axe and hooked the examiner¡¯s sword, pulling it downward while simultaneously using his foot to pin the blade to the ground. In the same motion, he swung his own wooden sword forward, landing a clean strike to the examiner¡¯s head. The man collapsed instantly. Unconscious. I froze. My brain struggled to process what just happened. What¡­ the hell?! My eyes snapped to Milio, who stood frozen, staring at his own hands as if they belonged to someone else. Then, as if reality had just caught up with him, he jumped up and shouted, "I WON!" The judge barely reacted before nodding. "You pass." As the examiner lay unconscious on the ground, the judge turned toward one of the guild staff. "Bring in Viole." A replacement? My stomach twisted. A moment later, a tall, older man with long hair stepped forward. His presence alone felt different¡ªmore refined, more dangerous. Etched on his chest, clear as day, was the Roman numeral II. A second-class hunter. I swallowed hard. Oh, great. I wasn¡¯t even sure I could beat the third-class guy. Now they were throwing me in against someone even stronger? I stepped toward the weapon rack, my mind racing. I needed a plan. I was screwed, wasn¡¯t I? There was nothing that could get me out of this situation. My mind raced, searching for a way out, but every possibility felt like a dead end. I could hear my own heartbeat¡ªloud, pounding, relentless. Was it just me, or could everyone else hear it too? After watching Millio pull off an unexpected win, the last thing I wanted was to be the only one who failed. As my thoughts swirled, an idea clicked. I bent down, grabbing a wooden sword in my left hand. But in my right? Taking a steadying breath, I walked toward the podium with as much confidence as I could fake. Viole sized me up, his gaze flickering with amusement before he scoffed. "A kid? Seriously?" I smirked, raising my sword. "You better be careful. This kid¡¯s about to beat you." His grin widened, a sharp, almost predatory edge to it. "Ohh? Well then¡­" He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Guess I¡¯ll have to go all out. Don¡¯t start crying when it¡¯s over." The judge raised a hand. "Begin!" Viole rushed forward¡ªand he was fast. Much faster than the previous examiner. Too fast. But I was ready. At the last second, just as he lunged, I flung a handful of sand straight into his face¡ªthe same sand I had discreetly grabbed when I picked up my sword. "Argh¡ª!" Caught completely off guard, Viole staggered back, rubbing furiously at his eyes. I didn¡¯t waste a second. Swinging my sword in a downward motion, I struck him before he had the chance to recover. He staggered back, hands flying to his face. "Ahh, my eyes! I can''t see!" he shouted, his voice laced with frustration and pain. He collapsed onto the floor, disoriented¡ªnot just from the blows I landed, but from the sand that now burned in his eyes. "STOP!" The judge¡¯s voice rang out. "You pass." ¡­Wait. What? I blinked, glancing down at Viole before shifting my gaze to Victor and Millio¡ªboth of whom were staring at me in stunned silence. The judge, meanwhile, had his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he was trying to suppress laughter. Millio had his head tilted down, his shoulders trembling before he finally burst into laughter, gripping Victor¡¯s shoulder for support as he struggled to contain himself. Victor, on the other hand, had his face buried in his palm. I stood there in stunned silence for a moment before throwing my arms up in triumph. "I WON!" Then, glancing down at the man still writhing on the ground, I smirked. "Suck on that."