Ale decided to head to the slums to find a room. His budget didn't allow him to rent in any other district, so following his friends' directions, he ventured into Eldoria's slums.

This area, once a lively neighborhood, had gradually fallen into ruin. The dilapidated buildings, alleyways littered with debris, and cracked facades bore the marks of years of neglect. Here, infrastructure was almost nonexistent, and everything seemed on the verge of collapse. Yet despite all this, the area teemed with life. Barefoot children, carefree and laughing, ran through the narrow streets, their joy contrasting sharply with the dreary surroundings. Mothers bartered, while makeshift merchants spread their meager goods on the ground for sale.

There were no city guards in sight, nor any signs of official order. Instead, Ale noticed men in rudimentary uniforms, recognizable by the red scarves tied around their arms. Their stern gazes and intimidating stances suggested they weren't there to protect but rather to watch and control.

As Ale made his way down the main street, one of these men approached him, eyeing him suspiciously. The man was short but stocky, his muscular frame imposing despite his height. His greasy black hair was slicked back, exposing a broad, wrinkled forehead. A scar ran from his right eyebrow down to his cheek, a reminder of past battles.

"New around here?" the man asked gruffly, his voice harsh and unwelcoming. "What are you doing here?"

Without flinching, Ale calmly explained that he was looking for temporary housing, specifically a place called "Renlav," as his friends had mentioned.

The man narrowed his eyes, as if gauging the honesty in Ale's words, before a sneering smile twisted his lips.

"Renlav, huh?" he said in a low, gravelly voice, jerking his head in a direction. "Straight ahead, and take the next left. You can't miss it, there's a flickering neon sign hanging above the door."

He paused, sizing Ale up from head to toe, then grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. Crossing his arms, he took on a more threatening tone.

"Listen closely, kid, this is our territory. The Red Band controls this place. If you want to stay here, you play by our rules." He leaned in, his face inches from Ale's. "Every first Monday of the month, you pay a housing tax. Got it?"

He pulled a worn notebook from his inner pocket and began scribbling something on it, never taking his eyes off Ale. "Starting next week, you'll swing by our office in the square to make your payment. It's easy to find… And if you forget…"

The thug leaned back slightly, his grin widening, revealing a glint of malice. "We'll come pay you a little visit... at your place." He let the threat hang in the air for a moment before chuckling softly. "And trust me, you don't want us showing up."

Ale nodded, sensing the tension but holding back any retort. If you threaten me again, I'll make you eat my boot, he thought, but he knew now wasn't the time to stir up trouble.

The thug gave Ale a sharp pat on the shoulder before turning away. "Name's Grulf. Welcome to the neighborhood, kid. Don't cause any trouble, and everything will be just fine."

Following Grulf's directions, Ale continued down the lively streets until he arrived at Renlav Residence. The three-story building was in as poor condition as the rest of the slums. The cracked walls looked like they could collapse at the slightest impact, and the half-broken windows let in drafts of cold air.

At the entrance, Ale knocked on the door of the landlord. A woman in her fifties, with graying hair and tired features, opened the door. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

"Looking for a room?" she asked in a slow, drawling voice.

Ale nodded.

"I've got one free, third floor," she said, gesturing to the stairs. "Rent's fifty bronze coins a week, or one silver and fifty bronze for a month. Since there's only a week left in this month, you'll pay for this week and next month, plus a one-month deposit. That'll be three silver and fifty bronze coins."

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Ale paid without argument. The landlady, now smiling more warmly, introduced herself as Gilda Renlav.

"Make sure you pay your rent on time. Three of my sons work for the Red Band, so you'd better keep things in order."

"Seems like everyone around here prefers threats," Ale murmured to himself, nodding silently as he processed the warning.

Gilda handed Ale a form, and after filling it out, she gave him a rusty key. He climbed up to his apartment, immediately noticing how thin the walls were. Every sound from the neighboring rooms echoed as if it were coming from the room next to his.

His apartment was a simple studio, a small kitchen at the entrance, with an old bed that took up most of the space, a desk near the window, and minimal furniture. The bathroom and shower were communal, shared by the tenants on the floor. Ale sighed, tired, and began settling in.

The air in the room was heavy, and an unpleasant odor lingered. Ale used a bit of air magic to purify the room, quickly clearing the smell. Clearly, no one had lived here for a while.

"I've got thirteen silver coins and eighty bronze left..." he thought, lying down on the bed. "If I stick to black bread and rillettes, that'll cost me about six silver a month for food. That leaves seven silver... Maybe enough to buy a basic sword or some armor?"

But he already knew the answer to that: it wouldn't be enough. With a sigh, he pulled out his adventurer badge and injected a bit of mana into it.

The badge glowed faintly, and a small magical bubble appeared, displaying his personal information. He lay back on the bed, eyes fixed on the simple projection, his mind still clouded by the day's events. Then, an idea struck him, pulling him from his thoughts.

"What if…" he murmured. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the medallion he had found among his grandfather's belongings. Hesitant, he infused a small amount of mana into it, unsure of what to expect.

To his surprise, a blue glow emanated from the medallion, forming a magical bubble similar to that of his adventurer's badge. Floating inside the bubble was an inscription:

"Valen Ardyn, General of the Princely Army and Personal Guard to Prince Hadrien."

Ale was speechless. "General? Prince Hadrien?!" The name Valen Ardyn meant nothing to him, but everyone in the Empire knew the tragic story of Prince Hadrien, the once-promised heir who had become the Empire's greatest traitor.

What was this medallion doing among his grandfather's things? How was it connected to Karl, the man he had always known as a simple merchant and farmer? Could his grandfather have been one of Hadrien's soldiers in the prince's army?

Ale recalled his grandfather's final moments. "The necklace…" Ever since his grandfather's passing, Ale had carefully kept the necklace his grandfather had given him, right before the end. He had hidden it away in his spatio-temporal dimension, holding it close as one of the few keepsakes from the man who had raised him.

Reaching into that dimension, Ale pulled out the necklace. It was delicate yet sturdy, forged from a glossy black metal, possibly obsidian or some rare alloy known only to a few master blacksmiths. Along the chain were intricate carvings of ancient symbols, almost invisible at first glance, but shimmering faintly under certain light. The chain itself seemed indestructible, radiating a subtle but palpable energy.

The pendant was the centerpiece: a circular medallion about three centimeters in diameter, crafted from a silvery-blue metal. In the center was a deep red stone, resembling a ruby, set firmly within. The stone vibrated faintly as Ale held it, reacting to his emotions or his magic. Surrounding the stone was a spiral design, depicting a fire-breathing dragon, the symbol of the Spirit of Fire, worshipped by the Empire.

This necklace had belonged to his parents. Ale often wondered what they had looked like, where they had gone, and what had happened to them. His grandfather had always told him that they had left to find a better life elsewhere and that they would come back to welcome him once they had settled. But they had never returned. As he grew older, Ale had accepted that they were likely dead—victims of bandits or a natural disaster. Perhaps they had simply forgotten about him.

He had long since stopped thinking about them. That's why it had come as such a shock when Karl had given him the necklace before his death, stirring up long-suppressed curiosity. "Maybe it's more complicated than I thought," Ale mused.

Without hesitating further, Ale channeled a bit of mana into the pendant.

Immediately, a soft red glow emanated from the stone. The warmth it gave off wasn't scorching, but it carried an intensity. Before his eyes, words appeared in golden letters:

"The burden of fire and flame."

Ale stood there, stunned for a moment, trying to decipher the cryptic message. What could it mean? He tried to push his magic further, hoping to unlock more of the necklace's secrets, but to no avail.

Frustrated, he decided to set it aside for now, though he knew there was something deeper to uncover behind this mysterious object. He promised himself that he would continue searching for answers. Finally, he placed the necklace around his neck, hiding it beneath his clothes. The chain remained discreetly visible, but the pendant itself was tucked away, pressed against his skin.

As he lay back down, a whirlwind of thoughts continued to swirl through his mind. The mystery surrounding his parents, his grandfather, and now this necklace, was far from resolved. The questions spiraled in his head, each one more urgent than the last, but no answer seemed to make any sense.

Exhausted from the day's events and revelations, he allowed himself to rest, his thoughts still tangled. One thing, however, had become clear: his grandfather had concealed a far more complex and mysterious past than Ale could have ever imagined.