The streets are lit with neon lights, and different songs are playing on every corner.

Bars, restaurants, and late-night entertainment of anything one desires line the streets, with towering skyscrapers high above stacking hundreds of floors into the air.

I follow the flow of people to fit in, making my way into one of the largest nightclubs in this small portion of the city.

Rhythmic beats compete with the loud noises of laughter, cheers, clapping, and dancing, while I'm hit with a heavy air pressure shift of pure mana as I walk through the doors.

It's easily five times as dense with mana in here, making for an exhilarating rush for the average citizen once they're inside.

Tables filled with bright-colored drinks, bottles on fire, and private dancers fill my vision as I walk through the crowds of people, using my inspect skill to follow the trail of money and power as best I can.

Most of the people in this club are over level 100, meaning they most likely earn far more than the average citizen dungeon diving. However, the main floor is filled with level 100-250 hunters and some well-dressed unawakened businessmen. All of the C-Grade and above migrate toward the back of the club, where the private rooms are.

I approach and see a woman in tight clothing with shots of drinks and bright neon-glowing pills walking around, offering samples to all the parties entering the private lounge area.

Many hunters take them down in a single gulp, as well as the unlabeled pills, and their eyes dilate, their smiles growing as they move through the privately sectioned-off portion of the club.

A few slots in line ahead of me, a man refuses the offering, flashing a silver card in front of the woman, but she shakes her head, refusing him entry unless he takes the drink and drugs.

They get into an argument, and two B-Class guards come out from the private room a few seconds later to escort the man out with ease.

When it's my turn in line, I just smile politely, taking the drink and pill, activating my master of illusions buff to make it appear as if I've followed her orders. In reality, they simply vanish into my storage, untouched.

She allows me to walk through once my grin grows, and I head straight into the private lounges, where the music is far less loud, and the guests are more well-dressed and influential.

I walk to the private bar, keeping a permanent smile on my face and a slight sway to my steps to play the part.

There are still flashing neon lights back here, and the room is pumped with even denser mana than the main floor. The young women serving drinks walk slowly, taking time to chat with each client, and no one is swiping their silver cards after each order—they only pay when they decide to leave or enter the private rooms at the far back of this exclusive lounge.

I take a seat between two parties. One is a man just over level 400, on the beginning stages of awakening his mana control. He's buying drinks for the many women around him, some awakened, others not.

The party to my right is a group of three men. Two are just over level 250, while the one in the middle is unawakened but clearly a businessman. They're all around the same age, mid-30s, most likely grew up together and chose different career paths.

As I sit down, a young woman with piercing green eyes asks what I'd like the moment I settle in.

Pausing with a wide smile, I order a few shots of their most expensive liquor and a mixed drink to go with it.

The blonde-haired woman pours my drinks, and I feel the gaze of an old man on the other side of the bar. I brush it off, surveying the room and eavesdropping on nearby conversations.

The elite hunter with the women around him talks about other clubs in the area and where they should go later tonight, while the group to my right discusses their latest dungeon farming expeditions. The man in a suit between them talks about a large trade deal of mana crystals he secured at a bank run by the Association on the other side of the city.

Everyone else at the bar talks about their day-to-day life; it doesn't seem like they're in secret slave labor or are forced into anything sinister, contrary to what I'd imagined about this city at first glance.

Some people swipe their silver cards as they leave, and I notice there's a 19% Central City tax. But for luxury living like this, such a steep tax on goods and services isn't too surprising.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I expand my area of perception further, listening to everyone in the more packed areas of the club. Oddly, they all seem to be here to have a good time—it's surprisingly normal.

My next thoughts are to check out the dungeon hubs or risk looking into those three black boxes in the sky again.

The woman finishes pouring my drinks, and I happily accept them, pulling the same trick with my master of illusion buff, pretending to down the shots and slowly sip the mixed drink. I reach into an item box at my waist, pulling out a gold coin.

"That will be all for me tonight. I might as well close my tab—"

As I place the coin on the counter, I feel the gaze of the old man across the bar on me once more.

He's sitting alone, not speaking to anyone, but as his eyes meet the gold coin, they widen, and he briskly gets up, heading over to me.

I think nothing of it, addressing the woman with a polite tone.

"I don't have my card on me today; this should more than cover my drinks."

The young woman picks up the gold coin with a puzzled look, examining it closely before smiling and setting it back in front of me.

"It's an interesting artifact, sir, but you and I both know Central Credits are the only accepted payment here."

I open my mouth to object, but the old man steps in, flashing his silver card, speaking in a tense, worried voice.

"My grandson sure is a jokester, isn't he? Here, drinks on me tonight. I think it's time we head home, don't you?"

His gaze is locked on the gold coin, and he whispers in my ear.

"You're a real outsider, aren't you? I didn't know it was possible to leave or enter this city anymore... come with me if you want to live."

I pull the coin from the counter, accepting that my gut instincts were right, this place is too good to be true.

The woman laughs, playing along with the old man's excuse, and scans his card. We leave the lounge in a hurry, with him leading the way.

As we make our way through the loud noise and dancing of the main club room, he yells in my ear through the blaring music.

"There's a manual surveillance check done every hour on the hour. Either you know exactly what you're getting yourself into, or this is the first place you've come, and you have no idea how much danger you're in."

We step out onto the street, and he takes a sharp left turn away from the crowded main road. Reflexively, I put up a hush barrier around us, strong enough to keep out the ears of even the strongest A-Class hunters with awakened divine cores. Its aura is masked by my stealth skill.

The world around us fades into muffled sounds, and the old man realizes what I've done as I reply.

"I am a foreigner, yes. But what's the issue with that? Outsiders can't pay with gold?"

His eyes widen further, and he takes a few more steps down a quieter street lined with shops that only operate in the daytime before he answers.

"How did you survive—and what's it like out there? Is it true? Did the world really burn when the Demons took over after the war?"

My mouth opens, but I'm at a loss, attempting to process his questions.

He doesn't wait for me to answer, continuing down the street.

"No one leaves Central because... well, there's no other place in the world to go..."

He glances at my item box, where I pulled my coin from earlier.

"I haven't seen a currency like that since the Great War, and it's been... well, I don't even know how long. But please, tell me—how did you survive in a world plagued with eternal flames?"

I stop, widening my aura of perception. I listen to the surface level conversations of everyone nearby, even in neighboring districts and distant cities.

At first glance, he seems crazy, but as I sift through millions of conversations, not one mentions traveling outside Central City.

To everyone here, this is the entire world. It's cut off from any other civilization.

Now, as I gaze at the flaming moat surrounding the elevated mountain in my mind's eye, it does seem as if the world beyond has been scorched, and this is the last remaining sanctuary.

Mass manipulation, endless propaganda, strict regulation, and growth of a society built entirely for the Association's control. The possibilities here for those in power seem almost limitless when every citizen believes they are the chosen survivors of a world-ending disaster.

I slowly respond, "Do you really want to know? The truth may be worse than you think."

The old man stops, a wide smile on his face. I sense only anticipation and the long-held curiosity of someone who has waited decades for answers.

"Yes. I must know the truth. I lived a life before the war, and another after. I have no family or friends left, and not many years remain. Whatever reality lies outside of Central, knowing it would finally bring me peace."

His eyes sparkle as I reply.

"Well then, of course there's a vast world beyond the flames..."

We continue down the street as I describe the world I've explored. He listens intently, growing more nostalgic with every detail.

Whether it's the drinks and drugs he consumed earlier, his steps grow slower, and his mental state weakens the further we move from the bar. It's as if he's longed for this moment his entire life, savoring a sense of bliss.

But our conversation is abruptly interrupted by a flashing light on his wristwatch, soon mirrored by blinking signals on every street corner.

I sense a ripple through the mana surveillance network, and the old man stops, turning to bow before me.

"Well, this is the end for me, I fear. Please, don't feel guilty. I have finally found peace thanks to you. The world I once knew really does live on."

I'm puzzled, but his words begin to make sense as he raises his head.

The man's eyes, nose, and mouth are bleeding; but he keeps a wide smile and gives out the emotions of nothing but happiness.

Simultaneously, out of nowhere, intense gravity wells manifest throughout the city. Numerous red cores come into my senses and dart through the city in various directions, followed by B and A-Class guards with strong mana control.

This is the manual surveillance check the old man warned about, and it's more serious than I anticipated.

Heading straight toward us is a familiar orange-cored guard—the same one who led the scouting expedition through the Dark Continent and Crimson City not long ago.

He approaches at high speed, with two red cores behind him.

I weigh my options, calculating how I want to handle this situation in the few seconds I have before potential chaos breaks loose.