Rhaenor blinked against the blinding sunlight as his eyes fluttered open for the first time in Midgard. His body felt strange, the weight of it both familiar and unfamiliar, as if it had been reconstructed from scratch. The vivid blue sky stretched endlessly above him, and he slowly sat up, realizing he was lying in the middle of an enormous, bustling plaza. Surrounding him was a sprawling city, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

He rose to his feet, feeling the solid labyrinth of cobblestone streets and took in the sights of towering stone buildings, their facades adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and symbols from a time long past. Narrow alleyways snaked between shops and homes, leading to places hidden from the casual traveler’s eye. Above him, massive stone arches connected buildings at varying heights, creating a layered, multi-dimensional urban sprawl that hinted at the city's age and the centuries of history it must have seen.

His meteorologist's mind kicked into gear as he observed the weather. The sky was a cloudless expanse of pale blue, the air crisp and cool. In the distance, he could see wisps of fog rising from the river that ran through the city. The city’s proximity to water meant the mornings would often start like this—cool and slightly damp—but by midday, the sun would burn off the mist, revealing the vibrant, bustling city beneath.

He started walking, his boots clicking against the stone streets. Eldham was alive with activity. Merchants had already set up their stalls, calling out to passersby with promises of rare goods and unbeatable prices. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the more pungent smells of leather and smoke from the blacksmiths’ forges.

As he moved deeper into the city, he passed a wide variety of shops, each catering to different needs and tastes. A small alchemist’s stall caught his eye, the shelves lined with colorful vials filled with strange liquids. Some of them shimmered unnaturally, catching the light in ways that defied explanation.

"Potions! Elixirs! Cure for the common cold or a boost to your stamina before your next battle!" the alchemist called out, his hands gesturing towards a particularly bright blue vial. Rhaenor considered stopping, but he decided against it for now. His limited funds meant he needed to be more prudent with his purchases, especially before he knew the true value of his gold.

Further along, he came across a tailor’s shop, the window displaying finely made garments. His gaze lingered on a long, dark cloak that hung from a wooden mannequin. It wasn’t enchanted, according to the sign, but the craftsmanship was exquisite. The stitching was neat and precise, the fabric heavy and durable. It was the kind of cloak a seasoned adventurer might wear, and while it wasn’t something he needed now, he made a mental note to return when he had more gold to spare.

Rhaenor’s attention shifted to a nearby forge. The rhythmic clanging of metal on metal echoed through the street as the blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks, hammered away at a sword glowing hot from the fire. Sparks flew with each strike, illuminating the dark interior of the shop for a split second. Hanging on the walls were weapons of all kinds—swords, axes, spears—each with a distinct design. Some were simple, functional tools meant for battle, while others were intricate, almost decorative, with gems embedded in the hilts and runes etched along the blades.

“Can I help you, traveler?” the blacksmith called out, wiping the sweat from his brow with a thick leather glove. Rhaenor shook his head politely and continued on his way, though the idea of purchasing a weapon gnawed at him. His class didn’t necessarily require a physical weapon, but the world of Midgard was unpredictable. It wouldn’t hurt to have something on hand, even if it was just for show.

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As he strolled, he admired the city’s architecture. The buildings were constructed from massive blocks of stone, each one expertly placed, a testament to the craftsmanship of the builders. The streets were wide enough to accommodate the bustling crowds, but there were also smaller, more intimate alleys that twisted between buildings, offering shortcuts for those who knew the city well. Above, banners of various colors fluttered in the gentle breeze, each one representing a guild or merchant family that had set up shop in Eldham.

He stopped for a moment at a large, circular plaza where a fountain stood at its center, water flowing gracefully from the mouths of stone griffins. Around the fountain, performers had gathered, entertaining a crowd with juggling, music, and acrobatics. A bard, strumming a lute, sang tales of ancient heroes and their legendary battles against mythical beasts. The melodies were unfamiliar but oddly comforting, reminding Rhaenor of stories he had heard in his childhood.

He found himself wondering how long it would take before this city, this world, began to feel like home. Could it ever? Midgard felt both foreign and familiar. There was a sense of adventure here, of untapped potential, but there was also a sense of foreboding. The presence of travelers like him, players from Earth, was noticeable. They moved differently, talked differently, and stood out among the natives. Yet the world around him felt so seamless, as if the game wasn’t a game at all but a living, breathing reality.

Eventually, his wandering brought him to the Grand Bazaar, the largest marketplace in Eldham. It was a chaotic, noisy affair, with vendors shouting over each other, each one trying to outdo the other with promises of rare goods and bargains. Stalls selling exotic fruits, cured meats, spices, and even strange animals lined the marketplace. One vendor was showing off a massive egg, claiming it belonged to a dragon. Another displayed a collection of crystals, each one glowing faintly with magical energy.

As Rhaenor moved through the crowd, his gaze was drawn to a small, unassuming stall at the far end of the bazaar. Unlike the other vendors who loudly advertised their wares, this one sat quietly, his goods laid out neatly on a cloth. What caught Rhaenor’s eye was a single item—a ring, simple in design but faintly glowing with a soft blue light. There was something about it that tugged at his instincts. He approached the stall, his curiosity piqued.

“Interested in the ring, are you?” the merchant asked, his voice low and gravelly. He was an older man, his face weathered from years in the sun, but his eyes were sharp.

Rhaenor nodded. “What’s special about it?”

The merchant chuckled softly. “Not many travelers take notice of such things. It’s an old relic, passed down from the days before the monarchy ruled these lands. It has no offensive power, no enchantments to make you stronger in battle, but it’s said to help its wearer attune to the natural world. It enhances perception, if you will. Quite useful for a man like yourself.”

Rhaenor raised an eyebrow. “A man like myself?”

The merchant smiled knowingly. “I’ve seen many travelers come through this bazaar. Most of them are eager for swords and shields, but you…you strike me as one who values knowledge and observation over brute strength.”

He wasn’t wrong. But the ring’s price tag—a hefty 25 gold pieces—made Rhaenor hesitate. He only had 10 gold, 1000 silver, and 10,000 bronze. Spending more than double his current wealth on an item with no clear immediate benefits seemed like a risk he wasn’t ready to take.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, stepping away from the stall. The merchant nodded, unbothered, and turned his attention to the next curious passerby.

Rhaenor continued his exploration, but the ring stayed in the back of his mind. He was learning quickly that this world operated differently than the games he had played on Earth. Here, every choice mattered—whether it was what he wore, what he bought, or who he spoke to. And though his class as a Magus was powerful, it also meant that his path would be difficult, especially if he wasn’t equipped properly.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets, Rhaenor found himself heading back to the inn. He had seen much of Eldham today, but he knew there was still so much more to uncover. The city was vast, and its secrets were well-guarded.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would delve deeper into the mysteries of this world. But for now, he would rest. The journey was just beginning, and he had to be ready for whatever came next.