Following a road was definitely much easier now. I could have done it, probably, without the pulses. Saving them only for when I heard something coming at me, like a carriage.

But it was not the moment for that, yet. These pulses were a conscious effort. I had to remind myself to keep doing them every 12 seconds. And, not only did I fail at being precise with the timing, it consumed too much of my attention.

It was crucial to make it second nature. To make it as automatic and brain-dead as breathing. To make it, as I phrased my end goal, just another part of the [passive] Area identify.

Succeeding in doing so would make, first and most important, free some of my mental capacity. And, second, make the timing issue go away, as the system would handle it.

I forced myself to walk slowly, at a pace that would make sure I never came close to the limit of my pulse recognition. And, in between pulses I tries to extrapolate what would have moved or changed. Obviously, 12 seconds was a long period and many things would go differently from what I planned.

People I could, up to a certain extent, expect what they would do next. But animals… I was just now realizing that the very same forest I had walked before was overflowing with them. And not only birds, all kinds of small rodents were always on the edge of my detection.

While I supposed killing monster would net me some levels, I doubted the defenceless wildlife would. And to be honest, what did levels even do if I could learn skills by just pure effort.

“Ah… I should have asked Charlotte.”

Too late for that.

I fended off underhanded looks, and plain outright stares, all the way. The trick was to look busy, walk with a purpose. It had be seem I knew where I was doing, and why I was going there. Even if that was not even close to reality.

The only one time someone stopped me, they were simply worried I was lost. It was easy to convince I was going to the city, and even got to know that it was barely a day’s walk from where I was.

Now, I could have easily walked the distance without stopping, but I could not remember the last time I had slept. What I could remember, was the time were my energy was not recharging.

So, only after a whole day of resting a bit deeper on the woods—without incidents—I was finally at the doors of the city. I was hard to grasp how big of settlement it was without actually seeing it.

But the noise… Big caravans where stuck in what seemed an endless queue to enter through the gates. Gates that I could not yet see, but that surely existed. I could even hear the bustle of merchants and buyers haggling over goods, some close to me but also coming from inside.

“Is this to enter the city?” I asked the last person on the big line.

“That would be it.” The dry tone and the fact that he didn’t even turn was just perfect.

I was not planning to enhance in conversation, even if that was the only thing to do. I was still trying to get used to my pulsing identification and that was the perfect opportunity to experiment with the range.

I was not foreseeing having to fight anyone while waiting to be allowed in, so using some more energy was fine. A quick set of pulses at greater lengths each quickly showed some results.

The cost was not linear. Namely, trying to reach two meters further would cost more than twice reaching one meter. Which meant that whenever my energy incre-

Ah! I had a sudden realization. That’s probably why I want levels! Or at leas part of it?

Anyway, even with levels it would take a long time to have a decent range. But it could wait, probably. My most pressing matter was the dialog happening a few positions from mine.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Motivation behind your visit?” A soldier, clad from head to toes in metal armour, asked in a robotic way. Surely the millionth time that day.

“Just selling my goods,” the merchant pointed at an ox-drawn cart.

“Merchandise?” He took something reassembling a notebook and started moving a pencil.

“Mostly fresh fruits, some dehydrated too.”

The soldier absentmindedly assented and wrote some more.

“Please hand in your identification. Do you have any objections to us checking your cart?“

“By all means!” The merchant produced some square looking card, which a second soldier took while the first one started with the process.

Now, the reasons behind my visit were simple. I just didn’t have anywhere else to go or do. I wouldn’t say it like that, but I was not trying to hide anything at all. Nor to smuggle anything in.

The second half of the conversation had me worried, though. Identification. Charlotte mention my class being hidden, but she never said anything about identification.

Why do you mention my class but not the very obvious fact that I wouldn’t have any sort of document?

I was walking on autopilot, and up to certain extent so were my pulses. Unsteady and certainly not correctly timed, but I didn’t have to think about them. My brain was preoccupied with coming up with excuses.

And it was drawing a blank.

“Boy!” I finally raised my head to meet a very annoyed soldier.

Ah, saints… off to a good start. It seemed it was my turn already, and they had probably told me something a few times already.

“Motivation behind your visit?” He sighed with obvious disdain.

“Just tourism.” I answered, which earned some looks but nothing more.

“Identification?” There you go…

“I don’t have identification,” I decided to honestly say.

“You may not enter without proper identification,” the soldier replied robotically—not for the fist time probably either. “We may offer to create one for you, though.”

“Ah!” I cheerfully replied after the offer. “Please do!”

I saw him closing his eyes, opening them, and then shaking his head. The process repeated three times, and every subsequent one his brows where more furrowed than before.

“Boy,” I could feel the annoyance in his voice and the hardly-possible to miss grip on his sword. “You will have to reveal your class for that.”

“That’s… I can’t do that.”

Damn the lab and its workers. Why of all things they had to do things so complicated for me?

“This is not a game,” his sword was centimetres away from being drawn. “Last warning, reveal you class information.”

“I really can’t do it!” I raised my arms in defence, which only made the soldier tense more.

People behind me where leaving some space, creating a circle around me that separated from the rest of them. Raising my hands might have been a bad idea. For all I knew, that was the way some classes invoked their spells.

The sword was set free, and with it a red spot appeared on my vision. A spot the exact same shape as the guard. Red because, I suppose, the system was keeping the promise of highlighting enemies—black wouldn’t do now that I could sense things.

“You are coming with us,” the tip of the sword was pointed at me, closer to my neck that I would ever want a sword to be. “Don’t resist or we will kill you.”

Several more spots turned bright red at a moments notice. Either the phrase triggered them, or they had some other means of communication. Whatever the reason, I was not planning to do anything stupid.

I nodded.

Two guards surrounded me from behind, swords ready to strike if I had some funny idea. I walked the other soldier, always under constant surveillance.

“May I ask where we are going?” Two minutes into it I gathered the courage to ask.

I mean, if they are going to imprison me, or kill me, I wouldn’t just follow without a single word.

“You are above my paygrade,” the honest reply surprised me. “We are bringing you to the Church of Lucil.”

“Wait, what? The church?” I could only think that they were going to treat me like a witch on the medieval times. Burned on the stake in the name of God.

The soldier leading the way stopped. Turning, he stared on me for five whole seconds. His brows were equally tightened, but I could see it was confusion.

“Yes?” He rhetorically asked. “This is the autonomous city of Lucil, and our council is formed by the top brass of the Church.”

I was starting to see a theme here. Charlotte mentioned being part of the Second Sanctum Division, I had heard the word Saints enough times to use it myself, and now they were bringing me to a church.

Religion must be an important part of their life, if not completely ingrained on their day to day.

The city was exactly as I expected when I was outside. A cacophony of voices fighting over the price for virtually anything and everything. The streets where bursting with activity. Trades happened by the thousands.

The streets, at least those that we were taking, were wide enough that I couldn't reach to see the building in either sides.

As any good city saying some actions, though, I did not miss the people pointing at me and gossiping what a young kid like myself could have done to warrant an escort.

The general consensus was stealing. I wish it was stealing!

Either way, the unsolicited opinions died as soon as we reached some huge marble stairs—going by my inability to see beyond. At each side, every few steps, there were sculptures or the same white marble that prevailed on the whole zone.

I could only see up until their waist, but combining their humanoid shape and the many times I had heard it, I came to the only natural conclusion.

“Saints.”

Real or not, and either alive or dead, they had a whole worshipping vibegoing on.

I just liked how Saints sounded, and it seemed to make my personal guard more at ease.

“We are almost there,“ the guard announced. “Yasmin will be waiting for you.”