My eyes open slowly, the rotting wood of the ceiling coming into view.

I stretch out, feeling the straw shift beneath me.

Beep.

I groan and roll over, trying to ignore the silver screen floating in my vision.

I’m not ready to be awake yet.

The ache in my mind still lingers.

"NARMO! COME OUT!"

A thunderous roar shakes the walls around me.

I grimace into my makeshift bedding.

There’s no helping it.

With another groan, I drag myself to my feet, grab my bone club, and stumble out the door.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I spot Drazuul and Vorondil standing a few feet away from the building.

I yawn, my voice still heavy with exhaustion.

"More training already?"

Drazuul shakes his massive head.

"Not quite. We'll be taking you to Limbo. Vorondil will be buying you some equipment."

He nods ahead, already starting to walk.

Vorondil waves for me to follow.

I quickly fall in step behind them.

"What's Limbo?" I ask, matching their pace.

Drazuul tilts his head slightly, peering at me over his massive shoulder.

"Limbo is a city. It's full of people stronger than you, so stay close to us."

He tilts his head back and continues walking.

"What type of weapon do you prefer?"

I think for a moment before answering.

"I think I’d be better off using my skills."

Drazuul stops mid-step.

His head slowly turns back, his piercing gaze locking onto me.

His voice is low, but firm.

"No."

He faces forward again, resuming his stride.

"Your skills won’t help you in every situation. You need to be able to defend yourself without relying on them."

I nod silently, glancing at the bone club loosely tied to my hip.

A deep crack runs down its length—a reminder of my sparring sessions with Vorondil.

I exhale through my nose.

"I like clubs. I don’t think I’m skilled enough to use a blade."

Drazuul grunts in acknowledgment.

We walk in silence, the only sound being the soft thuds of Drazuul’s massive steps and the occasional rustle of Vorondil’s cloak.

I activate Mana Sense.

Might as well train the skill while we move.

Occasionally, a distant howl cuts through the fog.

Neither Vorondil nor Drazuul react.

If they’re not worried, then I shouldn’t be either.

It's difficult to see past Drazuul’s inferno, his mana like a raging bonfire consuming all light around it.

But I can still sense the mana ahead of us.

Thousands of tiny sparks float toward Drazuul's inferno, but instead of being absorbed, they pass through him and begin to orbit around his form.

They don’t stay long before detaching, drifting toward me.

I watch, fascinated.

I must be absorbing them.

Drazuul’s mana is already full, so the excess flows to the next available source.

And since I’m constantly draining mana with my skill active…

I ponder the movement of mana for what feels like an hour or so before Drazuul suddenly stops.

I grip my club, my body tensing instinctively.

"What’s wrong?" I ask in a hushed tone.

Drazuul tilts his head back slightly, glancing at me with a toothy smirk.

"Nothing. Calm down."

He chuckles.

"You’ve got two of the strongest people in this realm guarding you. Try not to be so jumpy. People will assume you’re weak."

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He shakes his head, turning back toward the path ahead.

"We’re here."

Drazuul’s voice shifts slightly, adopting a more formal tone.

"Stick close to us and don’t bother anyone. I’d rather not have to burn this city down."

As he speaks, he lifts his head, his posture shifting into something more dignified.

The fog parts slightly, and for the first time—I see Limbo.

To my surprise, the fog doesn’t reach inside the city.

With Mana Sense active, I can barely make out a thin layer of something pushing against the fog, forming an invisible barrier.

Sparks of mana drift toward it, flickering against the surface before fading away.

Vorondil taps my shoulder, motioning toward Drazuul, who’s steadily pulling ahead.

I nod and pick up my pace, following them toward the city.

Floating lanterns drift lazily through the streets, casting a ghostly glow.

The buildings—while better than the ruins we’d been staying in—are still mostly in shambles.

Cracked stone walls. Caved-in rooftops.

The whole city feels abandoned.

As I track one of the lanterns with my eyes, something else catches my attention.

A massive chain, thicker than any tree I’ve ever seen, stretches far into the sky.

Its top vanishes into the fog, obscured by the swirling mist above.

"What’s that?" I ask, pointing toward the chain.

Drazuul tilts his head back, following my gaze. His eyes narrow.

"That leads to the gate back to Vealith."

His tone is almost dismissive—but then he adds:

"It’s guarded by the Gatekeeper, so don’t even think about climbing it."

He pauses.

"At least… not yet."

I nod slowly, filing that information away for later.

If that’s the way out, I’ll need to be strong enough to reach the top.

We continue moving through the city, passing abandoned buildings, the faint echoes of our footsteps filling the empty streets.

After a few minutes, my Mana Sense pings something.

I tense instinctively.

Roughly a dozen flames flicker in my vision—each one different in size.

None are as massive as Drazuul’s inferno, but they’re still sizable.

Strong. Dangerous.

As we round a corner, I’m met with a strange sight.

Several makeshift wooden stalls line the street, their displays crude but functional.

The goods range from armor of various shapes and sizes to strange, pulsating fruit that seems to breathe.

I take a few eager steps forward, curiosity getting the best of me—

Until a firm grip catches my shoulder.

I turn to see Vorondil, his expression unreadable as he nods toward Drazuul.

The dragon is already settling onto his haunches, his tail curling lazily behind him.

"Wait with me, Narmo." Drazuul grumbles. "Vorondil will handle the shopping."

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment.

Drazuul huffs, noticing my reaction.

"Wipe that look off your face." His molten eyes flicker. "If you keep growing like you did yesterday, you’ll be far stronger than any of these peasants soon. But for now, it’s best you don’t draw unnecessary attention."

His tail sways idly as he speaks, his tone matter-of-fact.

I nod. That makes sense. If these people are even half as strong as Vorondil or Drazuul, I’d be crushed like an insect.

I turn my gaze back to the market, searching for Vorondil—

But he’s already gone.

I blink. How the hell did he disappear so fast?

I scan the street again, but there’s no sign of him.

I activate Mana Sense.

Immediately, his familiar, flickering flame appears inside one of the larger buildings.

Compared to the other sources of mana in the city, his looks so small.

It’s almost unnatural—how could someone so deadly give off such a weak presence?

I turn to ask Drazuul about it—

Only to stop myself when I see his eyes are closed.

Better not to bother him.

"Speak, human."

His deep, rumbling voice cuts through the air.

I flinch slightly, surprised.

His eyes are still closed.

"How did you know I was going to say something?" I ask, baffled.

Drazuul tilts his head slightly, then opens one eye.

"I didn’t."

He exhales slowly, his tail thudding lightly against the ground.

"The silence is boring."

His lips curl slightly, his molten gaze narrowing.

"I was gonna ask why Vorondil—"

I barely start my sentence before Drazuul cuts me off.

"Stop. If you have a question about him, ask him yourself."

A huff follows his words, a burst of hot steam shooting from his nostrils.

I shut my mouth quickly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

Drazuul taps his massive claw against the cobblestone, impatient.

I try to think of something else—**anything else—**to talk about.

I scratch the back of my neck, and a thought occurs to me.

"What does Luck do?"

Drazuul blinks. His molten eyes fix on me, his tail giving a slight twitch.

"I'm not entirely sure..."

He pauses, tilting his head slightly, as if trying to remember something long forgotten.

"But I’ve heard it can give you access to better skills."

His gaze sharpens as he looks back down at me.

"That said, I can’t say for sure, so don’t go spending all your points in Luck."

I nod, filing the information away for later.

Using Mana Sense, I see that Vorondil has moved again, now inside another building.

Another thought drifts into my mind.

"So what are dragons?"

I turn back to Drazuul, genuinely curious.

For a moment, he just stares at me.

Then, without warning—

He bursts into laughter.

His thunderous laugh shakes the street, his massive body leaning back as his forelegs lift off the ground.

His tail slaps against the cobblestone, and he brings a massive claw to his chest, forcing himself to calm down.

When he finally manages to stop, he grins down at me, his fangs gleaming.

"We are the mightiest of all creatures!"

He bellows it dramatically, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I can’t help but smile at his antics.

I turn back toward the market, still grinning—

Only to jump back in shock.

Vorondil stands mere feet away.

His expression blank, yet his eyebrows furrow slightly.

He’s not looking at me.

His eyes are locked onto Drazuul.

Vorondil exhales softly, almost inaudibly.

Then, without a word, he turns to me.

His lips twitch upward—just barely—before he sets a small wooden box on the ground.

He gestures to the box before silently stepping past me toward Drazuul.

As the two begin speaking in Vorondil’s language, I tune them out and kneel down to inspect the box.

It’s roughly crafted, built from scraps of wood nailed together. The handle of a weapon sticks out from inside.

I grip the handle and pull it free.

A metal mace.

It’s heavier than the bone club I had been using—much heavier.

But it feels right.

I give it a test swing, feeling the solid weight in my hands.

A slow smile spreads across my face.

Digging deeper into the box, I find something wrapped in thick cloth.

I pull it free and unravel it carefully.

At first, I think it's just a bundle of fabric, but as the cloth unfolds, I realize—

It’s a cloak.

Beneath the fabric, nestled within the folds, lies a thick book.

I pick it up and examine the cover. The letters flicker, shifting between unfamiliar symbols before settling into clear words.

"A Beginner’s Guide to Crushing Your Enemies."

I blink in confusion.

Did the words just… change?

Beep.

I nod, resisting the urge to respond out loud.

I don’t want them to think I’m crazy for talking to myself.

At the very bottom of the box, I spot a set of chainmail.

I pick it up briefly, feeling its weight and durability, then carefully place everything else back into the box.

Standing, I glance toward Vorondil and Drazuul.

They’re still talking, their voices low and serious.

Without hesitation, I stride up to Vorondil.

He stops mid-sentence, his expression shifting to mild concern.

Before he can react—

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze tightly.

Drazuul erupts into thunderous laughter, his deep voice shaking the air.

"Áva cenë ni tanen. Nalyë carë sina!"

I don’t understand what he said, but his amusement is unmistakable.

Vorondil stiffens slightly in my grasp.

For a brief moment, he doesn’t react.

Then, hesitantly, he pats my shoulder—once.

When I pull away, he avoids eye contact, his face turned slightly away.

A slight redness dusts his cheeks.

I take a step back and bow deeply.

"Thank you both. I’d probably be dead by now if it weren’t for you two."

Drazuul snorts, shaking his head.

"Nonsense! You’d be fine."

A slow, toothy grin spreads across his face.

"…Probably."

He glances at Vorondil before shaking his head.

"We should get back to training. We’ve still got a long way to go."

As we leave, I steal one last glance at the marketplace.

So many stalls. So many strange items.

What other secrets does this world hold?