Dransart left Wrath City with a cold determination. This realm has no day or night, only endless time. Without a clock, it feels like eternity itself. But this is Hell Realm, after all. His next destination was Pride City, close to Wrath's borders.
He abandoned his spirit horse carriage at the edge of the city, choosing to walk. Pride City was different—its streets were bright, its people content. These were souls who had died performing noble deeds, their pride reflected in the harmony of the city.
Dransart wandered for three hours, fatigue gnawing at him. Finally, he sat on the street, muttering, I cannot keep walking without rest. Perhaps fate will guide me.
A voice called, "Hello, how are you doing?"
Dransart looked up. Jackpot. I didn't even use Last Minute Luck, yet fortune has smiled. He asked, "Are you the homeless man of Pride City?"
The man nodded. "Yes. Don't ask how I ended like this. You want information about Pride City? I'll give it, but I have one condition. I won't ask for d-coins to afford a home."
Dransart leaned forward. "If I can fulfill the condition, I'll accept. What is it?"
The man hesitated. "Keep my daughter safe. Protect her, but don't go too far."
Dransart sighed inwardly. I already manage seven companions. Now another responsibility? Still, the condition is simple—protection. Once I defeat the Hell King, I can arrange a new ruler to care for her. He gave a thumbs up.
The homeless man's eyes narrowed. "How dare you mock me? I am not a subordinate, but I am not weak. Fight me!"
Dransart quickly explained, "In my homeland, a thumbs up means 'okay.' I wasn't mocking you. I forgot this world has different signs."
The man calmed. "Then listen carefully. My daughter knows where the subordinate is. Follow her."
Dransart agreed, and the girl stepped forward. "I am Reverna Pocket. I will guide you."
Pocket led him through winding streets to a grand chamber. Inside sat the Subordinate of Pride City.
Dransart bowed slightly. "Hello, sir. May I make a deal with you?"
The subordinate sneered. "Who dares call me so simply? You wear a mask—only the richest of the rich can afford such luxury. You must be a sheep waiting to be fleeced."
He leaned forward. "Everyone who comes seeks the key. I'll be clear: give me 1,000,000 d-coins, and I'll hand it over. No lower price. Otherwise, leave."
Dransart studied him. He thinks my mask cost a fortune. He wants to expose me as wealthy. But I have the coins. Better to pay than waste time.
He handed over the 1,000,000 d-coins. The subordinate's eyes widened. No ghost could afford this. He must be a city lord. Best to pretend nothing happened—I won't risk my position.
Dransart pocketed the key silently.
Reverna Pocket watched him with awe. He is extraordinary. Perhaps the head of some hellish organization, stealing data and selling it for coins. No ordinary man could wield such wealth.
Dransart turned to her. "Your father entrusted you to me. Stay close. The path ahead grows darker."
Thus, Dransart secures the Pride City key, paying a staggering price. With Wrath and Pride keys in hand, his journey through Hell Realm continues. Lingering City awaits, with trials that demand restraint and sacrifice.
Would you like me to continue with Lingering City, where Dransart must enter alone without his companions, facing ghosts bound by unfinished wishes?