"Where else do you want to see?" Ivarin asked, eyes rolling dramatically as they strolled out from the hall.
"Well, I think you can show me more places, as you know, I'm new here. More importantly… You can show me a canteen." Nyxir replied, arms folded with a faint smirk.
"Didn't I already show you one?" Ivarin chuckled slightly.
"Don't let me hit you," Nyxir replied with a deadpan look.
"You didn't complain about the food, so I assumed you liked it. But judging by your fury," Ivarin replied with a grin, "you need something less... fancy. Well, I know just the spot."
They walked past a low structure that curved slightly at its edge, leading toward a quiet intersection. The path beyond it began to narrow the farther they went, with the surrounding buildings growing sparse, their silhouettes tucked behind towering boulders that flanked the winding road like silent sentinels.
Nyxir slowed slightly, taking it all in. "Why is this path so narrow?" he furrowed his brow.
"It leads to the dungeon," Ivarin answered without missing a step. "What else would it be?"
Nyxir stopped walking.
"Wait. You're taking me to the dungeon?"
His brows furrowed in mild alarm. The last place he wanted to be was anywhere near Kreal—or the sparring grounds where he and his goons were likely gathered. He had already planned to skip today's match and come up with a half-convincing excuse if asked.
"Oh, sorry. I forgot it's your first time here," Ivarin said with a sheepish laugh. "This path does lead to the dungeon, yeah, but it also leads to the most rundown part of the guild. Some call it a low-tier market. People use it for different things. You can find what you need there—and usually for cheaper. Think of it as an unofficial underground market that the guild... sort of pretends not to notice."
"Sounds shady."
"Exactly. That's the charm. Also... don't expect guild rules to be strictly enforced down there. Things get a little loose."
"I'm guessing that's why you like it."
Ivarin grinned but said nothing.
The narrow path opened into a surprisingly wide square. Nyxir had expected a chaotic, noise-filled black-market environment—hawkers yelling, traders bargaining, or the usual ruckus in a market. Instead, what greeted him was... silence.
The market was broad and orderly. Rows of stalls lined both sides of the street, neatly spaced, their owners standing behind them with passive expressions. But no one shouted. No one beckoned. No one even spoke.
Nyxir blinked. Okay… this is weird.
'This is supposed to be a market, right?'
'Where are the voices? The shouting? Even beggars would've broken this silence by now.'
'Is this some kind of intelligence test? Am I supposed to already know what everyone's selling?'
He scanned the stalls as they passed and surprisingly, he found various items that would have connoted a standard market: fruits, weapons, relics, trinkets, clothes… all out in the open, but none of it advertised. The eerie quiet gave the place a ghostly quality—like a marketplace forgotten by time. If not for the occasional faint clatter of a bowl or the shuffling of feet, it could've passed for a painting.
'Would I get arrested for yelling here?'
He glanced at a vendor who was leaning on his elbow with the enthusiasm of a sleeping guard dog. Bored.
Beru Market was nothing like this. At least that place felt like a market. This? This felt like the waiting room before a strange cult meeting.
He picked up his pace to catch up with Ivarin, who was still browsing the stalls like nothing was unusual.
'Should I ask why this place is silent? Or is that considered normal? Or common?'
If it had been out of the ordinary, Ivarin would've probably already said something like, "Don't you find it weird that no one talks here? Kinda spooky, right?" But he hadn't. So Nyxir decided to keep his thoughts to himself, for now.
"Over there," Ivarin said, pointing to a small food shed up ahead. "You can grab something to eat."
The structure was half-leaning, slapped together with warped planks and a metal sheet roof that looked like it had seen better centuries. Inside, people sat on worn benches—some eating, some chatting in hushed voices. A small kiosk at the corner served as the vendor's booth.
Nyxir wrinkled his nose.
_I already lost my appetite._
He wasn't a fan of crowded, noisy eating spaces, and this was even worse: a quiet eating space in the middle of a creepy market. Somehow, that was worse. He'd always preferred solitude when he ate—time to reflect, to think. Not... this.
His thoughts drifted again.
_Could this district really be linked to the Silent Apostle?_
It made sense. He didn't know much about the silent apostle—one of the Nine—but from what little history he'd picked up, silence had been more than a trait. It had been sacred. Revered. His followers took oaths of silence. Their culture revolved around it. If this entire district had formed from their traditions, then maybe the market's eerie quiet wasn't odd—it was expected.
The Silent Apostle had once been a powerful figure during the Rehabilitation Age, after the devastating war of the Iron Age. The Nine Apostles, who decided they were too strong to coexist in one city, had split, founding their own domains—each a cradle for a new culture. This one, clearly, bore the mark of silence. But he had only seen it when he got to the guild, and he did not have a recollection of Nyxir haven witnessed it either. It felt strange to him.
Nyxir's thoughts were interrupted as something far in the distance caught his eye.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing beyond the rooftops, where a massive dark formation loomed against the sky.
It was a pitch-black mountain, or rather, a hollowed giant cave shaped like one. The strange thing wasn't just its shape, but the atmosphere surrounding it—it looked lifeless, and barren. Moreover, there were no trees, grass or even birds flying around it. Just a suffocating gloom, like even sunlight hesitated to shine there.
Ivarin followed his gaze. "Oh, that? Yeah. I should've mentioned—it's hard to miss. That's the dungeon."
The answer brought a stillness to Nyxir's mind. Not fear—just a familiar weight; like he had asked the same question before and he was answered in the same manner. This wasn't the first time he'd felt this eerie sense of déjà vu
The first time was when Alfred had appeared at his home, representing the Azure Guild. He had this familiar feeling like he had met him before. Nyxir had chalked the feeling up to Alfred's diviner power when Olivia likewise could not remember him once he was gone. He thought his spirituality was wrestling to retain knowledge on Alfred causing the familiar feeling he was getting.
The second was when they met again, inside the guild. The same feeling returned stronger, and with it, a flicker of a memory he could not reach. Like a locked door in his own mind. What caught his attention was he remembered all about Alfred from their last meeting even to the clothes he wore and his posture, but he could not help but feel that there was something else apart from that.
He had brushed it off again, convinced himself he had imagined it. But he had unconsciously started looking for familiar sight, even when taking a casual stroll, he had stayed alert—searching for that same sense of familiarity. Hoping, maybe, that something would trigger the memory.
And now… the third time.
Standing here, gazing at the mountain-like dungeon, it hit harder than before.
The surroundings felt both foreign and familiar. Like walking through someone else's dream — only to realize, it might have been yours all along.
_Am I repeating some else's life?_
A question suddenly pooped into his head.