Blue stood at the base of the towering gates, his gaze tracing the walls that rose like silent sentinels above him. The stone was cold, ancient, and heavy with the weight of history. Magic pulsed in the air around the reinforced structure, a quiet hum that reminded him of the world's unyielding power. It was a fortress designed to keep out those deemed unworthy.
And yet, Blue's unease didn't stem from the walls or the guards; it was something deeper—something he couldn't quite shake.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the steady thrum of the black ring on his left hand. The Emotion Stabilization ability it provided kept his mind calm, as it always had since his arrival in this world. But the more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him.
Shouldn't he feel more? Shouldn't he be terrified, confused, or at least disoriented by all that had happened? Instead, he felt nothing but calculated focus, a stoic observer in a world that should have rattled him to his core.
Blue glanced at his clenched fist, fingers pressing against the smooth surface of the ring. The stabilizing magic was a double-edged sword. It prevented panic, fear, hesitation. But it also erased the urgency of emotion.
Was it normal to feel so… detached?
He exhaled slowly, pushing the thought aside. Not the time. Not now. There was something more pressing ahead.
He turned toward the gates again, narrowing his eyes at the lines. The bustling crowd in front of him, an endless sea of bodies, moved with a quiet, almost synchronized rhythm. His attention snapped to the two lines that snaked their way toward the entrance, each one offering a different fate depending on who stood in it.
The B-Line was the longest—a chaotic mass of commoners, travelers, and adventurers. Their faces were worn, tired, and desperate. Some carried goods, while others simply looked to pass through to get to whatever their destination was. Guards, with their stern faces and sharp eyes, methodically inspected each person, their movements deliberate, almost mechanical. The line was slow, agonizingly so, as though the passage itself was a test of patience.
Then, there was the A-Line—shorter, quicker. Wealthier folk, merchants, and high-ranking individuals moved through it with ease. Those who didn't want to waste time. Nobles, hunters, those who carried the weight of power and status.
Blue's gaze shifted back to the B-Line, where impatience dripped from the faces of those standing in it.
He glanced down at his attire, the finely crafted fabrics of his coat, the polished boots, the ring on his hand. The man from earlier had been right. He wasn't poor. But it wasn't just the clothes; it was how he moved, how his presence commanded a certain awareness, a space that others could feel but not fully understand.
"Excuse me," Blue muttered, stepping toward a rough-looking man standing in the B-Line.
The man was gruff, weathered by time, with an air of exhaustion about him.
"What's the deal with the two lines?"
The man gave him a quick look, the barest flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Then, he smirked, crossing his arms.
"Ah, you're new here, huh?"
Blue's face remained neutral as the man seemed to savor the opportunity to explain, clearly enjoying the chance to educate the newcomer.
"In Restoria, we've got two lines. The long one," he gestured to the B-Line, "is for the regular folk. Citizens get through for free, but anyone else? Two small bronze coins. You pay, you wait. And, believe me, it's a slow wait. Slower than an old mule pulling a cart."
The man's tone shifted slightly, almost condescending, as he gestured to the A-Line.
"Now that one's for the important folk. Merchants, hunters with gear worth something, and the like. Two small silver coins, but it's quick. You can skip all this waiting. Some rookies try to game it, try to act like they've got money. But they wise up after a couple of trips. They'll end up standing in this line with the rest of us."
Blue nodded, his eyes narrowing at the man's casual dismissal of the people in the B-Line. He could sense the layers beneath the man's words—the subtle superiority, the judgment. The man wasn't simply explaining; he was distinguishing himself from those around him.
"Judging by your gear," the man added, glancing over Blue with a sharp eye, "you're not exactly poor. But that A-Line's a waste of silver if you ask me. Let the rich waste their money. Me? I don't mind the wait."
Blue remained silent for a moment, considering the offer. The A-Line had no wait, but it also had its own cost. Two silver coins—a small price, but it was more than just the money. It was a choice, a decision to align himself with the powerful, with those who valued time over wealth.
It was a choice he would make.
Without saying another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the A-Line, ignoring the man's amused mutterings behind him.
"Hah, another one…"
The A-Line moved with surprising efficiency, a clear reflection of the wealth and power that those who passed through it represented. The guards stood taller here, their armor gleaming in the sunlight, their faces impassive.
Within five minutes, Blue stood at the front of the line, facing a group of Restorian guards. One stepped forward, his broad shoulders blocking the sun as he eyed Blue with the sort of scrutiny reserved for those who didn't quite belong.
"ID?" the guard asked flatly, his voice gruff.
Blue shook his head, his expression unchanged.
"I'm a wanderer. No ID."
The guard paused, then looked him over carefully. There was a flicker of something—disinterest, maybe—but it passed quickly.
"No ID? That'll be two extra silver coins. If you want to get one, go to the Hunter's Office."
His tone was dripping with sarcasm, but Blue didn't flinch. He didn't care.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out four small silver coins, placing them directly into the guard's hand. The guard didn't flinch either, but he gave the coins a quick inspection before stepping aside.
"Enter."
The moment Blue passed through the gates, the world hit him with a wave of noise and sensation. The air was thick with the scents of baking bread, sizzling meat, and burning incense. The streets of Restoria were alive—people shouting, calling out bargains, merchants hawking wares, adventurers exchanging stories and gossip.
A cacophony of sound, a dizzying swirl of sights. But beneath it all, Blue could feel the undercurrent—the subtle pulse of power that ran through everything. Here, everything had a price. Everything was for sale.
He could already feel it in the air—the pressure. The palpable weight of power, the kind of power that could be bought and sold like any other commodity. This was a city where money and strength were the currency. And if he wanted to make a name for himself, he would need both.
His gaze shifted to the nearby Hunter's Office, where a steady stream of people came and went. The goal was clear: get an ID. Figure out how this world worked, learn its rules. He wasn't here to waste time.
With one final glance at the street around him, Blue took a step forward, the noise and chaos of Restoria folding into the background as he focused on his next move.
The world here didn't care who he was.
It only cared about what he could do.
And Blue knew it was time to show them.