Eron stepped cautiously out of the dense forest and into a wide field bathed in afternoon sunlight. The trees gave way to open grasslands, dotted with violet-tinged flowers that swayed gently in the breeze. A narrow dirt path stretched ahead, winding toward a small hill.
He followed it, the crunch of his boots on dry soil oddly comforting after the surreal tension of the cave and the time tunnel. Up ahead, the sound of rushing water guided him to a riverbank, where a wooden bridge arched gracefully over a clear stream.
And then he saw it.
Nestled in a shallow valley beyond the hill was a town. A quaint settlement surrounded by a low stone wall, its stones pale gray and covered with ivy in some places. Windmills turned lazily on the outskirts. Smoke rose in soft curls from chimneys, mixing with the golden haze of afternoon. Farmland stretched outward in neat squares, dotted with workers in tunics and straw hats. In the distance, children swung wooden swords at each other, their laughter carrying faintly in the wind.
Eron's breath caught. "Finally… civilization."
Relief, however, quickly gave way to hesitation. He looked down at himself: dirt-caked hiking boots, sweat-stained shirt, lightweight jacket. He looked nothing like the people below, many of whom wore cloaks, tunics, even armor. His clothes screamed "outsider." Worse, he didn't know the currency, the language, or the customs.
Still, there was no choice. He walked toward the gates.
Two guards stood by the entrance, their spears crossed casually in front of them. One, a stocky man in chainmail, eyed him up and down with a raised brow. "You lost, mountain folk?"
Eron forced a smile. "Uh… just trying to find my way."
The younger guard leaned toward his partner, not even bothering to lower his voice. "Looks like a country bumpkin wandered out of a cave."
Heat flared on Eron's cheeks. He muttered under his breath, "Thanks for the warm welcome…"
The older guard reached into a pouch and handed him a thin wooden plaque etched with runes.
"Temporary Entry Token," he said flatly. "Show this if anyone asks. You'll need to register at the Guild Hall or Town Hall before sunset. No loitering. No trouble."
Eron accepted it with a stiff nod. "Got it."
He stepped through the gate.
The town hit him like a wave.
Cobblestone streets twisted between tightly packed buildings, their roofs painted in shades of red and green tile. Colorful banners stretched across alleys. Signs hung from wooden beams, carved with symbols and letters he didn't recognize—yet somehow, when he stared at them, his mind clicked into understanding. Bread. Potions. Mana crystals.
Lanterns hung from iron hooks, glowing faintly even in daylight. An open-air market bustled in the square, merchants shouting over one another, advertising fruits, cloth, and glittering charms. The scent of grilled meat and fresh bread mingled with the sharper tang of herbs and smoke.
Eron turned his head constantly, trying to take it all in. Mages floated crates down alleys with flicks of their hands. Adventurers in mismatched armor boasted about recent hunts, one holding up a claw the size of a dog's head. Strange animals squawked in cages, their feathers shimmering with faint sparks of light.
A group of kids noticed him and burst into laughter.
"Look at his pants!" one shouted.
"He must've gotten lost from a farming village!" another chimed in.
Eron's ears burned. He kept his head down, walking faster, hugging the edge of the road. His hiking bag bounced against his back, the moss still tucked deep inside one of its lower compartments.
He said nothing. Just walked. Trying to disappear into the flow of people.
Eventually, he reached the town center. A wide plaza spread out before him, its surface paved with white stone. At its heart rose a tall statue: a humanoid figure carved in smooth marble, hands outstretched as if offering something unseen. Embedded in its chest and palms were glowing gems that pulsed faintly, casting soft light on the crowd gathered below.
Eron squinted at the base. Strange script curved across the pedestal. For a second, the words blurred—but then, as though translated directly into his mind, they became clear:
The Blessing of Awakening – Let the Gift Find the Worthy.
He watched as people lined up. One by one, they pressed their palms against the statue's hands. A gentle glow surrounded each of them. Some gasped, eyes wide with delight. Others stepped back with sighs of disappointment.
"Another Fireball?" a man groaned when a boy stumbled away from the statue. "That's three in a row."
Eron tilted his head. Fireball? That didn't sound useless.
Curiosity pulled him forward.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Who's that?"
"Another bumpkin?"
"Hope he gets something better than Fireball."
Eron exhaled slowly and placed his palm on the statue.
Light flared, flooding his vision. Warmth surged into his hand, then into his chest.
[Skill Acquired: Fireball]
The words echoed not in sound but inside his head. A faint heat tingled at his fingertips.
He blinked, stunned. That was it?
He stepped back, and the murmurs began.
"Another one with Fireball."
"That's beginner-tier trash."
Eron's brow furrowed. But even as they dismissed him, something felt different.
The warmth hadn't faded. It coiled inside him, steady and alive. His pulse throbbed in rhythm with it. The crowd might see Fireball as worthless, but to him, it didn't feel like nothing.
"Why are they laughing?" he thought. "Fireball felt… strong."
He clenched his fists. He didn't argue, didn't shout back. He just turned away, jaw set, and fixed his eyes on a wooden sign swinging gently nearby:
Adventurer's Guild – Main Branch
"If this is a joke to them, fine. But I'll see what this Fireball can really do."
He stepped through the guild's arched doorway. As he did, the moss tucked inside his hiking bag pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of light against the fabric.
For a moment, another thought flickered in his mind.
What if I used the pocket? That space for training… twenty years inside, only a second outside…
But he pushed it aside. Not yet.
There were more immediate problems.
Like how to survive.
And how to prove that sometimes, the most common skills…
…can burn the loudest.