The fifth day of travel ended with dust turning to cobblestones. JP felt the change under his boots, rough dirt giving way to hard, carefully laid stone. He squinted ahead.
At first, the horizon seemed hazy—just a smear of gray. Then, step by step, the outline sharpened. Towers. Ramparts. Banners snapping high above walls tall enough to make JP's neck ache when he tried to see the top. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys beyond, mixing with the faint clang of metal striking metal.
His throat went dry. "Holy—" His voice cracked. "This place makes the village look like a broom closet."
Beside him, Lyra pulled her hood tighter, her face shadowed. Her steps never faltered, but JP didn't miss the way her eyes lingered on the guards patrolling the walls.
As they approached the main gate, the true scale of the city hit him. Wagons rumbled past, laden with grain, hides, and ore. Merchants argued loudly with guards over tariffs, their words nearly drowned by braying horses and barking dogs. Children darted between the chaos, trying to sell trinkets to travelers.
JP's nerves flared when they reached the line of travelers waiting entry. The guards were armored head to toe, their spears gleaming. One barked at a trader to open his crates. Another carefully inspected a group of adventurers' weapons.
"Uh, Lyra?" JP whispered, sweating under his pack straps. "We don't… actually have papers, do we?"
Her lips twitched faintly. "Leave it to me."
When their turn came, JP nearly fumbled his staff out of sheer panic. But Lyra smoothly presented a guild slip—aged parchment bearing the local Adventurer's Guild insignia. The guard squinted, glanced at them, then waved them through with bored disinterest.
JP's knees nearly buckled in relief. "How did you—no, you know what, I don't want to know."
Lyra only said, "Connections," and slipped past the gate.
Then the city hit him all at once.
Noise, color, and motion assaulted his senses. Buildings rose tightly packed, some leaning precariously over the street. Narrow alleys twisted off in every direction, children chasing each other through them like darting shadows. The market stalls were alive with shouting merchants hawking bread, fish, cloth, even live chickens dangling by the legs. The smell of sweat, smoke, spices, and horses all tangled together until JP nearly gagged.
And above it all—towers of stone and steel, workshops belching smoke, and hammering ringing out like a constant heartbeat.
JP froze in the middle of the street, mouth open. "This is insane. It's like… medieval Manila mixed with a flea market and a construction site."
"Keep moving," Lyra muttered, tugging at his sleeve before he was trampled by a passing cart. "The streets don't slow for gawkers."
He stumbled forward, still craning his neck at every sight. His brain was already racing. Glowcap lamps in every window. Resin-treated hides for waterproofing. Mana-pulse alarms for merchants. The possibilities for his inventions weren't just ideas anymore—they were opportunities waiting in every alley, every home, every guild hall.
But Lyra's sharp gaze swept the crowd differently. Where JP saw opportunity, she saw eyes that lingered too long, hands that twitched near purses, guards watching like hawks. Her voice dropped low as they turned a corner.
"This place will eat you alive if you're careless. It's not the village. Here, power and coin rule—and the guilds keep both on a short leash."
JP's excitement faltered for just a breath. He looked at her hooded face, her careful silence about her "people." If she was this tense, then danger was more than just lurking monsters.
Still, his grin returned, even if it trembled. "Then I'll just have to light it up, one invention at a time."
She shot him a look. "Just don't burn it down first."
As they pushed deeper into the city, the shadows of towers loomed higher, the roar of civilization surrounding them. For JP, it was terrifying. Overwhelming.
And absolutely thrilling.
The City Arc had begun.