The light outside had dimmed completely by the time Arman stepped out of the Association.
Lanterns flickered along the street.
His stomach growled.
He moved to the side of the steps and pulled his coin pouch free.
The leather felt far lighter than when he first arrived in Rostam.
He emptied the coins into his palm and counted carefully.
Nine silver.
Only nine.
He replayed the expenses in his head.
First night in Rostam:Room — 6 silverDinner — 2 silver
Morning meal — 3 silver
Second night:Room — 6 silverDinner — 2 silver
Morning meal again — 3 silver
Mage Association registration — 5 silver
It had vanished faster than he expected.
If he rented another room tonight:
Six silver.
If he ate modestly:
Two silver.
That would leave him with one silver.
One.
He closed his hand around the coins.
"I can't afford another idle day."
Tomorrow, he would go to the Adventurer Guild.
Small tasks.
Practical work.
Enough to survive.
Enough to grow.
He turned toward the inn.
The tavern was louder than before.
Evening had drawn merchants and travelers inside. Laughter echoed between wooden beams. The scent of roasted meat and thick stew filled the air.
Arman stepped inside and paused.
That was when he saw him.
Near the far corner of the tavern, partially concealed by shadow, sat a man in a long black robe.
Nothing unusual about that.
But—
Above the man's head, faint and translucent—
Was text.
A name.
[Altair Everett]
And beneath it—
A level.
Level 10.
Arman's breath hitched.
He blinked once.
The text remained.
No one else in the tavern had anything above their heads.
He scanned the room carefully.
Merchants. Adventurers. Guards.
Nothing.
Only the man in black.
The figure remained still, head slightly lowered, as if listening more than speaking.
Arman forced himself to look away before staring too long.
His pulse quickened.
"Why can I see that?"
He approached the counter and ordered the cheapest meal available.
"Bread and stew," he said.
"Two silver," the innkeeper replied.
He paid without hesitation.
He did not look toward the black-robed man again immediately.
Instead, he sat at a side table and ate slowly, pretending calm.
But his mind raced.
Only he had a Level.
He had never seen one above anyone else.
Not in Pine Village.
Not in the carriage.
Not in the Association.
Now—
For the first time—
He saw another.
He risked a subtle glance.
The name and level still hovered faintly above the man's head.
Visible only to him.
Or so it seemed.
"What if…"
He swallowed slowly.
What if that person—
Was also not originally from this world?
The thought tightened his chest.
If the Level system was unique—
If Rank belonged to this world—
Then Level belonged to something else.
Something external.
Something granted.
Like his.
Was it possible—
That someone else had been brought here the same way he had?
He forced himself to remain composed.
Speculation would not help.
Not yet.
The black-robed figure eventually stood and walked out quietly.
The text above his head moved with him—
Then disappeared beyond the doorway.
Arman sat still long after the door closed.
Two possibilities.
Either:
The System allowed him to see certain individuals.
Or—
That man was like him.
From another world.
He finished his meal in silence.
Whatever the truth was, tonight was not the time to investigate.
He had one silver to spare after tonight.
Tomorrow mattered more.
He climbed the stairs to his room and locked the door behind him.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, thinking.
Adventurer Guild.
Income.
Mana growth.
And now—
Possibly another outsider.
He lay down slowly.
"I'll survive first," he murmured.
"Then I'll find answers."
His eyes closed.
Tomorrow would be his first quest.
And perhaps—
The beginning of something larger than Rank.