The gates of Orvale loomed ahead — tall, iron-braced wood surrounded by a thick stone wall. A pair of armored guards eyed me as I approached, hands resting lazily on their spears.
"State your business," one of them said, bored.
I kept my hood up. "Traveling scholar," I replied smoothly. "Just passing through."
The guard narrowed his eyes. "Got coin?"
I held out a silver ring. The metal shimmered faintly with mana — a little trinket I lifted from one of the corrupted wolves. Not worth much, but fancy enough to suggest I wasn't poor.
He grunted. "Fine. No trouble, scholar."
He stepped aside.
Just like that, I walked into my first city in this world — no grand announcement, no hero's welcome. Just another stranger behind a hood and a smirk.
System Alert: Recognition Protocol not activated.
Reminder: Say "I am the Chosen Hero" to receive your rewards.
I ignored it.
The city of Orvale was alive.
Streets of worn cobblestone twisted through narrow alleys and crowded markets. Vendors shouted over each other. Children laughed and chased each other through the mud. Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang.
It smelled like sweat, smoke, and baked bread.
So this was the world I was supposed to save.
No thanks.
I walked through the crowd, quietly observing.
Guards in blue-and-silver tabards. Church banners depicting a faceless god of light. A large central keep that towered over the rest — likely where King Verin sat on his throne.
The whole place stank of order. Of system-approved hierarchy.
I could feel the invisible chains. Even the people who smiled… were shackled.
New Quest Detected: Investigate the Royal Guard's Inner Circle.
Objective: Find out who controls Orvale behind the scenes.
I didn't tap [Accept]. Didn't have to. The moment I thought about it, the system logged it anyway.
"Creepy," I muttered.
"I heard that."
The voice came from behind me — female, sharp, and amused.
I turned.
She was leaning against a wooden beam, arms crossed. Leather armor, a dagger at her hip, confident eyes that watched like a hawk.
"Didn't expect you to talk to the system out loud," she said. "Rookie mistake."
I tilted my head. "You can see the interface?"
She grinned. "You must be new."
She held out a hand. "Name's Kaelira. Scout. Information broker. Thief, depending who you ask."
I took her hand. "No name."
She blinked. "That your alias?"
"No. I literally don't remember it."
She raised an eyebrow. "Amnesia. Classic." She looked me up and down. "You're not a normal traveler."
"I get that a lot."
"Too calm. Too aware. Most outlanders are screaming or preaching about destiny."
I smirked. "And what about you?"
"I'm interested. You look like trouble. The fun kind."
Potential Companion Detected: Kaelira [Race: Half-Shadow]
Warning: Bonding with her may unlock alternate questlines.
Oh?
"Tell you what," she said, pushing off the beam. "If you're as clever as you look, come to the Hollow Market tonight. Underground auction. No rules. No system eyes."
"Why invite me?"
"Because chaos attracts chaos," she replied with a wink. "And I want to see what kind of storm you bring."
That night, I stood in the shadows of the Hollow Market.
Deep beneath the city, beyond a sewer entrance guarded by whispers and blood-oaths, the underworld thrived. Illegal goods. Monster cores. Enchanted weapons. Forbidden tomes.
Power changed hands here.
The moment I walked in, I felt the eyes. Dozens. Maybe hundreds.
Some fearful.
Some greedy.
Some… curious.
"Who is that?"
"Never seen him before…"
"Wait, is that a crown under the hood?"
The auctioneer stepped up to the dais. "Tonight's special item — a sealed relic. Recovered from the Ruins of Old Aurenthia."
The cloth came off.
A silver gauntlet pulsing with crimson veins of energy.
Instantly, my system pinged.
Warning: That relic is system-forbidden.
Acquisition is not recommended.
Optional Quest: Claim the Gauntlet of Ruin.
[Warning: This item may accelerate moral corruption.]
I stepped forward.
Kaelira was watching from a balcony above, lips curled in a knowing smile.
"I'll bid," I said.
The crowd turned. Gasps. Whispers.
I threw back my hood.
Gasps became silence.
Eyes locked onto the crown now fully visible on my head — dark, jagged, humming with sovereign weight.
"I'm not bidding with gold," I said.
The auctioneer's mouth opened, then closed.
"I'm claiming it."
And just like that… everything changed.