Nam raises an eyebrow, a triumphant smirk on his face.
"So the city was here all along… But who is Corven, really? I guess I need to find a library."
He pulls back the cuffs of his sleeves, but a new problem presents itself—how to climb down. A realization strikes him like lightning.
"Damn you, Corven! You could've at least given me a pouch of coins!" He starts grumbling, his frustration echoing through the air.
Nael's words still linger in his mind: "How was I supposed to know you were just a kid?!"
As the mountain's steepness gradually decreases, Nam spots a possible path down. He heads toward it, and the descent takes a grueling five hours. The parchment is tucked safely in his pocket, the pendant hanging around his neck. Yet, a nagging feeling gnaws at him—something tells him he won't be welcomed in the city.
The moment his feet hit flat ground, it feels as if a seven-kilogram weight is lifted off his body. His legs burn from hours of climbing, every step sending dull pain through his muscles.
"I swear, this life… these people… and that damn pendant—" he mutters under his breath before dropping onto a smooth, oval-shaped rock.
"Hff… hff…" He pants heavily, catching his breath. After resting for ten minutes, he forces himself to keep moving.
The last stretch of the journey is the easiest—just a sloping dirt and grass path. He descends quickly, but even after that, the city is still hours away. Carriages pass by on another road, all heading toward the city gate. People inside glance at him, their gazes filled with either curiosity or indifference. Not a single one offers help.
As he trudges forward, his eyes wander to a golden wheat field.
"Did they use spirits for this too?" he murmurs.
Then, exhaustion finally catches up with him. His body gives out, and he collapses. He had expected this. After walking for hours without food, it was inevitable. Even keeping his eyes open feels like a struggle.
"I should've eaten those mushrooms…" He regrets it now, though there's nothing he can do.
A shadow falls over him, blocking the harsh sunlight. He barely manages to lift his gaze, but it's clear—someone is standing over him.
"Hm? What are you doing here, boy?"
The man has a mix of orange and red hair, a thick beard trailing down to his chest. His belly is round, his broad frame wrapped in a loose white shirt with long sleeves. A gray wool vest, buttoned at the front, rests over it. His pants are simple, made of rough wool, ending just below his knees, tied with a string belt. A wide-brimmed felt hat shields him from the sun, and thick leather boots cover his feet.
The man glances back toward the direction Nam came from.
"So, you're from the burning city, huh?" His eyes narrow as he squints at the horizon. "If you weren't so impatient, the rescue team would've found you."
Nam doesn't respond. He barely comprehends the man's words, his mind clouded by exhaustion.
"Ah, wait… Here it is!"
The man pulls out a loaf of bread and a piece of cheese.
To Nam, at this moment, they are worth more than any treasure.
"Can you eat by yourself?" the man asks.
Nam weakly reaches for the bread, his fingers trembling. He brings it to his mouth, taking slow, deliberate bites. It takes time, but he finishes it. Strength returns to his body, though his head still spins when he stands.
He bows his head multiple times, thanking the man profusely before forcing himself to continue toward the city.
By the time he reaches the gates, the sky is painted in deep shades of orange and purple. The city walls stand tall, built from granite and brick, stretching over four and a half meters high. Soldiers patrol the top, their silhouettes dark against the evening sky.
The entrance is adorned with engravings and the kingdom's emblem. A heavy wooden gate, reinforced with iron, guards the city. Torches flicker on either side of it, casting shadows on the stone.
Nam pulls out his entry permit and approaches.
As soon as he nears the gate, two guards cross their spears in front of him.
They wear metal chest plates, their shoulders adorned with fabric embellishments. Their helmets, sleek and sturdy, feature decorative plumes. Thin, long swords hang from their waists. Their uniforms include thick cloth pants reaching their knees and tall leather boots.
One has a light beard, the other only a mustache.
"Entry permit," one of them demands. His tone is sharp, disciplined—exactly what Nam expected from a city guard.
Nam hands it over. The guard takes the paper, glances at it, and then
The gate opens.
Nam stares, dumbfounded.
"H-Hey, how did you do that?!"
The guard doesn't respond. But Nam has a guess—spirit energy.
Still, his priority is clear. He steps into the city, his gaze scanning the unfamiliar streets. He needs to find the library.
Yet, as he looks around, a realization dawns on him.
"…Where do I even start?"