A few meters ahead, a city unlike any Ri-hyun had ever encountered unfolded before him, rising from the horizon like a mirage carved in gemstone. Towering walls of polished stone shimmered in the sunlight, each block etched with intricate carvings—runes, histories, and perhaps prayers of an age long past. The architecture was a harmony of elegance and function: slender spires pierced the sky like needles threading the clouds, while buildings beneath them boasted curving roofs reminiscent of rising waves frozen mid-crest.
As Ri-hyun approached, the air itself felt different—imbued with a subtle vibration, a musical hum that danced just beneath perception. It was serene, a sharp contrast to the silence that cloaked his homeland like fog. The scent of perfume and spices filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter, hoofbeats, and the gentle clatter of wheels on cobbled stone.
People passed him, radiant in garments of flowing silk, brocade, and linen dyed in hues so vibrant they seemed to ripple with life. Ornate carriages drawn by elegant, well-groomed steeds drifted past like regal boats in a stream. The vehicles were marvels of craftsmanship—wood polished to a shine, metal inlays glinting with subtle enchantments.
"Everything feels... similar, yet wholly new," Ri-hyun murmured, watching the city live and breathe around him. His bare feet padded along the stone, drawing glances he quickly began to notice. A change in the rhythm. A shift in the wind.
The stares.
He looked down at himself—his once-white hanbok was now tattered and stained with dried, flaking blood, brown with age and violence. It hung from his frame like the skin of an old war story. To the citizens of this gleaming city, he was nothing more than a beggar—perhaps worse, an outsider.
Still, he paid it no mind. He had seen more judgmental eyes in the courts of emperors and the chambers of demons.
That was when a small figure—swift and silent—grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him into a narrow alley.
"What do you think you're doing!?" a sharp voice snapped.
Startled, Ri-hyun looked into the eyes of a teenage girl, barely past her fourteenth year, wearing a ragged hood and clothes two sizes too large. She stood with a fire in her eyes disproportionate to her tiny frame.
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused. Her words were strange, unintelligible.
A moment later, a soft chime rang in his ears as a translucent screen appeared before him:
[Activating skill: Universal Language.]
With a soft flicker, the screen vanished, and her next words became perfectly clear.
"I said—are you insane!? Walking around like that? The boss sees you and I'm as good as dead!"
"I... do not understand why," Ri-hyun said calmly.
The girl froze. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face, taking a step closer.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
"I am not."
Her suspicion gave way to caution, then opportunity.
"Come with me," she ordered, grabbing his arm again and tugging him deeper into the maze of alleys. They passed rows of broken homes, collapsed roofs, and people draped in rags. South of the central city lay the slums—a forgotten borough thriving on whispers and desperation.
Oddly, Ri-hyun felt something stir in his chest.
Excitement.
He hadn't felt anything like it in centuries. Not since before his flesh had become more weapon than man. There was something raw, something real about this world—this girl, even—and the promise of unknown variables teased the strategist in him awake.
"We're here," she said, stopping before a two-story house. It was larger than the others, though still ragged. The front door creaked open to a dim-lit den where rough men sat at crooked tables, betting with coin and fate. Laughter echoed through the floorboards.
She led him up a narrow staircase, arriving at a single door flanked by two burly guards. They sneered at Ri-hyun, but she spoke quickly.
"I'm here to speak to the boss. It's important."
After a pause, they relented, opening the door.
Inside sat a man behind a desk, surrounded by trophies of violence—blades, bones, paintings of hunted beasts. His posture oozed indifference.
"What do you want?" he asked flatly.
The girl pushed Ri-hyun forward. "I found this foreigner. Doesn't even speak right. He's a beggar—useless. Let me off the hook, just take him instead."
Ri-hyun blinked.
So that was her play.
The man laughed. "You really brought me trash to save your own neck? I barely feel a trace of aura in him. Fine. He'll go with the others. But don't let me see your face again."
"Thank you, Sir Caras!" she said quickly, bowing before yanking Ri-hyun away.
They descended into a yard behind the house, where a rusted cage carriage waited. Inside sat other disheveled men and women, some already dozing, some staring blankly into space.
"Just stay quiet, alright? They'll feed you at the labor site," she said, pulling her hood low and slipping into the shadows.
Ri-hyun climbed in, taking a seat as the doors locked shut behind him.
"Did I just... get sold?" he asked, more amused than offended.
A grizzled man beside him gave a bitter chuckle. "Welcome to the bottom. You'll be digging, building, or dying. That's our fate."
The crack of a whip shattered the air.
"Shut up in there!" a guard barked. The wagon lurched forward, horses neighing as they passed through the southern gate and into the dark forest beyond. Three mounted escorts rode alongside.
Ri-hyun appraised them with a glance. "Third-rate warriors," he muttered to himself.
Night fell. The convoy halted to rest. The guards lit a fire and roasted meat, feasting under the stars while the prisoners received nothing but cold air and chained limbs.
"They don't even give bread," Ri-hyun said aloud.
The others barely reacted. They were long past despair.
But something sparked in Ri-hyun's gaze.
He rose.
"Hey, sit down!" someone hissed, grabbing at his sleeve. "You'll get us all killed!"
He gently shrugged off the grip. "No, I won't."
The campfire crackled as he approached the guards.
"Oi! Get back in the cage!" the bald one barked, cracking his whip.
"I came to ask for food," Ri-hyun said, his tone iron-clad. "If you intend to keep us alive for work, we will need to eat."
They burst into laughter.
"Who the hell does this wretch think he is?" one sneered, stepping forward.
But as the scar-faced man leaned close, he froze—locked in place by Ri-hyun's gaze. His breath caught. Fear overtook his face.
"Oi, what's wrong with you?" the bald one growled, stepping in.
He raised his whip and lashed out.
Before it could connect, half the whip vanished.
Cleanly severed. Effortlessly.
Silence blanketed the camp.
The three remaining guards stepped back.
"I'll say this once more," Ri-hyun said quietly. "Feed us. Or this will be your final meal."