The air in Umbraeth—City of Shadows wasn't breathable so much as it was consumed. It was an abrasive, swirling mix of a thousand overlapping scents: the sulphurous tang of scorched metal from an open-air forge, the sickly sweet syrup wafting from a vendor selling exotic honey-cakes, the dry, ancient smell of imported timber, and the heady scent of activated, low-grade magic. Akira Hayato stood frozen at the entrance to the main commercial artery, his composure momentarily cracked by the sheer, vibrant overload.
He had expected a city. What he faced was an entire, chaotic organism dedicated solely to trade and survival.
Rows upon rows of shops stretched farther than his gaze could penetrate, a dizzying canyon of commerce that clawed its way up toward the hazy ceiling of the Human Realm's protective dome. This wasn't a bazaar; it was the sprawling, anarchic tapestry of global trade woven into the very fabric of the city. The thoroughfare was jam-packed, a river of surging life comprised mostly of humans, but occasionally punctuated by figures with the tell-tale signs of tolerated species, their movements sharp and their eyes darting nervously.
Akira's senses went into overdrive, cataloging the storm. To his left, the mirrored fronts of colossal malls with luxury items gleamed—temples to wealth. Here, the display windows showcased gear far beyond his student budget: polished black obsidian armor meant for a high-tier Hero Unit, or crystalline matrices pulsing with contained energy, necessary for advanced, military-grade robotics.
Tucked tightly between these behemoths were the small alleyways, twisting veins of the market that were choked with the true lifeblood of the realm. Here, the noise was deafening and the elbow-to-elbow proximity absolute. Street vendors hawked everything imaginable on collapsible tables: raw materials for basic construction, cheap, brightly colored Hero Unit Summoning Cards promising low-tier allies, and stacks of land expansion cards that shimmered faintly, advertising an increase of habitable territory for a price.
The sheer, limitless variety of goods was a mirror to the boundless possibilities—and dangers—of the New World. He spotted artifacts that looked to have been carved from the bones of unknown beasts, specialized upgrading shops boasting services to enhance anything from a simple iron shield to complicated, exotic weaponry, and piles of dusty tomes labeled as world-building materials—volcanic ash from the realms of the Molten Dwarves, or spore-rich soil from the territories of the sentient Plant Civilization. He even spotted technology that defied his exhaustive studies: a vendor demonstrating a small, floating orb that somehow stabilized gravitational fields around itself—technology that even Akira didn't know.
His mind, trained for efficiency and calculation above all else, ignored the spectacle and latched onto the one stable anchor in this overwhelming current: the economy.
The entire district thrummed with the sound of money, a constant, sharp clinking of metal denominations that were the true pulse of Umbraeth. He focused intensely on the transactions unfolding around him, verifying the values stored in his memories.
The Coin System of the Human Empire:
1 Gold Coin = 1000 Silver Coins
1 Silver Coin = 500 Copper Coins
1 Copper Coin = 1000 Nickel Coins
He watched a heavily armored realm-builder trade a small, vibrating packet of purified energy dust—likely a mid-tier resource—for a handful of Silver Coins. Across the narrow alley, a vendor of common field rations sold a stack of nutrient bars for a generous pile of Copper Coins.
"The exchange is brutal," Akira murmured, the words swallowed by the market roar. This was the core reason for his visit. The Umbraeth Market was not just a place to shop; it was the engine room of the entire Human Realm. Its currency system revealed everything: the steep, unforgiving conversion from Silver to Copper meant that the everyday necessities of food, common repairs, and Nickel-grade armor ran on the cheaper denominations. But any item of actual value—any high-end weapon, technological component, or Hero Unit card—instantly leaped into the Silver Coin tier.
A single Gold Coin wasn't just a large sum; it was a year of safety, a small army, or the down-payment on an upgrade that could save a realm-builder's life. The high cost of Silver and Gold wasn't based on the scarcity of the metal, but on the scarcity of the risk required to retrieve the items they paid for from the dangerous outer realms.
He mentally cataloged the various sections of the market, noting the distinct clusters of goods. Food exchange stalls clustered near the main avenues, while the more perilous material exchange booths—where buyers and sellers swapped unstable dimensional crystals and volatile chemicals—were relegated to guarded, shadowy recesses.
The sight of this organized, yet utterly chaotic system filled him with a cold sense of gratitude. The Empire might be xenophobic, but their economic system was ruthlessly efficient. They used the terror of the outside world to drive an economy that recycled danger into wealth, ensuring that every human inside the protective dome of the realm was dependent on, and thus subservient to, the system.
Akira tightened his grip on the strap of his plain satchel, filled only with a notebook and a meager pouch of Copper Coins saved from odd jobs. He allowed himself one more moment of detached analysis, observing a small, nervous man trying to negotiate the price of a stack of healing potions at a health materials shop.
I have a year. Twelve months to map the terrain of wealth and danger. Every vendor, every price tag, and every transaction was a lesson in what it took to survive, what it took to build a world. He would not just survive the Awakening; he would conquer it.
He pushed off the wall he was leaning against, allowing the relentless current of the crowd to carry him forward toward the next section, where the goods vanished and the portals began.
END OF CHAPTER