After breakfast, we didn't talk much. Maybe we didn't need to really. The silence wasn't uncomfortable — just... calm. The kind that comes after a night that changes the rhythm between two people. The warmth of the meal and the faint bitterness of the coffee kept me grounded, though my thoughts drifted in and out of quiet reflection.
When we finally finished, I wiped my mouth and leaned back. "I should probably get going," I said, breaking the stillness. "I need to pick up a few things before the exam — a sword, maybe some armour, clothes that don't make me look like a lost traveller."
Emily nodded, her fork clinking softly against her plate. "That's a good idea," she said, her tone understanding. For a moment, it looked like she wanted to say something else. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her napkin, her eyes darting toward me, then away again.
I raised a brow. "What is it?"
She hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Nothing. I was just thinking I could tag along — but I need to stop by my guild first, check in and let them know I'm back in the capital."
"Ah," I said, standing. "Duty calls."
She gave me a small smile. "Exactly."
We lingered by the door a little longer than necessary — neither of us saying what we were thinking. Then I turned and stepped out first, letting the morning air hit my face. It was crisp and bright, the kind that carried the buzz of a city waking up.
The capital was alive.
The streets were already packed — vendors setting up stalls, carriages creaking over cobblestones, people calling out greetings and bargains in the same breath. The smell of bread and roasted nuts drifted through the air.
Most of the faces I passed were human, but not all. Here and there, I caught glimpses of others — figures whose shapes or colors didn't quite blend in with the rest of the crowd. A pair of catfolk walked by, their tails swaying lazily behind them. A fox-eared woman was haggling with a merchant over the price of dried herbs. Farther ahead, I spotted a tall figure with scales glinting beneath his cloak — a lizardman, his steps heavy and deliberate.
And then there were the demonoids — skin tinted in shades of gray and violet, faint horns curling like polished bone from their foreheads. Their eyes glowed faintly under the sunlight. The system gave me the exact name of each different race I spotted as I walked, otherwise I would be wracking my brain trying to place the features.
I tried not to stare for too long, though it wasn't easy. Every face seemed like a story waiting to be told. "Yeah, definitely feels more and more like I walked into a fantasy novel," I muttered under my breath. "I wonder how many races there are?"
[Ding! Feeding host information about the different races in this world.]
The familiar soft female voice chimed inside my head, startling me slightly. A translucent panel appeared in front of my vision, scrolling rapidly with text.
[Athellion Races Overview]
Humans.
Elves.
Demonoids.
Beastmen.
Lizardmen.
Merfolk.
Dragonborn.
Dwarves.
Giants.
Dryads.
Harpies.
Spirits.
Fairies.
[...]
The list seemed to go on forever, filling my view like a living encyclopaedia. These were listed as the main races, and then there were sub races in some races like beastmen and spirits. They could be further broken down into foxkin, rabbitkin, tigerkin and so on.
Spirits were subdivided based on their spiritual element, like undines, the water spirit, the sylphs or wind spirits, and so on.
"Wow," I murmured. "That's... a lot of races."
The system continued, the voice calm and almost smug in its efficiency.
[Note: There additional Ancient and mythical races, they exist only in historical records. These include True Dragons, the Fey, titans, primordial elementals and more. None have been sighted in recorded history. They are believed to be ancestors to some of the modern races]
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "So, basically... there might be true dragons. Or maybe not."
[Host should not dismiss the possibility. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.]
I snorted. "Did you just quote a philosopher at me?"
[System does not require philosophy to state facts.]
"Uh-huh. Sure you don't."
I chuckled quietly, weaving through the crowd. Despite the system's deadpan tone, it had developed an oddly human rhythm — sometimes too human.
As I passed a bakery, the smell of fresh bread made my stomach rumble again. "So, System," I asked, lowering my voice, "you said these races coexist. Are they... friendly?"
[Most are not. Racial conflict is an ongoing theme across the continents. Human and Beastmen relations remain stable due to centuries of trade and alliance. Elves remain mostly reclusive. Demonoids, Lizardmen, and others have historically clashed with human nations. Large scale wars are not rare. The last one was a hundred years ago]
I nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Makes sense why I've only seen a handful of non-humans here."
[Affirmative. The capital enforces selective immigration policies, prioritizing human dominance.]
I frowned. "So, racism still exists even in a world full of literal magic and talking animals. Great."
[Inefficient social systems are universal constants.]
"Yeah, no kidding."
After a while, I reached a long street lined with shops. Weapons, armour, potions — everything an adventurer could need. The air was filled with metallic clanging and the sharp smell of oiled steel.
A blacksmith stood outside one shop, hammering at a glowing sword. Sparks flew, scattering like fireflies. He was using a fire spell to keep the forge hot. I paused, watching for a moment. The man looked up briefly, giving me a nod before returning to his work.
I stepped inside the shop, greeted by the sound of metal on metal and the faint heat of a forge.
Behind the counter stood a stocky dwarf with a soot-streaked beard and arms like tree trunks. His gaze lifted from a half-finished breastplate. "Morning, lad. You here to buy or to browse?"
"Buy," I said. "I need a sword — something balanced, reliable. Not too fancy." Though I had received a Legendary grade sword with the system, using it casually would be like I'm begging for someone to steal it from me.
Weak as I was, it was bound to happen. It would be like screaming, Hey I have an expensive sword, and I'm to weak to actually use it. So obviously, like any reincarnator worth his salt, I am here to get a backup, maybe two.
He grunted approvingly. "Good answer. I hate customers who only want 'fancy.' Follow me."
He led me to a rack filled with blades — short swords, longswords, even curved sabers that caught the light. I tested a few, letting my hand rest on the hilts.
[Recommendation: Choose a blade with a balanced weight ratio. Host's current physique suits thin one-handed longswords.]
I raised an eyebrow. "You can analyze my physique now?"
[System analysis is constant. Efficiency must be optimized.]
"Right. Efficiency."
I picked up a longsword — simple, polished steel with a black leather grip. The balance felt perfect. The dwarf grinned when he saw my expression. "That one's solid. Good edge retention, flexible spine. It won't chip easy. It's a good sword."
"How much?"
"Three silver."
I didn't even know what that meant in modern money, but judging by his tone, it was fair, I could have haggled, but I had a feeling this one was not going lower the price. I handed over the coins, "Any armour that won't slow me down?"
He squinted at me. "Light or medium?"
"Something I can move in. Maybe leather with reinforcement."