Bruce didn't stop looking up.
Not because he was lost - though he was - but because the buildings kept going. The wooden roofs leaned over narrow streets like they were trying to listen to the people below. Hanging signs creaked in the breeze. Ropes stretched between second-floor balconies, laundry swaying like flags. The smell of cooked meat drifted through the air, mixed with iron, wet stone, and something faintly floral.
Rootwilds wasn't a city.
It was a living thing.
Vernon walked beside him with his hands tucked into his sleeves, shoulders slightly tense. His eyes moved differently than Bruce's - less wonder, more calculation. Like he was trying to map every alley and turn without letting the streets notice.
Bruce nudged him lightly with an elbow.
"You look like you're about to get executed."
Vernon's jaw tightened. "I'm fine."
"You said that yesterday before you walked into a bakery and stared at bread for ten minutes."
"I was observing."
"You were drooling."
Vernon shot him a flat look. "You were drooling."
Bruce grinned, unashamed. "Because it smelled like heaven."
Vernon exhaled through his nose. "This place smells like sweat and money."
"And food."
"..And sweat."
Bruce laughed under his breath, stepping around a cart being dragged by two men. The cart's wheels were thick and reinforced with iron. It rattled over the uneven street, making the ground tremble faintly underfoot.
Everywhere Bruce looked, there were people.
So many people.
Some dressed in plain tunics, some in coats stitched with thread that looked too expensive to even touch. Children ran between stalls. A woman yelled at a merchant. A man carrying sacks nearly collided with Bruce and didn't even apologize.
Nobody cared.
The forest had always felt like it watched them.
Rootwilds didn't watch.
It simply moved.
Bruce's grin widened. "This is insane."
Vernon swallowed. "It's loud."
"That's the point," Bruce said. "It's alive."
Vernon's fingers twitched slightly as he adjusted his sleeves. His stomach had been bothering him since morning, and he wasn't sure if it was nerves or hunger. Probably both.
Or maybe it was just... too much.
His enhanced senses didn't help.
He could hear footsteps in three different streets. Smell smoke from a forge somewhere behind them. Feel the vibrations of carts before they even appeared.
He could almost sense the shape of the city itself.
And that made it worse.
Because it meant the city could sense him too, in a way.
Bruce didn't seem to notice.
Or maybe he did, and didn't care.
They reached a wide intersection where a wooden board stood nailed to a thick post, covered in papers and pinned requests. Some were torn, others stained, and a few were written in neat ink that looked fresh.
Bruce stopped immediately.
His eyes lit up.
"A commission board," he said like he'd discovered treasure.
Vernon blinked. "How do you know what that is?"
Bruce shrugged. "People put papers on boards. That means work. Work means money."
Vernon stared at him. "That's... surprisingly logical."
Bruce smirked. "You act like I'm dumb."
"You are," Vernon said, and stepped forward to scan the papers.
Bruce gasped. "Wow. Just stabbed me."
"You'll survive."
Bruce leaned in beside him anyway, eyes darting over the requests.
Most were boring.
Need help transporting grain.
Missing dog. Reward offered.
Repair fence near eastern branch.
Delivery needed. Payment in copper.
Bruce's excitement faded quickly.
"This is all... chores," he muttered.
Vernon pointed at one. "This one pays three silver mizo."
Bruce's head snapped. "Where?"
Vernon tapped the paper.
Bruce leaned closer, reading the words slowly, lips moving faintly.
"Help packing merchant agency goods between first and second branch. Extra instructions: You will be with our merchant personnel, so don't think of anything funny. Payment: two silver mizo. Bonus three silver if fulfilled without problem."
Bruce blinked.
Then his eyes widened.
"That's five silver."
Vernon nodded. "That's five silver."
Bruce's grin returned, sharper now. "We're rich."
Vernon didn't even react.
"We're not rich," he said.
Bruce scoffed. "In the forest, we were eating roots and deer. Five silver is basically wealth."
Vernon folded the paper back down carefully. "It's a lot, yes."
Bruce glanced at another paper above it.
His expression changed.
"...Lightning attribute mana required."
Vernon's eyes flicked upward too.
The commission was written neatly, pinned higher than the rest, as if the writer wanted it noticed.
Looking for an individual capable of producing lightning attribute mana. Need assistance in recharging a tool. Payment negotiable. Meet at Liralic's workshop, second street past the western root-bridge. Ask for Liralic.
Bruce looked at Vernon slowly.
Vernon looked back.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Bruce grinned like a wolf.
"That's you."
Vernon sighed. "Yes. It's me."
Bruce slapped the board with his palm, making the papers flutter. "We should take it."
Vernon frowned. "We don't know what the tool is. Or what kind of person this Liralic is."
Bruce shrugged. "He needs lightning. We have lightning. Seems simple."
Vernon stared at him. "Nothing is simple."
Bruce leaned in close, lowering his voice dramatically. "You're just nervous because you have to talk to people."
Vernon's eye twitched.
Bruce laughed. "Come on. If we do this one first, we can get money now. Then do the merchant one later."
Vernon exhaled. "Fine. But we don't take any job that feels strange."
Bruce nodded quickly. "Agreed."
Vernon paused, then added, "And you don't buy anything without asking me."
Bruce blinked. "What? Why?"
Vernon stared. "Because you'll buy something stupid."
Bruce opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"...Fair."
They followed the directions written on the paper, weaving through the streets as the city shifted around them.
Vernon kept track of turns automatically.
Left past the stall with dried fruit. Right at the fountain. Straight past the bridge made of thick exposed roots that formed a natural arch over a shallow stream.
Rootwilds lived up to its name.
The trees weren't outside the city.
They were part of it.
Massive roots curled through stone foundations. Some buildings were built around trunks so large they looked ancient enough to remember the first people who ever stepped into this region.
Bruce kept touching everything like he couldn't believe it was real.
Vernon kept trying not to.
They reached a narrow street lined with small workshops. The air smelled of sawdust and oil. A bell chimed somewhere, followed by the clatter of metal.
Bruce stopped in front of a small building with an open doorway.
A sign hung above it, carved in careful lettering.
Liralic's Repairs & Oddworks
Bruce glanced at Vernon.
Vernon nodded once.
They stepped inside.
The room was cluttered.
Not messy-organized chaos. Shelves stacked with gears, bolts, strange metal pieces, glass vials, leather straps. Tools hung from the walls. A workbench sat in the centre, covered in scraps of wire and small devices.
And crouched on top of the table was a boy.
Not sitting.
Crouched.
Like he was ready to leap away at any moment.
He had messy dark hair, sharp green eyes, and ears that were-
Bruce froze.
Vernon froze.
Because the boy's ears were not human.
They were cat-like, pointed, twitching slightly as if listening to everything at once.
And behind him, half-hidden by the table, a tail flicked once.
The boy's gaze snapped to them.
His pupils narrowed.
"Shop's closed," he said instantly.
Bruce blinked. "It's... open."
The boy's tail flicked harder.
"...For you, it's closed."
Vernon cleared his throat politely. "We came for the commission."
The boy's eyes flicked to the paper in Vernon's hand.
His posture changed immediately.
Not relaxed-focused.
"...Lightning attribute?"
Vernon nodded. "Yes."
The boy stared at him like he didn't believe it.
Then he hopped down from the table with smooth, effortless movement, landing without a sound.
Bruce's eyebrows rose.
That's insane control.
The boy approached, stopping a few steps away. His gaze darted between Vernon and Bruce.
"You two aren't from Rootwilds," he said.
Bruce grinned. "Good observation."
The boy ignored him.
"You're from the outskirts," he continued, eyes narrowing. "Or the deep wild. Your shoes are wrong."
Vernon glanced down at his boots.
Bruce did too.
They were worn, sturdy, patched-built for forests, not stone streets.
Vernon's expression didn't change. "We've been traveling."
The boy studied them again.
Then finally sighed, rubbing his forehead like they were a problem he didn't want.
"...Name's Liralic."
Bruce's grin widened. "Bruce."
Vernon nodded slightly. "Vernon."
Liralic's ears twitched at Vernon's name, like he heard something else in it.
Then he pointed to the workbench.
"I need you to recharge this."
He lifted a device.
It looked like a metal cylinder wrapped in wire, with a small slot carved into its side. The metal was worn, scratched, and smelled faintly of burned mana.
Vernon leaned closer. "What is it?"
Liralic hesitated, then answered anyway.
"Pulse-Tool," he said. "It releases a burst. Like... a shock. Used for clearing stubborn beasts, or breaking locks, or scaring idiots."
Bruce laughed. "That's amazing."
Liralic's tail flicked. "It's not a toy."
Bruce raised both hands. "Okay, okay."
Vernon examined the slot. "It needs lightning mana to fill the inner channel."
Liralic nodded. "Exactly. I can't do it myself."
Bruce leaned closer. "Why not? Don't you have mana?"
Liralic's ears flattened for half a second.
"I do," he said shortly. "Not lightning."
Vernon nodded, understanding.
Innate attributes weren't something you could just change.
He extended his hand.
Liralic's eyes sharpened instantly. "Wait."
Vernon paused. "What?"
Liralic pointed at Bruce. "He stays back. I don't like people standing too close."
Bruce blinked. "Why are you so suspicious?"
Liralic's eyes narrowed. "Because people steal."
Bruce opened his mouth.
Vernon raised a hand to stop him.
"It's fine," Vernon said calmly. "Bruce, step back."
Bruce rolled his eyes but obeyed, stepping toward the doorway.
Liralic watched him like a hawk.
Then he nodded once at Vernon.
"Do it."
Vernon breathed in slowly, centring his mana.
The city's mana felt different than the forest.
Less pure.
More... layered.
Like the air carried traces of thousands of people's cultivation.
It wasn't unpleasant.
It was just crowded.
He focused inward, drawing neutral mana into his channels, letting it stabilize.
Then he shifted it.
Lightning flickered faintly along his fingertips, pale and sharp.
Liralic flinched slightly, ears twitching.
Vernon pressed his palm against the device.
The lightning didn't explode.
It flowed.
A controlled stream, feeding into the inner groove of the tool. The cylinder hummed faintly, runes along its side glowing briefly before dimming again.
The air smelled like ozone.
Vernon kept the flow steady for several breaths.
Then he pulled away.
The device remained warm.
Liralic took it quickly, eyes scanning the runes.
A grin tugged at his mouth.
"...It worked."
Bruce leaned in from the doorway. "Of course it did."
Liralic's grin widened slightly, despite himself.
He reached under the bench and pulled out a small pouch, tossing it to Vernon.
Vernon caught it and opened it carefully.
Coins clinked.
Silver.
Not much, but enough.
Bruce's eyes widened.
Vernon counted silently.
Liralic watched him with impatience.
"That's fair," Vernon said finally.
Liralic nodded, tail flicking with satisfaction.
Then Bruce stepped forward fully, eyes locked on Liralic's ears.
"...Can I touch them?"
Silence.
Vernon's soul left his body.
Liralic froze, staring at Bruce like he'd just spoken nonsense.
"...What?"
Bruce pointed. "Your ears."
Liralic's ears flattened instantly. "No."
Bruce's face lit up even more. "That means they're real."
Vernon grabbed Bruce's sleeve and yanked him back.
"Apologies," Vernon said immediately, voice stiff. "He's... excited."
Bruce protested. "I wasn't insulting him!"
Liralic narrowed his eyes. "You're weird."
Bruce shrugged proudly. "Yeah."
Vernon stared at Bruce like he wanted to kill him.
Liralic's expression shifted slowly.
Then, to Vernon's surprise, he snorted.
Not quite laughter.
But close.
"...You two are definitely not from here."
Bruce leaned forward. "Do you get called a cat a lot?"
Liralic's tail snapped.
Bruce raised his hands again. "Okay. Okay. I'll stop."
Vernon exhaled quietly. "We actually have another commission."
Liralic's ears perked. "Which one?"
Vernon showed him the merchant paper.
Liralic read it quickly, eyes widening slightly.
"Oh," he muttered. "That's the Verdant agency."
Bruce blinked. "Verdant?"
Liralic nodded. "One of the branch families. Big trade influence. Their personnel are strict."
Vernon's eyes sharpened. "Do they cause trouble?"
Liralic hesitated.
Then shrugged.
"They cause trouble if you're stupid."
Bruce grinned. "We're not stupid."
Vernon looked at him.
Bruce cleared his throat. "We're mostly not stupid."
Liralic studied them for a moment.
Then, unexpectedly, he said, "I'll go with you."
Bruce blinked. "Why?"
Liralic shrugged. "I'm bored. And you're entertaining."
Vernon's eyebrows rose slightly. "Are you sure?"
Liralic smirked. "I'm not a child."
Bruce laughed. "We're literally children."
Liralic's tail flicked, annoyed. "Shut up."
Vernon looked between them, then nodded.
"...Fine."
They walked together toward the merchant branch.
As they moved through the streets, Bruce kept glancing at Liralic's tail like it was a weapon.
Vernon, meanwhile, asked questions.
"So the western root-bridge connects to the second branch?" he asked.
Liralic nodded. "Yeah. Shortcut if you don't want to go through the market crowd."
"And the guards?"
"Mostly for show. They stop thieves, not cultivators."
Vernon absorbed every word like water.
Bruce bumped Liralic's shoulder lightly. "So where do you live?"
Liralic hesitated.
Then answered anyway. "Near the outer residential. Small house. Me and my uncle."
Bruce grinned. "You have a family."
Liralic glanced at him. "Obviously."
Vernon's eyes flicked to Liralic's ears again.
"...Are there many like you?" Vernon asked carefully.
Liralic's expression tightened.
"Not in Rootwilds," he said. "Some in other cities."
Bruce nodded slowly, sensing the shift.
Then he smiled again. "Cool."
Liralic blinked. "...That's it?"
Bruce shrugged. "Yeah. You're cool."
Liralic looked away quickly, tail flicking faster.
"...Idiot."
But his voice sounded less sharp.
By the time they reached the merchant agency, the sun had climbed high.
The building was larger than most, built of thick wood and reinforced stone, with a carved emblem above the entrance-branches twisted into a crescent shape.
Personnel moved in and out with purpose, carrying crates, rolling carts, shouting orders.
Vernon felt his stomach tighten again.
Bruce looked thrilled.
Liralic muttered, "Don't act like fools."
Bruce whispered, "That's your job."
Liralic glared.
Then they stepped inside.
And the city swallowed them whole.