Neon didn't stay in the forest longer than necessary.
The thrill of awakening his dual-class still echoed in his body, but excitement alone wouldn't keep him alive. He extinguished the shadow coating his blade and sheathed it carefully, forcing his breathing to slow.
Power felt good.
Too good.
And Neon knew better than to trust anything that felt that easy.
He turned toward the distant city, its towering walls shimmering faintly with magic. From here, it looked peaceful—almost welcoming. But Neon remembered the game well enough to know that cities weren't safe havens. They were arenas with rules written in gold and blood.
"First goal," he muttered. "Survive."
He began walking.
The path toward the city cut through plains and scattered ruins—broken stone pillars, half-buried roads, remnants of a forgotten age. Occasionally, Neon encountered low-level monsters. Slimes. Wild boars. Stray beasts.
He avoided most of them.
Not because he couldn't fight—but because every time he channeled shadow mana, something pulled back.
Like a whisper.
More…
The first time it happened, Neon froze mid-step.
"What was that?" he whispered.
The system didn't respond.
His MP hadn't dropped abnormally. His stats were stable. Yet the sensation remained—a faint hunger coiled around his core, patient and quiet.
Neon clenched his jaw.
"So dark magic has a cost," he said softly. "Of course it does."
He adjusted his pace, relying on physical strength instead of mana whenever possible. The sword felt solid in his hands, grounding him. Steel didn't whisper. Steel didn't tempt.
Hours passed.
As the sun dipped lower, the city grew closer—massive stone walls carved with runes of protection, glowing gently as dusk approached. Guards stood at the gate, armored and alert, weapons infused with mana.
Neon slowed his steps.
In the game, this was Ardenfall.
The City of Beginnings.
A long line stretched before the gate—merchants, adventurers, travelers, refugees. Neon took his place among them, keeping his head low and his presence subtle.
He didn't want attention.
Especially not now.
When his turn came, a guard stepped forward.
"Name?"
"…Neon."
The guard raised an eyebrow. "No family name?"
Neon shook his head. "None."
A lie.
But a necessary one.
The guard studied him for a moment, then held out a crystal. "Touch it."
Neon's heart skipped.
Status crystal.
In the game, it only checked level and criminal records. But this wasn't a game anymore.
He hesitated—then pressed his palm against the crystal.
The crystal glowed faintly.
[Level Detected: 2]
[Threat Level: Low]
The guard nodded. "You may enter. Find a guild if you plan to stay."
Neon exhaled slowly and stepped past the gate.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the air changed.
Ardenfall was alive.
Streets buzzed with voices, laughter, arguments, and deals being struck. Magic lamps floated above the roads. Adventurers in armor passed by openly, weapons at their sides. Mages walked calmly with staves glowing softly, as if power was nothing more than a habit.
Neon's chest tightened.
This world didn't care if you were weak.
It would crush you without hesitation.
He wandered through the city, absorbing everything—shops selling potions and weapons, notice boards plastered with quests, children running between stalls.
Normal life.
Something he thought he'd lost forever.
Eventually, hunger forced him to stop.
Neon entered a small tavern near the outer district. The smell of stew and bread hit him instantly, making his stomach twist painfully.
He ordered the cheapest meal and sat alone.
As he ate, fragments of conversation drifted through the air.
"…another dark mage executed last week."
"Of course. Forbidden magic always leads to corruption."
"Better safe than sorry."
Neon's spoon froze mid-air.
Dark mage.
His fingers tightened.
So that was how it was.
He finished quickly and left without looking back.
Night fell over Ardenfall.
Neon found a cheap inn and rented a room barely larger than a closet. As he lay on the narrow bed, exhaustion crashed over him—but sleep didn't come easily.
The whispers returned.
Stronger…
Use me…
Neon sat up abruptly, clutching his chest.
"No," he hissed.
The room darkened slightly as shadows gathered instinctively around him. He forced them back, breathing hard until the pressure eased.
"…Just like addiction," he murmured bitterly.
In his old life, it had been cigarettes. Games. Escape.
In this life—
Power.
Neon stared at the ceiling.
"I won't lose myself again."
The next morning, Neon stood before a massive stone building engraved with crossed swords and a crystal emblem.
The Adventurer's Guild.
He knew what this place meant.
Opportunity.
Danger.
Growth.
And exposure.
Neon took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
As he stepped inside, a chill ran down his spine.
Somewhere in the city—
Something noticed him.
And it smiled.