Evan stepped down from the bank's entrance and paused briefly at the edge of the street. The flow of people moved steadily past him, each person carrying on with their own purpose. He adjusted his pace and merged into that movement, following the direction he had planned earlier toward the library. The map appeared faintly in his awareness, but he did not rely on it entirely this time. Instead, he let his eyes take in the details around him as he walked, matching what he saw with what he had learned the previous day.
As he moved through the district, his attention was drawn to the devices several people carried in their hands. They were slim, rectangular objects, but unlike the phones he was familiar with, their surfaces projected faint layers of light just above them. Symbols, text, and shifting panels hovered in that thin space, responding as the user's fingers moved through them without always making contact. The glow was subtle but constant, and the way people interacted with them suggested they were an essential part of daily life here.
Curiosity slowed his steps for a moment. The devices appeared in different designs, some compact and minimal, others with broader surfaces and brighter projections that made the floating interface easier to read from a distance. A few users tapped directly on the surface, while others moved their fingers just above it, guiding the projected panels with practiced ease. Whatever these devices were, they seemed to function as a bridge between the physical world and the system's layered information, something more refined than simple tools.
A short distance ahead, one of the storefronts caught his attention. Its display windows were filled with rows of similar devices arranged on angled stands, each accompanied by a small plaque listing specifications and price. The sign above the entrance read "Lattice Interface Works." Evan slowed, then stepped closer to the window, his gaze moving across the different models as their faint projections shimmered in controlled patterns above the displays.
Inside the display, the devices varied in size and complexity. Some projected only simple panels, a few lines of text and minimal interface elements meant for basic communication and transactions. Others displayed layered constructs, multiple panels unfolding at once with smooth transitions, their light forming intricate patterns that suggested greater capability. Small plaques beneath each unit listed names and brief descriptions. Lattice Communicator — Standard Model.Lattice Interface — Multi-Channel Variant.Arc-Linked Personal Node — Advanced Tier. Alongside each name sat a price, the numbers enough for Evan to recognize that even the simpler models were not trivial purchases.
He remained there for a moment longer, comparing the figures against the amount he had just deposited and the small reserve of coin still in his pouch. He could afford one, even a more advanced model if he committed most of what he had. The thought lingered briefly, then settled. He stepped back from the window. He did not know enough yet about how these devices fit into daily life or how often they would need replacement or upgrade. Spending heavily now would only narrow his options later. Evan turned away from the storefront and resumed his path toward the library, the decision made for now.
The street widened as he moved farther along, the flow of people subtly shifting in character. The storefronts gave way to broader facades and open spaces where movement gathered instead of passing through. Ahead, the structure of the arena revealed itself piece by piece between buildings, rising in layered tiers of pale stone and reinforced metal. It did not dominate the skyline in the way a monument might, but it held presence through scale and purpose. The sound reached him before the full view did. A distant swell of voices, not chaotic but contained, rising and falling in waves that carried through the surrounding district.
Closer to the arena, the streets fed into a ring of activity built around it. Food stalls lined the outer perimeter in neat rows, their arrangements more deliberate than the scattered vendors he had seen earlier. Each stall had its own small space, marked clearly and maintained with care, offering prepared dishes to the steady stream of people moving in and out of the area. The air carried layered scents, roasted meats, spiced grains, something sweet and unfamiliar that lingered at the edge of recognition. Evan slowed without realizing it, his attention drawn by the rhythm of the place. This was not just a market. It was an extension of the arena itself, built to hold people here.
Evan drifted toward one of the nearer stalls where a steady line had formed, drawn by the sharp, savory scent rising from a wide iron pan set over controlled heat. The man behind the counter worked with practiced efficiency, turning strips of meat and vegetables in quick, precise motions before portioning them into shallow bowls. A small plaque fixed to the front of the stall read "Rovan's Hearth — Street Cuts & Grain." When Evan stepped forward, the man glanced up briefly. He had dark hair tied back at the nape, a trimmed beard, and sun-browned skin that spoke of long hours spent outdoors. His eyes were a steady hazel, alert without being sharp. "First time here?" Rovan asked, already reaching for a clean bowl.
Evan inclined his head slightly. "It shows?" Rovan gave a short, easy huff of amusement as he filled the bowl with a measured portion. "You're looking at everything instead of where you're going," he said. "Happens." He slid the dish across the counter and tapped a small flat panel beside it. "Tap with card or pay through your interface." Evan hesitated only a fraction before bringing his bank card forward in response. The transaction completed almost instantly, a faint acknowledgment passing through his awareness. He took the bowl, the heat settling comfortably into his hands, and stepped aside just enough to avoid blocking the next person in line.
He tasted it while standing near the edge of the stall's space, careful not to drift into the flow of people behind him. The first bite was sharper than he expected, the meat seared along the edges while remaining tender beneath, coated in a seasoning that carried heat without overwhelming the rest. The grain beneath it had absorbed the juices, each mouthful layered with flavor rather than simply filling. It was simple food, but it was done with attention. Evan found himself finishing half the portion before he had consciously decided to keep eating.
Rovan noticed, with quiet satisfaction. "Good enough?" he asked, already turning back to his pan to prepare the next order.
"It is," Evan replied. He hesitated briefly, then added, "This place… the arena. Do most people come here for that?"
Rovan glanced toward the rising structure beyond the stalls. "Some come for the fights. Some come for the noise. Most come because it gives them something to measure themselves against." He shifted the pan slightly, adjusting the heat. "You see a few matches out here on the screens, but that's only a slice. Inside's where the real bouts are held. Different tiers. Better fighters. Costs coin to sit through all of it."
Evan considered that as he finished the rest of the bowl, slowing slightly now that the initial hunger had eased. "The ones on the screens," he said, glancing toward the distant displays mounted along the outer ring, "those aren't the main matches?"
Rovan shook his head once. "Highlights. Or lesser brackets. Enough to draw a crowd, not enough to show everything." He slid another portion across to a waiting customer before continuing. "Inside you'll see proper bouts. Trained fighters. Some unawakened pushing for their chance, some already past that point. You learn more watching those than anything shown out here."
Evan let that settle. The idea aligned too easily with what he had already begun to understand. Strength here was not abstract. It was visible, measured, and compared openly. He set the empty bowl aside at the return counter and inclined his head toward Rovan. "Thank you."
Rovan acknowledged it with a brief nod, already moving on to the next order. Evan stepped back into the flow of the market, his attention drawn once more toward the arena rising beyond the stalls. Watching from inside would cost him, but the thought did not feel excessive. It felt like a necessary step.
He lingered a moment longer at the edge of the market, watching one of the large public screens mounted along the outer wall of the arena. Another match had begun, the fighters smaller at this distance but still readable in motion. Their movements carried intent even through the projection, each step placed with awareness of distance and balance. Evan simply watched, letting the rhythm of it settle somewhere behind his thoughts. There was structure there. Training. Repetition shaped into instinct. It was not something he could imitate by observation alone, but it was enough to understand the gap.
After a few minutes he turned away. The pull to stay and keep watching was there, but it would not close that gap by itself. He had already decided what he needed first. Understanding. With that in mind, he left the ring of stalls behind and followed the broader street that curved away from the arena district. The noise softened gradually as he moved farther from it, replaced again by the steadier cadence of the town's daily flow. Ahead, the familiar facade of the public library came into view, its structure calm and deliberate amid the surrounding movement.
Inside, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. The muted sounds of the street gave way to a controlled quiet, broken only by the soft turn of pages and the occasional movement of chairs. Evan moved toward the front desk where Marin Vale sat behind the broad counter, organizing a small stack of returned volumes. She looked up as he approached, clear gray eyes settling on him with steady focus. Her dark hair remained tied back neatly, and her posture carried the same practiced efficiency he had begun to associate with her.
"Can I help you find something?" she asked.
Evan inclined his head slightly. "I'm looking for material on stat distribution and how it affects progression," he said. After a brief pause, he added, "And anything on local dungeon. Basic information."
Marin considered that for a moment, then reached for a small card and pencil. "Second level, east wing," she said, marking a few sections with quick, precise strokes. "You'll find general texts on attributes and progression there. Dungeon materials are in the adjacent rows, though most are introductory. Anything more detailed is restricted." She slid the card across to him. "This should be enough to get you started."
Evan accepted the card and glanced over the markings, committing the layout to memory before moving toward the staircase along the far wall. The steps rose in a wide curve, designed to carry steady traffic without crowding. As he reached the second level, the space opened into long aisles lined with neatly arranged shelves, each section labeled with clear, practical headings. The organization was straightforward, meant for use rather than display. He followed the clerk's markings, slowing as he reached the indicated rows.
The titles here were more specific than those he had read before. "Foundations of Attribute Allocation.""Physical and Cognitive Stat Interactions.""Dungeon Ecology of Dornhaven: Local Variants and Entry Protocols." Evan moved along the shelf, selecting volumes one by one, weighing them briefly before adding them to a small stack in his arms. There was no rush in his movements. He read the titles fully, checked the opening pages, and chose with care. By the time he stepped back from the shelves, he carried enough material to occupy several hours of focused reading.
He picked up a cup of brinroot brew on his way back to the window seat he had used before, the familiar spot waiting as he set the books down and prepared to begin.