When Even stepped past the worn threshold of the hotel and onto the street, he was momentarily blinded. After the darkness of the dungeon and the cold breath of death, this morning's warm sun felt like a blessing. But the relief didn't last. The roar of the city reminded him that he was no longer in his own world.
The scene before him looked like a medieval European oil painting. A wide stone road wound deep into the city, lined with ancient buildings made of stone and dark, carved wood. Flower pots sat on windowsills, and red-tiled roofs glowed in the sun. The air was a thick mix of fresh spices, roasted meat, and the sharp scent of horse stables.
Even took a deep breath. His pain had faded thanks to his Healing Ability, but hunger was gnawing at him from the inside. He tried to blend into the crowd, but he froze. The market was more diverse than he had imagined.
He saw a man walking by, but instead of human ears, he had two long, furry rabbit ears. Nearby, a little girl stood by the fish stalls, a striped cat-tail twitching beneath her skirt.
"Demi-humans," Even whispered.
The characters he had only read about in web novels were now flesh and blood before him. Even the carriages were strange. They weren't pulled by horses, but by scaly, reptilian creatures that breathed faint blue smoke. Even recognized them—Draco-horses, the main transport of this world.
But Even's wonder was cut short by the stares of the people. As he walked toward the main square, he felt the merchants and passersby looking at him with disgust and suspicion.
Even looked down at himself, and his ears turned red with shame. His clothes were nothing but rags, stained with dark blotches of blood from last night's fight. The torn fabric revealed his pale, bony frame. In this bright, bustling city, he looked like an escaped convict or a common beggar.
"Look at that... what kind of trash is wandering around here?" a shopkeeper in a fur hat whispered, nudging his neighbor.
Even lowered his head and tried to hide in the crowd. He desperately needed new clothes and food. To get both, he had to find Henderson.
Thinking of Henderson triggered a conflict in his mind. When the receptionist said Henderson had paid a week's rent in advance, Even was stunned.
Why?
Why is a businessman protecting me this much?
Taking Henderson's help felt like a blow to his pride. He wanted to stand on his own feet, but his skeletal frame and ruined clothes dragged him back to reality. Right now, he had no choice.
Trying to remember the address Henderson gave him, he entered the northern alleys of the market. This area was more upscale and quieter. As he passed a fruit shop, a sharp scream pierced the air.
"Thief! Thief! He took my bag! Someone stop him!"
Even spun around. An elderly woman was on the ground, crying out. A slim youth was sprinting away, a small leather bag tucked under his arm, disappearing into a side alley.
Even's first instinct was to stay out of it. He could barely take care of himself; did he have the luxury of helping others? But a thought struck him—if he recovered the bag, there might be a reward. At least enough for one good meal!
"Stop him!" Even shouted, giving chase.
But this was no ordinary thief. When Even thought he had cornered him at the end of the alley, the boy kicked off a wall and leaped upward. He seemed to defy gravity! With the agility of a monkey, he grabbed a ledge and pulled himself onto a second-story roof.
Even stared up, jaw dropped. He had the advantage of 30% lower gravity, which helped him run faster, but he lacked the professional skill to scale a building like that.
"I don't care if you're on the roof, I'm not letting you go!" Even growled, sprinting below.
The thief leaped from roof to roof while Even scrambled through trash heaps and drains below. His lungs felt like they would burst, but the dungeon fight had given him a new level of endurance. His Level 4 status had significantly boosted his stamina.
Suddenly, Even dashed into a quiet courtyard. The thief was on the roof next door. While looking for a way up, Even's eyes fell on a line of laundry.
A large, dark blue wool cloak with a hood was hanging there. Even paused. He knew his current state—if he tried to catch a thief looking like a bloody beggar, the guards would arrest him first.
His morality fought with him. This is stealing, Even. Are you becoming a thief too? But his survival instinct answered:
'No, this is equipment. Besides, you're catching a criminal!'
Even yanked the cloak off the line and wrapped it around himself. He pulled the hood over his head, hiding his face in shadow. He no longer looked like a beggar; he looked mysterious, like a rogue traveler. He gave a grim smile—to catch a thief, he had become one.
The thief was still moving. Even adjusted his cloak and ran. It fluttered behind him like the cape of a hidden warrior.
The alleys grew darker. The thief finally jumped down in front of an old warehouse. Even hid behind a wall, gasping for air. He saw the thief wasn't alone. Three or four men were waiting, armed with small knives and clubs. They were laughing as they looked at the bag.
Even realized he had walked into a trap. He was alone against five armed men. But he couldn't back down now. He stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning under the hood. "Give the bag back," Even said in a low, cold voice.
The thieves jumped. Their leader, a one-eyed man, sneered. "What's this? Give it back? To a fool wearing a winter cloak in the hot sun?"
The others roared with laughter. Even clenched his fists. He knew his level had increased; he knew his punches were stronger.
"I'm asking one last time. Give it back," Even took a boxing stance.
The one-eyed leader signaled his men. "Break him. Let's see how much of a hero he really is!"
The four men lunged. It was a brutal fight. Even dodged the first strike—Vasco's training was carved into his muscles. He ducked and drove a punch into one man's stomach. The man collapsed, wheezing.
But the others didn't give him time. A club slammed into Even's back. Tears of pain stung his eyes, but he spun and landed a hook on the second man's jaw. Blood splattered onto his blue cloak.
However, the numbers were too much. Under the rain of blows, Even was being forced back. His lip was bleeding. He realized courage wasn't enough; he was being overwhelmed.
Just as the leader raised his knife to plunge it into Even's chest, a bright flash of light hit the alley.
A deep, commanding voice boomed, "Drop your weapons, you sewer rats!"
Even looked through blurred vision and saw a massive knight in silver armor. The knight's long sword shimmered, and an aura of power radiated from him. The thieves dropped their weapons in terror.
Terrified, the thieves dropped the bag and scrambled away like rats. Even collapsed against the wall, his body trembling.
Soon, the elderly lady arrived. With the knight's help, Even picked up the bag and handed it to her. He had a small hope—the bag looked expensive.
Maybe she would give him a few gold coins?
Enough for a royal feast!
The woman hugged the bag, tears in her eyes. She held Even's hand and said, "Child, you have done me a great service. May the gods bless you."
She gave him a warm smile and a sincere Thank you. Then, she walked away, chatting with the knight. Even stared after them, speechless.
A reward?
A gold coin?
Nothing.
Just a dry Thank you.
Even's mood soured. His hunger felt ten times worse. "Can I eat a 'Thank you'?" he muttered. Yet, a small part of him felt a strange satisfaction. At least he hadn't run away.
On his way back, he passed through the city's main square. Suddenly, his feet felt like they were glued to the ground.
In the center stood a massive pillar. On top was a broken white marble statue. The head was intact—the face of a warrior with eyes full of courage and resolve. One hand was outstretched, as if reaching down to pull someone up.
Even looked at the name carved at the base. His heart skipped a beat.
It was a statue of his father. The "Great Hero" of this world.
Standing beneath the shadow of his father's glory, Even looked at himself. He was wearing a stolen cloak, covered in bruises from street thugs, with not a single penny in his pocket and a stomach screaming with hunger.
The contrast between his father's greatness and his own pathetic state broke him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. For the first time, he felt it—the blood of a legend was in his veins, yet here he was, starving for a single meal.
"I will be worthy of you, Father," Even whispered. "I will show this world whose son I am."
As people nearby began to whisper about the crying boy, Even wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He steeled himself. His ego and emotions were his enemies right now. He had to survive.
He wrapped the blue cloak tightly around himself and disappeared back into the crowd to find Henderson.