The journey continued.

  The road their group traveled along gradually widened, and the forest thickets began to thin out. Light filtering through the canopy grew brighter, illuminating the ground scattered with sparse flowers and grass that seemed remarkably alive against the backdrop of the forest’s somber shadow.

  From time to time, other paths branched off toward their road. On the third day of travel, they finally began to encounter fellow travelers. The first was a group of four people clad in leather armor, carrying packs on their backs and wielding weapons that looked far more practical than decorative. Judging by appearances, they were either hunters or low-tier mercenaries. They moved a bit faster than Astar and his companions and, as they drew even, exchanged brief nods.

  “May memoria bless your path,” said one of them—a middle-aged man with a weary yet kind face.

  “May memoria bless your path,” Sirael replied politely, inclining her head.

  “So, Astar, enjoying watching the world come alive?” Lukaris teased once the group was alone again.

  “I’ll put it this way—better than wandering the forest alone,” he answered with a smile.

  With each passing day, the forest thinned, giving way to open spaces. By midday, the trees had vanished entirely, and they finally climbed a hill. Before them lay a plain stretching all the way to the horizon. Gentle hills alternated with flat stretches where the wind played with tall grass, creating the illusion that the earth itself was breathing.

  Astar stopped for a moment to take in the view. He had never seen anything like it before, having spent nearly his entire life in a large city, venturing into nature only on rare occasions. The expanse, the freedom—and at the same time—a strange sense of relief.

  “This is it… Despite all the horrors, it smells like freedom…” he murmured, not even realizing he had spoken aloud.

  “Impressive?” Lukaris asked, noting his reaction. “Get used to it. This isn’t even close to the most beautiful place you’ll see.”

  But at that moment, something else caught Astar’s eye. In the distance, roughly at the center of the plain, stood a small town. Its perimeter was surrounded by a semi-transparent dome, shimmering with a soft white-blue light. Even from that distance, one could see how the sunlight danced along its surface, creating mesmerizing ripples of color.

  Though the town was still far away, Astar could tell it wasn’t particularly large. One could walk from one end to the other in under an hour. Yet the buildings within were tightly packed.

  “Considering a barrier like that requires resources to maintain, it makes sense they’d use space efficiently. The larger the barrier, the more expensive it becomes for the town…” he noted mentally.

  “Is that Koros?” Astar asked, squinting. “It’s so small…”

  “No. That’s just a small trade town,” Sirael explained, stepping closer. “Places like this serve as rest stops for travelers and are controlled by the major houses and clans. We’ll resupply here and rest a bit.”

  “Koros is farther ahead,” added Zunar. “But if you want to reach it alive, there’s no skipping these stops. We’ll buy food, freshen up, and get word on what’s happening on the roads ahead.”

  Lukaris added with a faint grin:

  “And maybe grab a drink. Or, if luck’s on our side, find a few pretty girls. Just make sure they’re not working-class. Sadly, their beauty tends to wither quickly from all that labor…” he added, shaking his head in mock sorrow.

  “You, as always,” Astar remarked with a smirk.

  “Exactly! I never change! Loyal to myself to the end!” Lukaris laughed.

  As they drew closer to the town, Astar realized things weren’t so simple. Several more roads led to the settlement, each bustling with small groups of travelers—caravans loaded with goods, armed escorts, solitary wanderers. He wasn’t even surprised that the wagons were pulled by strange creatures resembling horses—except their muzzles ended in tentacles, and small horns grew from their skulls.

  “They look a bit like those things I used to eat while living in the cave…” Astar noted to himself.

  Approaching the town, the group was met with a swirl of new sounds and scents carried by the wind. The plain surrounding the settlement was alive with activity. People toiled in the fields, tending to crops that appeared remarkably well-maintained despite the town’s apparent distance from major cities. Along the hillsides, figures could be seen gathering herbs or surveying the terrain.

  “They’re collecting medicinal herbs infused with memoria,” Sirael explained, noticing Astar watching a group of women with baskets on the slopes. “These lands aren’t particularly rich in memoria, so the herbs aren’t considered especially valuable. Still, they’re useful for medicines or for selling to merchants who’ll take them to the larger cities.”

  Astar nodded, continuing to observe. Most of the people here were human—which was to be expected, since they were still in human territory. But then, something caught his eye.

  “Those are the same ones!” he exclaimed inwardly. Almost every one of the warriors guarding the laborers had red skin and horns. They were of the same race that had overseen him in the mine!

  They stood watchfully, scanning their surroundings. Occasionally, one would inspect the road or glance toward the forest, as if expecting trouble.

  “Who are they? Do they rule over the humans?” Astar asked with a frown.

  “What? No, of course not!” Lukaris laughed. “They’re from the imp race. You could say they’re the top mercenaries on the continent, so you’ll find them all over Mnemoris. Imps aren’t particularly skilled at crafting or support trades, but they fight well and follow orders precisely. So mercenary work became the main ‘craft’ of their kind. These ones are just here for pay, guarding the workers.”

  “So that’s how it is…” Astar thought. “The ones in the mine must’ve just been keeping watch over the slaves and forcing them to work.”

  “They’re not just here for show,” Lukaris added, noting Astar’s interest. “Out on plains like these, lesser abyssals or wild beasts often appear. Even close to the protective domes, no one’s ever truly safe.”

  “The town probably can’t afford a proper army, but for the right coin, you can hire those willing to risk their lives. Groups like this usually stick near towns so they don’t get too far from the barrier’s protection. Their job is to hold off threats long enough for the workers to retreat.”

  “The barrier doesn’t protect the surroundings?” Astar asked, though he already suspected the answer.

  “Not entirely,” Sirael joined the conversation. “The barrier only covers the town itself. The fields and nearby lands lie beyond its reach. The memoria used to maintain the dome is too valuable to waste on such large areas.”

  “So they risk their lives just to work the land?” Astar asked in disbelief, watching the laborers.

  “Exactly,” Sirael confirmed. “It’s a risk, but a necessary one. Without that kind of effort, no town could survive. At the very least, they need to cover the cost of sustaining the barrier.”

  The closer they got to the town, the livelier the road became. Several more small caravans loaded with goods joined their group. Merchants shouted back and forth, haggling over transport fees or the quality of their cargo, while their guards cast assessing glances at every passerby.

  Among the many caravans heading toward the town, one stood out to Astar in particular. Its wagons carried massive, neatly packed crates, each covered with protective fabric that had clearly been treated with some kind of alchemical coating. But what truly caught his attention were the warriors escorting it.

  These men looked far more formidable than the mercenaries he’d seen earlier. Their light armor, made from pale steel, gleamed in the sun, and over it they wore white-and-blue cloaks. On each chest shone an emblem resembling the towers placed along the roads—markers of danger level. The aura they projected was one of confidence and discipline; their movements were precise, and their eyes sharp.

  “Who are they?” Astar asked quietly, moving closer to Lukaris to avoid drawing attention.

  Lukaris turned his head and, recognizing whom Astar was referring to, smiled faintly.

  “They’re members of the Order of Wanderings and Trade. I mentioned them earlier—remember?”

  “They’re the ones you can hire for protection?” Astar asked, watching as one of the warriors swept his gaze over everyone on the road.

  “Exactly,” Lukaris confirmed. “These guys are elite mercenaries. If you’ve got the coin, you can hire them as escorts. But trust me, it doesn’t come cheap. Naturally, the price depends on their strength. These ones are probably all at Premarch level. But honestly? They’re stronger than your average Premarch.”

  “Why’s that?” Astar asked, not taking his eyes off the group.

  “Because they’re specially trained for traveling the continent,” Lukaris explained. “These fighters have gone through intense selection and training. The Order teaches them not just martial arts, but survival skills, tactics, and strategy. They can protect a caravan from almost any threat—abyssals, marauder gangs, you name it.”

  “And the emblem on their armor?” Astar pointed at the familiar symbol. “It looks like the ones on the roadside lanterns.”

  “Yeah, that’s the Order’s insignia,” Lukaris nodded. “Like I said before—they’re the ones who build and maintain those lanterns. Thanks to mercenaries like these, they always have up-to-date info about road dangers and threat levels.”

  Astar gave a slow nod, eyes fixed on the warriors. If people like that were needed to protect even relatively safe roads, then in the more dangerous areas Lukaris had mentioned, traveling without an escort would be suicide.

  “This Order… It might be the best place for me,” he thought. “I’m not planning to become a mercenary, of course—but inside their cities, I’m sure I could find both information and money…”

  “Don’t worry,” Lukaris added, noticing how deep in thought Astar had drifted. “Once we reach Koros, the descent along the Golden Water Path will be guarded by their kin. And they’ll be even stronger!”

  With that, they continued on, approaching the town gates, now clearly visible. Against their outline moved silhouettes of guards and travelers, while above the city the protective dome of memoria continued to glow.

  “Welcome to Thorin,” Lukaris said, pausing for a moment and spreading his arms wide, as if presenting the city in all its glory. “A place to restock… and take a little break from the road.”

  “Let’s hope we’re done within a day,” Zunar muttered, eyeing the city gates.

  “As soon as we get everything we need,” Sirael agreed, “we’ll move on.”

  The crowd at the gates moved slowly but steadily. Each group passed through the semi-transparent dome, which shimmered gently in white and blue light. People crossed the barrier without the slightest trouble: caravans rolled in at a steady pace, and travelers passed through without even noticing the transition.

  Astar pretended to study the crowd, but inside, he was battling a rising wave of anxiety. He kept walking, but couldn’t stop thinking—what if the barrier didn’t let him through? He knew full well: his nature was no longer entirely human. After his body had been steeped in abyssia, he resembled an abyssal more than a man.

  “What if the barrier reacts to me as a threat? What if it just… refuses to let me in?”

  The thought tightened in his chest, making his heart pound. His hands, though outwardly relaxed, were trembling ever so slightly. He glanced at his companions: Lukaris was cheerfully striding ahead, a small pack slung over his shoulder. Sirael walked calmly beside him, discussing plans with Zunar. None of them seemed to notice the storm boiling inside him.

  “I need to be careful,” Astar thought. “If it doesn’t let me through… I’ll have to play dumb and bolt. Sorry, guys.”

  When it was their group’s turn, the guards at the gate lazily waved Lukaris and Sirael through without question. Zunar followed behind, not even glancing at them. Astar stood a little to the side, feigning interest in the slow passage of the caravans. But inwardly, all his focus was on the dome.

  He took a step forward—but then abruptly stopped. With a casual motion, he stepped back again, as if distracted for a moment. He glanced sideways at the guards—they were too busy discussing the next caravan to pay him any attention. Gathering himself, Astar took a deep breath and cautiously extended his hand, letting only the tips of his fingers brush the edge of the barrier.

  The world seemed to freeze. The dome gently wrapped around his fingers, like a cool breeze touching his skin. No pain. No resistance. For a brief instant, he thought he felt a faint warmth—like the barrier had recognized him as one of its own.

  “Please… Let me through,” he silently pleaded, slowly extending his hand farther.

  Still no reaction… It felt like dipping his hand into water. In that moment, his heart began to race even faster, and a surge of joy swept through his mind.

  “Yes! I’m in! I can be part of the civilized world again! Thank you—whoever’s in charge of this place, be it God, Memoria, or someone else!” he cried out inwardly, as if all the stress and fear he had been carrying vanished in an instant.

  Astar exhaled slowly, barely able to believe how smoothly everything had gone. He stepped forward, as if passing through a barrier of water, and now stood fully beneath the protective dome. No alarms, no signs—nothing to suggest his true nature.

  “Does the dome not sense the abyssia inside me? Or… is my theory correct?” he wondered. “My soul was created in the Source of Memoria—maybe that’s why it doesn’t identify me as an abyssal?”

  “Hey, what are you standing there for?” Lukaris called out, glancing back. “Catch up or we’ll lose you—ha!”

  Astar nodded and, trying to appear relaxed, caught up with the group.

  “Got caught up admiring the architecture,” he said with a faint grin. “Not something you see every day.”

  Lukaris laughed and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

  “Yeah—especially if you’ve been living in a cave,” he teased.

  Sirael just shook her head, though a hint of satisfaction played on her face. Now that they were safely inside, they could afford a brief moment of rest—and turn their focus to business.

  Once he calmed the storm of anxiety in his chest, Astar finally allowed himself to really look around—and the sight knocked the breath out of him. For a moment, he felt like he’d stepped into a storybook.

  The city under the dome looked unbelievably vivid and unique. Cobbled streets wound between tidy houses built from a mix of stone and wood. The architecture reminded him of a blend between medieval Europe and Asian aesthetics from Earth. Homes with tall roofs and sharp spires stood beside squat buildings topped with flat, tiled roofs adorned with flower pots. The narrow alleys, though seemingly chaotic, still left just enough space for two carts to squeeze past one another—with some difficulty.

  On the main street leading from the gates, the marketplace was alive with energy. Stalls lined both sides, their signs bright and colorful. Vendors loudly called out to passersby, offering everything from fresh vegetables to strange potions that sparkled in the sunlight. The air was filled with the scent of fresh bread, spices, and herbs—a fragrant cocktail that made Astar’s breath catch in his throat.

  He paused for a moment, stunned by the scene. Crowds of people flowed through the streets, children darted about laughing, and travelers and merchants haggled and talked in front of taverns and inns.

  “It’s different from modern cities on Earth—but it’s absolutely bursting with life…” he thought.

  “Impressive, huh?” came Lukaris’s voice. He’d caught sight of Astar’s expression and grinned broadly.

  “Oh, definitely,” Astar admitted honestly, not hiding his awe. “This place… it feels so alive. After weeks in the forest, I’m actually a little dizzy. It’s amazing seeing so many beings in one place.”

  “Get used to it,” Lukaris said with a smirk. “This is just the beginning. Wait until we get to Koros. That’s where you’ll really be left speechless.”

  “Let’s start by making sure he stops looking like a vagabond,” Sirael cut in, giving Astar an appraising look. “Zunar and I will head to the Temple of Memoria to sell the abyssal core and the cursed herbs we collected on the road. Lukaris, take Astar to a shop. Get him some proper clothes. And while you’re at it—take him to the baths. We’ll clean up after we’re done at the temple. When the sun starts to set, we’ll meet in the main square.”

  “Now that’s a plan!” Lukaris said enthusiastically, eyeing Astar up and down. “Honestly, you really do look like a beggar. And your scent, my friend, could knock out a troll.”

  “Thanks for the kind words,” Astar replied dryly—but he smiled, feeling unexpectedly at ease among his new companions.

  “Come on, vagabond!” Lukaris threw an arm around Astar’s shoulders. “Time to get you fixed up—ha!”

  Without waiting for a reply, Lukaris tugged him along toward the main street. The chatter of merchants grew louder, and glowing crystals near shop signs shimmered, as if begging for attention.

  Sirael watched them go, then sighed heavily.

  “Just try not to lose each other in the chaos,” she said, giving her brother a pointed look.

  “Relax, sis! He’s with me—everything’s under control!” Lukaris called over his shoulder, waving a hand.

  Zunar shook his head, already anticipating having to track Lukaris down in some local tavern again. But without a word, he followed Sirael in the opposite direction, toward the towering structure of the Temple of Memoria that loomed in the city center. From their vantage point, only the spired roof was visible—pierced by a beam of light that helped sustain the barrier surrounding the city.

  Astar walked behind Lukaris, taking in the sights and trying not to fall behind. The city continued to astonish him with its energy. He saw shopfronts filled with strange, unfamiliar wares: softly glowing crystals, bizarre plants sealed in glass flasks, and weapons etched with intricate patterns.

  “All right, first things first—we're getting you some clothes,” Lukaris said, not slowing his pace. “You need to be in shape so we can drink and charm the local beauties. You’re not against that, right?” he added with a satisfied grin.

  Astar smirked, imagining how Lukaris would go about seducing the town’s women.

  “I’m not against it, of course, but… I have a different idea. I’d like to sell the refined cores I found in the cave. I need to have my own money. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

  Lukaris stopped, turned around, and looked at Astar with a faintly amused expression.

  “Your cores?” he repeated, as if debating whether to laugh. “Look, it’s a good idea, sure. But I’d wait until we get to Koros.”

  “Why?” Astar frowned. “They can be sold here too, can’t they?”

  “They can,” Lukaris nodded. “But the price won’t be great—even at the Temple of Memoria. In Koros, cores go for much more. Especially refined ones. More merchants, more competition. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Astar considered this. Lukaris’s reasoning was sound, but he still wanted to get his hands on his own money as soon as possible. He didn’t like relying on others—even when those others treated him kindly.

  “How expensive are the things you plan to buy me?” he asked directly. “I need to know how much I’ll owe you.”

  Lukaris laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder.

  “Oh, come on, man! It’s just a few coins. You saved my life—don’t worry about the small stuff. Once we’re in Koros, you’ll sell your cores, and then you can start paying for me! Deal?”

  Astar couldn’t help but smile. This guy really knew how to defuse any situation.

  “All right, you’ve convinced me,” he said. “But I’m going to remember this. And those words about me paying for you—they’re going in the ledger.”

  “You bet they are!” Lukaris laughed, turning back to the road. “Now let’s go! Hot water’s waiting—and right now, you smell like something filthy and wet that crawled out of a hole.”

  Astar just shook his head, but inside, he felt the last remnants of tension slowly melting away. In the past, he’d enjoyed working with people like Lukaris—loud and a bit chaotic, but easy to connect with.

  He was about to ask something else, but Lukaris suddenly came to a halt, as if he’d noticed something. His face instantly lit up with a wide smile, and he headed toward a girl walking nearby.

  She really did stand out among the crowd—tall, slender, with delicate features. Her hair was long, almost white, with a faint bluish tint that caught Astar’s eye. Her eyes were the same soft shade of blue, and the lack of makeup—which Astar had grown used to seeing—only added to her natural charm. She wore simple but well-fitted clothes that flattered her graceful figure.

  Lukaris approached her like a true gentleman, inclining his head slightly in greeting.

  “My lady,” he began with a soft smile, his voice carrying a mix of respect and gentle mischief. “Forgive my boldness, but I simply couldn’t pass by such beauty without stopping to speak.”

  The girl looked at him, slightly surprised, but she didn’t shy away or walk off. Lukaris, seizing the moment, continued:

  “My friend and I are just passing through,” he said, with a casual gesture toward Astar, who stood a little behind him. “We’re looking to update his wardrobe. Might you be so kind as to point us to a shop in your lovely city that sells decent clothes?”

  At that, the girl turned her gaze to Astar. Her expression shifted ever so slightly. Her blue eyes scanned his worn, dirty clothes, his tousled hair, and his overall disheveled look. A faint grimace crossed her face—as if she’d just seen something unpleasant.

  Astar caught the change immediately. But instead of flinching or looking away, he smiled gently. There was something subtly magnetic in his gaze—as though some inner spark lit his features, wiping away the image of a mere vagabond.

  Back when he’d first left the orphanage, his pockets had been just as empty, and hard work often left him looking far from presentable. He and James had seen those looks plenty of times when trying to meet girls.

  “Seems your soul is pure—you don’t even know how to lie. Your face shows everything you’re thinking,” Astar said with a laugh.

  The bluntness of the remark seemed to fluster her a little—but Astar followed up quickly, as if to keep the moment light.

  “I really do look awful,” he added with a note of self-irony, keeping his tone friendly. “Surviving for weeks out there turned out a lot tougher than I expected. But I promise—once I clean up, you’ll see a completely different man.”

  The girl blinked, clearly not expecting such confidence from someone who looked so worn and ragged. Astar’s smile seemed to make her see something interesting—perhaps even mysterious—in him. She cast him another quick glance, as if reassessing, and her expression softened slightly.

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  But Astar didn’t stop there. A glint of mischief danced in his eyes as he nodded toward Lukaris.

  “And besides, once I clean up and get changed, I think I’ll look just as good as my charming friend here,” he said with a teasing tone, tilting his head slightly toward his companion.

  At those words, the girl suddenly smiled—and in her eyes, there was something warmer now, something that hadn’t been there before. Without realizing it, Astar seemed to radiate a presence that surpassed that of ordinary commoners. It was as if the strength of a Premarch from this world had merged with the confidence forged in the corporate and business battles of his past life. You could call it charisma—adapted to the new reality.

  The girl brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, letting the faint bluish tint catch the sunlight.

  “Well then, let’s see if you can keep your promise,” she said with a soft smile, no longer showing any trace of her earlier disapproval. “Look for a shop called Raisten’s Fabrics, just up the street. Hopefully he has something that’ll help you look… refreshed.”

  Astar gave her the same friendly gaze, then offered a slight bow.

  “Thank you for your help. I hope we’ll meet again—so you can judge the transformation for yourself,” he said with the air of someone who wasn’t just a traveler, but a man of status.

  The girl glanced at him once more, then at Lukaris. Smiling, she added:

  “Well… my friends and I were planning to visit a tavern later today. So if you find us—you’ll definitely get your chance for a review!” She laughed sweetly, then turned and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

  Lukaris, who had been watching the whole exchange with a wide grin, suddenly wore a more thoughtful expression. He paused for a moment, then said:

  “You know… for a second, I thought you were someone else entirely.” He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “What was that trick? That wasn’t just a smile. Even I felt your aura shift.”

  Astar gave a quiet chuckle and shrugged.

  “Who knows…” he murmured, pausing a moment. “Maybe before I lost my memory, I had to convince people a lot. I feel like a smile, confidence, and the right words… can work wonders sometimes.”

  Lukaris laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “You keep surprising me, man. All right, let’s go, hidden noble. Time to trade that ragged look for something more impressive. We’ve got a lady to find tonight!”

  As Astar stepped forward, he found himself recalling the day he was transported to this world. Back then, he’d been thinking about freedom—and maybe even starting a relationship. The day before, he’d arranged a date… but that life had slipped away before it ever began.

  “Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all… At least, as long as I’ve got abyssal cores.” he thought.

  Astar still had a few cores in his pack, and he hoped they’d be enough to last until they reached Koros. From what he’d heard, unrefined cores could be purchased there—for the right price. Usually it was wholesale traders who handled that kind of business, working directly with the Church of Memoria. Due to the large volume of their transactions, they received discounted purification services for cores and cursed materials. That, in turn, helped the Church process requests faster and avoid endless queues.

  Lukaris and Astar strolled leisurely down the bustling street toward the shop she’d mentioned. Merchants called out to passersby, offering fabrics, jewelry, and strange wares that dazzled the eyes. Lukaris, ever the jester, kept his playful tone as they walked.

  “You know,” he said, smirking at Astar, “if I didn’t know how you spent the past few weeks, I’d swear you were born with the art of charm. Maybe you were a professional heartbreaker in a past life?”

  “And you’re sure you’re not just jealous, Lukaris?” Astar replied with a sly squint. “Even looking like this, I managed to steal her attention from you.”

  Lukaris clutched his chest as if mortally wounded.

  “How could you?! After everything I’ve done for you!” he cried theatrically, before bursting into laughter. “No worries, my friend. We’ll see tonight who really shines. You don’t think you’re the only one who can charm a lady, do you?”

  “I’m not big on competition,” Astar replied with a grin. “I’ll let you be the center of attention—for now. But first, I need to stop looking like a half-feral hermit.”

  As they joked, Astar’s attention was caught by a couple in the crowd. A man with dark horns and red skin was walking hand-in-hand with a woman of delicate, pale complexion and light hair. Their appearance was a stark contrast—but they looked happy.

  Astar glanced at Lukaris and asked:

  “So… interracial relationships aren’t rare here? That girl was openly flirting with you. And now I see them—” he nodded toward the couple.

  Lukaris followed his gaze and quickly understood what Astar meant. He gave a nod.

  “Yeah, it happens. It’s not forbidden. But to be honest, children from such unions are born very rarely. In rare cases, you get half-bloods—but life’s not easy for them.”

  “Why?” Astar asked, genuinely curious.

  “Half-bloods aren’t exactly valued in society,” Lukaris replied, a hint of sadness in his tone. “They’re seen as ‘weak links.’ Their bodies often inherit mixed traits—without the strengths of either race. For example, a child of a human and an imp might end up weaker than an imp and dumber than a human. Or their memoria might be unstable. There are exceptions, of course—but they’re rare.”

  “Sounds harsh,” Astar said with a frown.

  “Life’s rarely fair,” Lukaris said philosophically. “But you’re not asking because of that, are you? No one here’s going to stop you if you decide to flirt with whoever you want.” He laughed and gave Astar a playful nudge.

  “Well, good to know,” Astar said with a smile, glancing ahead toward the shop signs.

  They were nearing their destination, and the sign for Raisten’s Fabrics was now clearly visible.

  The shop sign was carved from dark wood, the letters gilded in bright gold that caught the eye. Mannequins near the entrance were dressed in simple but stylish outfits. The fabric shimmered in the light, giving the impression that memoria was woven into the threads.

  Lukaris stopped at the door and gestured for Astar to go in.

  “Well then, ready?” he asked with a smirk. “Time to turn you into a proper person. Or… at least something vaguely resembling one.”

  “Don’t forget—you promised to pay for this show,” Astar quipped, adjusting the makeshift belt around his waist. “I’m just a humble traveler without a coin to his name.”

  “Oh, I’m keeping a mental tab, my friend,” Lukaris said theatrically, stepping into the shop. “And the moment you get rich, I’ll make you pay back every last copper!”

  Inside, the air carried a light floral scent mingled with the subtle aroma of polished wood. Shelves brimmed with an array of fabrics, and sample outfits hung neatly along the walls. The shopkeeper, a lean man with short gray hair, looked them over with professional interest.

  “Good day, gentlemen,” he greeted, offering a polite bow. “How may I assist you?”

  Lukaris didn’t hesitate—he stepped forward with a grin and pointed to Astar.

  “My friend here needs a new outfit. Something stylish but practical. He’s about to head off on a long journey. Oh—and preferably something that doesn’t smell like he currently does,” he added with a smirk.

  Astar rolled his eyes but held back a retort, curious to see what the shopkeeper would say next.

  Accustomed to all sorts of clients, the shopkeeper didn’t react at all to Astar’s appearance. His expression remained calm, every gesture marked by professional courtesy.

  “Of course, gentlemen. I have several options that may suit your needs,” he said, motioning toward a nearby rack of display garments.

  He quickly gave Astar a once-over, assessing his height, build, and overall look. Then he turned to Lukaris.

  “Your friend, I see, has been traveling for quite some time. It might be more efficient if you try the outfit on yourself. You have a similar frame, and the sample garments will be reused by other clients… My apologies for the request,” he added with a respectful bow.

  Lukaris snorted with a crooked smile but nodded.

  “Well, looks like I’m saving your image again,” he said, winking at Astar.

  The shopkeeper took a loose-fitting black outfit from the rack. It looked like a blend between traditional Eastern clothing and a light traveling robe. The trousers were wide, with layered cuffs of extra fabric that gave them a fashionable flair. The shirt had flowing sleeves and an elegant chest cut, with purple detailing that added a refined touch.

  “This is an ideal choice for a traveler,” the shopkeeper commented, handing the outfit to Lukaris. “Lightweight, comfortable, protects from heat and wind—and, of course, it looks respectable.”

  Lukaris quickly tried it on—and it fit perfectly. He turned toward Astar, dramatically squaring his shoulders as if to model it in full display.

  “Well, what do you think? If you end up looking like this, you might even get a second chance with that blue-haired beauty,” Lukaris teased.

  Astar smiled and nodded in agreement.

  “It looks good—especially considering you’re the one paying.”

  The shopkeeper, his expression barely shifting, adjusted Lukaris’s sleeves and gave a polite nod.

  “That will be ten gray coins. The price includes not only the quality of the fabric, but also a treatment that protects against fine dust and moisture. Footwear is also included,” he added, pointing to a pair of black leather boots. “I’ll determine your size—no need to worry.”

  Lukaris pulled out his coin pouch and handed over the amount without hesitation, earning a subtle gleam of joy in the shopkeeper’s eyes.

  “All right, my friend,” Lukaris said, handing the outfit to the shopkeeper to have it properly packed, “you owe me now. Tonight at the tavern—you’d better make it unforgettable. You need to show off that ‘smile magic’ or whatever you called it—ha!”

  Astar nodded with gratitude.

  “I’ll do my best to support you in your noble pursuits. Thanks, Lukaris.”

  Once the outfit was neatly wrapped, Lukaris picked up the bundle and headed for the door, tossing a comment over his shoulder:

  “Well, vagabond, at least now you’ll look like a respectable man. All that’s left is to wash you—otherwise no outfit in the world will help.”

  Astar followed him, pausing just long enough to give the shopkeeper a respectful nod.

  Back on the street, Lukaris immediately resumed his teasing.

  “Did you notice how the shopkeeper was trying not to look directly at you? I swear, if you’d tried that outfit on, he might’ve had to write it off on the spot.”

  “Careful with your jokes,” Astar replied with a grin. “I might’ve intentionally ‘tainted’ a few outfits just to make you spend a few extra coins. Though, that would only reinforce your legend as the generous hero who saved his poor friend.”

  “That’s right—it’ll be the cornerstone of our friendship’s tale!” Lukaris declared, raising his hands. “And we absolutely must include the part where you, dressed in rags, still managed to charm that girl. She probably thought you were a hero who escaped from a pack of abyssals.”

  Astar laughed, though his thoughts soon drifted elsewhere. Back in the shop, a rather important question had come to mind.

  “Hey, Lukaris,” he began, “how does money work here? I saw those gray coins… What’s their value?”

  Lukaris looked a little surprised but quickly smiled, happy to show off his knowledge.

  “Good question,” he said, adjusting the bundle on his shoulder. “Let’s start with the basics. The cheapest coins are gray. They’re used by pretty much everyone—especially common folk. For example, an abyssal core of Warrior rank costs anywhere from one to ten gray coins, depending on its quality and condition.”

  Astar nodded, trying to memorize it.

  “A Premarch-level abyssal core might go for twenty to fifty gray coins. But a core from a Gray Mnemarch is already worth one to ten silver coins. Then come the blue coins—they’re rarer. A Blue Mnemarch core goes for one to ten blue coins. That’s serious money.”

  “And after that?” Astar asked.

  “Purple,” Lukaris said, lowering his voice. “Then black, and finally gold. Each level is roughly a hundred times more valuable than the last. One purple coin equals a hundred blue ones. But most ordinary people won’t even see those in their lifetime. That’s the realm of major deals, clans, and powerful organizations.”

  “I saw some sort of symbols from the Church of Memoria on the back of those coins… Are all these minted by them?” Astar asked.

  “Exactly,” Lukaris confirmed. “The entire continent uses those coins. The Church of Memoria mints them, and they’re nearly impossible to counterfeit. Each coin is marked in a special way, making forgery incredibly difficult. And if someone does try? Execution. The Church watches it all very closely.”

  Astar nodded thoughtfully, processing the information.

  “So, the value of coins is tied to the strength of abyssal cores and tainted materials? That’s… smart. Makes it easy to gauge the worth of money when it’s linked to something so tangible and universally needed.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know the full history of the currency,” Lukaris admitted with a grin. “But the Church of Memoria is where all wealth ends up anyway. Supposedly, they created a unified currency thousands of years ago and started buying and selling items from everyone to give those coins real value. Over time, the system caught on—and it made life a lot easier for a lot of people.”

  Astar smirked, speaking silently to himself:

  “I wouldn’t say I was an expert in economics back on Earth… but I get what the Church of Memoria is doing. Because of their power and influence, they became a regulator—giving money value by tying it to a specific resource: abyssal cores. Considering that refined cores are rich in memoria and can be used for developing Mnemarchs and other purposes, this resource will always hold value. And on top of that, it’s limited—something not to be overlooked.”

  “Looks like I’ve found my personal financial advisor,” Astar teased with a smile.

  “Yeah, just don’t forget to pay for my services once you strike it rich,” Lukaris shot back with a grin.

  Astar chuckled, but a new question was already forming in his mind.

  “If the Church of Memoria mints the coins and oversees their circulation… does that mean they also have storage facilities?” he asked cautiously. “Like… a place to keep your personal coins?” he added, trying to describe the concept of a bank.

  Lukaris raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, then nodded.

  “Huh… Seems like you do remember something,” he said. “You can think of the Temples of Memoria as the largest monetary vaults around. And honestly, it’s way more convenient than lugging around a sack of coins.”

  “How does it work?” Astar asked, pretending the idea was completely new to him.

  “It’s simple,” Lukaris began, his tone carrying a trace of admiration for the system. “Anyone officially registered with the Church is given a special plaque. It’s infused with the owner’s memoria and can only be activated by them. The plaque is linked to their Soul Vault.”

  Astar raised an eyebrow.

  “So you can ‘store’ money in a Temple of Memoria and withdraw it somewhere else?”

  “Exactly,” Lukaris confirmed. “It works across the entire continent. Say you deposit money in the Temple here in Thorin—once you reach Koros, you can withdraw it there. The plaque, along with the Church, keeps a record of all your assets. No one else can access it.”

  “Sounds incredibly convenient,” Astar remarked, thoughtfully watching the bustling street. “But what if someone tries to hack the system?”

  “Virtually impossible,” Lukaris replied. “The plaques are protected by a unique bond with the owner's Soul Vault. If someone tries to tamper with it, the plaque simply self-destructs. And if the Church detects a forgery attempt, they’ll act swiftly.”

  “Harsh,” Astar muttered, imagining how such control must strengthen the Church’s authority.

  “Yeah, the Church doesn’t tolerate fraud,” Lukaris confirmed. “But on the other hand, it makes travel a lot safer. You can move around with only a handful of coins, and if you’ve got your plaque—you’ve got access to your money anytime.”

  Astar nodded, turning the information over in his mind.

  “The Church of Memoria isn’t just a spiritual or military power here. They control the economy, trade, faith, exorcism, and politics. That makes them unbelievably powerful. If they’ve got the resources to sustain a system like this… it’s like a transnational corporation straight out of a conspiracy theory. On Earth, something like that would rule the whole world…”

  “And how do you get one of those plaques?” he asked, doing his best to sound like he was asking out of idle curiosity.

  “They usually issue them at the Temple of Memoria,” Lukaris replied. “But you have to register. It’s not a complicated process—but it’s only available to those who’ve reached at least Premarch level. Crafting a plaque requires a functioning Soul Vault.”

  Astar allowed himself a faint smirk, concealing a rising concern.

  “If they check my Soul Vault, they might… notice something abnormal,” he thought. “Best not to open an account just yet…”

  “Sounds useful. Maybe I’ll consider it once we get to Koros,” he said aloud, careful not to betray his real thoughts.

  Lukaris nodded.

  “Definitely. If you plan to earn money and travel, you’ll need one eventually.”

  They kept walking, asking passersby if there were any public baths nearby. To their delight, they discovered a large hot spring complex in town. This news particularly pleased Astar—he had never been to a hot spring before, and it was something he’d dreamed of experiencing back on Earth.

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a large building, steam rising from behind its roof. It looked like real hot springs were nestled inside, hidden away in serene inner courtyards. The structure was massive but well-maintained. The entrance was adorned with carved columns, and above the doorway hung a sign bearing the symbol of water and steam, drawn in simple but elegant lines.

  “Well, here we are,” Lukaris said, clapping Astar on the shoulder. “Ready to get rid of your signature aroma?” he joked.

  “Absolutely,” Astar replied dryly, though inside he felt a flicker of anticipation. Soon, he’d feel the bliss of soaking in hot water again—a bliss he had almost forgotten.

  As they stepped inside, they were greeted by the pleasant scent of herbal steam. The floors and walls were lined with stone, and though the interior was simple, it gave off a comforting sense of warmth and calm. A few attendants approached with welcoming smiles.

  Lukaris wasted no time and requested a private bath.

  “My friend here requires special care,” he said to the attendant with a grin. “I hope you’ve got something strong enough to scrub the forest off of him.”

  The worker, clearly used to such remarks, offered a faint smile and gestured for them to follow.

  “Of course, gentlemen. Right this way. Your changing room is ready.”

  They walked down a stone corridor lit by the soft glow of paper lanterns, until they reached a door that led to their small, private bathing area.

  “Right here,” the attendant announced, opening the door.

  Inside, the bath was divided into two sections. The first was for cleansing: along the walls stood wooden stools beside tubs filled with warm, herb-infused water. From small holes in the stone walls, steady streams of water flowed. The second section was a large hot spring pool, surrounded by smooth stones and veiled in a gentle mist.

  “You’ll need to wash thoroughly in the first section before entering the hot spring,” the attendant explained, motioning toward the washing area. “Only then can you move into the main pool.”

  “Perfect,” Lukaris said, setting the bundle of clothes onto a nearby shelf.

  “You know, you’re pretty dirty too,” Astar added with a smirk. “Make sure you clean up properly, or the tavern won’t be ruined just because of me.”

  Lukaris laughed and, wasting no time, began undressing. He stripped off his clothes without hesitation, as if such casualness were the norm here. His lean but muscular body, marked by his gray-blue skin, looked strong and well-toned.

  “Well, vagabond? Your turn,” he called, stepping beneath one of the streams of water and letting it wash over him.

  Astar hesitated for a moment, but quickly composed himself. “Guess modesty isn’t a thing here,” he thought, following Lukaris’s lead. As he peeled off the last of his worn-out clothing, he felt a twinge of self-consciousness. Back on Earth, public baths usually meant swimwear or at least modesty towels.

  Without meaning to, his gaze drifted downward—curiosity getting the better of him. It was the kind of bizarre thought only someone in a completely different world could have: Was there any anatomical difference between Noxuli and humans? To his surprise, aside from the color of Lukaris’s skin, everything looked identical.

  Noticing Astar’s glance, Lukaris grinned immediately.

  “Hey, hey, hey, buddy! What exactly are you staring at?” he asked in mock alarm, stepping back. “Tell me, should I be worried you’re gonna make a move on me tonight?”

  Astar burst out laughing and replied with a genuine grin:

  “Sorry, couldn’t help it. Had to check… What if your race had a tentacle or a trunk instead of—well, you know.”

  For a second, Lukaris froze, then burst into laughter loud enough to echo off the stone walls. He slapped Astar on the shoulder, sending droplets of water flying in every direction.

  “A tentacle or a trunk?! Are you serious?!” he shouted in feigned outrage, still laughing. “That’s the best joke I’ve heard in weeks!”

  Astar just shook his head, still chuckling, and calmly stepped beneath another stream of warm water.

  The moment that first rush of heat touched his grimy, itching skin, a wave of pleasure surged through his body. The warmth, infused with a subtle herbal aroma, spread across him, and he couldn’t stop a deep, blissful sigh from escaping his lips. The sensation was so overwhelmingly pleasant he almost cried out with joy.

  “Damn… this is incredible. Civilization really was a blessing from the gods,” he thought, feeling every tight muscle slowly unwind under the hot water. On Earth, a daily shower had been routine—so ordinary he’d taken it for granted. Now, after months of dirt, cold, and damp, it felt like a divine miracle.

  He stood there for a while, letting the water rinse him clean—washing away the grime, the fatigue, and the lingering tension. Then he turned toward Lukaris, who was already scrubbing his shoulders and neck, clearly enjoying himself.

  “All right,” Astar said, motioning to the stools and wooden buckets nearby, “I think I’m ready for the next step.”

  “All right then, let me teach you how to bathe properly,” Lukaris teased with a smirk.

  They sat down on the wooden stools, scooped warm water from the buckets, and began rubbing it over their bodies. Astar noticed with interest that the water began to lather—not quite like the soap he was used to on Earth, but enough for him to feel the grime lifting from his skin.

  “Amazing,” he murmured, examining the soft foam on his hands. “And it smells nice.”

  “It’s an herbal extract,” Lukaris explained as he rubbed the lather over his arms. “Local craftsmen add it to the water. It softens dirt and helps dissolve oils. Places like this use only the best stuff.”

  “Feels great,” Astar agreed, continuing to scrub.

  Only once they had thoroughly washed away the layers of dirt did their skin regain a healthy glow, and their bodies finally begin to feel truly clean. Now came the time to enter the second section. Astar hadn’t even noticed how much more toned his body had become—his muscles now defined and impressive, as if he’d spent years training.

  Lukaris was the first to step into the hot spring pool. As he sank in up to his waist, he exhaled loudly:

  “Now this—this is real bliss! Come on, Astar, get in. You won’t regret it.”

  Astar approached and carefully dipped his legs into the water. The heat enveloped his body instantly, relaxing every muscle. He slowly sank in up to his chest, closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, forgot everything.

  “I definitely didn’t expect this from this world… Feels like all the suffering was worth it just for this,” he thought, as the tension he’d been carrying since waking in this world finally began to melt away. Of course, he knew the thought was absurd—but the contrast between now and everything that came before was just too great.

  He was just beginning to enjoy the bath when a faint ringing echoed nearby. Opening his eyes, Astar saw Lukaris smirking mischievously, a small bell swaying between his fingers. It was the strange item they’d been given at the entrance, though Astar hadn’t thought much of it.

  “What are you doing?” he asked lazily, emerging from his relaxed daze.

  Lukaris grinned and set the bell aside.

  “Just getting ready to make our bath even better,” he said with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes.

  A moment later, a young attendant entered the bathhouse, dressed in a light yet neat uniform. Her face was perfectly composed, her movements graceful and precise.

  “How may I assist you, gentlemen?” she asked, offering a polite bow.

  “Drinks and snacks,” Lukaris said with a wide smile. “Something light—we don’t want to ruin our appetite for tonight. But please make sure the drinks are cold.”

  The attendant nodded, noted the order on a parchment slip, and departed with a respectful farewell.

  Astar glanced at Lukaris with surprise.

  “You’re serious? Drinks in the bath?”

  “Of course I’m serious!” Lukaris replied, leaning back against the stone edge of the pool. “You’ve got to start warming up before the real drinking begins. What—you’ve never done this before?”

  Astar smirked and shook his head.

  “Can’t say I have… then again, I don’t remember much of anything. So why not give it a try?”

  Lukaris laughed, clearly pleased. He tilted his head back, relaxing completely, yet still radiating energy and readiness for fun.

  “Now this is what I call living! Listen, Astar—if you don’t know how to relax, what’s the point of life? Today, we bathe, we drink, and we prepare for a great night. And tomorrow? Tomorrow we deal with the consequences!”

  Astar couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, he even started to think Lukaris might just be a carefree fool. But everything he’d seen these past few days told a different story. No matter how playful his behavior, Lukaris clearly knew a great deal about this world—and there was no doubt he was both educated and sharp.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  About two hours had passed. The hot water, herbal steam, snacks, and light alcohol had done their job—Astar and Lukaris looked completely relaxed and content. Astar couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so at peace. Even the strange sensations of this new world seemed to have faded into the background.

  “So, what do you think?” Lukaris asked, raising his half-empty cup. “Now you understand why places like this are so popular? Life gets a whole lot easier when you allow yourself a little pleasure now and then.”

  “I agree,” Astar replied, sipping from his own cup. “This was the perfect way to forget about… well, everything.”

  Lukaris laughed and nodded.

  “Now that’s the right attitude! Today you finally start living properly—not like some wild man out of the forest.”

  When their drinks were finished, Astar stood up, stretching slightly, and looked over at Lukaris.

  “I think it’s time to head out. Otherwise we’ll laze around here until sunset. We still need to meet up with your sister and the others.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Lukaris sighed as he stood. “But honestly, I wouldn’t mind staying another couple hours.”

  As soon as they stepped out of the pool, two attendants entered the bath, carrying soft towels in their arms. They quickly and expertly dried them off, taking care with every detail to ensure no trace of water was left behind.

  Astar was about to thank them and rise from the stool when something unexpected happened. One of the attendants, smiling gently, raised a hand and reached toward his head.

  “What are you doing?” Astar asked in surprise.

  “Please relax, sir. It’s part of the service,” she replied, lifting her other hand as well.

  The attendants began moving their hands above their heads, and Astar felt the air around him grow warmer. A gentle stream of heat brushed against his hair. The woman’s fingers both warmed and massaged his scalp at the same time. The sensation was so pleasant that he closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself be fully immersed in the experience.

  “They can’t do what you can,” Lukaris said, noticing the expression of wonder on Astar’s face. “But memoria flows through their bodies too. This is the routine kind of usage I told you about. Even ordinary people can learn these simple tricks. It doesn’t cost much energy, but it makes life easier.”

  Astar opened his eyes, feeling his hair gradually becoming dry and silky under the attendants’ warm hands. They were giving him a head massage—and drying his hair at the same time!

  “Pretty impressive,” he thought, eyeing the attendant. “This would be insanely popular on Earth.”

  When the attendants finished, they gave a small bow and quietly left, leaving the two of them in perfect order.

  “Well then, now we’re ready to find that blue-eyed beauty,” Lukaris declared with a familiar smirk.

  Astar smiled and reached for the bundle of new clothes. Unfolding the fabric, he ran his fingers over its smooth surface, feeling the pleasant coolness of the material. The outfit looked truly impressive: black fabric with fine violet embroidery gave it elegance, while the loose fit made it ideal for movement.

  “All right… Let’s see how I look in this,” he said, beginning to dress.

  Lukaris stood a little off to the side, watching with an amused expression.

  “Leave your rags behind, like the trash they are,” he said, nodding toward Astar’s old clothes. “They’ll throw them out anyway. Nobody wants relics from your past life.”

  Astar didn’t argue. The old things were indeed in terrible shape—even a beggar might turn them down. Without hesitation, he left them on the floor, feeling like he was finally saying goodbye to the version of himself that had existed since waking in this world.

  As soon as he finished dressing, Lukaris looked like he was about to crack another joke—but he stopped short, eyes scanning Astar from head to toe.

  “Well, damn…” he muttered, raising his eyebrows. “Now that’s a transformation. You look like a nobleman.”

  Astar smiled faintly, feeling how the fabric hugged his shoulders snugly, yet allowed complete freedom of movement. The wide trousers and open-chested shirt highlighted his defined muscles, and his dark, violet-tinged hair, now tied neatly into a ponytail, shimmered under the light and matched the embroidery perfectly.

  He glanced at his reflection in a copper plate hanging on the wall. The image was striking. Clean, groomed, and dressed in his new attire, he looked impressive—better than he ever had on Earth.

  “Seriously,” Lukaris said, crossing his arms, “you could get any girl to stare at you now. I’m actually starting to feel a little jealous.”

  Astar chuckled, adjusting his cuffs.

  “Well, what can I say, my friend—it’s all thanks to you,” he teased.

  “All right, all right,” Lukaris waved him off, though the approval in his eyes remained obvious.

  He looked like he was about to add something else, but Astar cut him off with a satisfied grin.

  “Let’s start by finding your sister. Then we can go track down that blue-eyed beauty, ha-ha.”