Nerion and Mia approached the Great Wall, and suddenly…
They both felt countless unseen eyes scanning every inch of their bodies. The sensation lasted only a second before vanishing completely.
'These people don't tolerate even the slightest threat,' Nerion thought, his instincts ringing with alarm even though the pressure had disappeared so quickly.
They reached one of the massive gates, where around twenty soldiers stood guard. They wore heavy armor and carried gleaming swords and spears. Their helmets resembled those of Crusaders, making them look even more imposing. Nearby, a line of people was paying the entrance fee to the Empire—two silver coins.
That was no small amount. From the scattered memories Nerion still had of this world, it was equal to a full month's expenses for an average family.
Nerion glanced around and noticed the wide variety of appearances among the people. Most looked similar to humans, but some had subtle differences.
The snakefolk, for example, had faint scales on their arms and legs. Others had feline ears, long rabbit-like ears, or even wings. The winged ones—the Ravanians—came from the same forest where Mia had found him. They were known for their high speed and limited ability to fly. Some others resembled the minotaur he had recently seen.
And yet, all of them were dressed beautifully.
The fashion was not modern, but it strongly resembled the Victorian era.
The wealthier men wore three-piece suits, tall hats, and carried elegant canes. The richest among them even had golden pocket watches. Women wore layered silk dresses, often trimmed with ruffles, along with gloves and delicate hand fans they used to cover their mouths while laughing. Teen girls wore light, spring-colored short skirts that gave off a youthful charm, while others wore structured panniers or crinolines with simple jewelry.
'Victorian era, huh? Perfect timeline,' Nerion thought with a smile as he admired the people around him.
His gaze then shifted to the middle and working classes—small merchants and skilled laborers. They wore well-pressed wool jackets, carefully tailored trousers, and white shirts, paired with tall hats and simple yet elegant leather shoes. There was a practical charm to them, like the scent of ink and parchment clinging to their presence.
'Weird comparison… Still, I don't see any lower-class people here. The entrance fee must be keeping them out. Also… I need a hat. It's obviously essential here. I bet they'd wear one even in scorching heat. Fashion must be sacred among the Civilized.'
Then his gaze moved to the Primitive folk. Their clothing, while simpler, carried a refined practicality. Handmade garments made from natural animal hides and high-quality fabrics were designed loosely, allowing for agile movement. Some outfits resembled robes, martial arts uniforms, or Japanese kimonos in structure.
Their colors were earthy—brown, sandy beige, olive green, and sometimes bluish gray.
The simpler members of the tribe wore long robes tied with leather belts, open at the chest to reveal necklaces or tribal tattoos.
Their leader wore something like a royal kimono or a noble warrior's robe, dyed with rare natural pigments and decorated with engraved leather straps and metallic clasps. His companion, likely his deputy, wore a similar style, but made from richer materials and darker colors such as black and deep violet.
All these groups mingled without judgment or comment. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world, even if Nerion still wasn't used to it.
"It's your first time seeing these clothes, isn't it?" Mia asked, noticing how he stared in awe.
"Yes. It's my first time seeing such elegant fashion," he replied, still looking around with fascination.
"Don't worry, Nerion. Once we get you checked, I'll buy you whatever you want," she said excitedly, seeming even more thrilled than he was.
"Alright," he replied calmly, though something felt… wrong.
"Mia," Nerion suddenly said.
"Hm? What is it, my dear?" Mia responded with her usual gentle smile.
"I feel like something is off. It's like I'm seeing something, but not really. Or maybe something is blocking me from seeing it. What is that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at a specific spot near the gate guards.
He didn't notice Mia's shocked expression as she followed his gaze and looked directly at that hidden entity.
'I-impossible! Can he sense the Lurkers?!'
These Lurkers could not be seen or sensed unless they allowed it. Their job was to silently observe travelers, often standing right beside them without being noticed. Usually, only those who had reached the ninth sequence could perceive them.
And that was only if one of the Lurkers present was in the ninth or tenth sequence. Otherwise, you would need to be at least on the same level as them to sense anything at all.
And yet… Nerion, who had not even become a Willbarer, was somehow sensing their presence?
Even if the hidden figure before them was only in the tenth sequence, this should still have been impossible for someone whose will had not yet awakened.
Mia could hardly be blamed for her reaction.
What she did not realize, however, was that Nerion had not actually seen anything. He had merely noticed the subtle signals exchanged between the guards—quick glances, slight hand twitches, small scratches to the forehead—tiny signs of silent communication. None of them escaped his eyes.
After focusing on the same spot, he still saw nothing, but he felt a strange sense of concealment. His instincts—and the experience he had gained from years of working as a spy and facing danger on a daily basis—screamed that something was being hidden.
And he was right.
"How… how can you see him, Nerion?" Mia asked, her eyes wide.
"Huh? I don't see anything. I just… feel like something's wrong there," Nerion replied in confusion.
And then it hit him.
'Wait… there really is something there?!'
Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck.
'I must never underestimate this world again,' he told himself firmly.
Mia sighed in relief. Nerion had not truly seen them, or her understanding of the Sequences would have been shattered.
Still, she was deeply impressed by his observational skill.
"Even though I don't know how you noticed them, Nerion, those are called Lurkers. They are Willbarers who walk the Infiltrator Path. Even at sequence ten, they can't be perceived unless you are sequence ten or stronger. Even then, weaker Willbarers may still fail to notice them. It all depends on the strength of your Bloodline, your Path, and your personal ability. But it seems my dear Nerion has quite the talent—even before awakening his Will Source," she said, her tone mixed with admiration and curiosity as they walked.
"The Infiltrator Path, huh? Wait, shouldn't paths be linked to bloodlines? That sounds more like a job title," Nerion asked.
"You really are sharp, Nerion," Mia said, pleasantly surprised.
He smiled, waiting for her explanation.
"There are two kinds of paths," she began. "The Bloodline Path—which is the more powerful one—allows you to grow in many ways and strengthens your blood. The other is the Professional Path. It does not enhance your lineage; however, it helps you master specific skills, such as stealth or the art of dueling. The most famous and most difficult of these paths is the Wizard's Path. Both types rely on willpower to progress."
"Then why would anyone choose a Professional Path over a Bloodline Path?" Nerion asked.
He had a point.
"Because they can't walk the Bloodline Path, Nerion," she said gently.
"What? Why not?" he asked, confused.
"Every being has a Will Source, but it remains dormant until they become Willbarers—sequence ten. Some people simply cannot awaken it, not because they are stupid or weak, but because their Will Source is too feeble. This condition is called Will Source Deficiency. They cannot follow a Bloodline Path, so they walk the easier one—the Professional Path. Like those Infiltrators, and many others."
'I see… Will Source Deficiency,' Nerion repeated inwardly, carving the term into his memory.
"But don't misunderstand," Mia added. "That doesn't make them weak. In their own fields of expertise, they can rival Bloodline Willbarers. Especially Wizards."
With that, they approached the gate.
But people had already begun to notice them.
"Huh? Mom, look! That man is so handsome! But why is his wife carrying him like that?" a young girl asked, instantly drawing attention.
"Wow, he's gorgeous!" another young woman gasped.
"What a beautiful couple," a lady commented.
Nerion noticed Mia blushing more each time someone used the word couple.
Some of the passersby stepped away as soon as they got close to Mia, as if they sensed something strange—something invisible.
There was a faint pressure in the air… just like the moment near the Empire's wall, when he had felt hidden eyes watching him.
Then he caught a faint glimmer in Mia's eyes… and her smile widened slightly. It did not look entirely innocent—especially not toward those who stared at them for too long.
Nerion felt a chill run down his spine.
'Mia… might be more dangerous than I thought.'
Then someone lacking even basic intelligence made a comment.
"Hah! Are they roleplaying or what? Switched roles, huh? Hahaha—"
Blood suddenly burst from his nose, eyes, and ears, and he collapsed without another word.
Before anyone could even scream, a crushing presence descended from above the walls.
It slammed into Nerion like a falling mountain.
His breath nearly stopped.
It was far stronger than anything he had felt before—far more terrifying than the hidden gazes near the wall, far heavier than the pressure in the air around Mia. It felt ancient, merciless, and absolute, as though some monstrous existence high above had lowered its attention upon them.
And yet… the greater part of that overwhelming focus was not on him.
It was on Mia.
Nerion felt it instantly.
Whatever had descended from above the walls was watching her.
Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the suffocating presence vanished.
Panic erupted.
"Kyaaah!"
"Gods! Was he poisoned?!"
"What just happened?!"
The crowd scattered from the body as if it were cursed.
The soldiers at the gate tensed at once.
Hands flew to sword hilts. Spears shifted. Several guards rushed toward the collapsed man, their boots striking the stone in sharp, urgent rhythm. One knelt beside the corpse almost immediately, checking his nose, his eyes, his throat, while another barked orders for the area to be cleared.
"Back away! Everyone, move back!"
"What killed him?!"
"Check for poison!"
But not all of them moved toward the body.
One guard took several steps in Mia's direction—then visibly slowed.
His posture remained tense, but he did not dare come too close. He stopped at a careful distance, gripping his spear with white knuckles, as if some invisible command had reached him at that very moment.
Nerion noticed that immediately.
'They're investigating… but they're wary of Mia. No… more than wary. It's like they already know they must not get too close to her.'
Nerion was startled as well. He turned to Mia.
"That was you, wasn't it?" he asked, locking eyes with her.
"Yes," she replied simply.
'There she goes again,' Nerion thought, rolling his eyes in amusement.
The guard who had stopped near them hesitated for a moment, then lowered his gaze first.
He stepped aside.
Only then did the soldiers near the corpse seem to realize that none of them truly intended to question Mia directly.
They finally reached the gate, now nearly empty thanks to the panic. A heavily armored guard stepped forward.
"Two silver coins and your names, please," he said in a deep voice, though his voice carried a trace of stiffness now.
Mia said nothing. She simply raised a token engraved with a red fang symbol. It radiated a familiar energy—similar to the mark on the minotaur's chest, but stronger and far more forbidden.
The guard's eyes widened.
"L-Lady, may I… verify the token? I mean no offense!" he stammered, bowing deeply.
Mia frowned slightly, but nodded.
The guard hurried away and returned seconds later with another soldier clad in black armor—heavier and far more oppressive than the first.
Both men bowed deeply.
"Does Lady Mia Crimson require any assistance?" the black-armored one asked respectfully.
"No. Just return the token and let me through. I'm in a hurry," she said flatly.
"Of course, ma'am! You there—open the gates!" he shouted as he handed the token back.
Nerion watched in stunned silence.
'No way. Is she a noble? A vampire princess? What the hell?'
'I'll ask later… Right now, I need my damn system and bloodline to activate.'
His patience was wearing thin. He wanted out of this fragile state—and fast.