[Next Day]
Shura woke up.
The wood beneath him was hard.
Unforgiving.
Real.
No cushion.
No warmth.
Just surface.
He had slept there.
All night.
No dreams.
Or maybe—
too many to remember.
The world felt different.
Quieter.
The Spectral Gold was gone.
No lingering glow.
No distortion in the air.
The city had returned to its usual rhythm.
Cold structure.
Warm air.
Endless motion.
Nothing had stopped for him.
Nothing ever would.
Shura sat up slowly.
His body ached.
Not sharp—
but constant.
A dull reminder.
You're here now.
He rolled his shoulder.
Winced slightly.
"…Yeah."
Still real.
He looked ahead.
Knights.
Dozens of them.
Moving in unison.
Boots striking stone in perfect rhythm.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Controlled.
Disciplined.
Perfect synchronization.
Like a machine—
but alive.
"…So it's back to normal."
His voice was low.
Almost swallowed by the city.
A pause.
The girl's voice returned.
Clear.
Sharp.
Free Area.
Industrial edge.
Shura frowned slightly.
"…Was she real?"
He looked at his hands.
Still faintly shaking.
Not from fear.
From uncertainty.
"I left… because everything was given."
A breath.
Slow.
Uneven.
"And she tells me to go there?"
A pause.
"…or was that just another dream?"
His expression tightened.
"I hate dreams."
Silence.
"They feel real… even when they aren't."
And sometimes—
they change things.
Without asking.
He stood up.
Slow stretch.
Muscles resisting.
Heavy.
Unwilling.
Then—
he started walking.
No direction at first.
Just movement.
A thought formed.
Simple.
Incomplete.
A step.
"I need a way to earn."
Another.
"…I don't know where to start."
He tried to run.
Pain shot through his legs.
Immediate.
Sharp.
His breath caught.
He slowed.
Didn't stop.
"…Then I'll run slowly."
It still hurt.
Each step pulling at something untrained.
Something soft.
But he kept moving.
Because stopping—
felt worse.
After a few steps—
he glanced back.
Just once.
The place he came from—
already distant.
Already fading.
"…I'm sorry."
Not loud.
Not explained.
No name attached.
Then forward again.
The city changed as he moved.
Gradually.
Almost politely.
The towering structures thinned.
Spacing widened.
The walls—
different.
Less polished.
More… functional.
On the left—
a low wall.
Far.
Stretching endlessly.
On the right—
nothing.
No visible boundary.
Just distance.
A long, open expanse that dissolved into haze.
Like the world hadn't decided what to put there yet.
Further ahead—
mountains.
Massive.
Silent.
Watching.
"…So that's the wall."
Not built.
Not designed.
Just… there.
He kept walking.
Lost in thought.
Didn't notice—
someone was watching him.
A Knight.
Tall.
Armored.
Still.
Like part of the road itself.
Then—
movement.
The Knight stepped forward.
Closed the distance easily.
Too easily.
"First time here?"
Shura stopped.
Turned slightly.
"…You could say that."
The Knight studied him.
Carefully.
Not just his face—
his posture.
His hesitation.
"You're young."
A pause.
"Walking alone?"
His gaze dropped—
to Shura's coat.
The silver threading.
The subtle structure woven into it.
Not flashy—
but unmistakably crafted.
"…That outfit doesn't match the road."
A beat.
"Your parents?"
Shura looked away.
The answer came quickly—
but quietly.
"…I left."
Silence.
The Knight's expression softened.
Just slightly.
Not pity.
Understanding.
He stepped closer.
Then—
sat beside him.
Slow.
Deliberate.
No armor clatter.
Just control.
A hand rested gently on Shura's head.
Not forceful. Not heavy.
Just… present.
"You want to build something for yourself."
A pause.
"…don't you?"
Shura didn't answer.
But he didn't move away either.
That was answer enough.
"People who come here early…"
pause
"don't come back the same."
The Knight's voice was calm.
Grounded.
Not dismissive.
"This world…"
small breath
"…isn't kind."
"Go back."
"Learn first."
"Then come here when you can survive it."
Shura's thoughts tightened.
He's right.
A breath.
I'm not ready.
Another.
But I can't go back.
Going back would erase this.
This pain.
This confusion.
This… beginning.
Shura spoke.
Quiet.
But steady.
"…I'm a writer."
The Knight blinked.
Slightly surprised.
Shura continued.
"…but I don't know how to write."
A pause.
"…Every word just teaches me what comes next."
Silence.
Wind passed between them.
Then—
the Knight laughed.
Not mocking. Not harsh.
Genuine.
Unrestrained for a moment.
"That's a dangerous kind of writer."
He stood up.
Still smiling faintly.
"…I'd like to read that book someday."
Shura looked at him.
Really looked this time.
For a moment—
the Knight didn't move.
He looked at Shura's hands.
Thin.
Unworked.
No scars.
No calluses.
A blank page.
"So," he said, "how do you plan to start?"
Shura hesitated.
Then—
"I'll go to the Industrial Area first."
A small pause.
"See if there's anything I can do."
The Knight let out a short laugh.
"Your pen can't write the weight of work."
Shura didn't respond.
Didn't argue.
Didn't agree.
"Pen, hm…" the Knight continued, tilting his head slightly.
"Can you draw?"
"…Maybe."
"Complex structures?"
Shura thought for a second.
Not memory—
feeling.
"…I think so."
The Knight studied him again.
Longer this time.
Measuring something unseen.
"I don't think it's safe," he said finally.
"Not for someone like you."
He reached into his coat.
Pulled something out.
A small object.
Black.
Heavy.
Dense in a way metal shouldn't feel.
He held it out.
Shura didn't take it immediately.
The Knight spoke.
"This is a Vanguard's badge."
A pause.
"The workers respect two things—"
He tapped the token lightly.
"—the rhythm of the machine…"
Then his gaze lifted.
"…and the shadow of the Guard."
Another pause.
"If someone tries to take your 'pen'…"
A faint glance at Shura's coat.
"…or your coat—show them this."
Silence.
Shura's hand didn't move.
He already knew what this was.
Help.
Again.
Given.
Placed in his hand.
Without him earning it.
"I don't want—"
"It's not a gift."
The Knight cut him off.
Calm. Certain.
Shura looked up.
The Knight's expression hadn't changed.
"It's an investment."
A small pause.
"On someone who had the guts to leave."
Silence.
"If you make something of it…"
He turned slightly.
"Find me at the High Gate."
A beat.
"You can tell me the ending of your first chapter."
Another pause.
"That's the price."
Shura looked at the token again.
Then—
reached out.
The metal was cold.
Far colder than the air.
When his fingers closed around it—
it felt real.
Heavy.
Grounded.
Not kindness. Not comfort.
Weight.
Responsibility.
Expectation.
"…Can I know the name…"
Shura asked quietly.
"…of my first investor?"
The Knight stood.
"Saku."
He began walking away.
Boots striking stone in perfect rhythm.
He didn't look back.
"Don't get caught in any 'secret organizations,' boy."
Shura lowered his head slightly.
A small, respectful bow.
Then—
he was alone again.
Or so it seemed.
Shura looked down at the Black Iron Token.
Resting in his palm.
Cold.
Hard.
Honest.
Before Shura could move—
a shift in the air.
Subtle.
But heavy.
He looked up.
Another Knight stood nearby.
No—
not just a Knight.
Golden armor.
Not polished for display—
but worn with authority.
Every edge sharp.
Every line deliberate.
The presence alone—
different.
Commanding.
The air seemed to adjust around him.
Shura didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He just watched.
The Royal-armored figure approached Saku.
Steps slower—
but heavier.
Each one carried weight beyond armor.
But not true authority.
Borrowed.
Temporary.
"Commander," the Royal Knight spoke.
His voice was friendly.
Cheerful.
"How's the experience leading the Monster Hunter group?"
Shura's thoughts froze.
Wait—
Commander?
His gaze shifted.
From the golden armor—
to Saku.
Plain armor.
No symbols.
…Him?
Mr. Saku… is the Commander?
The Royal Knight rubbed the back of his neck slightly.
A small, awkward smile.
"Thanks for trusting me," he said,
"…and giving your post to scum like me."
No pride.
No arrogance.
Just honesty.
Like he didn't fully believe he deserved it.
Saku let out a short laugh.
Relaxed.
Unbothered.
"You won the board."
A pause.
"So you take the seat."
Simple.
Final.
Saku smirked slightly.
"But don't get used to it."
A beat.
"You still can't defeat me next time in chess."
The Royal Knight laughed.
Light.
"That was one match."
A pause.
"I'll win again."
Saku's eyes sharpened slightly.
"You are sharp."
A pause.
"But weak."
No insult.
Just truth.
"I hope you'll gain strength someday."
This time—
the Royal Knight didn't laugh.
He nodded.
Once.
He understood.
That armor—
was temporary.
Strength—
was not.
His gaze shifted slightly.
Passing over Shura for just a moment.
Not questioning.
Just noticing.
Then gone.
Saku turned toward Shura.
And smiled.
Simple.
Unchanged.
Shura reacted instantly.
He bowed.
Once—
then again.
Deeper this time.
Commander.
Investor.
Same person.
When he rose—
he didn't speak.
Didn't stay.
He turned—
and started walking.
No hesitation.
No looking back.
After a few steps—
he raised his hand.
A quiet goodbye.
Behind him—
their voices continued.
"Next time I'm keeping the post longer," the Royal Knight said.
"Win properly first," Saku replied.
Shura walked on.
The token in his hand—
heavier now.
"…Chess…"
he whispered.
A way to take something—
He didn't look back.
The city didn't guide him this time.
It didn't offer him anything.
Good.
He tightened his grip on the token—
and walked into the part of the city
that didn't care if he survived..