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8th Night, Śukla Pakṣa — 7:29 p.m. Aśvin Māsa | Outskirts of the Royal Capital…
The body hit the ground with a dull, final thud.
Silence followed.
Not peace—
but something heavier.
The boy stood over the corpse, unmoving.
His chest rose faintly—barely enough to call it breathing.
His eyes remained fixed on the man who had tried—twice—to end his existence.
"…It's over," he murmured.
But the words carried no relief.
Only a hollow acknowledgment.
His gaze lingered on the lifeless face.
"Who were you… really?" he asked quietly.
"And who ordered my death?"
The night wind passed through the mountain peak—
Carrying no answers.
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'Hmm…
Interesting…
A voice drifted—distant, unseen.
Even now…
he seeks meaning.
At the edge of death… how indulgent.'
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He crouched beside the corpse and began searching.
Daggers—balanced, well-used, stained with old blood.
Small glass vials—poisons, most likely.
A thin spell book—inked in cramped, erratic writing.
Nothing about him.
No orders.
No identity.
No reason.
A quiet unease settled deep within him.
His fingers paused.
"…So someone wants me erased."
A breath.
"And I don't even know who I am."
His gaze lifted toward the horizon.
Far away—
The Royal Capital stood beneath the night sky, its domes faintly illuminated.
"For now…" he whispered, rising slowly.
"…answers can wait."
And he began walking toward it.
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South gate of Royal Capital — 7:52 p.m.
A line had formed before the gates.
Travelers. Merchants. Wanderers.
People with purpose.
The boy joined them silently…
When his turn came—
"State your business."
The guard didn't look at him.
"I want to enter the city."
"Alright, entry permit…"
The boy hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"…I don't have one."
The guard's expression hardened slightly.
"No permit, no entry."
A long pause.
For a moment, the world felt… still.
The silence lingered—too long.
The guard's eyes finally lifted—and stopped.
"Lost it?" the guard asked.
"…Yes."
Another pause.
The guard studied him more carefully this time.
His pale skin. His strange stillness.
Something didn't add up—
but not enough to matter.
"…Outsider?"
"…Yes."
Another pause.
Then—
"One silver. Temporary entry."
The tension broke.
The boy nodded and reached into the pouch he had taken from the assassin.
Coins clinked softly.
The guard took one and gave clearance.
The gate opened.
"Collect your permit from the guild within two days."
"Next."
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Royal Capital of Angel's Fall — South District, 8:30 p.m.
Noise hit him first.
Merchants shouting prices,
metal clanging, laughter, arguments—
Life packed tightly together, overflowing the streets.
Dense. Chaotic. Unrelenting.
For a moment, the boy simply stood there, stunned.
So, this is the world… still moving.
Then he noticed the stares.
People slowed as they passed him.
Eyes lingered.
Expressions shifted—
Subtle discomfort. Unease.
"What…?"
His gaze drifted—
Until he caught his reflection in a polished brass tray outside a stall.
He froze.
Pale. Deathly pale.
His skin looked like it had forgotten warmth entirely.
"…That explains it."
If he stayed like this—
He would stand out.
And in a place like this—
That meant danger.
Suddenly,
His gaze shifted to a stall displaying dark robes and half-masks
—plain, unassuming, perfect.
Good thing that assassin carried money.
He approached the stall.
"Excuse me," he said awkwardly.
"How do I… buy those?"
The shopkeeper squinted at him.
"You new to the world, kid?"
"…Something like that."
"Figures."
The old man snorted.
"Information isn't free. Ten bronze."
The boy hesitated, then gave him his bag of coins.
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The explanation followed—currency, values, trade.
100 iron coins = 1 bronze
100 bronze coins = 1 silver
100 silver coins = 1 gold
100 gold = 1 royal platina.
Simple.
Structured.
Useful.
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'Ah…
greed finds him quickly.
Good.
It makes men honest.'
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"So that's how it works…"
He checked the pouch.
'72 silvers and 40 bronze… it seems that guy was richer than he looked.'
The dark robe and half mask of concealment cost fourteen silver.
Expensive.
But necessary.
As the robe settled over his shoulders and the mask concealed his face—
The weight of the stares began to fade.
For the first time since waking up—
He could breathe.
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'He adapts…
far too quickly.
That, in itself… is dangerous.'
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"…Do you know a place I can stay?" he asked.
"Cheap."
The old man leaned back slightly, studying him.
Then shrugged.
"River Moon Inn."
"Outer district. Decent enough nowadays."
He scribbled an address and handed it over.
"Thanks."
Without another word—
The boy turned and left.
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River Moon Inn – Outer District of royal capital, residential area; 9:42 p.m.
The inn smelled of wood, smoke and stew.
"Room for two days. Meals included," the boy said.
The innkeeper smiled gently. "Fourteen bronze, please…Room 302. Enjoy."
Moments later—
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Silence.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands.
"Alright," he whispered.
After a quiet breath…
"Time to think."
Questions surfaced one by one.
'Am I alive?
Or dead?
Who wants me gone?
And—
Who am I?'
He placed everything he had gathered onto the bed.
Assassin's daggers,
potions, poisons, the spell book,
Dragon Insignia blade—and a bracelet.
The moment his fingers touched it—
Something stirred.
A pulse.
Faint.
Familiar.
But undeniable.
"…What are you?"
Light erupted before his eyes.
A translucent screen hovered in the air.
Something unfolded before him.
Something… aware.
"Welcome, Admin."
The voice did not echo.
Not outward—
It existed.
Inward.
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(Several parameters locked.)
After watching the translucent screen,
The boy's breath stilled.
"…So it's true," the boy whispered.
"I really did die."
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'…Admin?
Narada's voice returned—
For the first time—
Curious.
Now this…
…was not part of the design.'
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And yet he was here
—thinking, moving, choosing.
His gaze shifted.
Toward the interface.
"If you know something…"
A pause.
"…then you're my only lead."
His eyes lingered on one small detail.
A name.
He froze.
"…Fate Dragon Heart."
The word felt… strange.
Familiar.
Yet distant.
"…Is that… me?"
No answer came.
Only silence.
Exhaustion finally caught him all at once.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
"Tomorrow," he murmured, collapsing onto the bed.
"Tomorrow, I start digging."
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The Following Morning, 10:00 a.m.
"Excuse me, can you tell me where they sell maps of this nation?" he asked.
The innkeeper pointed.
"Merchant district."
"You'll find what you need there."
A pause.
"Be careful," she warned.
"Not everyone sells truth."
A faint smile formed beneath his mask.
"I'll remember that."
Seeking knowledge already…
Good.
The ignorant rarely survive long enough to entertain me.
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South merchant District, 10:17 a.m.
"Old man."
The shopkeeper glanced up.
Then smirked.
"…The pale kid."
"Map. And information."
The old man grinned.
"One silver."
"Of course you do."
Coins exchanged hands.
"…I have another question."
The old man tapped the counter lazily.
"Information costs extra."
"That's fine."
A pause.
"Jobs?" the boy asked.
"Two paths," the old man replied lazily.
"Adventurer Guild—if you've got power."
"Merchant Association—if you don't."
"…Power?"
"They'll test you."
A pause.
"And bring your Status Card."
Another coin slid across the table.
"Thanks."
"Good luck, kid."
He turned—
And began walking toward the Adventurer Guild.
But before he could reach it—
Something stopped him.
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Angel Square–Central District of royal capital, (Planet 78: Angel's Fall); 10:40 a.m.
The square was crowded.
Too crowded.
Steel rang.
Holy banners snapped in the wind.
Then–
A voice echoed across the plaza:
"You are hereby sentenced to death for blasphemy against God."
The boy stopped.
Rows of prisoners knelt beneath the open sky.
Heads lowered.
Bodies trembling.
Executioners raised their blades.
"…What kind of world is this?"
No answer came.
Only—
Steel falling.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Ah…
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Narada's voice returned, quiet.
A world governed by faith…
A pause.
…is often the cruelest of all.
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Screams died before they even rose.
Prayers followed.
Desperation filled the air—
Thick enough to suffocate.
Something cold settled deep within him.
Whatever this world was—
—it was not merciful.
And it would not spare the weak.
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................ END OF CHAPTER 2.............