The Guild Hall loomed before Lyric, a towering structure of stone, iron, and glowing banners that seemed to shift between languages when he wasn't looking directly at them. The doors were massive, wooden, and slightly worn at the edges, but inside, warm golden light spilled onto the cobblestone street.
For a moment, he hesitated.
This was the first real step forward in this dimension.
A way to make money. A way to move.
A way to survive.
His grip tightened on his pendant as he exhaled and walked inside.
The inside was larger than he expected. The waiting area stretched wide and open, filled with long benches and steady traffic of adventurers. The ceiling rose high, the flickering glow of enchanted paper lanterns filling the room with warm but unnatural light.
Above the main floor, an open balcony lined the walls, allowing higher-ranked adventurers to watch the newcomers below. Lyric could feel their gazes—some curious, some indifferent, and some outright dismissive.
The crowd inside was a mix of humans, beastkin, and races he didn't recognize. Some sat hunched over wooden tables, drinking or looking through maps. Others were arguing over mission rewards, the occasional burst of laughter or shouting breaking through the low hum of activity.
The energy here was different.
Less structured. Less noble. These weren't knights or soldiers.
They were mercenaries. Strays.
People surviving the only way they knew how.
And now, he was one of them.
Three separate lines stretched toward the front counter, where three receptionists sat behind polished wooden desks.
The first line was long and bustling, leading to a black-furred cat beast girl with sharp golden eyes and an easygoing smile. She had the effortless charm of someone who knew how to handle people.
The second line was just as full, leading to a tall elf woman with long black hair and striking blue eyes. Her posture was regal, her voice soft yet calculated. Even at a glance, Lyric could tell she was playing a role.
And then there was the third counter.
A broad-shouldered, ginger-bearded dwarf stood behind it, his arms crossed and thick fingers tapping impatiently on the desk. His stool gave him just enough height to be level with the counter, but the way his brow twitched suggested he hated that it was necessary.
Unlike the others, his line was completely empty.
Lyric didn't hesitate. He walked straight up to the dwarf's counter.
The dwarf's green eyes narrowed slightly, flickering behind Lyric as if checking to see if someone was playing a joke.
No one was there.
His brow twitched.
"…You lost, kid?" His voice was low, gruff, and thick with irritation.
Lyric shook his head. "I need to make money. How do I sign up for jobs?"
The dwarf exhaled, shaking his head. "You actually walked up to my counter."
Lyric frowned. "Should I not have?"
"No, no," the dwarf muttered. "Just… unexpected."
He rubbed his temple before setting his arms back on the counter.
"Name?"
"Lyric."
The dwarf studied him for a second before grunting. "Echo. Guild registrar."
There was a distinct roughness in the way he spoke, like he was always one sentence away from swearing.
Lyric could already tell this guy had two moods: grumpy and more grumpy.
"You got any experience?" Echo asked.
Lyric hesitated. "Fighting? Yes. Adventuring? No."
Echo let out a dry laugh. "Great. Another dumbass with a sword."
Lyric resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "So how does this work?"
Echo reached under the counter, pulling out a sheet of parchment and a strange, green stick.
"Fill this out." He dropped them onto the desk with a thud. "That weird thing's a pen. Don't ask why it feels wrong."
Lyric picked it up.
It was soft. Way too soft.
"…What the hell is this?"
Echo smirked. "Welcome to interdimensional bureaucracy, kid."
Lyric scanned the registration sheet.
Most of it was standard—Name, Age, Height, Weapon Proficiency.
Some questions, though, were… strange.
Dimensional Attunement: Weak / Stable / Strong / Unknown
Mana Resonance: None / Passive / Active / Unknown
Void Resistance: Low / Moderate / High / ???
He hesitated at a few, then just checked 'Unknown' for most of them.
Once done, he handed the form back.
Echo took it without comment, hopping down from his stool and disappearing behind the counter.
A few seconds later, a machine whirred to life. Lyric could hear the hum of magic and technology intertwining.
Echo reappeared a moment later, tossing a cold, metallic card onto the counter.
"Congrats," he grunted. "You're officially a Guild stray."
Lyric picked up the card.
It had his name, a rank (Novice), and a small sigil of the Guild.
Echo crossed his arms. "You'll start with low-rank missions—mostly crap jobs no one else wants. But you survive long enough, you'll rank up."
Then, he squinted at Lyric's face.
"…You got a place to stay?"
Lyric shook his head.
Echo clicked his tongue, reaching into his pocket. "Figures."
Before Lyric could react, a gold coin smacked onto the counter.
"Take it," Echo muttered. "Pay me back later."
Lyric stared at the coin. For the first time since arriving in this world, he smiled.
"…Thanks."
Echo just grunted and waved him off. "Get outta here before I regret it."
The moment Lyric stepped away, a new adventurer approached the counter—then glanced at Echo's empty line.
His eyes flicked toward the elf girl's full line.
Without hesitation, he walked away, joining her queue.
Echo's eyebrow twitched.
The streets of the Floating Market were just as chaotic as before, but now Lyric moved through them with purpose. His new Guild card was tucked safely into his pocket, and the single gold coin from Echo rested in his palm.
It felt… strange.
For the past ten years, he had traveled with Oboe's crew, surviving on their methods. Now, for the first time, he had his own resources, his own way forward.
He exhaled, shoving the coin into his pocket and adjusting his hood.
Bell, still hidden inside, finally spoke. "So… you actually smiled back there."
Lyric scoffed. "Did I?"
"Yeah. Real smile and everything. Almost didn't recognize you."
Lyric didn't answer, his gaze flickering across the various shops and stalls.
The guild wasn't far from the marketplace, and the crowds here were denser than before. He kept his head down, carefully weaving through rows of merchants, mercenaries, and traders.
Then he saw it.
A large bulletin board pinned with notices and bounties.
At first, he didn't even register it—just another background detail in this strange new world.
Then his eyes locked onto one poster in particular.
Black hair. Grey eyes. 17 years old. Wanted for unknown crimes.
Lyric froze.
Bell peeked out, confused. "Why'd you stop?"
Then she saw it.
"…Oh."
For a full second, neither of them moved.
Lyric felt his heartbeat slow. The floating market wasn't a part of any empire—technically, it had no laws—but that didn't mean bounty hunters wouldn't be watching.
Bell's wings twitched. "Oh, we are so screwed."
Lyric yanked his hood down further, turning sharply and power-walking toward the nearest alley.
Bell barely had time to duck back into his pocket.
"Act normal," Lyric muttered under his breath.
"I AM normal!"
"No, you're NOT!"
Lyric resisted the urge to rub his forehead.
Bell grumbled, shifting in his pocket. "This is fine. Everything's fine. We just have a giant price on your head, and we're stuck in a lawless, interdimensional market. No big deal."
Lyric ignored her, slipping through the crowd as naturally as possible. His mind was already racing.
The bounty had no detailed crimes listed. Just his description and a vague 'Wanted for Unknown Charges.'
That meant one thing.
Note had done this.
His grip tightened around his pendant. The Empire's reach was longer than he thought.
Lyric kept moving, only stopping once he reached a small side street, lined with older wooden buildings.
The inn Bell had mentioned wasn't far now.
The building itself was simple—dark wooden beams, warm lantern light flickering in the windows. A hand-painted sign hung over the door, the words written in three different languages.
He exhaled sharply, stepping inside.
The air smelled of roasted meat and aged wood. A few tables were occupied by tired travelers, most keeping to themselves. The atmosphere was quiet, calming.
Behind the front counter stood the innkeeper.
A green-skinned alien girl, round-faced and slightly chubby, glanced up from a ledger. She had sharp, perceptive eyes that flicked over Lyric the second he walked in.
"Room?" she asked.
Lyric nodded, sliding the gold coin onto the counter.
She glanced at it, then at him.
Her gaze lingered just a second too long.
Lyric forced himself to stay still.
Finally, she hummed and grabbed a key from the rack. "You get change."
She slid three silver coins back to him.
Lyric took them, nodding his thanks before heading toward the stairs.
The moment he reached his room, he shut the door behind him and exhaled, body sagging against the wood.
The exhaustion hit him all at once.
His mind still raced from the bounty poster. From the fight with Note. From the ten years of training that had led to this moment.
But now… he had nothing left.
Slowly, he pushed himself off the door and stumbled toward the bed.
It was rough, the sheets worn, but to him, it felt like the most comfortable thing in the world.
The second he collapsed onto it, his body shut down.
For the first time since arriving in this dimension, he felt safe.
Bell wiggled free, fluttering into the air with an annoyed huff. "You're the worst travel companion."
Lyric didn't respond.
He was already asleep.
Bell hovered above him, arms crossed. Her usual sharp smirk was gone.
She studied his face for a moment.
The tension in his expression had faded. The usual sharp awareness, the guarded look in his eyes, all gone.
Just exhaustion.
Just sleep.
Bell muttered something under her breath.
Then, with a sigh, she floated to the end of the bed and curled up.
She'd tease him about it later.
For now, they both needed the rest.