[Scene: Aryan exits the weapon shop, his mind buzzing with new information. He walks down the bustling streets of Moro City, processing everything he just learned.]
Aryan (thinking to himself):So this world doesn't have magic... It has Pluses. People are born with them, can't learn them. And if you're born with a Pluse, you're a Player. But... what now? What's my next step?
His thoughts are interrupted as he's suddenly grabbed from behind. Three thugs, rough-looking with dark, malicious eyes, surround him. One of them pushes Aryan forward, sneering.
Thug #1 (grinning):Hey, you. Whatever you've got, hand it over.
Aryan (calmly):Whatever you want, bro. I don't even have anything except these clothes.
The thugs exchange uncertain looks, then the leader of the group steps forward, cracking his knuckles. His hands glow with a freezing aura. He raises his hand, and an ice sword materializes out of thin air. With a sneer, he lunges at Aryan.
Thug #2 (smirking):This'll be fun.
As the thug swings the ice sword toward Aryan, the weapon suddenly stops mid-air. The thug's eyes widen as he stumbles back, his sword vanishing into thin air. Before anyone can react, all three thugs turn and bolt, running as fast as they can.
Aryan (thinking):What the hell just happened? Was I about to die? Why did they run off?
He looks around quickly and notices a group of armored individuals—police officers—patrolling the streets. The officers' eyes seem to glow faintly, and they're scanning the area, ensuring that everything's in order. Aryan realizes that the thugs must have seen them coming and decided to flee.
Aryan (muttering to himself):Police… So, this city does have some order. But what the hell was that Pluse power? Is that common here?
With the thugs gone and the immediate danger passed, Aryan walks through the city, deep in thought. He still doesn't know what to do next. Everything is so... unfamiliar. He suddenly realizes he needs to earn some money to survive here.
Aryan (thinking):I need to figure out how to earn some currency. But... how does this world even work?
He heads back to the weapon shop, hoping Brook might have some answers. He enters, finding the blacksmith at his counter again.
Aryan (sighing):Hey, Brook. I have a question—where can I earn money in this place?
Brook looks up from his work, a confused look on his face. He raises a brow as Aryan's words register.
Brook:Money? What's that?
Aryan (a little frustrated but trying to stay patient):You know... money. Currency. A way to buy things?
Brook (scratching his head):You mean Perry? Oh, that's what you're talking about. Yeah, we don't use money like you might think. We use Perry here for things like food, lodging, and... well, anything really.
Aryan's confusion deepens for a moment.
Aryan (thinking):Perry... not money. Alright, that's one thing cleared up. But how do I get some?
Brook (shrugging):Well, there's a couple of ways. You can either do some work around the city, or you can register at the Guild and take on tasks. You'll earn Perry for your work, but just so you know—the Guild takes a cut of your earnings. You'll get less than what you actually make, but that's how it works.
Aryan (nodding):A Guild, huh? Sounds like a good start.
He nods thoughtfully, weighing the options. The idea of working for a Guild sounds like a good plan—tasks and missions that could help him gain experience in this new world.
Aryan (smiling):Thanks, Brook. That helps a lot.
Brook gives him a curt nod, returning to his work.
Brook (gruffly):No problem. Just make sure you don't get into trouble again, alright?
Aryan chuckles and leaves the shop, his mind still racing with possibilities. The city feels bigger now—less like a dream and more like a place he has to navigate and survive in. He looks around at the people moving through the streets, wondering where he'll find his place.
Aryan (thinking to himself):Alright, Guild it is. I'll earn my way in this world—whether I like it or not.
As he walks away, the bustling city seems to close in around him. He's no longer a passive observer; now, he's a part of the world he's been thrust into. His journey, whatever it may be, is just beginning.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]