Elyno could hardly believe how much the city had changed in just a week.
When he had first left, the streets were mostly deserted—just a few stragglers desperately searching for food, hollow-eyed survivors lurking in the ruins. Now, he found himself standing at the edge of a bustling marketplace lit by hundreds of flickering lanterns. Dozens of stalls sold everything from basic supplies to enchanted gear. Large panels hovered over every building, displaying auctions, rankings, and public challenges.
And towering over it all, at the very heart of the city, was something that made his breath catch in his throat.
A colossal stone arena rose into the night sky, ringed with iron torches that burned blue flames. It looked as if it had been ripped straight out of a gladiator epic—massive arched gates, tier upon tier of seats, banners fluttering in the smoky air.
"When… when did they build this?" he whispered, voice hoarse.
He wasn't sure who he was asking. Tengri, padding quietly at his side, only tilted his head and let out a soft whuff.
Elyno shook himself, feeling the exhaustion weighing down his limbs. He'd spent days fighting through the forest, training until his body throbbed with pain. The thought of simply sitting down somewhere—anywhere—felt like relief.
He turned away from the arena, and that was when he saw it: a narrow neon sign glowing above a low doorway.
The Black Root Bar.
It looked almost absurdly modern compared to the medieval chaos outside. He hesitated on the threshold, then slipped inside.
Warm light spilled over polished counters and rows of colorful bottles. The scent of old wood and something spiced—maybe roasted meat—washed over him. For the first time in days, Elyno felt almost human again.
He made his way to the bar and climbed onto one of the high stools. Tengri curled up at his boots with a tired sigh.
The bartender, a broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard, raised an eyebrow as he approached.
"What'll it be?" he asked. But before Elyno could answer, the man leaned closer, voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone.
"Strength? Defense? Or something to help with wounds?"
Elyno blinked, confused, before he realized—the bartender was assuming he wanted a potion. In this world, even a drink was part of the system.
He rubbed his temple.
"Do you have… anything alcoholic?"
The bartender studied him for a moment. Then he chuckled and nodded.
"We've got beer. Not the finest vintage, but it'll do the job."
"That's fine."
A minute later, a heavy glass mug was set before him. Elyno stared at the pale foam and took a tentative sip. The bitterness exploded across his tongue, bracing and real in a way nothing else had been since the System first claimed the world.
For a few precious seconds, he felt almost safe.
When he finally set the mug down, the bartender was still watching him.
"You look like you've had a rough week."
"You could say that," Elyno muttered.
The bartender folded his arms on the counter.
"New around here?"
Elyno hesitated, then nodded.
"Well, let me save you some time," the man went on. "There are three main clans operating in this city. You're probably going to run into them sooner or later."
He began ticking them off on thick fingers.
"First, Sett Clan—biggest and most dangerous. They own that arena you were gaping at. They run most of the combat tournaments and high-level contracts. If you cross them, you better pray you're stronger than you look."
Elyno's mouth went dry. He didn't need to ask who led them. He already knew.
"Second, Glory Clan," the bartender continued. "They handle most of the hunting expeditions and item trade. If you need rare drops, they're your best bet—assuming you can pay."
"Third, Kyne Clan. They're the blacksmiths, armorers, and builders. That arena? Probably half their work crews built it."
Elyno glanced down into his beer.
"Three clans…" he murmured.
"Three that everyone knows about," the bartender corrected, voice dropping. "But there's a rumor of a fourth faction. They don't call themselves a clan. They prefer another name."
Elyno looked up.
"What name?"
"The Demon Slayer Guild."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Elyno swallowed, his throat tight.
The Demon Slayer Guild. Another piece of the puzzle he didn't understand.
He took another sip of the beer, trying to calm the pounding in his chest.
"Can I ask you something?" he said finally.
The bartender arched a brow.
"Depends."
"Do you… know Sergi?"
This time, the man barked a laugh that made a few heads turn.
"Do I know Sergi? Everyone in this cursed city knows him. He's the top-ranked player here. Sett Clan's leader. Level twenty-nine."
Level twenty-nine.
Elyno felt like something cold and heavy had lodged behind his ribs. He was only level nine—and even that had taken nearly dying a dozen times over.
How am I supposed to kill someone twenty levels above me?
But he didn't let the thought show on his face.
"Thanks," he said, voice quieter.
He fumbled in his pouch for coins, but the bartender waved him off.
"This one's on the house. You look like you needed it."
Elyno stared at him, startled.
"…Thanks," he repeated.
When he finally stepped back into the street, the night felt colder. The arena loomed like a mountain of stone and flame, casting shadows that reached all the way to the edge of the market.
He tried not to look at it as he walked.
Halfway down the main road, his panel chimed.
A new notification pulsed in the corner.
[Gift Received – ???]
His heart jumped. He opened the message, praying—please, let it be a weapon.
Instead, a single slip of parchment materialized in his hand.
He almost groaned.
A ticket?
He brought it closer to read the inscription.
This ticket grants entry to the Ork Tower.
Note: No Yang or loot will be awarded in the Ork Tower. However, all EXP gains are increased by 200%.
Elyno felt a slow, cautious hope stirring.
200%…
He turned the ticket over in his palm, weighing the possibilities.
If I can climb the tower, maybe I can reach Level 15. Maybe higher.
He opened his store panel and began scrolling, searching for anything that could help. His eyes settled on a silver band etched with a swirling rune.
EXP Ring
Effect Duration: 24 hours.
EXP Bonus: +50%.
Even if it was expensive, he didn't hesitate. He bought it, feeling a rush of determination that steadied his shaking hands.
He slipped the ring onto his finger. The metal was cool against his skin.
Tengri nudged his leg, pale eyes questioning.
Elyno looked down and managed a faint smile.
"Don't worry," he murmured. "We're going to get stronger. No matter what."
But first—he needed sleep.
The Ork Tower would be a trial unlike anything he'd faced so far. From what he'd heard, challengers were locked inside for a full day. No rest. No supplies. Just an endless climb and whatever monsters waited in the dark.
He turned and started walking toward the crumbling building he'd claimed as a shelter.
I need to be ready.
As he lay down hours later, exhaustion pulled at every muscle. But beneath the fear and doubt, something else was growing.
Resolve.
When dawn came, he would step into the Ork Tower. He would climb until his body failed or he reached the top.
Either way, there would be no going back.