Nerion and Mia approached the Great Wall, and suddenly...
They both felt countless unseen eyes scanning every inch of their beings. The sensation lasted only a second before vanishing completely.
'These people don't tolerate the slightest threat.' Nerion thought, his instincts ringing alarms even though the pressure disappeared quickly.
They reached one of the massive gates where about twenty soldiers stood guard. They were clad in heavy armor with gleaming swords and spears, their helmets reminiscent of Crusader designs, making them appear even more formidable. A line of people was paying the entrance fee to the empire—two gold coins.
That was no small amount; it was the equivalent of a full month's expenses for an average family, as Nerion recalled from the scattered memories he had left of this world.
Nerion glanced around and noticed a wide variety of appearances among the people. While most looked similar to humans, some had subtle differences.
The snakefolk, for example, had slightly scaled skin on their arms and legs. Others had feline ears, long rabbit-like ears, or even wings. The winged ones, the Ravanians, hailed from the same forest where Mia had found him. They were known for their high speed and limited flight ability. Some resembled the minotaur he had recently fought.
Yet, all of them were dressed in beautiful attire!
The fashion wasn't modern, but it bore strong similarities to Victorian-era clothing.
The wealthier men wore silk or fine wool three-piece suits, tall hats, and carried elegant canes. The richest even had golden pocket watches. Women wore layered silk dresses, often ruffled, with gloves and delicate hand fans they used to cover their mouths while laughing. Teen girls wore spring-scented short skirts, radiating youthful charm, while others wore structured panniers or crinolines with simple jewelry.
'Victorian era, huh? Perfect timeline.' Nerion thought with a smile, admiring the people around him. His gaze shifted to the working and middle classes—small merchants and skilled laborers. They wore well-pressed wool jackets, carefully cut trousers, white shirts, and modest ties, paired with long hats and simple yet elegant leather shoes. There was a practical charm about them, like the scent of ink and parchment clinging to their presence.
'Weird comparison... Still, I don't see any lower-class folks here. Must be the entrance fee keeping them out. Also... I need a hat. It's obviously essential here. I bet they'd wear one even in scorching heat. Fashion must be sacred among the Civilized.'
His gaze then shifted to the Primitive folk. Their clothing, while simpler, exuded a refined practicality. Handmade garments of natural animal hides and high-quality fabrics were shaped into loose designs allowing agile movement. Some resembled robes, judo outfits, or Japanese kimonos in their structure.
Their colors were earthy: brown, sandy beige, olive green, and occasionally bluish gray.
Simpler members of the tribe wore long robes tied with leather belts, open at the chest to reveal necklaces or tribal tattoos.
Their leader wore something like a royal kimono or a noble warrior's robe, dyed with rare natural pigments and decorated with engraved leather straps and metallic clasps. His companion, likely his deputy, wore a similar style but in richer materials and darker colors like black or deep violet.
All these groups mingled without judgment or comment. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, even if Nerion wasn't used to it yet.
"It's your first time seeing these clothes, isn't it, darling?" Mia asked, noticing how Nerion stared in awe.
"Yes, first time seeing such elegant fashion," he replied, still looking around in fascination.
"Don't worry, Nerion. Once we get you checked, I'll buy you whatever you want," she said with excitement, seemingly more thrilled than him.
"Alright," he replied calmly, though something felt... wrong.
"Mia," Nerion said suddenly.
"Hm? What is it, my dear?" Mia responded with her usual gentle smile.
"I feel like something is off. It's like I'm seeing something, but not really. Or something is blocking me from seeing it. What is that?" he asked, squinting at a specific spot near the gate guards.
He didn't notice Mia's shocked expression as she turned her gaze to where he was looking and locked eyes with that entity.
'I-impossible! Can he see the Lurkers?!'
These entities couldn't be seen or sensed unless they allowed it. Their job was to watch travelers silently, often standing right next to them without being noticed. Usually, only those who reached the ninth sequence could perceive them.
And yet... Nerion, who hadn't even become a Transcendent, was somehow sensing their presence?!
Mia couldn't be blamed for her reaction. What she didn't realize, however, was that Nerion hadn't seen anything. He had merely observed the subtle signals between the guards—quick glances, hand twitches, forehead scratches—telltale signs of silent communication. They didn't escape his eyes.
After focusing on the same spot, he still saw nothing, but he felt a strange sense of concealment. His instincts, trained through years of psychology, screamed that something was hidden.
He was right.
"How... how can you see him, darling?" Mia asked, eyes wide.
"Huh? I don't see anything. I just... feel something's wrong there," Nerion replied, confused.
And then it hit him.
'Wait... there really is something there?!'
Cold sweat trickled down his neck.
'I must never underestimate this world again,' he told himself firmly.
Mia sighed in relief. Nerion hadn't truly seen them, or her understanding of the Sequences would have shattered.
But she was impressed by his observational skill.
"Even though I don't know how you noticed them, darling, those are called Lurkers. They're Transcendents walking the Infiltrator Path. Even at sequence ten, they can't be perceived unless you're at sequence nine or stronger. Even then, weaker Transcendents may still miss them. It all depends on your path's strength and personal ability. But it seems my dear Nerion has quite the talent—even before awakening his Will Source," she said, blending admiration and curiosity as they walked.
"The Infiltrator Path, huh? Wait, shouldn't paths be linked to bloodlines? That sounds more like a job title," Nerion asked.
"You really are sharp, Nerion," Mia said, pleasantly surprised.
He smiled, waiting for her explanation.
"There are two kinds of paths,"
She continued. "The Bloodline Path—which is the most powerful—allows you to grow in various ways and strengthens your blood. The other is the Professional Path. It doesn't enhance your bloodline but helps you master specific skills like infiltration or swordsmanship. The most famous and difficult among them is the Mage Path. Both types rely on Willpower to progress."
"So why would anyone choose a Professional Path over a bloodline one?" Nerion asked. Why choose a single skill over a full-spectrum upgrade?
He was right.
"Because they can't *walk* the Bloodline Path, Nerion," she said gently.
"What? Why not?" he asked, confused.
"Every being has a Will Source, but it remains dormant until they become Transcendents. Some people simply can't awaken it—not because they're stupid or weak, but because their Will Source is too feeble. This condition is called Will Source Deficiency. They can't follow a Bloodline Path, so they walk the easier one that draws power from ambient Will in the air—the Professional Path. Like those Infiltrators and many others."
'I see... Will Source Deficiency.' Nerion repeated the term internally to etch it into memory.
"But don't get it twisted," Mia added. "That doesn't make them weak. In their fields of expertise, they rival Bloodline walkers. Especially Infiltrators."
With that, they approached the gate.
But people had begun to notice them.
"Huh? Mom, look! That man is so handsome! But why is his wife carrying him like that?" a young girl asked, drawing attention.
"Wow, he's gorgeous!" another young woman gasped.
"What a beautiful couple," a lady commented.
Nerion noticed Mia blushing more with every mention of the word "couple."
Some of the passersby stepped away the moment they got close to Mia, as if they felt something strange—something invisible.
There was a light pressure in the air... just like that moment near the Empire's wall, when he had sensed hidden eyes watching him.
Suddenly, he caught a faint glimmer in her eyes… and her smile widened slightly, but it wasn't completely innocent—especially toward those who stared at them for too long.
Nerion felt a chill run down his spine.
'Mia… might be more dangerous than I thought.'
Then someone lacking basic intelligence made a comment.
"Hah! Are they roleplaying or what? Switched roles, huh? Hahaha—"
Blood suddenly burst from his nose, eyes, and ears, and he collapsed without another word.
Panic followed.
"Kyaaah!"
"Gods! Was he poisoned?! What just happened?!"
The crowd scattered from the body as if it were cursed.
Nerion, too, was startled. He turned to Mia.
"That was you, wasn't it?" he asked, locking eyes with her.
"Yes," she replied simply, rubbing her cheek against his playfully.
'There she goes again,' Nerion thought, rolling his eyes with amusement.
They finally reached the gate, now nearly empty thanks to the panic. A heavily armored guard stepped forward.
"Two gold coins and your ID, please," he said in a deep voice.
Mia said nothing. She simply held up a token engraved with a red fang symbol. It radiated a familiar energy—similar to the mark on the minotaur's chest, but more powerful and far more forbidden.
The guard's eyes widened.
"L-Lady, may I... verify the token? I mean no offense!" he stammered, bowing deeply.
Mia frowned slightly, in a hurry, but nodded.
The guard disappeared and returned seconds later with another soldier in black armor—heavier, more oppressive.
Both men bowed deeply.
"Does Lady Mia Crimson require any assistance?" the black-armored one asked respectfully.
"No, just return the token and let me through. I'm in a hurry," she said flatly.
"Of course, milady! Open the gates!" he shouted, handing back the token.
Nerion watched, stunned.
'No way. Is she a noble? A vampire princess? What the hell?'
'I'll ask later... Right now, I need my damn system to activate.'
His patience was wearing thin. He wanted out of this fragile state—and fast.