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After reaching the wide, open field, he walked slowly, holding a bean sized gem in his hand. He had no idea what it was.
It was probably a mana core or something similar. But how do beings in this world use it? he wondered. I can't wait to find out. He slipped the gem into his pocket.
After walking for a while, he came across a dirt road just wide enough for a cart to pass through.
"I should probably follow this road and try to find civilization," he muttered to himself.
He had only been on the road for a short while when he heard footsteps and the clatter of metal approaching from behind. Turning around, he spotted a long line of human shaped figures moving in his direction.
'I should hide. I don't know what kind of beings these are.'
He darted into the bushes by the roadside and crouched low, waiting to observe them.
When the group came closer, he realized they were human. A caravan. But it didn't look like an ordinary one.
Many of the people were bound in chains, their faces hollow, their bodies beaten down. Slaves. And the ones driving them forward were most likely slave traders.
"Just my luck," he thought grimly.
The slaves looked as though they had already endured hell itself.
Suddenly, a sound came from behind him. He spun around, too late. A hulking man in armor stood over him. He hadn't even noticed the man approach.
The brute grabbed him by the neck like he was a scrawny cat and lifted him off the ground. He flailed desperately.
"Hey! Put me down!"
The man only grinned, speaking in gibberish: "@#&-#\$@\&#@." His teeth showed in a cruel smile as he rambled on.
He couldn't understand a single word.
Then without warning the armored man drove his fist into his stomach.
White hot pain exploded through his body. That wasn't an ordinary punch. It felt like a thousand ton truck had slammed into him. He gasped for air, curling over as the brute dropped him carelessly to the ground.
Before he could recover, the man began to kick him mercilessly, still babbling in that strange tongue.
His nose cracked, and blood poured down his face. Each blow sent stars bursting across his vision.
'If this goes on, I'm going to die…'
The world blurred. Somewhere behind him, laughter echoed from the caravan.
Then his second heart began to beat again. A strange tingling shot through his skull, crawling across his brain. Suddenly, new words foreign, yet familiar lit up in his mind like memories he didn't know he had.
He understood.
"Stop!" he shouted, not in his own language, but in the one they were speaking.
The armored man froze mid kick.
"So… you 'can' understand us," the man sneered. "Why were you pretending not to? You know that anyone who can't speak properly ends up as a crawler slave, don't you?"
Another man from the caravan barked out, "Hey, Malakai, you beat his face into a pulp. Think he's going to fetch a good price now?"
"Of course not," Malakai scoffed. "But I already wasted a soul thread on him. I just needed to vent a little."
As if to prove his words, rocks crumbled from around his hands and fell to the ground.
"Oh, you even used a 'form' just to rough him up? Hahaha! What a joke you are," one of the others jeered.
"Whatever. Get him on his feet. Chain him. It's late."
Malakai grabbed him by the hair and raised a boot, threatening another kick. "Hey, boy, what's your name?"
"It's Evangeli—" He coughed, blood filling his mouth. "It's Evan."
"Alright, Evan. Get up if you don't want another beating."
His legs trembled as he forced himself upright. 'These ruthless bastards…'
Malakai waved to the others. "Chain him."
Cold iron wrapped around his wrists and ankles. They shoved him to the back of the slave line. He stumbled forward, his body shaking, every step a fight not to collapse.
That punch still burned through his ribs. It hadn't been a normal punch. Rocks had fallen afterwards from around his hand. 'Magic,' probably he realized. The other man had called it a "form."
'I need to gather as much information from these people as I can.'
From what he'd seen so far, they weren't an advanced civilization. But magic changed everything. Anything could be possible here.
They walked for an hour. Every time he slowed down, the chain dragged him forward, or a guard on horseback lashed his back with a whip until welts rose on his skin. His body screamed in pain, his fists clenching in rage.
Finally, the long line of slaves slowed. He lifted his head and his breath caught.
A city loomed before them. Not a village, not a town but a city.
"Welcome to Ravenford, you filthy shits! Hahaha!" one of the guards bellowed.
At first, it didn't look real. The city rose from the plains like some giant had planted it there to awe mortals.
The walls were massive tall slabs of pale stone weathered by wind and rain. Yet not a single crack looked careless. Strange runes glowed faintly when the sunlight hit them, and a low hum filled the air, as though the wall itself was alive and watching.
The gates were even more intimidating towering bronze, large enough for three wagons to pass through side by side. They weren't plain, either. Dragons curled across the surface, stars and circles etched in intricate patterns. To him they looked like decoration, but they surely carried meaning for the people inside.
Beyond the walls, towers pierced the sky. Some leaned at impossible angles, supported by colossal pillars. Crystals burned at their peaks, glowing with a light that belonged neither to fire nor the sun.
Closer to the ground, he glimpsed bridges strung between rooftops and silver streams of water spilling into canals that circled the city.
A slave beside him whispered, "Rumor has it that those water glows at night."
Staring at the city in daylight, Evan almost believed it.
What struck him most wasn't the sight but the feeling. The very air was charged thick, heavy, like the moment before a thunderstorm. It pressed against his skin, settled in his chest. Every breath tasted faintly of smoke, spice, and something sharp he couldn't name.
Even at the edge of the road, far from the gate, he could hear the city: the murmur of countless voices, a distant shout, perhaps even laughter.
It wasn't just a city. It was both a promise and a threat.
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