Sunridge City
The road stretched quietly ahead of us—packed earth softened by years of travel, winding gently toward the distant silhouette of city walls barely visible on the horizon.
Ai walked slightly ahead, the thick hemp rope of her small wooden wagon looped diagonally across her shoulder. Each step she took made the wooden wheels creak softly against the dirt path.
The rhythm was slow and unhurried, perfectly matching the careful, measured pace Viole was forced to keep. Even now, his legs still felt dangerously unreliable, every step carrying a sharp, lingering reminder of how close this body had been to collapsing for good.
Yet somehow… the road didn't feel lonely.
Ai seemed to notice whenever his steps slowed. Without a word, she subtly adjusted her own pace to match his, keeping the creaking wheels synchronized with his uneven stride.
Small things like that are easy to miss, I thought from deep within the quiet dark of Viole's mind. But from where I am… I notice.
After several minutes of quiet walking, the landscape opened around us. The road curved along gentle, rolling hills dotted with tall grasses that swayed rhythmically under the warm afternoon breeze, mixing the fresh scent of lavender from Ai's wagon with the earthy smell of sun-baked soil.
Ai glanced sideways, her wide lake-blue eyes lingering on him for a brief second before she quickly snapped her gaze back to the path ahead. Then sideways again. She was clearly wrestling with a thought—gathering the courage to speak.
Eventually, the silence broke. "…Um, Viole?"
Her voice carried that same soft, delicate hesitation as before.
"Yes?" His reply came a little easier this time. Still weak, but noticeably steadier.
Ai's fingers tightened slightly around the harness on her shoulder. "…The undead dire wolf you mentioned earlier." She paused, a genuine hint of concern flickering across her features. "Do you… remember what it looked like?"
Viole quieted, searching through his mind. Even inside his body, I could feel the memory stirring—a sudden, cold drop in his chest.
"It happened too fast to get a proper look," he began slowly, his brow furrowing as he recalled the clash. "It caught me from the shadows. But what I did see… was abnormal."
Ai tilted her head, her honey-blonde hair swaying gently over her shoulder. "Abnormal?"
"Its size alone was wrong," Viole murmured, the ghost of fear tightening his jaw. "Standing on all fours, its shoulders reaches around my chin. It was easily twice the size of any ordinary dire wolf, its fur matted with decay and its body moving with unnatural, violent speed."
Ai's footsteps slowed to a crawl. "…That large?"
Viole nodded grimly. "An ordinary beast fights out of instinct or hunger, but that thing moved like a hollow corpse puppeted by pure malice. If I hadn't thrown myself backward in time, it would have crushed my throat in a single strike."
Silence descended upon the dirt path once more, heavy and suffocating. The wooden wagon creaked softly behind them as Ai's expression shifted, a shadow of real worry clouding her clear eyes.
"…That's strange," she murmured softly, her gaze drifting toward the distant, hazy northeastern horizon where the dark treeline lay hidden beyond the hills. "Verdant Hollow Forest doesn't usually have monsters like that. People from my village sometimes gathers herbs there, too."
Viole glanced over at her, surprised. "…You do?"
"Mostly near the outer edge," Ai nodded faintly, her voice dropping into a tender, quiet register. "My parents taught me how to recognize medicinal plants… before they passed away."
He didn't ask how they died.
I kept my gaze fixed on the dirt road ahead, a small, grateful smile touching my lips as I tightened my grip on the wagon rope. Most people in the city either offered uncomfortable pity or pressed for painful details the moment I mentioned my parents, but he simply listened with quiet respect.
My mother was an apothecary, she taught me how to identify herbs and coax the healing essence from raw leaves, while my father was an alchemist, he showed me how to stir mana into the liquid until the essence awakened. Walking beside Viole, seeing him upright and breathing, filled me with a quiet, profound relief.
Yet beneath that relief, a cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach.
If an Undead beast was truly wandering the borders of Verdant Hollow—a creature that towered nearly as tall as a full-grown person—the gathering grounds for Lunareth Village were no longer safe. I made a silent vow to warn the village elder the moment I returned home.
***
Far ahead of us, the towering stone ramparts of the city slowly expanded against the bright afternoon sky.
The packed earth path widened gradually as it swallowed the surrounding wilderness, the scattered grasses giving way to smooth, heavily trampled ground shaped by years of heavy wheel traffic.
In the distance, something massive rose above the rolling terrain.
At first, it appeared as nothing more than a solid grey line bisecting the landscape. But as they closed the distance, the colossal structure revealed itself—high stone ramparts standing resolutely against the sky, their weathered surfaces glowing faintly beneath the harsh sun while massive watchtowers cut sharp silhouettes against the blue horizon.
Sunridge City.
The name surfaced in my mind the exact moment Viole's eyes locked onto those familiar, towering walls. It didn't come from my own memories, but from his—fragments of knowledge unlocking like an opening door, pouring fresh information directly into my consciousness.
Sunridge City. A major trade hub nestled along the eastern region of the Thaloria Kingdom, acting as the primary market for surrounding rural settlements.
Viole had walked this dirt road dozens of times. Through his eyes, I was inheriting a world I had never known.
Beyond these high stone walls lay the sprawling lands of the Central Continent—the heart of the world, governed by the Thaloria Kingdom. A nation renowned not for political dominance, but for three distinct elements that drew travelers from across the sea: Adventurers, Dungeons, and Relics.
The world itself was divided across five distinct continents, arranged across the vast oceans like the points of a star. To the north lay the frozen iron peaks of Aldrynn Kingdom; to the east, the vast, magical canopy of Sylvara; to the south, the harsh desert trade empire of Kaelara; and across the western seas rested the maritime nation of Velmora.
And right at the center of the world sat Thaloria—the vast crossroads where thousands gathered to brave the depths of dangerous dungeons.
Those grand historical thoughts evaporated the moment the bustling reality of the city gate pressed in around us.
The road had grown thick with traffic. Heavy wooden supply wagons rumbled along the road while armed guards passively observed incoming travelers. Ai slowed her pace slightly as they joined the line, her eyes scanning the colossal wooden gates reinforced with thick iron bands.
"…We're almost there," she murmured, a mix of relief and awe lacing her tone.
As they passed beneath the shadow of the massive stone gatehouse, the temperature plunged for a brief, refreshing second before exploding into the vibrant, sunlit heat of the city interior.
The transformation was absolute.
Dirt paths gave way to smooth cobblestone streets. Multi-story wooden and brick buildings lined the wide thoroughfares, their tiled roofs and carved balconies stretching deep into the heart of the city. Street vendors shouted their wares over the crowd, and the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread mingled with roast meats.
Ai paused just past the inner archway, orienting herself before glancing back at Viole. "The healer's clinic is this way," she offered softly, gently adjusting the heavy strap across her chest. "We should get your wounds checked properly."
Despite her rudimentary field dressings, her worry hadn't diminished in the slightest. And feeling the dull, throbbing ache lingering deep in Viole's back and ribs, I couldn't help but agree.
According to Viole's memories, Sunridge was designed with practical efficiency: each of its four main gates featured a dedicated medical clinic nearby, ensuring injured adventurers returning from perilous quests didn't collapse in the streets before receiving aid.
As they navigated the crowded thoroughfare, Viole broke his quiet reserve. "…Ai."
She looked up at him instantly. "Y-Yes?"
"…The potions you used earlier," he began, his voice strained but steady. "They were remarkably effective. Much more than I expected." He hesitated, his eyes lingering on the tight bandages around his chest. "I didn't carry any potions because they're far too expensive in the city... So if those were costly, I won't be able to pay you back immediately."
He looked her dead in the eye. "…But I will repay every copper."
Ai stopped dead in her tracks. "…Eh?" Her wide eyes blinked in sheer confusion. "T-There's no need for that! My potions aren't expensive at all!"
Viole frowned slightly. "…Not expensive?"
"I sell them for fifteen copper coins per bottle," she explained, nodding earnestly.
Silence fell over Viole. But deep within his mind, I felt the sharp spike of shock that hit him.
Fifteen copper coins.
That was the standard price for a bottom-shelf, low-grade potion sold in commercial alchemy shops—a weak draught meant only for minor scrapes and bruises. But the concoction Ai had splashed over his body had closed a gaping wound and knitted open flesh within seconds.
That wasn't a low potion. It was bordering on a high-grade elixir. And she was practically giving it away.
"…Ai," Viole said, his tone laced with genuine concern. "Potions of your quality could easily sell for ten times that price in the city. If the local shops catch wind of this, they'll demand you raise your rates. If you do, I'll still pay you back, even if it takes me months."
Ai stared at him for a quiet moment, then shook her head with absolute resolve.
"No. I won't raise the price."
Viole blinked, caught off guard. "…Why?"
"Well…" Ai lowered her gaze slightly, her hands clutching the wagon rope as they resumed walking. "The herbs around Lunareth Village grow everywhere. The forests and plains are full of them, so gathering ingredients costs almost nothing. The actual cost to craft a bottle is only ten coppers."
She offered a small, shy smile. "So at fifteen coppers, I still make some profit."
Her logic was straightforward and practical. But then, her voice softened further, carrying a deep, unspoken warmth.
"…Besides, if I make them too expensive, the people in my village won't be able to afford them. Farmers, herbalists, hunters—they get hurt all the time. If my potions are overpriced, they'll hesitate to buy them when they're in pain." She looked up, her lake-blue eyes burning with quiet, unshakeable conviction. "So I keep the price low. That way, anyone who needs help can get it."
It wasn't an act of grand heroism or foolish naivety. It was simply her core nature—a quiet, practical kindness.
Viole stared at her in stunned silence for a long moment before letting out a soft breath. "…I see."
He didn't push the matter any further.
Not long after, a modest stone building appeared along the avenue, marked by a wooden sign depicting a simple cloth-bound staff.
The clinic was a sanctuary of calm compared to the chaotic streets outside. The moment the heavy oak door shut behind them, the soothing aroma of dried chamomile, crushed mint, and clean linen washed over them. Shelves lined every wall, overflowing with glass vials, neatly rolled bandages, and jars of ground powders.
"Oh?" A calm, melodic voice greeted them from behind the main counter. "Well, if it isn isn't a familiar face."
A woman in her mid-twenties stepped forward, clad in the pale white and green robes of a certified practitioner. Her long, ash-brown hair hung in a loose ponytail, and a gleaming silver emblem rested over her chest.
Her sharp eyes locked onto Viole, and her lips thinned into a weary line.
She let out a long, dramatic sigh, resting her hands on her hips. "Honestly, Viole, at this rate I should just install a bronze plaque with your name over one of the recovery beds."
Ai blinked in surprise while Viole scratched the back of his neck, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
"…Hello, Mira."
Mira stepped around the counter, crossing her arms as her critical gaze swept over his blood-soaked clothes. "Let me guess. Monster trouble again?"
"…Something like that."
She shook her head with fond exasperation before offering Ai a polite, warm smile. "And you must be the poor saint who dragged this adventurer back to civilization."
Ai immediately stood up straight, her face flushing. "A-Ah—yes! I… I only applied basic first aid!"
As Mira approached, the silver insignia pinned to her robe caught the light. Instantly, a wave of structured knowledge flooded my awareness, blending Viole's world knowledge with my own analytical thoughts.
In this world, combat capability wasn't arbitrary—it was structured through a recognized classification system comprised of Combat Classes, Jobs, and Proficiency Ranks. There were no floating game windows, but the Adventurer's Guild used specialized evaluation tools to measure a person's exact proficiency, displayed on official insignias.
Mira's insignia marked her as a Mage Class with a Healer Job, holding a B-Rank proficiency. Viole's own mental file reflected a much humbler status: Blade Class, Swordsman Job, with D-Rank proficiency. Ai wore no insignia at all—marking her as a Noncombatant, a civilian pursuing a peaceful trade.
Good enough to keep him breathing, at least
I noted, stepping closer to unravel the makeshift bandages around his chest. I closed my eyes and focused my senses. Soft emerald light gathered along my fingertips, fanning out across Viole's chest in subtle, pulsing rings.
Under the spell's vision, his internal condition laid itself bare.
The potion he had received was remarkable—a perfectly mana-stimulated draught that had forced the outer skin to close, halting what should have been fatal bleeding. But potions are only emergency field aid. Beneath that closed skin, the deeper muscle strands remained raw and torn, and two of his ribs bore severe hairline fractures from a brutal blow.
"Well now… you did far more than 'basic treatment,'" I murmured, casting a stunned glance at the blushing village girl before turning back to Viole.
I pressed my palms over his chest, driving my healing magic deeper. A brilliant wave of warm light burst from my hands, sinking into his torso.
Under the soothing warmth of the spell, the internal strain dissolved. The fractured bones drew together, sealing tight, while the torn muscle strands aligned and bound completely back together.
I pulled my hands back, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from my brow as my eyes swept down his blood-caked armor and torn tunic.
"There. The bones are set and the inner flesh is fully restored," I said, my tone turning stern. "However, magic can mend the structure, but it cannot replenish the blood that left you. Look at your clothes—you've lost a dangerous amount of blood."
I tapped my ledger with a quill. "That will be five copper coins. And once you leave here, go straight home and rest. You need quiet recovery and a heavy meal, not another contract."
Viole produced five small copper pieces from his pouch, setting them on the wooden counter with a faint nod.
"…Thank you, Mira."
As they turned to leave, Mira leaned against the counter, her playful demeanor softening into genuine concern. "Hey. You know… most adventurers eventually learn how to avoid becoming my top investor."
Ai looked between them nervously.
"You seriously need to find a party, Viole," Mira added quietly. "Solo adventurers don't last long in this business."
Viole offered a tired, self-deprecating smirk. "…Yeah. I'll try not to die before my next checkup."
"That's the exact deflection you always give," she huffed, waving them off with a shake of her head. "Just don't make me write your obituary."
As they stepped back into the vibrant sunlight, the heavy, unspoken reason Viole fought alone stirred within his mind.
It wasn't arrogance. It was simple math.
His D-Rank combat proficiency was far higher than the average Silver-Rank adventurer. Whenever he joined temporary quest groups, the disparity meant he inevitably ended up carrying the entire team, taking all the lethal risks while splitting the reward equally. Or worse, being used as bait by unscrupulous veterans.
Trust in this world was a luxury he couldn't afford.
As they navigated toward the massive Adventurer's Guild, Viole broke the quiet.
"…Ai. About earlier. You heard what Mira said—city potions are overpriced and barely stop the bleeding, but yours saved my life. I want to buy a standing supply from you for emergencies."
Ai blinked, her eyes widening into huge, expressive circles. "…Ah! That's actually what I was going to ask you!"
She tapped the frame of her wooden cart timidly. "I travel to the city every Solisday, first day of the week. I set up a small table at the Guild with their permission." She tilted her head, inspecting the brass plate on his chest. "Um… Viole? Your Insignia is Blade Class, right? D-Rank proficiency?"
Viole nodded. "That's right."
Ai's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "…Then why are you still a Silver-Rank adventurer? I heard the receptionists say that D-Rank proficiency is the core requirement for Platinum Rank."
Viole let out a dry, tired laugh as they resumed walking. "If only it were that simple. Proficiency is just the baseline—it proves you know how to handle a blade. To actually rank up, you need documented achievements."
Through his memories, the Guild's strict ranking ladder unlocked in my mind. Adventurers started at Copper Rank before climbing through Iron, Silver, and Gold. Beyond lay the elite ranks: Platinum, Mythril, Orichalcum, and finally Adamantite.
Ranks from Copper to Gold handled basic gathering, escorts, and low-level monster culls. But stepping into Platinum required clearing accredited Dungeons, retrieving certified Relics, or slaying a confirmed D-Rank monster—a terrifying feat for any solo fighter.
"D-Rank monsters are nightmarish compared to wild beasts," Viole explained quietly. "Handling one alone is suicide."
"…Which brings us back to why you need a party," Ai noted softly, her eyes filled with gentle empathy.
Viole went quiet, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones. "…I've tried. But when your proficiency outpaces your peers, people tend to rely on you until you break."
Ai didn't push. She simply walked beside him as the massive silhouette of the Adventurer's Guild loomed over the street ahead—a reinforced stone fortress emblazoned with two crossed swords behind a polished crest.
The moment Viole pushed open the heavy double doors, a wave of noise and atmosphere hit us like a physical wall.
The main hall was massive. To the left stood the colossal Request Board, plastered with hundreds of parchment fliers surrounded by mercenaries. To the right sat the Appraisal Counter, where glittering monster cores were being weighed.
And right in the center of the bustling hall—
"—Ai!"
A bright, energetic voice cut through the clamor.
Leaning over one of the polished oak desks was a young woman in a crisp guild uniform—a dark vest over a white blouse, her long copper-orange hair tied into a high ponytail. A brass nameplate on her desk read: Liora.
"You're right on time this week!" Liora beamed as Ai hurried over with her cart.
Liora's sharp amber eyes slid past Ai, landing directly on Viole. "Oh? Well, if it isn't Sunridge's most overworked Silver-rank."
Viole offered a polite, tired nod. "…Hello, Liora."
Liora's eyes darted between Viole's torn attire and Ai's shy blush. One of her orange eyebrows lifted in suspicion. "Wait a second… Since when do you two know each other?"
Viole answered flatly, without missing a beat. "…We met three hours ago on a dirt road while I was bleeding to death."
Liora's energetic expression faltered slightly. She let out a long, heavy sigh, massaging the bridge of her nose.
There he goes again, nodding like he didn't just drag himself out of a grave.
I leaned back against the counter desk, my gaze tracking the bloody tears in Viole's tunic before sliding over to his official guild file resting beneath my ledger.
He was an anomaly in our system: a swordsman holding D-Rank combat proficiency who remained trapped at Silver Rank simply because he refused to take on party members. Every receptionist in the hall knew he took solo contracts to survive, yet seeing him stand next to Ai—listening to her talk with that quiet softness in his eyes—was a sight I hadn't expected.
"You look like you got run over by a runaway monster cart again," I sighed, gesturing at his shredded clothing. "You're easily one of the hardest-working Silver-ranks we have, but if you ever want to step up to Gold or Platinum... you seriously need to stop taking solo commissions."
Viole gave a quiet, rehearsed nod. "…Yeah."
I smirked, turning back to Ai. "Still, I remember the first time Ai showed up here dragging that little cart outside the guild doors. She looked terrified of all the scary adventurers walking past, so I went out on my break to check her stock."
Ai blushed furiously, looking down at her shoes. "L-Liora…"
"She was selling these incredible potions for fifteen coppers," I continued, winking at Viole. "At first, only a few desperate guys bought a bottle. But once they used them in the field, word spread like wildfire. Now her stock sells out before noon."
I leaned over the desk toward Viole. "And since you've experienced her brewing firsthand… I expect you to become one of her regular customers, too."
Viole nodded without hesitation. "…That's the plan."
Ai looked at Viole with clear concern. "Shouldn't you rest for the remainder of the day? Even if your wounds were mended by magic… Mira said you lost far too much blood."
"…Yeah," Viole conceded softly.
He placed a folded parchment on the counter for his herb gathering commission, then turned back to Ai. "How many potions did you use on me earlier?"
"No, please—it's fine—"
"It's bad business if you refuse payment," Viole cut her off gently.
Ai hesitated before giving a small nod. "…Two bottles."
Viole carefully counted out thirty coppers from his pouch, placing them on the desk, then added a third stack of fifteen coppers. "And that's for one more bottle to take with me now."
He accepted the fresh vial she offered, gave a polite nod to both women, and turned to leave.
The walk to his home was short, navigating down quiet cobblestone side streets away from the central market.
Which was where a sudden question surfaced in my mind.
Wait a minute… How do you own a private residence in a major trade hub… but barely have enough coppers for potions?
The answer unlocked smoothly from Viole's passive memories.
Inheritance.
The house belonged to his parents—veteran adventurers who were killed during a Dungeon Outbreak several years ago. The solid stone building wasn't a sign of wealth; it was simply the last remaining anchor his parents had left behind.
Viole pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the quiet, cool interior of a small, rustic home. He moved straight for the washroom, stripping away his blood-stained shirt and bending over the ceramic basin to scrub away the grime and dried iron from his skin.
Eventually, he lifted his head.
Water droplets trickled down his skin as he looked into the framed glass mirror mounted above the basin.
For a brief, suspended second—
My thoughts completely stopped.
His complexion was pale—chillingly so, like fresh mountain snow untouched by the sun. Against that pale canvas, his dark hair and eyes stood out with intense contrast.
And those eyes—
Deep. Dark red. Like freshly poured wine held against the light, or glowing embers smoldering in a dying fire.
His long black hair was tied loosely into a low ponytail, with several strands framing the sharp, refined angles of his face—high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a lean build.
The longer I stared into that mirror through Viole's eyes…
The more a cold, surreal realization slowly crept up my spine.
That face.
That bone structure.
Those dark red eyes.
My mind raced, searching through the fog of my previous life before waking up inside this body.
Wait… No.
There's no way.
I examined every sharp contour reflected in the glass.
The face staring back from the mirror…
Was my own.