Mark returned to the Middle Dormitory, grabbing his pouch of coins, along with an Academy-issued winter cloak. He would need it for where he was going.
He then went back outside, walking through the large and lavish paved paths of Kolzig-Bondra.
More fellow extras passed him by. And yet again, they ignored him. And yet again, Mark could care less.
Bigger things occupied his mind
The entire walk he held his fingers crossed. So many things needed to go right.
But he pushed the self-doubt to the back of his thoughts. Optimism was good, ignorance was bliss.
Eventually, Mark found himself at the foot of the Academy's sole entrance, a massive portal—the Kriophoros.
Upon reaching the portal, he was given a prompt from a prompt from his system.
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
*Kolzig-Bondra Kriophorus*
User→ Mark di Abbott (Noble Access)
-Select Destination
► Ember City
► Strata
► Holy City of Olym
►…
► Realm Transfer
►…
►Straw Ridge
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
At the very bottom of the list was the small, cold Northern town of Straw Ridge: the home of the Underground.
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
Destination Confirmed
► Straw Ridge
Please step forward.
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
The big blue portal pulsed as it awaited Mark's embrace. As he stepped through, the transition was seamless.
It felt like nothing. In the next moment, he simply appeared in Straw Ridge.
'Now this… this is a real medieval city.'
It was nothing like the magical medieval futurist architecture of the rest of Humanity.
Straw Ridge was mud and cobblestone galore. Not to mention the stench, the poverty, and the lack of merchants who cared enough to sell their wares here.
Mark held his eyes up, scanning his surroundings as he walked. In particular, he was looking for a specific type of roadside shop stall.
It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for.
A gruff, gremlin-looking older man set his eyes on Mark.
"Eh… an academy boy. You there! Interested in—"
"Two Coppers for a mask," Mark interrupted, placing said Coppers on the wooden stall between the two.
The old man stared dumbfounded.
…
Then he broke out into a phlegmy fit of laughter.
"Bahaha!" the old man spat as he turned around, bending his hunched back lower. "Never would I have thought that a fellow rat could make it into Kolzig-Bondra…"
"Appreciate it," Mark replied, taking the circular white mask from the content old man.
Mask in hand, he began his trek to the very top of the dingy town.
Sitting atop the center of the muddy paradise was a pristine gothic chapel. The town was built around the chapel, which stood above all other buildings at the apex of a hill.
Straw Ridge townspeople who walked by Mark were a stark contrast to the preppy aristocrats of Kolzig-Bondra, and by extension, every other sanitized city in the Human realm.
They wore dirty and humble robes. They carried baskets on top of their heads. Children laughed and giggled as they ran around and played, scolded by the adults for being careless.
It was a lowly existence, but at least they appeared to find joy in it despite the hardships. Those hardships could easily be solved with magic and support from the rest of humanity. But across worlds, novel and real, human greed was constant.
'Benevolence is a sham. I'll take End's word for that statement. If he ever said that. He would say that to me, I think.'
Mark stood in front of the massive rectangular chapel doors, proceeding to put on his newly acquired white mask.
Stepping into the dimly lit chapel, the doors slammed shut, reverberating throughout the large hall.
Immediately in front of Mark was a robed priest.
"How may I serve, sir?" the robed man said in a low, uncanny voice.
'Please work. Pretty please. I really need this to work…'
"Just here on vacation. Seeing the sights," Mark replied.
…
"Right this way."
'Fuck yeah,' Mark punched the air in happiness—figuratively, of course.
Honestly, he was just grateful that the entire novel hadn't changed.
'Was it just the characters that were altered?'
He hadn't seen any of the main cast yet. Not like he looked that hard. It was a realistic possibility.
The robed man led him towards a small doorway off to the side of the church hall. Opening the door revealed an entirely dark room. The man beckoned for Mark to enter.
'Great, a priest leading me to the back of a church. Fuck it, I'm 18. I should be fine…'
Mark entered the suspicious dark closet. After which, the priest shut the door.
…
Darkness and silence.
…
'Uh…'
His worries were quickly squashed as the silent room slowly began to vibrate before descending.
'Phew. I thought I was fucked for a second… no pun intended.'
The elevator crawled to a halt before the door opened once more. Stepping out, Mark was greeted with a mystical sight.
It was a massive underground cavern. The ceiling was illuminated with bulbous bioluminescent plants that lit the cavern like Christmas lights.
The ground of the cavern was similar to that of a carnival. Mask patrons ogled and marveled at the sights. People conversed over the sounds of a band playing.
'An accordion too. Very circusy.'
There was a central circle upon which several shops lined the edges of.
The Underground was not only the Underground for being underground but also because it was the underground black market.
This was the only place in the entire Human realm that actually distributed system-based items and services to a wide range of people. The pockets and vaults of the aristocracy were exclusive only to their own guilds and territories.
Skills, Items, Arts, information dealing, forged documents, anything illegal one could ask for.
'How was the Underground not taken down? Uh… good question. I vaguely recall from the novel that the Underground's leader was hinted as a powerful figure, but it wasn't ever brought up seriously.'
But who really cared? It was convenient! Fantasy! Mark couldn't get enough of it. Life ought to be simple and convenient.
Mark walked toward the center of the circus, surrounded by various other customers who filled the streets, all wearing white masks to hide their identities.
Though some were much too short, tall, wide, or otherwise abnormal to blend in as a human, they were still the minority; the Underground was illegal, so why should other races be banned?
'Outside of here though, racism was quite prevalent in the novel. Or was it speciesism? Could you even compare it to Earth's racism?
Hell, there was a whole chapter of fictional racial tensions and slurs. Mark didn't want to repeat the stuff that was said; some of it was oddly comparable to Earth's slurs.
Racism talks aside, Mark searched the dangling signs as he walked around the center circle.
Eventually, he found 'Kalé's Skills Emporium' which was noticeably not the same as 'Miriel's Skills Emporium' from the original novel.
'Fishy… seems like I might be right. The characters did get reset. Guess I'll find out for sure tomorrow when I meet the main cast.'
But to actually see tomorrow, he needed this to go well.
Stepping inside the store, the idle chatter and music quickly died as a silence of respite took hold.
"Welcome. How can Kalé be of service?" Kalé groggily croaked.
"I'm looking for F-tier Skills."
Kalé tiredly raised his finger, pointing to the corner of his shop.
"No stealing. If I don't kill you, the guards will," he warned.
With a curt nod, Mark eagerly hurried toward the small bookshelves.
There were about two dozen F-tier Skills to choose from. And Mark would go through every single damn one.
'My entire future hinges on this. Big money, big money…'