After handing over one of his Threshold items, Ivaim didn't waste time. He knew he couldn't stick around for long.
There was always more to do, more to figure out, and staying in one place for too long wasn't part of his plan.
Without proper citizenship files, he couldn't officially register as a rogue Reality Walker.
The system here was strict, leaving no room for people like him to slip through the cracks.
He'd tried to imagine himself walking up to one of the temples, trying to explain his situation, but it always ended with guards throwing him out—or worse.
Instead, he focused on what he could control: building connections.
In a world like this, where he had no allies and no clear path forward, connections were everything.
They could open doors, provide safety, and maybe even help him sort out the mess of his nonexistent identity.
That's why he'd joined Kalisto's mission in the first place.
It wasn't just about tagging along for the ride—he was laying the groundwork for his future.
'If I pick the right people, maybe one day they'll help me out when I really need it,'
Ivaim thought. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Still, a part of him couldn't help but worry. What if he was putting his trust in the wrong people? What if all this effort led nowhere?
'Better to try than to sit around doing nothing,' he told himself.
After writing a quick note to Kalisto explaining that he had "somewhere else to be," Ivaim slipped out of the dormitory.
He didn't make a big deal out of his departure, no long explanations or goodbyes. That wasn't his style.
The streets of Penury welcomed him with their usual dim light and uneven paths. The district was far from the glitzy areas where Reality Walkers showed off their power and influence.
Here, the streets were narrow, lined with old buildings that leaned toward each other as if sharing secrets.
The smell of damp stone and distant smoke hung in the air, and the occasional flicker of a streetlamp cast long shadows on the ground.
Ivaim avoided the larger roads and popular areas. He had no interest in getting tangled up with active Walkers who patrolled the main streets.
The towering temples, with their sharp edges and glowing symbols, were the last places he wanted to be.
Those buildings weren't just intimidating—they were dangerous for someone like him, someone who didn't belong.
Instead, he stuck to the quieter paths. The shadows felt safer, the silence easier to think in.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted back to his old life. Back then, he'd spent most of his days helping his father run their small electrical shop.
It wasn't glamorous, but it was steady. He could still feel the rough texture of wires between his fingers, smell the faint tang of burnt circuits, and hear the familiar hum of machinery in the background.
His father had always been a mix of stern and patient. He'd taught Ivaim how to solder wires, fix appliances, and haggle with customers who wanted a discount.
"The little details matter most," his father used to say, tapping a circuit board for emphasis. "Miss one wire, and the whole thing doesn't work."
Ivaim had taken that lesson to heart. Even now, in a completely different world, he found himself looking for the little details—tiny opportunities that might one day make a big difference.
He smiled faintly at the memory.
'Guess I'm still fixing things,' he thought.
'Just on a bigger scale...'
Just as Ivaim turned a corner, ready to lose himself in the maze-like streets of Penury, an unnatural weight pressed down on him.
It wasn't physical—his limbs weren't bound—but his every movement felt sluggish, like trudging through wet cement.
Panic flared. His instincts screamed at him, and he wasted no time. Ivaim tried to summon his system, intending to retreat into his Fractured Reality.
But as soon as he willed the connection, a notification blinked across his vision:
[Cannot enter Fractured Reality due to the interference of a stronger Reality Master.]
The weight intensified, and for the first time, Ivaim felt the edges of his usual bravado falter.
Before he could fully process the warning, a voice, cool and cutting, sliced through the heavy air.
"You've had your fun, Rogue Reality Master," the voice said.
"But this is where it ends. Unaffiliated Masters like you upset the balance. Removing you is not just my right—it's my duty."
Ivaim turned his head, locking eyes with his pursuer. The woman approached with a calm, almost lazy confidence, as though she knew she'd already won.
Her red-dominated outfit swayed with each step, casual yet strangely commanding. Her symmetrical face, framed by short double-ponytails streaked with crimson, radiated a predator's composure.
'It's her...' Ivaim thought, recognition dawning. He'd seen her before—at the Minotaur of Chivalry temple. She was the one who'd made every hair on his body stand on end.
"You're making a mistake," Ivaim said, forcing a grin despite the weight pressing on him.
"I'm harmless! Really. A model citizen. You don't need to—"
"Don't waste your breath," she interrupted, her tone flat. "I've heard it all before."
As she advanced, the air seemed to thrum with an oppressive energy. Ivaim tried to muster his usual confidence, but something was wrong. The smirk he wore felt hollow, forced.
Then it hit him.
Her presence wasn't just intimidating—it was invasive.
It crawled into his mind like a thousand whispering voices, each one planting seeds of doubt.
His mocking wit, his self-assured grin, even his belief in his own abilities—all of it wavered under the weight of her aura.
"Confidence suppression?" he thought, a cold realization washing over him. "That's... unfair."
"Feeling it yet?" she asked, tilting her head as her crimson-streaked ponytails bobbed. Her voice was almost gentle, as though she pitied him.
"That little flicker of uncertainty? It only grows stronger the longer you stand there."
Ivaim forced a laugh, though it sounded shaky even to his ears.
"Uncertainty? No idea what you're talking about. If anything, I feel great! Top of the world, really."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Keep telling yourself that."
As she spoke, red horns materialized on her head, glowing like molten iron. She crouched slightly, her legs tensing as if ready to spring.