The next morning, Ivaim strolled through the bustling marketplace, weaving through the vibrant crowd. Stalls lined the streets, offering everything from fresh produce to crude weaponry, while the air buzzed with a mixture of chatter and the occasional cheer.
At the center of it all stood a makeshift arena—a circular pit surrounded by wooden barriers, where a group of onlookers had gathered to watch a sparring match.
Ivaim's eyes lingered on the arena for a moment, a mix of curiosity and apprehension stirring within him.
'Grandma Neli would probably kick me out of the bakery if she knew I was doing this,' he thought, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.
Still, he pressed on, steeling his resolve. 'I've got my own path to walk. Escaping this Fractured Reality is all that matters now.'
As he moved through the bustling marketplace, his gaze flickered briefly to the makeshift arena in the center.
