In front of us stood a grand fountain, its water arching gracefully into the air before cascading down in a soothing rhythm. The crisp scent of seawater drifted through the evening air, carrying a refreshing coolness that mixed with the distant hum of the bustling city.
At the center of the fountain stood a statue—a man with a thick mustache, his sword raised high toward the darkening sky. His left hand was missing, either worn away by time or intentionally sculpted that way. Despite its weathered state, the statue exuded an undeniable presence, standing as a silent guardian over the square.
I took a moment to take in my surroundings. The buildings that lined the streets were striking, their refined architecture illuminated by the warm glow of street lamps flickering to life. The soft golden light cast long shadows along the cobblestone paths, adding a touch of quiet grandeur to the city's atmosphere.
People moved with ease through the streets, their attire reminiscent of Victorian-era fashion—tailored coats, crisp shirts, and neatly pressed trousers, many adorned with stylish hats. The majority dressed in dark hues, giving the city an air of sophistication as they strolled under the lamps' gentle glow.
Children laughed as they ran along the walkways, weaving playfully between adults, their silhouettes darting past the pools of warm lamplight. The entire scene before me was nothing short of enchanting—a perfect blend of structured elegance and lively energy, as though I had stepped into a painting brought to life beneath the soft embrace of the evening lights.
It took me a moment to fully absorb the atmosphere before turning my attention to the others. Victor, too, seemed lost in the ambiance, his gaze sweeping across the cityscape, while Milio's face twitched briefly, an unreadable expression crossing his features before he returned to his usual neutral state.
"Can we start moving?" Milio asked, his eyes shifting between us.
"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" I questioned.
"No," he replied firmly. "We don't know if they were teleported somewhere else or if they've already gone ahead. We should hurry to the outer city—I'm assuming this is the inner district."
That made sense. The others could have already moved on, and with nightfall approaching, I didn't want to be wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar streets in the dark.
Victor took the first step forward, leading the way, and I soon followed alongside Milio. As we walked, my eyes flickered toward the base of the statue, curious to see if it bore any inscription. Sure enough, words were etched into the stone:
"God of the Sun – Lugh."
He must be important to the people here if they dedicated such a prominent statue to him.
We continued forward, noticing a narrow drainage channel stemming from the fountain, guiding a small stream of water along a carved path. It seemed to lead toward another fountain in the distance, acting almost like a subtle guide through the city. Beyond it, towering above the buildings, stood a massive stone wall.
"That must be the outer city," Victor noted, his eyes fixed on the towering barrier ahead.
The direction seemed logical. If we wanted to leave the inner district, following the water's path toward the wall was likely the best option. Without further hesitation, we pressed forward, moving purposefully through the softly lit streets as the city settled into the quiet hum of the evening.
"Wait, let me ask to double-check," Victor said before stepping forward.
He approached a child sitting near the fountain while Milio and I stayed behind, waiting.
I let my gaze wander toward the towering stone wall in the distance. The road leading to the outer city sloped downward, a clear indication that we were in the higher part of the city. I turned back for a moment, taking in the massive castle looming above everything else. Of course, it was positioned at the highest point—allowing those in power to look down on the rest.
Despite our sudden appearance at the teleportation site, the townspeople barely spared us a glance. It was as if this was a common occurrence, something so routine that it didn't warrant any curiosity. However, there was something about us that did draw their attention—our clothes.
It was subtle, but I noticed how people avoided coming too close. No one stared outright, but they made sure to give us a wide berth as they walked past. Compared to their refined, Victorian-like attire, our worn, ill-fitted clothing stood out like a stain on a pristine canvas. We didn't belong here, and from the way they distanced themselves, they wanted us to know it.
Victor returned, his expression unreadable. "If we follow the drainage leading from the fountain, we should reach the gate to the outer city," he said.
I waited for him to continue, but he hesitated mid-sentence. "And…?" I prompted.
Victor sighed. "Don't worry about it."
His vague response only made me more curious. I followed his gaze back to the child he had spoken to. The kid was holding his nose with his fingers, eyes squinting slightly as he glanced in our direction.
Ahh… so that's what this was about. He thought he stank.
I chose to ignore it and kept walking forward, though I noticed that Victor was subtly adjusting his path, deliberately putting more distance between himself and any passing pedestrians.
"Did he say anything else?" I asked after a moment. "Like… What's the deal with the statue?"
"Not much," Victor admitted. "Just that there are ten fountains in total, and this is the eighth one. Apparently, the statues represent ten gods who were involved in the creation of this country."
"The creation of this country… I remember Jacquin mentioning that gods are more active here. Does that mean they actually come down and help humans build civilizations? And if so, what exactly did they do?
As we continued walking, I noticed a dimly lit entrance to what looked like an underground bar. A wooden door hung open, revealing a staircase leading down into the depths below. Men shuffled inside, their voices low and rough, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol wafted up from within. The place had an old-world feel to it—far less advanced than what I was used to.
I noticed Victor and Milio shivering from the cold, while I remained unaffected. Maybe it was my blessing at work. Still, not wanting to stand out, I nodded along, pretending to feel the chill just like they did.
Eventually, we arrived at the eighth fountain. The statue here was different from the last one—larger, more imposing. It depicted a woman draped in a long, flowing dress, her face completely concealed beneath a veil. She knelt with her head bowed low, exuding an aura of quiet reverence.
I stepped closer to read the inscription at its base:
"Goddess of Dreams and Illusions, Vaelora."
Something struck me as odd. The language carved into the stone… It looked like English.
Wait… were they speaking English in this world too?
Jacquin had mentioned that our gifts allowed us to communicate with others, but it seemed they also enabled us to read. That realization sent a strange sensation down my spine.
"Are you guys reading this in English?" I asked aloud.
"Yeah," Victor confirmed, his brows furrowed in mild confusion.
Millio shrugged. "I highly doubt they actually speak English. More likely, the gift is translating everything for us in real-time."
That made sense. Oddly enough, Millio seemed to be in better spirits since the teleportation—maybe he was relieved to finally be out of that place.
"It's weird, but I guess there's no point in thinking too hard about it," I muttered, shaking off the unease.
We had bigger things to worry about.
We finally arrived at the last statue, and before us stood the figure of a woman, tall and imposing. Her hair was styled in an unusual fashion—piled high on her head in a conical shape, giving her an almost regal presence. Her expression was blank, unreadable, as if she were lost in thought or gazing beyond the world itself.
In one hand, she held a curved weapon, its blade elegantly arched, while a long pole stood beside her, resting against her form. She was draped in a flowing dress that concealed her entire body, adding to her mysterious aura.
Etched into the base of the statue was an inscription: "Goddess of the Moon, Selene."
Ahead of us loomed an enormous wall, stretching so high it seemed to vanish into the sky. At its base stood a large gate, flanked by a group of guards. Unlike the ones we had seen at the palace, these guards appeared far less imposing. Their attire was simple—worn brown leather suits instead of armor, and each carried a basic spear. They lacked the disciplined presence of the palace guards, looking more like hired sentries than true soldiers.
I hoped their lack of proper gear meant they wouldn't give us any trouble. As we moved forward, I let Victor take the lead—not because I was shy, but because it was simply easier. He had a way with people, a natural ease in conversation that I lacked. So, I stayed a step behind, letting him handle whatever came next.
As we approached, the guards narrowed their eyes, their grip tightening on their spears as they crossed them in front of the gate.
"Who are you guys? You don't look like you're from around here," one of them said, his gaze sweeping up and down, sizing us up with suspicion.
Victor opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the second guard smacked the first one on the shoulder.
"You idiot, they're outworlders. Captain Niru just escorted a group wearing the same ragged clothes not too long ago."
The first guard flinched, scowling at his companion. "How was I supposed to know?"
"You were supposed to know," the second guard shot back, exasperated. "They literally just came—"
The second guard was a woman with short black hair and a small mole on her cheek, while the first guard, a man, had a full head of hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. Their contrasting appearances made for an interesting pair.
The woman gave a curt nod. "Head straight down from here. You'll come across a sign that says 'Jatel.' Go inside—that's an inn where you can eat and rest for the night.
"What about the guild?" Victor asked, his tone laced with impatience.
"Don't worry about that yet," she replied firmly. "Just go to the hotel first."
Victor looked visibly annoyed, but I simply shrugged and started walking. There was no point in arguing. He hesitated for a moment before following, with Milio trailing behind.
Well, that was easier than I expected. For some reason, I had been bracing for a confrontation or some kind of trouble.
As I stepped through the gate, I noticed that the drainage system continued, leading toward yet another fountain further down the road. However, the scene before me was vastly different from the structured elegance of the inner city.
The outer city was chaotic—crowded and sprawling with buildings stacked haphazardly, some towering over the narrow streets below. The air was alive with noise, a mix of voices, laughter, and the distant sound of merchants calling out their wares. Unlike the pristine order of the inner city, this place felt congested, cluttered with people moving in every direction.
The streets were noticeably filthier, with the once well-maintained stone paths giving way to uneven, grime-covered cobblestones. The crisp scent of seawater still lingered, but it was now intertwined with the heavy aromas of sweat and food.
Right outside the gate, beggars lined the entrance, their hands outstretched as they pleaded for spare coins. Some sat hunched against the walls, their hollow eyes following passersby with quiet desperation. It was a stark contrast to the well-dressed citizens of the inner city, a harsh reminder of the divide between the privileged and the forsaken.
This was the true heart of the city—the place where survival was a struggle, and wealth was a distant dream.
We walked forward , while eventually we reached a foundation but there seemed to be no statue like they rest. Next we reached the hotel, in the engraving, hopefully this place would be cheap.
"Should we share a room to cut costs?" Victor asked, glancing between us.
Milio raised an eyebrow, clearly about to comment, but before he could, I shut it down with a firm, "Not happening."
There was no way I was sharing a room with a bunch of strangers—absolutely not. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically drained, and the last thing I wanted was to constantly be on guard while I slept. Sure, sharing would be cheaper, but I wasn't willing to sacrifice my peace of mind for a few extra coins. I needed rest, real rest, without worrying about someone hovering nearby.
We moved forward, approaching the reception area. The entrance opened into a lively space filled with wooden tables, where patrons sat drinking and chatting in low murmurs. The scent of ale and smoke lingered in the air.
To the left, an elderly woman was behind the counter, handing out drinks to customers with practiced ease. Further down, another young girl, likely no older than ten, was helping carry drinks to the tables, though she was clearly struggling with the weight of the trays.
As we reached the reception desk, I instinctively fell back, letting Victor handle the talking—just like before. It was easier that way, and besides, he seemed better at dealing with people than I was.
Victor approached the reception desk and requested a room for the night. The receptionist, a young woman with a short bob cut, glanced up from her ledger and responded, "One night is 25 copper, or 30 copper if you want a bath included. If you're looking for a longer stay, we offer a weekly rate—three silver for seven nights, bath included."
The mention of different currencies caught me off guard. Copper? Silver? I hadn't even considered how money worked here. Victor, thankfully, was quick on his feet and explained to her that we were outworlders unfamiliar with the local currency.
Her eyes widened slightly at the revelation, but she didn't question it. Instead, she offered a brief explanation, "Fifty copper makes one silver."
Smart move on Victor's part. By waiting until after he got the price to ask about the currency, he made sure they couldn't change it on us. If he had asked beforehand, they might have taken advantage of our ignorance and charged us more. Now that we knew the conversion rate, we could avoid being scammed.
After hearing the prices, it was obvious that staying for just a single night wasn't worth it. The weekly rate, while not a massive discount, was still a better deal—it saved us 25 copper, which wasn't much, but every bit counted. Even with that, though, our funds wouldn't last long.
At best, we had about six weeks' worth of lodging before we were completely broke—and that didn't even account for food, supplies, or any gear we might need down the line. We needed to start looking for work as soon as possible.
We had no choice. The moment morning came, we'd have to start looking for work. I wasn't about to sit around and let those Veilstones mark me permanently.
We all agreed that staying for a week was the best option, so we handed over three silver coins. In return, we were given our keys and a brief rundown of the facilities. The receptionist mentioned that the bath was open, but there were only two communal areas—one for men and one for women. Apparently, it was more of an open shower space with a large bath at the end. Great. So I'd have to strip in front of strangers.
Victor seemed eager to wash up immediately, while Milio looked like he just wanted to head straight to his room. I, too, preferred to go to my room—I had other things on my mind. I wanted to test out my gift, to see what kind of abilities it had granted me.
Before parting ways, we agreed to meet in the morning. With that settled, we headed off in different directions.
My room was on the first floor, and as I stepped inside, I took a moment to take it in. There was no bed—just a simple mat on the floor. A single towel rested on a small wooden table beside it. A lone cupboard stood against the wall, empty except for dust. That was it.
It was bare, but at least it was something. Better than sleeping on the streets, I supposed.
" Status"
Status - Level 1
Name: Beliah Scriv Age:20 Title: [??????] Affinity: Bitter Chill – The Goddess Nyvara (C Rank) Affinity Description: A divine blessing bestowed by Nyvara, the Goddess of Bitter Chill. Nyvara, a cunning and ambitious deity, took interest in this sly boy. She is the twin sister of Ephyahra, the Goddess of Calm Frost. Locked in a bitter rivalry, Nyvara seeks to destroy her sister and ascend to greater Status. Nyvara's intentions are veiled, but she has plans for Beliah, and their paths are destined to cross again. Affinity Abilities: Frost Manipulation Passive Ability: Minor Cold Resistance. Attributes: - Debuff: -
Mmm… it says Frost Manipulation, but how do I actually activate it?
I stretched out my hand, palm open, and focused, trying to will the ability to work. Nothing. I changed my hand posture, clenched my fingers, and concentrated harder—but still, no ice, no chill, no sign of anything happening.
Frustrated, I even muttered the words Frost Manipulation under my breath, hoping that maybe speaking it aloud would trigger something. Nothing.
With a sigh, I glanced back at my status screen, searching for any clues I might have missed.
Is this some kind of hoax? Am I just imagining that I have this gift?
No… that wouldn't make sense. If it wasn't real, then how was I able to read the inscriptions on the statues earlier? That had to be part of the gift's effect.
Maybe the problem wasn't that the ability didn't exist—maybe I just couldn't use it yet.
I glanced at my status screen again. Level 1.
Could that be it? Maybe I needed to level up first before I could actually use my abilities.
And then it hit me.
Oh my god. I think I know why it isn't working.
Without wasting another second, I hurried down the stairs and made my way to the bar. The moment I stepped inside, the heavy scent of alcohol, sweat, and wood smoke filled the air, wrapping around me like a thick haze.
I had a plan—ask the bartender for ice.
But then I hesitated.
Who the hell asks for just ice? That would be weird, wouldn't it? What if he refused or just laughed me off? I didn't want to risk looking like an idiot.
Stepping back, I quickly changed my approach. Instead of asking directly, I scanned the room, searching for an easier way to get what I needed.
Instead of drawing attention to myself by asking the bartender, I scanned the room, searching for an abandoned cup that might still have some leftover ice. My eyes landed on a half-finished drink sitting on one of the tables, a few melting ice cubes floating inside.
Jackpot.
The seat was empty, no sign of an owner nearby.
I quickly glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then hurried toward the cup, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
Just as I was about to reach for it, I felt a small tug on my pants.
"Hey! What are you doing, mister?"
I froze.
"That's not yours," a small voice piped up.
A sudden chill crept up my spine, my muscles tensing involuntarily. My fingers twitched, my breath hitched, and a slight shudder ran through my body before I could stop it.
Looking down, I saw the young girl who had been serving drinks earlier. She barely reached my waist, her big eyes staring up at me with suspicion.
Thank god, it was just the kid. Maybe she'd let this slide.
Thinking fast, I put on my best smile and handed the cup to her. "I was just trying to help. You looked like you were having trouble."
She blinked at me, then at the cup in her hands. For a moment, I thought she might call me out, but instead, she gave me a bright, innocent smile.
"Thank you, mister!" she chirped. "But please don't disturb my work, okay?"
With that, she turned and walked off, carefully balancing the cup as she carried it away.
I exhaled in relief.
In my palm, two small ice cubes rested—the ones I had managed to grab before she interrupted me. That was close. Maybe I could have just asked to borrow some ice, but I didn't want to seem weird.
Besides, this outcome worked in my favor.
Without wasting any more time, I hurried back to my room.
I stared at the ice melting in my palm, concentrating as hard as I could. Then, finally, I felt it—a shift, a connection.
The once-transparent ice cubes in my hand began to change, their color deepening into a striking shade of purple. Their shape, too, was no longer fixed. Slowly, they shifted, elongating until they formed a small, sharp knife.
So that was it.
The description had said Frost Manipulation, not Creation. I should have realized it earlier—creating ice from nothing would have been ridiculously overpowered. My ability wasn't about generating ice, only controlling what already existed.
I turned the blade over in my hand, inspecting it closely. The purple hue was unusual—unlike any normal ice I had seen before. Was this a result of the Goddess of Bitter Chill's influence? Could there be different types of ice, unique to the deity they originated from?
One thing was certain: my ice was different. Even as I held it, it barely melted, its edges staying sharp and solid. It had a dangerous feel to it, as if it could genuinely be used as a weapon.
I experimented further, shifting its shape again—this time into something harmless, like a pen. It worked, but I noted something important: the transformation wasn't instant. It took roughly five seconds for the ice to shift into my desired form. That delay could be a problem in battle.
I let out a sigh.
At the moment, this ability felt… useless. Unless I was constantly surrounded by ice, I couldn't do much. Carrying ice around with me wasn't exactly practical either.
Victor's ability, Amplify, had clear practical benefits. Enhancing his physical strength could be useful in countless ways. In contrast, my ability—shaping ice—felt limited, a situational trick rather than a true advantage.
Then there was Niru. When he saved me, I was certain he had swapped my position with a pen. That had to be his ability—Spatial Swap or something similar. If that were the case, it was undeniably more useful.
I wanted to test something else.
Placing the ice-formed pen on the ground, I focused and attempted to reshape it. It worked—but much slower than when it was in my hand. The transformation took longer, eventually morphing into a small sphere.
Curious, I grabbed a fresh piece of untouched ice and placed it on the ground. This time, no matter how much I concentrated, I couldn't manipulate it at all.
Interesting…
I was starting to understand the mechanics of my ability. Ice that I had already manipulated could be altered again, even without direct contact. But untouched ice—natural ice—had to be in my grasp first before I could exert control over it.
Another discovery: I could only manipulate my ice as long as I had a clear line of sight. To test this, I closed my eyes and attempted to shift its shape again—nothing happened. It confirmed that I needed to see my purple ice in order to control it from a distance.
Well, since this purple ice was clearly different from regular ice, I might as well give it a name. Bitter Ice—fitting, considering it came from the Goddess of Bitter Chill.
I could only hope that when I leveled up, my abilities would improve. Because right now… this power felt far too limited to be of any real use.
That left one more thing to test: how long this bitter ice lasted.
I placed a piece next to my bed and observed it. Unlike regular ice, it melted at a much slower rate, likely due to the influence of the Goddess of Bitter Chill.
I had no way to track the exact time, but it was roughly 30 minutes before the last remnants of the ice finally disappeared, leaving only a small puddle in its place. I attempted to manipulate it again, but once it had melted, it was completely beyond my control.
Sigh. Well, at least it was better than nothing.
I couldn't deny it—I felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing I had something. This ability, while limited for now, was still mine. It was definitely better than nothing. I already had a few ideas on how I could make use of it, but for the time being, there wasn't much I could do.
With that experiment done, I grabbed the towel from the table and made my way to the bath. It was time to wash off the exhaustion of the day.
As I reached for the door handle, a sudden knock echoed through the room, stopping me in my tracks.