7 - City

The forest path stretched long and uneven, but Luna walked it with a bounce in her step and a smirk tugging at her lips.

The weight of the sack hanging at her side rattled with each stride, jewels and trinkets clinking against one another, reminding her with every sound of her victory over the bandit outpost.

For once, she wasn’t sulking or whining about boiled fish. She wasn’t grumbling about one-shotting monsters or complaining about the monotony of the trees.

No—today she was happy. The sack was heavy, and that heaviness meant wealth.

Every so often, she slipped a hand inside, letting her fingers brush across smooth gemstones, the jagged edges of rune stones, and the faint pulse of mana stones.

But those weren’t what made her grin widen. No, the real prize lay nestled in pouches tied tightly within, coins.

When she finally had the time, she stopped, sat on a mossy log, and poured a handful of them into her lap.

“Gold,” she whispered, eyes glinting.

Except not quite.

She rolled one between her fingers, lifted it to the sunlight, even bit down on it like a character in a period drama. The texture was wrong—too firm, too heavy in a way that wasn’t pure. Her heightened sensitivity told her more. The shimmer was real, but faint. There was gold, yes, but only a touch of it. The rest? Metal alloy.

Luna tilted her head, considering, then chuckled. “Figures. Of course, even here people find ways to cut corners.”

She didn’t let it bother her. Instead, she leaned in, fascinated. There was a pattern to them. With a sharper eye, she began to sort them.

The dull ones with the barest glint—barely one percent gold, just enough to shine when light struck.

Then brighter coins, more convincing, carrying about ten percent.

After that, a third group, heavier and warmer in color, with a quarter’s worth—twenty-five percent.

The fourth pile gleamed beautifully, half their weight gold, rich and thick.

And finally, the rare fifth, pure gold, warm in her palm, its glow so natural it almost seemed alive.

She stacked them carefully, separating them into neat piles before slipping the pure ones into a hidden pocket in her robe. The rest she secured in smaller pouches around her belt, double-knotting each string.

The exact value of each coin? Unknown. But she would find out soon enough in the city.

Until then… Luna let the pure coin dance across her knuckles, catching it neatly before tucking it away. Until then, she would dream of sweets. Piles of them. Enough to make up for days of bland, miserable meals.

Her stomach groaned loudly.

“Ugh.” She pressed a hand to her midsection, glaring. “Way to ruin the moment.”

Treasure didn’t fill her belly, and unfortunately, the forest wasn’t being kind. For all her wandering, she had yet to find a single fruit-bearing tree. Not one berry bush. Not one edible nut. It was absurd.

She threw her arms up at the sky. “What do you have against me? I just want sugar!”

The forest remained quiet, birds chirping in the distance as if mocking her.

Hours later, hunger drove her to a river. She crouched, peering into the clear water where silver shapes darted beneath the surface.

“Oh, you again,” she said flatly.

A lazy flick of her finger. Water Bullet. The stream rippled, a splash followed, and seconds later a fish floated limp to the surface.

Luna scooped it up, scowling. “You again.”

She cleaned it quickly with a knife of ice, slicing through scales with practiced precision. Then she conjured a hovering bubble of water, heated it until it boiled, and dropped the fillets inside.

Steam rose. The scent was faint, hardly appetizing.

She chewed the first bite mechanically, frowning. The second bite was worse. By the third, she slammed her spoon down and groaned.

“I’m cursed. I’m actually cursed.”

Dinner ended with her glaring at the bones. Bland fish. Always fish.

Morning brought no better luck. She spotted wolves slinking between the trees, their eyes gleaming. Her heart leapt. Finally—something. Her grin stretched wide, anticipation coursing through her veins.

But the moment they saw her, the wolves froze. Their ears flattened, their tails tucked, and with a whine they turned and bolted into the underbrush.

“What? Hey! Get back here!”

She stomped her foot. “You’re supposed to fight me! It’s literally your job!”

The forest swallowed her words, leaving her sulking.

“They were cute, too,” she muttered, puffing her cheeks in frustration.

Frustrated and restless, she turned her energy toward experimenting.

She had been using her spells as she always had in the game, but this wasn’t a game anymore. There were no system restrictions, no artificial boundaries. She could bend her magic as she pleased.

Her eyes turned to her strongest spell, Cocytus. A spell that froze everything in range, instant and absolute. Terrifyingly powerful, but wide and blunt.

She wondered—what if she could compress it? Refine it? Channel that freezing power into her hands alone, make it precise?

The thought made her grin.

She pressed her palm against a tree, whispering, “Freeze.”

Her first attempt almost froze her own arm solid. She yelped, shaking it violently until shards of frost flaked off.

Her second fizzled, producing only a weak glaze of frost that melted before it spread.

Her third was overkill. The tree she touched exploded in a burst of icy shards, bark spraying everywhere. A piece struck her cheek. She spat another out from her lips.

“Okay, too much.”

But Luna didn’t quit. She never did. Again and again she tried, adjusting her focus, narrowing her mana, shaping the flow of power with meticulous care. Not a flood, not a storm—just a whisper of winter, sharpened to her will.

Finally, success.

Her palm pressed flat against bark, and the tree hissed in response. Frost spiderwebbed instantly, racing outward in jagged veins. Within moments the trunk was encased in crystalline ice, leaves above glinting like frozen emeralds.

Her hand came away looking utterly normal, but the power lingered. It hummed beneath her skin, coiled, waiting.

Luna’s grin widened into something smug and delighted all at once. She laughed aloud, the sound echoing through the empty forest.

“Cocytus Touch,” she named it.

Testing it again, she touched another tree. Crackling frost spread immediately, solid and precise. She giggled, actually giggled, before covering her mouth with one hand.

“Oh, this is good. This is really good.”

The days blurred together after that—boiled fish, empty forests, failed hunts—but her experiments kept her entertained.

She practiced freezing with a touch, tested it on stone and bark, even on the surface of the river. Each time it worked, her grin grew.

And then, after nearly a week of travel, she climbed a rise and froze in her tracks.

Her eyes widened. Her breath caught.

There it was.

The city.

Stone walls stretched wide across the horizon, towers bristling with guards. Smoke curled from chimneys, banners rippled faintly in the breeze, and rooftops clustered together in neat, dense rows.

It wasn’t futuristic like her old world, no towering skyscrapers of steel and glass. It was medieval, practical, built for defense—but to Luna, it was beautiful.

She clutched the hidden pouch of coins at her robe, pressing it to her chest like a precious secret.

“Yes,” she whispered.

At long last, sweets were waiting.

And with that thought, Luna Aqua stepped forward, her grin bright and smug as ever, and began her descent toward the city walls.

The road narrowed the closer Luna came to the walls. The dirt path hardened into cobblestone, worn smooth by years of footsteps and wagon wheels.

The towering gates loomed above her, iron-bound wood reinforced by riveted steel. Two guards stood at their post, spears in hand, armor gleaming dully in the midday sun.

The moment their eyes landed on her, Luna caught the look.

Pity.

She tilted her head, lips quirking. What’s with that expression?

The guards saw a girl—tiny, barely reaching their shoulders, with a sack far too large slung across her shoulder. Her robe hung awkwardly, her figure slight, her height childlike.

To them, she wasn’t Luna Aqua the undefeated rank one champion of Legends Leagues. She wasn’t the smug, strategic player who could topple rivals with a flick of her finger. To them, she was just… a child.

The younger of the two guards squinted, his brows knitting in worry. “What’s a little one doing out here all alone?”

The older one sighed, lowering his spear slightly. “Probably ran away from home… or worse, got chased out.” His voice softened, heavy with sympathy.

Luna blinked. She adjusted the sack on her shoulder, confused. Chased out? Ran away? What nonsense are they talking about?

The guards’ eyes grew suspiciously shiny, as if they were seconds from tearing up. One of them gave her the kind of look people reserved for stray kittens left out in the rain.

“…Huh?” she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t bother asking them why. It wasn’t worth it. She had more important priorities—like entering the city, finding sweets, and ridding herself of the boiled-fish curse that had haunted her for days.

Clearing her throat, she looked up at the towering men and asked, “Can I go inside?”

The younger guard knelt a little, trying to meet her eyes, his expression painfully gentle. “Do you have any identification, little miss?”

Her smug expression cracked. Identification. Damn it.

In the game, there was no such thing as “ID.” You just clicked through menus, chose your spawn point, and you were in. Here, reality demanded papers. Documents. Proof. Things she didn’t have.

She shook her head. “No.”

The guards exchanged looks. They didn’t seem angry or suspicious. Instead, they shared a quiet sigh and nodded, as if silently communicating something they both understood.

The older guard fished into his satchel, pulled out a small wooden plaque etched with faint runes, and pressed it into her hands. “Here. A temporary identification card. You’ll need to visit the registrar inside the city for something permanent, but this will do for now.”

Luna blinked down at the plaque. That was it? No interrogation? No suspicion? Just… kindness?

“Uh. Thanks,” she said, still thrown off by their strange, fatherly behavior.

The guards smiled warmly. “Stay safe, little one.”

She walked through the gates, their pitying gazes still burning on her back. It made her itch. Why are they looking at me like that? She wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t lost. She was Luna Aqua. Strongest in the world. Smug. Strategic. Rank one for three years running.

But whatever. Let them think what they wanted. 

Because the moment she stepped through those gates, her world shifted.

The city swallowed her whole.

Stone streets stretched out like arteries, busy with wagons creaking under cargo, horses clopping in steady rhythm, and people bustling past in colorful garb.

Tall houses of timber and stone pressed together, their roofs of red tile and thatch climbing into the sky.

Wooden signs creaked above shopfronts, banners fluttered in the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, bells chimed a soft melody.

Her jaw went slack. “Whoa…”

The architecture wasn’t futuristic—no skyscrapers, no neon lights—but it had its own kind of majesty. Strong, sturdy, beautiful in its purpose. Everything here was alive, moving, connected.

She wandered aimlessly, her sack bouncing against her hip. Every turn offered something new—blacksmiths hammering glowing metal, children weaving between carts, merchants shouting prices.

The smells hit her next, roasting meat, fresh bread, something spiced and warm. Her stomach growled viciously.

And then—

She froze.

A smell drifted through the air, sweet and rich, thick enough to make her mouth water instantly. Caramelized sugar.

Her eyes widened, pupils dilating. Sweets.

She spun, nose twitching like a bloodhound, and followed the scent through the crowded street until she found it, a small stall tucked between a baker and a tailor, its wooden sign painted with bright fruit and dripping syrup.

Inside, skewered apples and pears gleamed, each dipped in a glistening coat of hardened caramel.

Luna practically slammed into the counter. “Two. I want two.”

The shopkeeper, a plump woman with kind eyes, blinked at the sudden burst of energy. Then she chuckled, grabbed two skewers, and handed them over. “Two candied fruits. That’ll be ten coins, little miss.”

Luna bit into one immediately, teeth cracking through the caramel. Her eyes rolled back, a sound of bliss escaping her throat. Sweetness. Pure, unfiltered sweetness. She devoured the first bite like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

It was only when she remembered the shopkeeper waiting that she paused, sticky juice clinging to her lips. “Oh. Right. Payment.”

She reached into her pouch and fished out one of the twenty-five percent coins, dropping it onto the counter with a clink.

The woman picked it up, studied it, then smiled warmly. “Quite the allowance your parents gave you. Here’s your change.”

She handed back nine of the ten percent coins.

Luna blinked, chewing slowly. Allowance? Parents? She didn’t bother correcting her. Instead, she pocketed the coins and filed the information away.

So that’s how it works.

One percent coins equaled one. Ten percent coins equaled ten. Twenty-five percent coins? A hundred. Fifty percent coins? A thousand. Which meant the pure gold coin she had tucked safely away was probably worth ten thousand.

Her grin stretched, caramel sticking to her teeth. I’m rich. I’m actually rich.

She skipped away from the stall, finishing the first candied fruit and immediately biting into the second. She didn’t care if people stared. She didn’t care if sugar stuck to her chin. Right now, she was in heaven.

The next problem to solve, where to sleep.

Finding an inn didn’t take long. The city was dense with travelers, and signs for lodging dotted nearly every other street.

She picked one that looked decent enough—three floors tall, lanterns glowing warmly in its windows, the smell of food wafting from inside.

Stepping into the lobby, Luna approached the front desk. The clerk, a young woman in a tidy uniform, looked up—and froze.

Her eyes darted to Luna’s height. To her oversized sack. To her sticky lips and caramel-stained smile.

Luna sighed. Here we go again.

“I’d like a room,” she said flatly.

The clerk blinked, professional mask slipping back into place. “Of course. That will be one hundred twenty-two gold for a standard room, one hundred fifty-six for a larger one.”

“I’ll take the larger.”

Coins clinked onto the counter—one fifty percent coin, exchanged for change. The clerk’s brows furrowed briefly, no doubt wondering why a child was booking a room alone, but she said nothing. Professional to the core.

Luna collected her key, ignored the odd look, and dragged her sack upstairs.

The door creaked open to reveal a wide bed with thick blankets, a sturdy wardrobe, and even a small table by the window. To anyone else, it was modest. To Luna, it was paradise.

She dropped her sack, leapt onto the bed, and sank into the mattress with a sigh that melted into a laugh.

Finally. A real bed.

For the first time since arriving in this world, she let herself stretch, yawn, and relax. No trees. No dirt. No cold stone altars. Just warmth. Softness. Comfort.

She hugged her pillow tight, a smile curving her lips.

This was living.

And with the taste of caramel still sweet on her tongue, Luna Aqua drifted into the most peaceful sleep she’d had in days.