Chapter 36 - Ray's Dilemma

Ray slipped out of the academy under the cover of midnight, carrying only what he needed.

Most of his belongings were stored safely in his system's inventory. The only thing he kept by his side was his sword.

The journey from Nexus City to Ironhold City should have taken an entire day, but the train—powered by light mana—moved almost like light itself.

In just a few hours, he had crossed a distance that would take ordinary travelers a full day's ride.

When he stepped off the train, the first thing he noticed was the atmosphere.

The air itself thrummed with an unusual tension, charged with both mana and unease.

Unlike Nexus City, where mana flowed in controlled currents through enchanted streetlights and levitating transports, Iron hold's energy felt raw and untamed.

The veins of glowing sigils embedded in the streets flickered inconsistently, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

Ray's gaze flickered across the scene, taking in the way merchants kept their conversations low, the way even the hardened mercenaries near the gates held themselves back—no drunken boasts, no casual laughter, just sharp, wary glances exchanged in silence.

There were too many soldiers. They weren't just patrolling—they were scrutinizing.

Their sharp gazes swept over the travelers, lingering too long, their hands resting instinctively on the hilts of their weapons. Civilians moved with quiet urgency, their steps brisk, their voices hushed.

Something bad is about to happen, Ray thought as he continued to move out of the station,

Sensing the heaviness in the air, he increased his pace.

Let's find a inn today, I still have 2 days for completing the second quest.

Speaking of quest.

**

**

Dismissing the golden quest window, Ray increased his pace.

I will distribute my stat later, right now I need to figure out what the hell is going on in the city.

The system had given him two days to complete his next quest, but even without looking at the golden text still hovering at the edges of his vision,

Ray already knew that this mission was going to be far more complicated than it seemed.

It wasn't long before he reached the modest inn, a two-story structure wedged between an old weapon shop and a dusty potion vendor.

It was the kind of place where people came and went without questions.

Ray pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit room. The scent of aged wood and mana infused small lanterns filled the space, their flickering light casting elongated shadows against the walls.

A few scattered patrons sat in silence, heads lowered over their drinks, each lost in their own thoughts.

At the far end of the room, behind a worn wooden counter, stood the innkeeper—a man well into his fifties, his weathered face lined with years of experience.

He wiped down a mug with slow, deliberate movements, his sharp, calculating gaze flicking up the moment Ray approached.

"I need a room," Ray said, pulling back his hood, brushing off the light dust that clung to his cloak from the journey.

The innkeeper barely reacted, setting the mug down before sliding a rusted key across the counter.

"Ten silvers," the man said. "No bargain."

Ray dropped the coins without hesitation, pocketing the key.

He could have left it at that, gone straight to his room, but the air in this city was too thick with unspoken truths.

Leaning against the counter, he let his gaze drift toward the window. "The city feels… off," he said casually. "Something's happening, isn't it?"

The innkeeper's hands stilled for the briefest moment before resuming their slow, deliberate motion over the mug he was cleaning.

"This is Ironhold," he said gruffly. "It's always tense."

Ray's eyes narrowed slightly, A lie.

For a second, Ray considered pressing further.

Then, an idea struck him.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his academy insignia, and set it down on the counter.

Click.

The old man's posture stiffened ever so slightly, his gaze flickering toward the emblem before quickly looking away.

"You should keep that hidden, boy. Flashing that around won't do you any favors here."

Ray tilted his head. "I just arrived. I need to know what's going on."

The innkeeper sighed, rubbing his temples before muttering, "The city's on edge. Word is, a skirmish is about to break out."

Ray's fingers twitched, There it is.

"Between who?" he asked, his voice measured.

"The city authorities—hunters, law enforcers—they're all getting ready to make a move against someone." The innkeeper's jaw tightened. "The Black Market."

Ray's expression remained unreadable, but his mind was already racing.

The Black Market was always a problem in cities like this—underground traders, mercenaries, illegal deals. But for the authorities to go out of their way to wage open war on them?

That wasn't normal.

And yet, the feeling in his gut told him it wasn't just about crime syndicates or illicit trades.

It was about something bigger.

Something worse.

His voice dropped slightly. "What's the reason for the fight?"

The innkeeper hesitated again. This time, Ray caught the slight flicker of unease in his eyes.

"… Something about a dungeon," he finally said. "There's a rumor that there is some sort of Ancient treasure in it."

Ray's fingers curled into a loose fist at his side.

Is it a coincidence?

His gut twisted as his thoughts aligned.

The system's sudden quest.

The city teetering on the edge of chaos.

The Black Market and the authorities preparing for a clash.

A slow, uneasy breath left his lips as his mind began piecing things together.

A familiar, creeping sensation settled over him—the feeling of standing one step away from something far, far bigger than himself.

He looked up, his golden eyes sharp beneath the dim lantern light.

"What's the dungeon's name?" he asked.

The innkeeper hesitated.

Then, slowly, he muttered,

"Frost-fang Grotto."

Ray's heart stopped.

For the first time since entering the city—since even leaving the academy—his breath caught in his throat.

Because that name…

It was the same one written in his quest log.

The system had sent him here for this.

He didn't know what was waiting inside that dungeon.

But one thing was certain.

He wasn't the only one looking for it.

The innkeeper, perhaps sensing his silence as unease, sighed and wiped a hand down his weathered face.

"You've got that look," the old man muttered. "Like you're about to do something stupid."

Ray didn't respond.

Instead, he pushed away from the counter, pocketing his academy insignia.

"I'll take my key," he said, voice measured.

The innkeeper shook his head but slid the rusted key toward him anyway.

"Room's upstairs," he said. "Second door on the left. And—" his gaze darkened, "—free advice boy, Stay out of the fire that doesn't burn your house.""

Ray met the innkeeper's gaze, his expression unreadable.

The warning was clear.

Stay out of trouble. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong.

But Ray had never been the type to walk away from a fire.

Especially when the fire was already at his doorstep.

Without a word, he picked up the rusted key and turned toward the stairs.

The wooden steps creaked beneath his weight as he climbed, the dim lanterns casting flickering shadows along the narrow hallway.

The key slid into the lock with a faint click, and the door groaned as he pushed it open.

The room was small—just a single bed, a wooden chair, and a nightstand resting on top. The walls were worn, the scent of old wood and faint traces of alcohol lingering in the air.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough.

Ray locked the door behind him and dropped his bag onto the chair. His sword, still strapped to his waist, felt heavier than usual—like a silent reminder of what lay ahead.

He let out a slow breath, his mind was still replaying everything the innkeeper had said.

A skirmish with the Black Market. A dungeon. Ancient treasure.

Why does the system want me here?

Does it want me to get the Ancient treasure inside.

If so, isn't the timing awful.

There were too many unknowns. Too many things moving in the shadows.

But thinking about it now wouldn't change anything.

He needed rest.

Tomorrow, he'd start figuring things out.

With that final thought, Ray switched the lights off and lay back against the mattress.

The city outside was restless.

But within moments, he had drifted into sleep.

**

Ray woke before dawn, the dim morning light slipping through the cracks in the wooden shutters, casting faint golden streaks across the worn floor.

His body felt rested, but his mind hadn't stopped moving. The weight of yesterday's discoveries still pressed against his thoughts, each unanswered question looping in his head like an unsolved puzzle.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. He didn't have time to dwell on things he couldn't change.

There was work to do.

The scent of aged wood and faint traces of burning oil lingered in the air as he descended the creaking staircase.

The innkeeper was already moving about, his heavy steps echoing softly as he set up for the day.

A few early risers sat scattered across the tavern, hunched over mugs of weak ale and plates of simple food—bread, eggs, and dried meat.

Some ate in silence, others exchanged hushed conversations, their voices laced with the same underlying tension that had never left the city.

Ray didn't linger.

He dropped a few silvers on the counter, grabbed a plate, and ate swiftly.

The meal was plain, unremarkable—but it was food, and it was enough.

Within minutes, he was out the door, stepping back into the restless heart of Ironhold City.

The streets were already stirring, the pulse of the city shifting from cautious silence to the rhythmic clatter of morning life.

Merchants called out their wares, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of trade, their eyes sharp as they exchanged coin with wary travelers.

Carriages rumbled over the cobblestone roads, their wheels clicking in sync with hurried footsteps.

Mana-powered vehicles hummed faintly in the background, weaving through the morning rush with a soft glow beneath their enchanted frames.

But beneath all of it, that same tension still lingered.

Like a storm waiting to break.

I am lucky I became the disciple of a Saint.

The thought drifted into his mind as he walked, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the hilt of his sword.

His swordsmanship had improved significantly over the past week, though most of that progress wasn't just from training—it was his Sword God Trait.

Without it, I wouldn't be what I am today.

He didn't fear the fight ahead.

That wasn't the problem. But he wasn't stupid enough to ignore the feeling clawing at the back of his mind—the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

It took him nearly an hour to reach his destination.

The dungeon's entrance was located near a market district, tucked away behind rows of buildings that should have looked ordinary.

And yet, the moment Ray arrived, he knew—this place was anything but ordinary.

***