The square was nearly empty. Adrian's head—once the hero of my virtual world—lay abandoned, surrounded by a spreading pool of dark blood that slowly stained the stage. I couldn't tear my eyes away. One question kept echoing in my mind: why? Why had he—the protagonist, the very heart of the story—met such a pitiful end?
I felt suffocated. My hands trembled as I fought to maintain composure. Beside me, an elderly man, likely inebriated, staggered with a beer mug in hand. I had no choice—I had to know what had happened.
"Excuse me," I said, straining to gain his attention. "Why… why was he decapitated?"
The man paused, his half-closed eyes narrowing as he regarded me. "You don't know?" he slurred, the smell of alcohol and sweat heavy on his breath.
"I don't know," I replied, striving to appear as innocent as possible, yet his suspicious gaze—likely triggered by my disheveled, out-of-place appearance—made my heart pound faster. The pressure in my head grew unbearable, but I persisted.
"Alright, I'll tell you," he finally said, his tone distracted. "That one… his name was Adrian the Second. He was the son of an aristocrat. His family was swimming in wealth—aristocrats, they say, bathed in gold. But when his father, Adrian the First, died, he squandered it all. Gambling, booze, women… his riches vanished into nothing. And now, look at him." The man burst into a bitter, derisive laugh.
"But… what about his mother?" I ventured, desperate to piece together the mystery.
For a brief moment, the man stiffened. His eyes shrank further, and suspicion reappeared on his face. "Well… she… she left with her brothers. Adrian was an only child." His words were muddled, as if even he were unsure of their truth.
With a grunt, the man staggered away, leaving me alone. I stood there, fixated on the stage as the guards arrived to collect Adrian's lifeless body and head. Gradually, the crowd began to disperse, and I remained frozen in place, paralyzed by questions.
Adrian… in the game, you were a symbol of hope—a hero destined to change everything. How did you fall so miserably? And, most importantly, what did your end mean for me? With the story irrevocably changed, I, Doruuk Velor, was left to fight for survival.
Determined to focus on my own fate, I gestured to open the status window—perhaps something there could guide me.
Status: Doruuk VelorRace: HumanClass: Thief (Novice)Rank: 9Strength (STR): 10Stamina (SP): 15Dexterity (DEX): 12Intelligence (INT): 8Magic (MP): 0Wisdom (WIS): 0Ability: Escape (Cooldown: 10 minutes)
Staring at those numbers, a profound emptiness filled me. No magic, no wisdom. My physical stats were barely serviceable, and my sole ability—a support skill with a long cooldown—would leave me vulnerable if used. This wasn't the character I would have chosen to start a game with.
And as if fate were mocking me further, my race was human. In the world of Shadowveil, humans were the weakest—no innate abilities like the dwarves with their masterful forging skills, or the elves whose magic-infused archery could fell monsters, or the beast-men who thrived on raw physical power. Every human had to begin at rock bottom and claw their way up.
I wandered aimlessly through the labyrinthine streets of Drakathen, the largest city in Orvhalis. Its alleys teemed with life, yet every face seemed edged with hostility. People raced between destinations, merchants bellowed their wares, and shadowy figures melted into darkened lanes.
Hunger gnawed at me—my meager slice of bread was far from enough. My stomach growled incessantly, and I couldn't shake the knowledge that I knew nothing of Doruuk Velor's past. Had he a family? Someone who might aid me? Likely not—otherwise he wouldn't have fallen so low. And now, with money scarce, my hope of surviving dimmed further.
Then, a guard's shout pierced the clamor: "Tomorrow at noon, the Hunting Portal opens!"
My heart raced. The Hunting Portal was a dungeon that emerged every two weeks, where fighters risked everything for coin by battling monsters. It wasn't a realm of safety—inside, the laws of man dissolved into chaos. Anyone could strike you down, be it a monstrous beast or an opportunistic player; death was always a heartbeat away. It was there that the true nature of humanity revealed itself.
I had no other choice. To carve out a future, I'd have to register as a fighter. With newfound resolve, I set course for the guild.
The interior of the guild was chaotic—a swarm of warriors in gleaming armor mingled and bantered, forming groups over clinking mugs of beer. Some wore the nervous excitement of beginners; others, the scarred, aloof air of veterans. And there I was, clad in my black coat and armed with nothing more than a common dagger, drawing their judgmental glances.
Approaching the secretary, I presented the document I'd clutched in my pocket. She examined me briefly. "Show me the document," she demanded in a bored tone. After a few seconds of scrutiny, she arched an eyebrow. "Ah, low level. You looked stronger, I thought. Registration costs 10 copper coins."
"I don't have them," I admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment.
She sighed, her gaze softening just a touch. "Fine. I'll still register you. But if you don't pay up tomorrow, you'll end up like the man we saw this morning."
I nodded gratefully, though the weight of yet another burden settled upon me.
After completing the registration, I left the guild, my thoughts heavy as I retraced my steps through the city. The sun was setting, and hunger gnawed at me once more.
Not long after, I witnessed a scene that reignited a spark of determination: a man snatched a bag from an elderly lady and bolted. Hope flared within me—perhaps by helping her I could earn a reward and test my abilities. I activated my Escape ability. In an instant, I felt lighter, my movements swifter than before. Though not blindingly fast, I was agile enough to vanish into the crowd. Within about twelve seconds, I caught up to the thief and intercepted him with a decisive push.
I seized him and led him back to the guards, returning the bag to the lady. She looked up at me, her surprise evident behind weary eyes. "I didn't expect you to be so young," she murmured with a shy smile. "Thank you, son. Take this—it isn't much, but I hope it helps."
Her coins exceeded what I needed for a decent meal. I bowed and thanked her sincerely. In that fleeting moment, I saw that even in this ruthless world, small sparks of kindness still shone through.
With renewed energy, I used the coins to grab a meal, though it wasn't enough to secure proper shelter. I found refuge in a quiet street corner, wrapping my coat tighter as the cold seeped in, and slept fitfully.
Dawn arrived early. As the sun's first rays crept over the rooftops of Drakathen, I steeled myself for the impending trial of the Hunting Portal. I knew it wouldn't be easy—but I had no choice.
End of Chapter 2