Inside the city, Liam's first reaction was a bright, genuine smile.

The moment he stepped past the gates, he was hit by the noise, color, and motion of what could only be called a true fantasy world.

The streets were wide and uneven, paved with old gray stones polished smooth by centuries of footsteps. Stalls lined both sides of the road, draped with colorful fabrics and filled with fruit, pottery, and leather goods.

People bustled everywhere but what caught Liam's attention wasn't the human crowd.

It was the few figures that stood out among them.

They looked human at first glance, until you noticed the ears. Long, soft, twitching ears. Some were pointed like a fox's, others round like a bear's, some tall and slender like a rabbit's. Their tails flicked subtly with each movement.

Beastkin.

Liam's eyes brightened instantly. He had seen countless depictions and renderings of them online, but seeing them here—in the flesh—felt surreal. The childlike part of him wanted to walk right up and touch those ears, to see if they were as soft as he imagined.

Especially the rabbit and cat ones.

They were beautiful. Some had bright silver hair, others golden or snow-white, their features soft and distinct. But the longer Liam observed, the more his expression changed.

Most of them were in rags.

The fabrics clung loosely to their bodies, torn at the edges, barely offering modesty. Iron collars circled their necks, some attached to thin chains held by humans in fine clothes. Others carried heavy baskets on their backs or scrubbed the streets in silence while being barked at by guards.

The sight darkened Liam's mood.

"Slaves," he muttered under his breath.

The realization dulled his smile. He had read enough stories and seen enough virtual worlds to know what it meant when one race walked in chains while another walked freely. Beastkin weren't just second-class citizens here—they were property.

He exhaled quietly, gaze softening as a small fox-eared girl hurried past him, balancing a crate twice her size. Her thin arms trembled, yet the human merchant beside her didn't even spare a glance.

So this world wasn't just medieval. It's hierarchical. Brutally so.

"Figures," Liam murmured. "Magic and cruelty always share a bed. Besides, one thing every intelligent race is good at, is the classification of other races and themselves too."

He moved on, his curiosity tempered by reflection.

After everything—the dungeon, the fight, the endless walk—he needed somewhere to rest. His body wasn't tired, but his mind wanted silence.

He scanned the streets, looking for an inn sign. There were plenty of shops, taverns, and open-air vendors, but none looked like lodging. The locals seemed used to outsiders, but their glances lingered a bit too long on his modern outfit.

Finally, Liam decided to ask.

He approached a middle-aged woman walking with a basket of vegetables.

"Excuse me," he said politely. "Sorry to bother you."

The woman startled slightly, glancing up at him. Her eyes flicked over his strange clothes, his clean face, his calm smile. For a brief moment, she seemed ready to walk away. But the tone in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes made her pause.

"Yes?" she asked warily.

"I'm new here," Liam said. "I'm looking for an inn where I can stay. And if possible, somewhere nearby to sell monster cores."

At the mention of monster cores, her brows lifted. She studied him more closely. His calm posture didn't match the rough look of a mercenary or adventurer. Yet there was something unmistakably sharp about him.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I work at an inn, actually. The Mercenary Guild is just a short walk from there. If you don't mind the company, I can take you."

"That would help a lot," Liam said, offering a polite smile.

The woman's face softened a little. "Alright, follow me."

They walked together through the streets, weaving between carts and market stalls. The woman introduced herself as Annie. Along the way, she pointed out a few landmarks for Liam, since he was new to the whole place. She pointed to the blacksmith's quarter, the central square and the watchtower where the best mages are gathered.

Liam listened quietly, taking in every detail. He noted the mix of technology—torches and lamps powered by faint magical light, pulleys used to haul goods to upper balconies.

Magic wasn't just weaponry here. It was also infrastructure.

They walked for nearly thirty minutes before stopping in front of a two-story building with wooden beams and a red-tiled roof. A faded sign above the entrance read Silver Leaf Inn.

Annie turned toward him. "We're here."

She led him inside and guided him to the front counter where a young woman stood polishing a glass.

"This gentleman needs a room," Annie said.

The attendant nodded and smiled politely. "Welcome to White Daisy Inn. Our best room is one gold coin per night. Meals included."

Liam nodded. He reached into his pocket—technically, the Dimensional Space—and drew a shining gold coin.

The attendant blinked, taken aback for a second before accepting it carefully.

"Room three, second floor," she said, handing him a key.

Annie gave a small smile. "The Mercenary Guild is just down the road from here, at the corner where you'll see a large bronze sign. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," Liam said. "For the help."

"It's nothing," Annie replied with a nod. "Have a good stay."

She excused herself and returned to her chores.

Liam glanced toward the staircase but didn't go up. Rest could wait. He had business first.

He stepped back outside and followed Annie's directions.

The street leading to the guild grew louder the closer he got. The calm chatter of the market gave way to the rough laughter of men who smelled of swear and blood.

A massive wooden structure came into view, its walls reinforced with iron plates. A metal plaque above the double doors read:

Mercenary Guild of Astrin

Even before entering, Liam could hear the chaos inside—boasting voices, laughter, arguments, and the clatter of tankards on wood.

He pushed the door open and instantly, the noise died down.

Dozens of eyes turned toward him.

Inside, the guild was alive with energy. The first thing he saw was two men in armor squared off in the middle of the floor, one bleeding from a cut on his forehead.

At the back, a notice board was pinned with monster contracts, job listings, and bounties. Several mercenaries leaned over tables, counting coins or drinking from large mugs.

Liam's entrance drew stares not just because he was new, but also because of his attire.

He had no armor or weapon on him, and his clothes was free of dirt. His clothes were also spotless. His posture was too calm. His shoes, though strange, looked quite valuable.

The murmurs started immediately.

"Who's that?"

"New guy?"

"Doesn't look like an adventurer."

"Look at those clothes. What the hell's he wearing?"

Liam ignored the whispers. He simply looked around, scanning the place once before walking toward the counter at the far end.

Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with a trimmed beard and a scar along his jaw. His expression was neutral but curious.

"You new?" the man asked.

"Yes," Liam said simply. "I have monster cores to sell."

The man's eyebrows lifted slightly. He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over Liam again as if trying to decide whether he was serious. Then he gave a small nod and gestured to the side.

"Show me what you've got."

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