The city Haldrith is what you could consider to be the capital city of Therandor, which is precisely why the Fivefold Bounty Festival is being held here.

  “Here we are.” Dad called out from the front.

  Exiting first from the wagon with a nimbleness to my feet, I stared in wonder at the gates of Haldrith.

  The gates themselves were enormous, not in a cruel or imposing way, but in a respectful and gentle manner. Each side was flanked by statues of large, winged serpents carved from red stone, with arched beams just beyond that formed a canopy above the entrance, from which hundreds of festive banners hung. Some were fresh and brilliant, others faded from the last celebration, each embroidered with the emblems of villages across the province: foxes, trees, sheaves of barley, waterwheels, and more. Lurindell was marked by the design of a swaying large tree.

  Peering past the gates and just inside the walls, the festival had already begun to spill outward. Vendors lined the inner walkways, not yet in their final spots, but eager to find early crowds. Children darted between legs with streamers tied to sticks, and bells chimed from somewhere high above. Local guards in polished leather armor greeted guests with festival ribbons tied to their belts, offering directions or guiding carts to proper lots. One man with a jug sang a folk song off-key. Another was trying to calm a goat that refused to stop chewing on the legs of stands.

  The roads within Haldrith forked and twisted, built from broad, sun-warmed stones. Every path seemed to lead toward the central plaza, where colored lanterns had already been strung from building to building like falling stars caught in netting. Somewhere deep inside, I heard the thrum of drums and laughter, joined by the soft ring of metal from swords clashing in friendly bouts. It was a relatively peaceful setting, and I felt myself being more at ease while list-

  “Urgh!”

  That short moment was quickly broken by the gagging sound of Arthur as he gingerly exited the wagon.

  His short auburn hair had finally been neatly combed for once, though that familiar cowlick still stuck out stubbornly at the back of his head. He wore a fresh linen shirt the color of oatmilk, fastened with polished brass buttons, and a deep green vest embroidered subtly at the hem with wheat sheaves and curling vines. His trousers were better than usual too, dark wool pressed clean, tucked into soft leather boots that came up just past the ankle.

  Mom deserved an award for making Arthur seem actually somewhat distinguished.

  What remained unmistakably him, however, was the way he hunched forward, elbow on his knee, hand clutched over his mouth as his face turned a pale, blotchy green. His eyes, those same vivid jade ones, shimmered, not with warmth this time, but with the dull glaze of someone deeply regretting breakfast.

  For someone so fast, it’s a bit ironic that he gets motion sick.

  Sys looked as plain as ever, just a floating blue orb with an annoying face.

  “Ow.” I rubbed my head after Sys smacked it.

  For just a system, he has too much liberty with his actions.

  “I told you to eat light.” Elaine spoke harshly while getting out after Arthur.

  Elaine still wore her black hair straight down, with sharp, fang-like bangs that framed her molten brown eyes, eyes that looked at Arthur like an insect. Her expression hadn't softened, but something about her felt more radiant thanks to her new attire. Gone were her boring monotone and dull clothing, and instead, now she wore a deep plum tunic layered with a flowing, sleeveless robe in soft rosewood silk, embroidered faintly with curling leaf patterns along the hem. A wide sash cinched her waist, dyed in gold-threaded maroon and tied cleanly at her side. Her boots, still practical, had been polished to a shine and folded just beneath the knee with subtle lacing. A single copper pendant hung at her collarbone, swaying softly as she flicked Arthur’s forehead.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t vomit on me.”

  “Urghhhhh…….” Arthur responded.

  “Settle down.” Dad said while tending to the horses.

  Dad’s usual ruggedness gave way to a simpler, more relaxed look. His thick black hair was neatly combed back, and his tanned skin caught the soft glow of lantern light. He wore a loose, cream-colored linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with dark trousers held up by a sturdy leather belt. Over the shirt, a worn leather vest added a touch of his usual practicality, while a brightly colored woven sash wrapped around his right arm brought a festive splash of color. His boots were sturdy but polished, and though his expression remained reserved, the slight easing of his usual tension made him seem more at home among the laughter and music.

  “Not doing well, Arthur?” A friend of his called from a nearby wagon. A few other people, presumably his other friends, laughed at that.

  Arthur was too sick to respond properly, and it looked like he might end up making Elaine’s disgust a reality.

  It’d be annoying having to deal with all of that.

  But it would be funny.

  “Still, it’d be a shame to ruin Elaine’s clothes.”

  I walked up to Arthur.

  “Hey, try this.” I pressed two fingers, index and middle, of my right hand against the inside of my left wrist. “While you’re doing that, look at the people inside the city. Tell me what they’re all doing.”

  Arthur hesitated for a second, then slowly mirrored my movements, turning his gaze toward the gates. “...Ughhh... there’s... two kids chasing... another kid near a vendor,” he muttered, voice still heavy with fatigue.

  “What’s the vendor selling?”

  He squinted, leaning in a bit. “Masks. Goblin masks. And......other kinds of creatures.”

  His voice began to clear, just slightly, and I could see a flicker of life returning to his expression.

  “What other masks?” I prompted gently.

  He took a deeper breath, voice firmer now. “Orcs, skeletons, and dragons.” A small, curious smile curled on his lips.

  “You want one?” I asked, nudging him.

  “Hell yeah!” he blurted, caught off guard by the sudden burst of excitement in his own voice.

  There we go.

  He patted his chest and arms as if checking that everything still worked. “Wow. I feel great!” Then he turned and slapped me on the back with a grin. “Thanks, little bro!”

  And just like that, he took off, dashing toward his friends, full of energy again.

  Good job, Dr. Beric.

  Sys nodded his head in acknowledgement.

  “It’s nothing crazy. It’s just a little trick I picked up back on Earth.”

  “Where’d you learn that from?”

  Uh oh.

  I turned to see a familiar, inquisitive look from Elaine.

  She’s always quick to catch on to things like this.

  “I learned it from……….Old Man Coot.”

  “Old Man Coot?” She paused. “Wait, isn’t he also-”

  “I’m telling you, my friend, this is the deal of a lifetime!”

  We turned to a familiar, rowdy voice trying to scam someone.

  Old Man Coot, with his wild, tangled beard and a patch covering his right eye that seemed almost comically oversized, leaned eagerly to a fellow traveler. His red, flamboyant shirt was as ragged as ever, barely concealing his hairy, exposed belly, and his sagging leather pants hung loose with holes that revealed patches of pale, weathered skin beneath. His single wide tooth gleamed as he grinned broadly, eyes sparkling with manic energy.

  “Wait! Wait, young traveler! Surely, you can’t pass up such a once-in-a-lifetime offer!” he bellowed, waving his gnarled hands wildly. In one hand, he brandished a dusty, cobweb-covered jar filled with a suspiciously viscous greenish liquid. “Behold! Dragon spit—guaranteed to cure ailments, repel evil spirits, or at least make for a fine conversation piece!”

  The other hand raised a jagged, yellowed tooth. “And here! The tooth of an orc lord, plucked straight from the battlefield! A relic of pure power, for those brave enough to wield it.”

  The traveler met his outlandish offer with a skeptical look. “I’ve seen many orc lords in my time, and never have I seen one with teeth as small as that.”

  Old Man Coot seemed offended by that. “Really? You dare doubt the authenticity of my wares? Fine. Go ahead.” He offered him the tooth. “See for yourself. However, be careful. This is a very valuable find.”

  Is it just me or-

  “No, you’re right. He’s acting.”

  Why would he be-

  “Just wait.”

  The traveler reached his hand out and was ready to examine the tooth closely……..until, with only a single finger, he broke the tooth.

  The traveler simply stared back.

  Old Man Coot waited, before looking at him with a serious look. “You break it, you buy it.”

  Oh.

  It’s not that bad of a scheme, but uh-

  Old Man Coot was suddenly forcefully escorted by a pair of city guards that dragged him somewhere. Everyone simply watched in fascination as he tried to bribe the guards with whatever he still had in his hands.

  I glanced to Elaine. “Is he going to be okay?”

  Elaine simply shrugged. “Probably.”

  Dad sighed. “The elders will have to bust him out again.”

  Is this a regular occurrence?

  “I’m so excited!” Mom squealed with her usual flair while exiting the wagon.

  Mom wore a flowing dress of deep forest green that swayed softly with every movement. The fabric was lightweight and embroidered with subtle golden patterns that caught the light beautifully. Her auburn hair was braided more elaborately than usual, with tiny flowers woven into the strands, framing her face gently. Her jade eyes sparkled with electricity of excitement, and a delicate necklace with a small, carved pendant rested just above the neckline of her dress.

  She gave Dad a gentle peck on the cheek, offered Elaine a warm hug, and then wrapped me in an extra-tight squeeze. “I’ve been waiting so long for this!” she said, her voice full of emotion. She let go, her eyes already drifting toward memory. “Oh, I have so many beautiful memories here,” she said, looking around fondly.

  Dad smiled lightly. “Your mother’s always loved coming to the festival.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  She closed her eyes and let the moment wash over her, smiling. “The food, the people, the laughter and love, all of it is amazing.” Then she nudged Dad playfully. “Do you remember Arthur’s race?”

  "I do.” he replied with a soft chuckle.

  “Oh, he was so adorable when he came running up to us right after he won!”

  Elaine groaned under her breath at that.

  Apparently, Mom and Dad had met at a festival just like this one, way back when. Ever since—and honestly, even before that—she’s loved them. It’s why she was so deeply disappointed when the last one was canceled.

  Arthur strolled back into view, wearing his usual carefree grin. “Talking about me, huh?”

  They all launched into reminiscing. Mom led the charge, her voice bubbling with joy as she recounted stories. Arthur chimed in with his usual dumb jokes, acting like the comic relief. Dad nodded quietly, adding the occasional chuckle. Elaine smiled every now and then but spent most of the time glaring at Arthur when he teased her.

  They all looked different, yet they were still the same. Just a normal family.

  You’re one to talk.

  “What do you mean?”

  Alright, it’s my turn.

  “Huh-”

  Beric’s short silver hair is a striking cascade of sharp, layered strands, each lock angled with deliberate chaos, being shorter at the crown, flaring outward, and longer near the sides where jagged bangs brush just past his clear eyes. His skin, a few tones lighter than his family, is covered by clothes that enable him to fight at any time. A sleeveless tunic of dark blue linen clings to his tall and lean frame, tucked into fitted black trousers reinforced at the knees with soft leather padding. Over his forearms, he wears light bracers carved with faint decorative etchings, which are functional, but not without style. His boots are sturdy, scuffed from training, but polished for the occasion. His short cloak, fastened at the shoulder with a bronze clasp, can be cast off easily once the sparring begins.

  “.............”

  Sys had a proud look on his face.

  “I’m not going to praise you for that.”

  What? But I did such a good job highlighting your good points, when you’re such a massive d-

  The look on my face made him stop.

  Name: Beric Bome

  Race: Half-Elf

  Age: 10

  Class: Magical Swordsman

  Level: 187

  Strength: 922

  Speed: 948

  Stamina: 1,004

  Endurance: 989

  Durability: 963

  Mana: 1,125

  Soul Rank: Stable

  Soul Color: Blue

  You’ve definitely glowed up over the years.

  “Duh. I worked my ass off under Alric, and also with learning how to use a sword.”

  No, I meant it literally. You were chopped as hell back then.

  While I was in the process of beating Sys, Mom’s voice stopped me.

  “We should get going. If I remember right, the elders said those from Lurindell would be gathering near the central plaza.”

  “I’ll lead the way,” Arthur declared with confidence, striding a few steps ahead………only to stop abruptly behind someone in a long line.

  Elaine raised an eyebrow. “Wow, impressive. You really led us quite the way.”

  The line was longer than expected, but since all we had to do was show the guards our credentials, we’d be let in quickly.

  Yeah.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit excited.

  It’s time. I trained an entire three years under that hellish training regime. I did all of that for the sole purpose of proving my strength.

  I felt a tingling sensation in my soul.

  To also prove that cooperation is possible between humans and the spirits.

  And now, the time to prove them both has come.

  It’s time for the Fivefold Bounty Festival.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Once inside the gates, the full scale of Haldrith unfolded in front of me like the first page of a book you’ve been waiting way too long to read.

  I took the lead for a bit, boots tapping lightly against the stone as I let the others trail behind. I had to admit, I was too excited to stay with them. While they had been here before, it was my first time.

  The first thing I noticed was the scent. Not just one, but a blend of them. Haldrith smelled like roasted chestnuts, honeyed pastries, sweat, leather, herbs, and something slightly burnt that no one seemed to be acknowledging, besides me, of course. It was a kind of organized chaos, really. People shouted from market stalls while others argued cheerfully over the cost of fried skewers or patterned scarves. There were jugglers balancing on crates, musicians clashing lutes and drums with wild enthusiasm, and a troupe of dancers spinning with ribbons near the outer fountain.

  Something I noticed as well was that the buildings here weren’t made to match each other. One structure would be tall and narrow with ivy scaling its stone walls, and right beside it you’d find a squat house with colorful wooden shingles and a carved sun on its door. Wooden balconies stuck out like elbows, some with flower baskets, others with laundry flapping in the breeze. The rooftops sloped and dipped like waves, broken occasionally by watchtowers or bell-towers with fluttering flags atop their peaks.

  While it wasn’t following an exact theme, Haldrith’s buildings were still elegantly and expertly crafted from any material such as marble or concrete, polished stone, and sturdy timber. Most beams and archways were carved with precise, flowing designs, vines, birds, leaves caught mid-sway, and lacquered in rich, natural tones. The streets were clean, paved with flat grey-brown stones, and crisscrossed by raised aqueducts of gently trickling water.

  I almost walked into what I thought to be a stone wall, until I looked up and realized I was looking at a stone golem.

  It had to be at least eight feet all, with its body being a mess of uneven granite slabs, etched with faintly glowing runes that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. Moss clung to its shoulders and elbows, giving the impression it had been here longer than the city itself. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow as it raised an arm to me.

  I didn’t know what its intentions were until I saw a small hologram-like projection appearing on its hand. Looking closer, I saw that it was a small mini map of the entire city.

  This is a Golem Greeter. These guys usually welcome people to the cities that they’re stationed in, by either giving gifts or showing newcomers a brief but accurate look at the city itself. They’re very helpful beings.

  “Cool.”

  I nodded at the golem as a sign of appreciation, and it then pulled its arm back and tottered over to another visitor.

  “Hey! You there! Boy with the intense stare and the overly dramatic cloak!”

  I froze.

  A middle-aged woman was leaning out from a window above me, waving a small bag.

  “You look like you could use a cinnamon bun!”

  I blinked. “.......I mean, I won’t say no.”

  She tossed the bag down. I caught it, barely, and gave her a respectful nod. Inside was a warm, sweet-smelling pastry still dusted in spice. I broke a piece off and took a bite.

  It made me shed a tear. I didn’t expect cinnamon buns to be in Zarvendia. I also didn’t expect the people here to be so kind.

  Give me a bite.

  “Get your own.”

  Tsk.

  I kept walking, trying my best to not drop my cinnamon bun from the sheer amount of people that I walked by. There were nobles in light silks gliding past merchants with soot-stained fingers. Kids in patched-up tunics dashed past decorated knights sipping cider with one boot off. I passed a cloaked figure holding a glowing glass orb, and I then overheard a group of farmers haggling over squash. What really caught my attention was a lady balancing a basket on her head while simultaneously arguing with a puppet. I don't even know who the puppet belonged to, but it was winning.

  The population was bustling, but it was also diverse.

  A pair of rabbit-eared children hopped between stalls, their downy white fur catching flecks of sunlight as they tugged a flustered fox-eared vendor toward a candy stand. Towering above them, a horned giant in a silk apron balanced trays of sizzling skewers across his massive shoulders, the scent of charred spices trailing behind him. A trio of cat folk beings lounged lazily on the edge of a rooftop, tails moving in sync as they watched the dancers below with amused grins. Further ahead, I glimpsed a woman, with bark-like skin and eyes that glowed faintly green, whispering softly to a vine-wrapped cart as it moved seemingly on its own. I even saw a scaled merchant arguing with another over crystal vials.

  It hit me.

  I really was in a parallel world.

  You using magic and summoning dead beings didn’t hit you?

  “Can you read the mood?”

  Reading the signs that helped direct me, I saw that I was entering Tally Lane, and from what I just saw, it was the street of shops.

  A blacksmith’s forge roared to my left, the clang of hammer on metal ringing out in steady rhythm as a dwarf with arms like oak pounded red-hot steel into a blade the size of my spine……….Wait, a dwarf?

  The dwarf looked like he’d been carved from stone and set on fire. Stocky and broad-shouldered, his arms rippled with muscle as he brought the hammer down onto the glowing blade, sparks flying with each strike. His beard, a thick braid of fiery red, was tied with metal clasps shaped like axes and anvils, swaying slightly with each movement. A scorched leather apron hung from his neck, stained from years of work, and his soot-covered face glistened with sweat.

  You’re staring.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Sparks leapt into the air and danced off the forge’s awning, where a crude but proud sign read “Garrun & Sons—Steel That Bites Back.” Across from it, a glassblower’s workshop gleamed with color, dozens of delicate bottles and orbs lined in careful rows along floating shelves, glowing faintly with trapped elements? I couldn’t tell. I passed an apothecary with an herb rack spilling out onto the street, the air thick with lavender, ginger, and something sharp that made my eyes water. A gnome in goggles.

  Keep staring like that and your eyes are going to pop like popcorn.

  The gnome was an energetic, small being in a patchwork coat speckled with stains and pockets overflowing with strange tools. His round goggles, cracked but carefully mended, magnified eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity. Tiny hands deftly held a small vial of “forest-fire tonic,” the amber liquid swirling with faint green flames that flickered just beneath the glass. His wild, tousled hair stuck out in every direction, and a grin stretched wide across his freckled face as he offered the vial to me.

  I declined.

  Further on, a weapons shop displayed everything from curved daggers to spears taller than me, most of them etched with runes or wrapped in leathers dyed deep greens and reds. Then there was the baker’s stall, where the smell of honeyed rolls and nut-flour tarts nearly hijacked my entire journey on the spot.

  But everything wasn’t beautiful.

  I passed by an alleyway, and I stopped when I saw the shivering figure of a small boy rummaging in the trash.

  He noticed me.

  He tried to cover himself and to hide from any possible dangers.

  This cinnamon bun was very tasty……..

  I threw it to him, and the boy, surprised, caught it with trembling hands.

  Without a word, I walked away. I didn’t wait for any words of thanks or the like. Not because there was no need to, or because just the act of it was enough. None of that bullshit.

  I didn’t help him. I simply did the bare minimum to ease the burden of wanting to help.

  I knew that if I really wanted to help him, I’d do something more. I’d save him from such a dirty life.

  But I didn’t.

  And I knew that, which is why I didn’t want to hear any words of thanks.

  I didn’t deserve them.

  Passing by the people like a ghost and ogling at the buildings, I came across a tall building that stole all of my attention. I read the sign.

  The World Guild.

  It rose at the far end of the avenue like it knew it was the coolest building on the block, and honestly, it was. The whole structure was built from deep, charcoal-toned stone accented with forest wood beams. It stood three stories tall, but it didn’t sprawl like some awkward barracks. Arched windows caught the midday sun, casting warm light against the broad entranceway, which was framed by a pair of carved columns shaped like entwining branches and spears.

  Classy.

  A wide banner hung above the double doors, deep green stitched with gold thread, bearing a type of emblem: a circle of five symbols—a sword, staff, bow, hammer, and glasses—with a single golden star in the center.

  From inside, I could already hear laughter, clashing mugs, and someone loudly arguing about the classification of wyverns versus dragons. A few adventurers lounged outside on the polished stone benches. Two of them were comparing swords, one feeding crumbs to a suspiciously intelligent raven, and another, fully armored, just napping in the sun like a well-fed cat.

  The World Guild is the main, official organization that oversees and supports adventurers across this continent. It functions as the central authority for registering, training, and managing legally recognized adventurers, setting standards and providing resources for their work. The Guild acts as a hub for contracts, permits, and information, coordinating quests and bounties while ensuring adventurers operate within certain rules.

  I took a step forward.

  It was right there.

  It’s what I’ve been working so hard for.

  I reached my hand out.

  “Beric!”

  I paused.

  I turned to see the distant figure of Mom calling for me. “Where’d you go?”

  ………..I know.

  I lowered my hand and turned away from the World Guild.

  I’m still too young, and I have to deal with the festival.

  But don’t you worry. I haven’t forgotten about you, and I never will.

  I will be back.