Professionals

Limon stepped into the fitting room with the mage robe in hand.

The design was straightforward just a single flowing piece with a hat. After making sure he had it facing the right way, he slipped it on.

The black fabric draped over him like liquid shadow, smooth and supple to the touch. As he adjusted the wide-brimmed pointed hat atop his head, Limon caught sight of himself in the narrow mirror. For a moment, he simply stared.

The intricate silver embroidery on the robe glinted faintly in the dim light, depicting arcane symbols and abstract patterns that seemed to hum with unspoken power. He couldn't help but think, "Not bad at all." The robe exuded an aura of mystique, perfectly complementing the staff he'd just acquired.

When he emerged, the shopkeeper's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Now that looks like a proper adventurer," she said with a warm smile, though her gaze briefly flickered to his nearly empty coin pouch.

Her compliment, though appreciated, didn't stop her from presenting the bill. "A total of forty gold coins, please. Thank you for your business!"

Limon handed over the last of his money, his pouch now as light as a feather. At least the transaction had gone smoothly being short on coin in a new world was not the kind of trouble he wanted to face.

The shopkeeper, ever professional, gave him a courteous bow as he exited the store.

As Limon strolled toward the practice area, he absently ran his fingers over the embroidered runes on his robe. His mind, however, was elsewhere focused on his rapidly depleting finances. While he wasn't panicking yet, the reality was clear: he needed a source of income, and soon. Fortunately, he now had access to commissions through the adventurer's guild.

The rest area was bustling with adventurers preparing for their own journeys. Limon's gaze swept across the groups scattered around the hall. His adventurer's identification, granted by the guild, allowed him to glean some basic information about others nearby.

Level 13. Level 15. Level 21. Level 26.

Limon's eyes darted to the glowing numbers floating subtly above the adventurers' heads. Most of the levels were in the mid-teens, with a few outliers in the twenties.

Their professions varied warriors clad in heavy armor, mages adorned in flowing robes, and agile windrunners sharpening their bows.

There were also distinct racial traits among the crowd. Elves, with their slender frames and elegant features, formed the majority here, given Arezella's location in an oasis deep within elven territory. Half-elves, a blend of human and elven bloodlines, stood out with their sharp features and confident poise. Pure humans were fewer in number but unmistakable, their sturdy builds and straightforward mannerisms contrasting with the elves' natural grace.

One glance at Lalasa still stationed at the counter revealed her own level: 2.

Clearly, she wasn't a combatant. Her cheerful wave caught Limon off guard. With her playful demeanor, she seemed entirely unaffected by the adventurers who far outclassed her.

Limon nodded politely before redirecting his focus. He had no time for idle pleasantries. His own level, after all, was a stark reminder of how far he had to go. Level 0. The lowest rank in the hall.

The practice area, located through a large door to the left, was a vast open space segmented by simple wooden fences into smaller training zones. Despite its size, the area was mostly empty, save for a few training dummies stationed at regular intervals.

Limon selected a vacant spot and stepped inside. He stood there for a moment, closing his eyes to center himself. Magic was a foreign concept, even if it felt oddly familiar to him. Somewhere deep inside, he could sense a faint pulse a reservoir of dark energy lying dormant, waiting to be called upon. But the "how" of it all eluded him.

Taking a deep breath, Limon began to focus.

Listen.

Feel.

Command.

The words repeated in his mind like a mantra. Gradually, he became aware of the energy within him. It wasn't just power it was something alive, writhing in the depths of his being. It felt dark and ancient, almost predatory, yet there was an undeniable allure to it.

Opening his eyes, Limon stared at the skill panel that only he could see. Two abilities glimmered faintly: Dark Energy Control and Dark Energy Impact.

"No point overthinking it," he muttered. Closing his eyes again, he willed the first skill to activate.

A surge of power coursed through him in response. Stretching out his right hand, Limon watched as dark energy began to manifest. It swirled around his palm like living smoke, a dense, shadowy mist that radiated an unsettling aura. Though it obeyed his will, the power carried a sinister undercurrent whispers of temptation, deceit, and ruin seemed to echo faintly in his mind.

Limon tightened his grip, clenching his fist as if to remind the energy who was in control. To his surprise, the whispers faded, leaving only the raw sensation of power.

Satisfied with this initial test, Limon moved on to the second skill: Dark Energy Impact. This time, the energy coalesced rapidly, condensing into a compact sphere in his hand. It pulsated ominously, almost eager to be unleashed.

Turning to one of the training dummies, Limon hurled the sphere forward. It streaked through the air like a shadowy comet before colliding with the dummy in a burst of dark energy. The impact left scorch marks on the wooden surface, along with a faint black mist that lingered in the air.

Limon smirked. "Not bad."

He continued practicing, experimenting with the energy's responsiveness and control. Each attempt brought a little more confidence, a little more mastery.

By the time Limon exited the practice area, his understanding of his abilities had grown significantly. Though there was still much to learn, one thing was clear: he wasn't entirely defenseless in this unfamiliar world.

As he re-entered the rest area, Lalasa caught sight of him and gave an approving nod. Her earlier advice echoed in his mind: "Anyone has the potential to become a hero. But few ever make it."

Limon tightened his grip on his staff. Whether hero or not, he intended to carve his own path in this strange new land. And this was only the beginning.