The merchants whispered quietly among themselves as he passed. There was something unnerving about him — not malice, but gravity. The kind of presence that made lesser men straighten their backs without realizing it. One of the older vendors bowed slightly without knowing why.
"You heading to the Spire, lad?" an armorsmith called from behind his stall, voice cautious but curious.
Xavier paused, glancing at him. "That obvious?"
The man chuckled, shaking his head. "Word travels fast when someone's mad enough to walk into that place solo. The Spire doesn't take kindly to pride."
"I'm not doing it for pride," Xavier replied flatly. "I'm doing it for progress."
The armorsmith blinked — then grinned faintly, half in admiration, half in disbelief. "You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that."
Xavier ignored him leaving the place. He moved to the Western gate. Outside it as he was told was the location of the dungeon gate...
