Chapter 8 – Expensive Knowledge
Dannie kept glancing at the man walking ahead of her. Jace's frame was slender, almost unimpressive, but the way he moved—the steadiness in each step, the calmness in his demeanor—was far from ordinary.
She had seen enough soldiers to know the difference. This wasn't the recklessness of youth or the overconfidence of fools. His presence alone was heavy enough to make even the beasts hesitate.
How can someone who looks so weak… be that powerful?
Earlier, she had watched him cut down a pack of beasts with unnerving ease. To her, they had been deadly, unpredictable monsters. To him, they were nothing more than an inconvenience.
As they walked through the ruined streets, silence stretched between them. Jace didn't bother explaining where they were headed. He didn't look back, didn't slow down—he simply expected her to keep up.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of weaving through crumbling alleys and broken homes, they reached an open stretch of cracked road. There, tethered lazily to a bent street pole, was his vehicle.
At first, Dannie's eyes widened in disbelief.
It was… a horse.
Or at least, it looked like one.
Its body was strong and tall, muscles rippling beneath a coat of dark, glossy fur. But that was where the similarities ended. This horse bore two tails that swayed restlessly behind it, each one as thick and flexible as a whip. Its head was broader, crowned with three eyes—two at the sides and one set directly in the center of its forehead, glowing faintly like a burning coal.
It turned toward her, and the center eye locked onto her with unsettling precision. Dannie stiffened, suddenly feeling as though her every thought was being weighed.
The beast snorted, exhaling a plume of hot air. Its back, unlike the hard leather saddles she remembered from home, was covered in a dense, soft fur that almost resembled that of a wolf. It looked both comfortable and dangerous at the same time.
She swallowed hard. "That's… not a horse."
Jace smirked faintly as he loosened the tether and stroked the creature's neck, which rumbled with a low, approving growl.
"Close enough. We call them Silver Backed Runners. Its metallic skin makes it fast, durable, and with enough training, smarter than most people you'll ever meet. This one's mine."
Dannie hesitated, staring at the strange animal. "It… won't bite me, will it?"
"Not unless I tell it to," Jace replied dryly. He swung himself onto the beast's back with practiced ease and glanced down at her. "Well? You planning to stand there all night, or do you want to live?"
Her grip tightened on her daggers. The thought of climbing onto such a monstrous creature made her stomach churn, but so did the thought of being left behind.
Gritting her teeth, she stepped forward. The Runner sniffed her once, its three eyes blinking in eerie unison, then huffed as if satisfied.
Carefully, she climbed up behind Jace, settling onto the surprisingly soft fur. The sensation was strange—almost comforting, yet unnervingly alive.
As soon as she was seated, Jace clicked his tongue. The Silver Backed Runner surged forward with explosive speed, its tails whipping through the air as it bounded across the ruined road.
Wind tore at Dannie's hair and clothes. Her heart pounded, half from fear, half from exhilaration. She had never moved so fast in her life.
Jace, however, sat unmoving, balanced as though born in the saddle.
After several long minutes, when the Runner finally slowed to a steady pace, Dannie found her voice.
"What… what are you?" she asked breathlessly. "A scout? A soldier? You talk like you know everything about this world."
Jace's lips curled into the faintest smile. "Knowledge is expensive, kid. You don't get it for free."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then why bring me with you? Why tell me anything if you don't care whether I live or die? Why not just leave me back there?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. The only sounds were the steady thuds of the Runner's hooves against the cracked pavement and the whisper of the wind.
Finally, he said, "Because you're not ordinary. At least, I hope so. Most newcomers die within hours. You fought. You survived. You're not just lucky—you're sharp. And…" He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "…I'm curious to see how long you'll last.
Dannie's stomach knotted at his words. To him, her life was an experiment. A gamble.
Still, she pressed on. "Then at least tell me this—what's happening to me? That… screen I keep seeing. Those stats. Is it really the only way to survive here?"
Jace chuckled under his breath. "You ask too many questions." He patted the Runner's neck, and the beast quickened its pace. "But fine. This time, I'll give you a taste of an answer. That system of yours? It's both a blessing and a curse. It'll make you stronger—but only if you're willing to pay the price."
"The price?" Dannie repeated.
His smile darkened. "Actually, it doesn't matter anymore. You're here, and you'll need the system just like me—and like everybody else."
Though she wanted to ask more, she stopped herself. For now, silence seemed safer.
And strangely enough, she felt a bit of relief beside this man. Something about him told her he didn't have ill intentions. At least, not yet.
Hopefully.
Hours passed. The forest they entered was unfamiliar, a place so remote that even in her original world it would have been left untouched. Strange beasts wandered the shadows—some grotesque, twisted versions of animals she recognized, others so alien she could hardly call them animals at all.
The Silver Backed Runner never faltered, weaving gracefully through the dense undergrowth.
After nearly another hour, Dannie's eyes caught a faint glow in the distance.
She blinked. No, not faint—brilliant. A sea of lights shimmering far ahead, piercing through the darkness.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"A… city?"
Jace's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Welcome to the edges of survival. That's your next lesson."
Dannie parted her lips in awe, but quickly closed them again, worried the rushing wind might invite stray insects inside.
The city ahead rose like something out of a dream. Massive walls encircled it, their sheer height and thickness daring anyone to test their strength. Yet what unsettled her most was not the walls—it was what lay above them.
The city was sealed beneath a vast dome of shimmering light. It pulsed faintly, like a living thing, bending the stars behind it.
Her brows furrowed. "A dome? Is that… magic?"
Jace didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the radiant barrier, his expression unreadable.
As they drew closer, Dannie noticed smaller houses and shops scattered just outside the protective walls. People moved about in odd garments, trading goods beneath makeshift lanterns that flickered with pale blue fire. Merchants shouted in strange accents, bartering in currencies she had never heard of.
Everything about it felt otherworldly—bizarre clothes, unfamiliar faces, creatures being led on leashes as though they were ordinary beasts of burden. Yet despite the alien strangeness, the city itself shone like a beacon of survival.
Dannie's heart raced. For the first time since waking in this world, she felt a fragile thread of hope.
At the entrance, a pair of guards stood watch beside an outpost built into the towering gate. Their armor gleamed faintly beneath the dome's light, and strange weapons hung at their sides—nothing she recognized, yet they radiated a quiet threat.
Jace gave them a simple nod as he approached. To her surprise, that was all it took. The guards stepped aside without question, as though his presence alone was a pass.
But their eyes lingered—not on him, but on her.
Dannie stiffened under their stares. Of course, she thought. I must look like an outsider. She forced an awkward nod in return before quickly fixing her gaze ahead, unwilling to meet their scrutiny any longer.
Once past the gates, her breath caught. Wonders unfolded before her eyes. Inside was so bright like it's morning. The streets bustled with life—merchants hawking strange trinkets, shimmering fabrics dyed in colors she had never seen before, glowing fruits piled high on wooden stalls. The air smelled of roasted meats and sweet, spiced drinks. Creatures she didn't have names for pulled carts, while children darted through the crowd with carefree laughter.
It was nothing like the ruins she had just traveled through. This city… it looked alive. Thriving. Richer, even, than the city she had once called home in her own world.
The memory of that place stirred something heavy in her chest. Faces came unbidden—her family, her loved ones. For the first time since arriving here, the longing hit her sharply, a reminder of how far away she truly was.
The memory of her old city refused to let go.
Faces flickered in her mind—her mother humming in the kitchen, her father's steady voice calling her name, the laughter of friends echoing down familiar streets. Even the smallest things came rushing back: the way the morning sun touched the windows of her home, the warmth of shared meals, the comfort of knowing she belonged somewhere.
Her throat tightened. Compared to that life, this place was dazzling, yes, but also foreign. Too loud, too strange, too far from everything she had lost.
For a moment, she felt a crushing weight of loneliness press down on her chest. The crowd surged around her, yet she had never felt more alone.
Her gaze dropped to the cobblestones beneath her feet. What if I never see them again? What if this world doesn't let me go back?
The thought chilled her more than any monster had.
She bit her lip hard, forcing herself not to crumble here, not in front of Jace, not in front of strangers. Her hand brushed against the hilts of her daggers, clinging to the only constant she had left—her will to survive.
"Ahem… whatever's on your mind, I'm perfectly sure that's not gonna help you survive here."
His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Only then did Dannie realize the Runner had already stopped. She turned, startled, as Jace dismounted with practiced ease.
Flustered, she slid down after him, her legs a little unsteady from the ride. Awkwardly, she placed a hand on the Runner's neck and whispered, "Thank you… for bringing me here." The beast snorted, its three eyes blinking once in unison, as if acknowledging her gratitude.
Jace gestured toward the large structure looming before them. Its high archways and carved stone pillars bore a sign written in bold letters: Adventurer's Association.
"This building," he said, "is where you'll start. From here, they'll guide you—teach you everything you need. If you lack money, a boarding house, a job offer, knowledge… just ask the receptionist. Here."
He pressed a small token into her hand. Its weight was surprisingly heavy, etched with intricate markings that shimmered faintly in the dome's light.
"Give this to Jessica," Jace continued. "She'll know what to do with you."
Without another word, he turned back to his Runner. He adjusted the reins, stroked the creature's neck once, then climbed back into the saddle.
"See you soon," he said, though his voice carried a note of doubt. "I hope.
And with that, he was gone—riding off through the crowded streets, swallowed quickly by the city's noise and light.
Dannie stood frozen, token clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn't even managed to respond. The sudden emptiness gnawed at her, a hollow echo of the loneliness she thought she had buried moments ago.
There's no turning back now.
She lifted her gaze to the tall building before her, its sign glowing faintly in the lamplight: Adventurer's Association.
With a steadying breath, she took her first step forward.