The first thing Julius noticed was the boredom.
It wasn't the kind of boredom that came from having nothing to do. There was always something happening at the eastern gate of Asterfall—merchants arguing about tariffs, farmers leading stubborn goats into the city, travelers complaining about the long road from the capital. No, the boredom came from repetition.
The same faces.
The same words.
The same day.
Julius leaned against the tall stone wall beside the iron gate, adjusting the leather strap across his chest. His spear rested against his shoulder, the polished metal tip catching the afternoon sunlight. Beyond the walls stretched a dusty road that cut through green plains toward the horizon.
Another caravan was approaching.
"Bet it's the wheat merchants again," said Bram beside him.
Bram was older—thick beard, slightly crooked nose, and the relaxed posture of someone who had spent far too many years standing guard at a gate that rarely saw trouble. He chewed on something that looked suspiciously like dried meat.
Julius squinted down the road.
"Looks like it," he replied.
Bram sighed dramatically.
"Gods help me if they try to argue about the tax again."
Julius chuckled.
"You always let them through anyway."
"That's because they always bring bread."
"Bribery?"
"Negotiation," Bram corrected proudly.
The wagon rolled closer, wooden wheels crunching over gravel. Two horses pulled the cart while a tired-looking merchant sat at the front, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Routine.
Always routine.
The merchant waved lazily. "Afternoon, guards."
Bram raised a hand. "State your business in Asterfall."
"Selling grain. Same as last week."
"Same tax as last week too," Bram said.
The merchant groaned. "You rob honest people, you know that?"
Julius smirked slightly as Bram began the familiar argument about tariffs and royal regulations. The conversation unfolded exactly the same way it always did.
Julius didn't even need to listen.
He already knew the ending.
The merchant would complain for a few minutes, Bram would pretend to care, and eventually the cart would pass through the gate.
Simple.
Predictable.
Safe.
Or at least, that's how it usually went.
A sudden shout erupted behind them.
"Oi! New players just logged in!"
Julius turned toward the voice.
Two young adventurers were approaching the gate from inside the city. Their armor looked freshly bought, still shining. One carried a sword that was slightly too large for him, while another wore a robe that dragged across the ground.
They looked… excited.
Too excited.
Bram muttered under his breath.
"Ah hell."
Julius frowned. "What?"
"Adventurers," Bram said grimly. "The annoying kind."
The two stopped a few meters away, whispering to each other.
One of them—a skinny boy with messy hair—pointed at Julius.
"Dude, that one's only level five."
"Does he drop anything?"
"Probably copper."
"Easy farm then."
Julius blinked.
The words were strange, but not unfamiliar. Adventurers spoke oddly sometimes. Different slang, different habits. Travelers from distant lands tended to act that way.
Still, something about the way they stared at him made his stomach tighten.
The boy with the oversized sword stepped forward.
"Hey," he said casually. "Guard."
"Yes?" Julius replied.
Without warning, the boy swung the sword.
The blade cut through the air with a sharp whistle.
Julius barely had time to react.
Pain exploded across his chest.
His spear slipped from his hand as he staggered backward, shock flooding his mind.
"What—"
The second strike came faster.
Steel slammed into his shoulder.
Julius collapsed onto the dirt.
Everything felt distant. The sounds of the gate, the shouting merchant, Bram yelling something—it all blurred together.
Above him, the two adventurers laughed.
"Wow that was easy."
"Told you."
"Check the loot."
Julius's vision dimmed.
The last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him was one of them saying:
"Five copper. Seriously?"
Julius woke up.
He inhaled sharply, sitting upright on a wooden bench.
The familiar smell of stone and oil filled his nose.
The guard barracks.
His barracks.
For a moment he just sat there, staring at his hands.
No blood.
No wound.
No pain.
Across the room Bram leaned against a table, lacing his boots.
"Morning, kid," Bram said without looking up. "You ready for another exciting day of staring at the road?"
Julius blinked slowly.
His chest tightened.
"…Morning."
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
A strange image flickered in his mind.
A sword.
Laughter.
Five copper coins.
Julius frowned.
He couldn't explain it.
But for some reason…
The eastern gate suddenly didn't feel as boring as it used to.