Nagi stood before the trade district gates. The sun was high overhead. It beat down on the stone pavement. Heat radiated from the walls. He checked his pockets. They were empty of currency. The copper coins he had used earlier were gone. He had spent them on bread and meat. Survival cost money in this world. Even for a former top player. He needed income immediately. He could not hunt without equipment. He could not craft without materials. Both required capital.
He walked into the district. The air smelled of dust and sweat. Workers moved in lines. They carried loads on their backs. Nagi approached a foreman. The man wore a red vest. He held a clipboard.
Nagi said, "Do you need help?"
Foreman said, "We always need hands."
He looked Nagi up and down. He saw no guild badge. He saw no weapon.
Foreman said, "You look soft."
Nagi said, "I am strong enough."
Foreman said, "Prove it."
He pointed to a stack of wooden crates. Each crate was marked with heavy runes. They contained ore from the mines.
Nagi said, "How much per crate?"
Foreman said, "One silver per ten."
It was low pay. It was anonymous work. No questions asked. No name required.
Nagi said, "I will take it."
He walked to the stack. He lifted the first crate. It was heavy. The weight dug into his shoulders. In the game, weight was a stat. Here, it was gravity. His muscles strained. He did not use his skills. He lifted it as a normal man. He carried it to the warehouse. He set it down. He went back for the next one. He repeated this for four hours. His back ached. His hands blistered. He earned twenty silver coins. It was not much. But it was a start.
He wiped sweat from his brow. He walked away from the docks. He needed to observe the city. He had noticed something strange earlier. There were mobile stalls active. These stalls belonged to players. The owners were gone. They had logged out. But the stalls remained.
Nagi found the first one near the bank. It was called "The Wanderer's Lantern." It glowed with a soft blue light. No one stood behind the counter. Items floated on the shelves. They refreshed automatically. It was an automated routine. Nagi found the second one in the armor district. It was called "White Shadow Depot." The shutters were half closed. A sign hung on the door. It said "Closed Indefinitely." But the interior lights were on. Nagi found the third one near the gates. It was called "Station of the Prime." It looked like a small fortress. Turrets rotated on the roof. They scanned the crowd. No owner was visible. Nagi found the fourth one in the alley. It was hidden behind a tavern. It had no name plate. It was sealed tight. Like his own stall.
Nagi counted them. Four active stalls. Four absent owners. Or were they absent? He touched the wall of the lantern stall. It felt warm. Energy hummed beneath the wood.
Nagi said, "They are still running."
Why would the system keep them running? Usually, assets despawned when owners left. These persisted. It suggested continuity. The world was maintaining them. Or someone was controlling them remotely.
Nagi turned away from the stalls. He walked toward the Grey Dome. It was the center of the Hunter's Guild. He had never entered it as a worker. He had always entered as a VIP. Top players bypassed the lines. They had direct access to quests. Now, he was nobody. He stood outside the main entrance. A large board was mounted on the wall. It was made of dark wood. Papers were pinned to it. Nagi stepped closer. He read the headers. Recruitment Notice. License Required.
He frowned. He had never needed a license before. The system recognized his level. Now, the system was silent. The Guild rules applied. He read the fine print. It stated that all hunters must register. Unregistered hunters would be arrested. Their loot would be confiscated.
Nagi said, "This is a restriction."
It was a way to control players. Or residents. Whoever was in charge wanted order. He looked at the requirements. One: Pass a theory exam. Two: Pass a field test. Three: Provide identification.
Nagi had no identification. He was Nagi Kurosawa. But there was no record of that name here. Not in this world's registry. He needed a solution. He looked at the crowd around the board. Young men and women gathered. They wore leather armor. They carried basic swords. They were hopeful. They wanted to be heroes.
Nagi said, "I just want to survive."
His goal was different. He needed the license to move freely. Without it, he was an outlaw. He could not sell loot. He could not take high-tier quests. He was stuck in the lower tier.
He stepped back from the board. He needed to plan. He could not register today. He lacked the ID. He needed to find a workaround. Or he needed to create an identity. He looked at his hands. They were calloused from the work. They looked like a worker's hands. Not a hero's hands. This was good. It made him invisible. Heroes drew attention. Workers disappeared into the crowd.
Nagi turned away from the Dome. He walked into the street. The sun was beginning to set. Shadows lengthened on the ground. He counted his coins again. Twenty silver. It was enough for a room. It was enough for a meal. It was not enough for freedom. He needed more information. The stalls were a clue. The license was a barrier. The note in his pocket was a mystery. He touched the pocket. The paper was still there. It crinkled softly.
He said, "Who is the Keyholder?"
The question haunted him. Was it one of the stall owners? Was it the Guild master? Or was it someone else entirely?
He walked past a guard patrol. They wore gray uniforms. They carried spears. They ignored him. He was just a laborer. He blended in perfectly. This was his advantage. No one expected the top player to be a porter. They expected him to be dead. Or logged out. Like everyone else.
Nagi reached the residential district. He looked for an inn. He found a small one called "The Rusty Nail." It was cheap. The sign creaked in the wind. He pushed the door open. The interior was dim. A woman stood behind the counter. She had gray hair. She looked tired.
Nagi said, "Do you have a room?"
Woman said, "Ten silver a night."
Nagi said, "I will take it."
He counted out the coins. He placed them on the wood. She took them without smiling.
Woman said, "Room four. Up the stairs."
She handed him a key. It was made of iron. It was heavy.
Nagi said, "Thank you."
He walked up the stairs. The wood creaked under his feet. He reached room four. He unlocked the door. The room was small. It had a bed and a window. He closed the door. He locked it. He sat on the bed. It squeaked. He took out the note again. He read it in the dim light. "You opened the seventh door. They are watching." He folded it. He put it under the mattress. He lay back. The ceiling had a crack. It looked like a map. He traced the line with his eyes. He thought about the stalls. He thought about the license. He thought about the work.
He said, "Starting from zero."
It was not entirely true. He had his knowledge. He had his skills. He had his mind. But he had no status. He had no safety. He was alone. He closed his eyes. He needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be harder. He had to find a way to register. He had to find the Keyholder. He had to open his stall. The city slept outside. He listened to the silence. It was not empty. It was waiting. Nagi drifted into sleep. His hand rested on the knife under his pillow. He would not be caught unaware. Not again.
A/N: Thank you for reading Chapter 3. Nagi is building his foundation. The mystery of the stalls and the license will grow. Please add this to your library and leave a review. Your support keeps the story going!