They approached the gate, and with every step, the world widened before Arin's eyes… not as an idea, but as something tangible.
Beyond the massive stone archway, the scene unfolded like a living painting.
Layered voices.
Footsteps striking stone.
The creak of wheels.
Sharp negotiations between merchants.
Short bursts of laughter.
Metal scraping against metal.
Arin stopped without realizing it.
He was seeing… faces unlike any he had seen before.
"Those… are humans?"
He murmured it to himself before daring to say it aloud.
They were the most numerous among those entering.
Men and women of varying heights, hair colors, and skin tones. Some wore simple garments of coarse fabric; others were dressed in refined trade attire, small ledgers or leather pouches hanging at their waists.
Some were already bargaining loudly before even entering. Others looked around with open curiosity.
They were not alike.
Not in features.
Not in presence.
But they were all… human.
Something faint tightened inside Arin's chest.
"It's been a long time… hasn't it?"
Ray's voice echoed in his memory.
He watched a young human laughing with a companion, then a woman carrying a small child in her arms, then an old man leaning on a cane while arguing with one of the guards.
So this is how they are…
Ordinary.
Loud.
Alive.
They were not heroes. Not legends. Not stories told in whispers.
They were simply… people living.
He breathed slowly.
Then his gaze shifted.
And there… he saw what immediately drew his attention.
A small group stood in a separate line.
Slightly taller than humans. Slender. Their movements quiet—almost as if they did not walk, but glided.
Long, refined ears.
Flowing hair—some silver, some golden like morning light.
Elves.
There were only three or four of them at this hour. Their clothing was elegant yet simple in design—deep green, pale silver-white, muted blue.
Arin stared.
"So those are…"
He noticed something else.
Their inspection was different.
They were not waved through quickly like many of the humans. Nor like the returning dwarves, who were greeted curtly and allowed inside after a brief glance at their goods.
The elves, however—
Two additional guards stood before them.
Their crates were opened entirely.
Their belongings examined piece by piece.
Even their garments were lifted slightly to ensure no hidden tools were concealed.
"Their inspection is different…" Arin whispered.
Ray heard him.
"Of course."
"To that extent… they don't trust them?"
"It's not only about trust," she replied calmly. "It's about history."
One of the elves stood straight and proud, expression rigid, dignity unbroken despite the scrutiny.
"Elves usually come as rare traders or envoys," Ray continued. "But regardless of their purpose… they are inspected fully."
"And humans?"
"Humans trade with dwarves constantly. Their dealings are old and continuous. They do not carry the same heavy legacy of conflict."
Arin watched in silence.
Two voices spoke inside him.
How vast this world is…
Different races. Different temperaments. Pride and rivalries.
And the other voice whispered:
Where do I stand among them?
A human brushed past him accidentally, shoulder striking shoulder.
"Watch it!"
The man moved on without waiting.
Arin froze.
Such a small, ordinary contact.
Yet to him… it felt like colliding with reality itself.
I'm here… among them.
Not a shadow. Not a distant observer.
He turned to Ray.
"Humans seem… very normal."
She smiled faintly.
"That's because they are. They're not the strongest, nor the longest-lived, nor the proudest… but they are the most widespread. They adapt almost anywhere."
He nodded.
Then he looked back at the elves, whose inspection had finally ended. They entered with cool steps that carried a hint of aloofness.
"Do they truly hate the dwarves that much?"
"Some do. And some dwarves return the sentiment. But trade… sometimes forces enemies to stand beneath the same roof."
After a pause, Arin asked quietly:
"Demons… do they come here too?"
Ray hesitated half a second.
"Rarely. And if they do… they are not treated like the others."
A faint shadow passed through Arin's chest.
What would I be in their eyes… if they knew?
He did not speak the question.
At last, it was their turn.
They stepped before the dwarven guard—shorter than Arin, but broader, solidly built, his beard braided with fine metallic threads.
"Name and purpose of entry?"
Arin's heart pounded.
But before he could answer, Ray stepped forward confidently and presented her merchant card.
"Ray. Independent trader. And this is my new assistant."
The guard examined the card.
"Ray… independent trader. You've been gone a while."
"Work takes us far sometimes," she replied smoothly. "I've returned with new goods. And new plans."
"And your assistant?"
Arin held steady. "Arin. I've been working with her for a short time."
"From which direction did you arrive?"
"From the southeast," Ray answered swiftly. "Mostly open lands."
She did not mention the Silent Forest.
After a long moment, the guard returned the card.
"Cause no trouble within the walls. Rotana's laws are clear."
"We never have," Ray said.
He stepped aside.
"Welcome to Rotana."
As Ray slipped the card back into her sleeve, Arin's gaze drifted deeper inside the city.
He saw them again.
The four elves.
But now he noticed something new.
They were not equals walking side by side.
They were following one of them.
At the front walked a single elf—calm, upright, never looking back, never slowing.
His long silver hair flowed behind him like a strand of moonlight, reflecting the daylight with cool brilliance.
He wore a pristine white hanfu, falling in perfect lines around his slender frame. Along its sleeves and chest ran intricate blue floral patterns, stitched in dark thread that seemed almost to shimmer.
The blue was not ordinary.
It matched his eyes.
Eyes the color of a cloudless sky at its clearest hour—yet utterly devoid of warmth.
A faint shadow lay beneath them, suggesting long wakefulness… or a weight far deeper than fatigue.
His features were serious to the point of severity.
He did not speak.
Did not turn.
Did not slow.
He walked like someone who knew his path, knew his place—and knew others would follow without command.
This… is no mere trader.
Something stirred inside Arin.
Admiration?
Curiosity?
Or a silent recognition of power?
There was a presence around that elf—an invisible aura that set him apart even among his own kind.
Who is he…?
He did not realize he had whispered it.
The noise of the market faded.
All he saw was that white figure moving steadily between dark stone walls.
Then—
A light touch on his arm.
"Arin."
He blinked.
Ray was smiling at him.
"We're done."
She tilted her head toward the city.
"We won't enter together if you keep staring like that."
He cast one last look at the silver-haired elf, now receding into Rotana's crowds, blue patterns dissolving among the masses.
He took a deep breath.
The gate was behind them.
The city—before them.
With all its noise, secrets, and hidden alliances.
"Then… let's begin."
He stepped forward.
And this time—
He was no longer standing at the threshold.
He had truly entered the world.