[Gained Epic Feat: "Hero (Temporary)" Summoned in service to world designation ‘Serra’ - All experience gains whilst summoned increased by 200%. This feat will be removed upon the user's exit of the designated world.]

  [Gained Rare Feat: "Blood Summoned (Temporary)" Summoned in service to deity-class being designation ‘Vyragorastushemayxar’ - All skills gained whilst summoned shall be influenced by the deity-class beings nature, with lower grade skills bearing greater influence. This feat will be removed upon the user's exit from the designated world.]

  200% experience gains… That’s enough to make this world feel more rewarding than any other most have been to, Alex thought, the impact of the ‘Hero’ feat settling in his mind. Even the most powerful feats I’ve gained couldn’t offer that level of constant growth. It’s temporary, sure, but that kind of boost could reshape entire paths for someone summoned here. He could see it—some might stay, just for that. Anyone with these feats would see staying here as a better option than leaving, even without the brainwashing. The other summoned heroes all had them, too, drawn further in by the same system. The Blood Summoned feat carried a darker weight, tying skills to the nature of a blood deity, which meant every new ability gained here would reflect that influence. A deity tied to blood, shaping every skill earned here. Alex found it fortunate that higher grade skills could resist the influence to varying degrees. He wondered how many others had been summoned before him, whether they were dead, trapped by this system, or free from outside control and lingering in the world for these rewards, constantly growing in power. Or maybe the crown just disposes of them once their usefulness runs out? Maybe they each get sent back to their worlds with their feats removed?

  All of these thoughts crossed his mind as he traversed the vast city streets, taking in the nature of the land he had been unwittingly summoned to.

  Buildings lined the streets in symmetrical rows, their facades carved with details that suggested both wealth and intention. Wrought iron framed doorways lined the neatly crafted streets and balconies hung overhead, each sporting railings with flowing patterns.

  “Doesn’t exactly look like a city that needs saving,” Alex muttered to himself as he took in the surrounding cityscape.

  It seemed medieval, somewhat, but opulent. Opulence stretched in every direction as far as he could see, making the entire city appear as merely an extension of the palace, the surrounding building’s stones white and polished to a near-marble finish. The entire city can’t be this wealthy, can it? It’s impossible, he thought. The way they treated their summoned ‘heroes’ doesn’t exactly scream ‘functional socialist paradise’ he was sure there were bound to be seedier sections buried within the city's depths. Beneath Alex’s feet, thin veins of magical energy threaded through the stone, running along the edges of buildings and down into the ground. Alex paused to study the energy more closely. The lines surged faintly, feeding into conduits that disappeared below the streets. The integration of magic into the city's infrastructure was seamless, suggesting a society that relied on it for more than just convenience. The energy flows like electricity, he thought. Whatever powers this must be as constant as what we had back on Earth.

  He stepped closer to a stall near the edge of the street. The vendor was a middle-aged man with calloused hands who diligently organised his wares—runes etched into thin uniform plates of metal. Each rune buzzed faintly with the static of contained potential, light and even. Alex gestured toward the display.

  “What do these do?” he asked, his tone neutral.

  The vendor glanced up, studying him briefly before answering. “Depends on the glyph. This one warms your home. That one sharpens tools. Practical magic.”

  Alex nodded, considering the simplicity of the items. “The magic—where does it come from?”

  “From the conduits,” the vendor replied, gesturing toward the ground. “The really good ones are blood-fuelled, if you can afford them.” He hesitated, then added, “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  Alex tilted his head slightly. “To the city? Sure, I’ve travelled pretty far. What gave me away?”

  The vendor smiled as though pleased with his deduction. “You’re asking questions no local would. Most of us just accept it.”

  Alex’s gaze shifted to an obelisk at the corner of the street. The structure was covered in stylised stone and painted to match the decor, but Alex saw clearly what lay beneath. Crimson light surged to mix with blue beneath its surface, feeding into the conduits that stretched out like veins across the city. Around the obelisk, iron fencing separated it from the crowd, and uniformed guards stood watch. The people moved around it without lingering, their attention fixed on their errands.

  “What‘s that?” Alex asked.

  The vendor followed his gaze. “An output Relay. The source of the city’s magic. Everything flows through the relays. They’re sort of like power banks, providing energy to the city. The Houses control them”

  “Houses?”

  The man frowned. “The ruling families. They own the conduits, the taxes, and the city itself. You’d do well not to get their attention.”

  Alex paused, his brow scrunching briefly. “But what about the king?”

  The vendor snorted quietly, shaking his head. “The king? Kings might sit on the throne, but thrones don’t run the lands. The Houses do. Always have.” The man’s expression grew guarded, his hands busy rearranging items on the stall. “Kings come and go. The Houses don’t.”

  Alex pressed no further, watching as the vendor returned to his work. He offered a slight nod of acknowledgement and dug into the folds of his garments as though reaching for an item, his thoughts already turning to analysis. The king summoned us, but why? To overthrow the houses? No that can’t be it.

  The balconies of the palace returned to his memory, along with the armoured figures who had stood silently during the summoning. They hadn’t been explained, not directly. No titles or roles had been offered, just the implication of power in their presence. Who were they? If they’re tied to the king, why weren’t they introduced? Were they even his allies—or his jailers? The questions crowded his thoughts, but none had immediate answers.

  If the Houses are the real power, what would they stand to gain from summoning high level other-worlders and labelling them as heroes? Perhaps they were at war with the demigods, the children of the absent blood god. But no, that can’t be it either— unless the demigods worked together or had a nation of their own, it was unlikely they would be the main force the king had summoned the heroes to combat. Perhaps they merely wanted high-level enforcers to enhance their power, or perhaps the reason was something greater and more dire. It was a curiosity, that was for sure. But whatever the reason for the summoning ritual,

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  It’s not my problem, Alex thought as he delved into his Inventory.

  “What's the most expensive thing you’ve got here?” Alex asked, his eyes scanning the vendor’s display. Without hesitation, the vendor reached under the counter and placed a bundle on the table, revealing a finely embroidered belt with subtle metallic threads woven through. “Silkweave Belt,” he said simply. “Holds triple its capacity and cuts the weight of anything stored in it by half. Two hundred gold coins.” Alex ran a finger over the smooth fabric, its craftsmanship undeniable. “Useful, maybe I’ll buy it sometime in the future,” Alex said, stepping back as the vendor grinned and carefully wrapped the belt again.

  “What’s something more affordable for an adventurer?” Alex asked, casually gesturing to the stall.

  The vendor paused, brow furrowing slightly. “Adventurer?” he repeated, sounding uncertain. Alex realized his mistake. “Ah, sorry—I mean someone with a combat class.” He caught himself, recalling that not all worlds shared Pyra’s traditions or terminology. Cultures varied, and assuming otherwise could leave him stumbling through conversations like this one.

  The vendor nodded slowly. “A combat class, right. Well, most people here who take up fighting register with the crown as hunters. Monsters aren’t much of an issue in the city, and most folks don’t bother. This place is safe enough.”

  Alex considered the response, filing it away. He wasn’t here to buy so much as to gauge. If a hunter’s gear was considered an uncommon investment, it suggested a market with limited demand for combat-specific tools. Pricing his own wares would depend on whether locals valued adventuring essentials or leaned toward goods catering to their daily lives. The vendor’s casual mention of the hunters also hinted at the kind of system he might need to navigate later—structured and bureaucratic, with combat treated as regulated work rather than a way of life. Useful to know.

  “This one’s practical,” the vendor said, reaching into a compartment beneath his stall to withdraw a sheath the length of Alex’s forearm. “Basic hunter’s blade. Not enchanted or anything fancy, but sharp enough to get the job done. Two gold coins.”

  Alex turned it over in his hand, noting its simplicity. It was the kind of no-frills tool that spoke to the city’s safety—the sort of item used more for emergencies than survival. Two gold for a blade like this, Alex mused, means essentials here are modestly priced—probably because most people don’t need them. It gave him a clearer sense of the market: functional goods were valued, but low-end ubiquitous combat gear likely saw less demand in a place where hunters operated under the crown's regulation. It was useful context for pricing his own wares.

  Alex accessed his inventory, the extra-dimensional storage space opening to reveal its contents for him to instantly search for an item to sell to the cheerful vendor. Among his storage, three key items stood out: the first being a serrated wooden stake that would grant a multitude of abilities to any who would pierce it into their heart, granting nature-bound abilities and a twisted form of immortality at the cost of turning any who it pierced into a tree-like being, exchange it’s user’s humanity for power. The wooden stake, dubbed the ‘Thorned heart of the mother,’ had been claimed from the dead Arachnae Queen’s treasure hoard, and according to the system, the stake’s energy was linked to a diety-class being of Pyra called the ‘Great Mother’. Despite the item's lower grade, its value as both a last resort and cursed weapon caused Alex to dismiss the prospect of selling it.

  The second item was a spellbound tome of necromancy that would allow Alex to commune with the dead, and the third was one of the many large dimensional crystals the demon army on Pyra had used to maintain a portal between worlds, right before he had stolen it and caused their portal to implode.

  He examined the tome—its ability to allow him to commune with the dead would prove invaluable, though he currently had no immediate use for it. Its effects would be vital for his survival and future plans, making it priceless in ways no one here would understand.

  That left the dimensional crystal. Though powerful, it served no immediate or even long-term purpose for him. Selling it could raise some curiosity, but in a city like this, where the crystal’s rank was a whole grade lower than almost everything else in the world, its significance would likely go unnoticed.

  Decision made, Alex withdrew and placed the dimensional crystal on the counter. “How much for this?”

  The vendor leaned forward, inspecting the crystal with a practised eye. He turned it over a few times, examining its faintly fractured surface. “Quality’s not the best,” he said, setting it down, “but dimensional crystals are rare enough that even a low-grade one fetches a decent price. I can offer you three gold for it.”

  His dimensional pouch had been priced at two hundred gold coins, Alex thought, studying his crystal, a crystal like this could be a key ingredient for creating high-end spatial equipment… Three gold would give him a massive profit, assuming the spatial pouch it created would hold quality as the pouch the vendor possessed.

  Alex crossed his arms, considering the offer. “Twenty.”

  The vendor chuckled softly. “Ten is the best I can do. No one’s going to pay more for something this unstable.”

  “Fine,” Alex said, nodding as the vendor counted out the coins and handed them over. Alex pocketed them before gesturing to the bustling streets around them. “Where can I get some clothes? And somewhere to spend the night?”

  The vendor pointed toward a side street lined with shops. “You’ll find a tailor down that way—decent prices and quick work. For a place to stay, there’s a calm little inn and tavern just a few blocks from here. If you’re looking for something livelier, there’s a tavern for hunters and combat types on the other side of the market.”

  “Thanks,” Alex said, stepping back from the stall. “Take care.”

  “Good luck,” the vendor replied with a nod, already turning his attention to the next customer as Alex moved through the streets at a measured pace, weaving between clusters of people, their faces fixed on their errands.

  ***

  The tavern brimmed with life, a chaotic blend of raised voices, clinking mugs, and heavy boots scuffing the well-worn wooden floor. Its fame as a gathering spot for hunters and combatants was evident in every corner—walls adorned with mounted trophies of slain beasts, boards pinned with job notices, and tables crowded with adventurers exchanging plans and stories.

  Alex stepped through the wide entrance, his attire blending practicality and subtle normalcy. He had opted for a dark, close-fitting jacket reinforced with faint metallic threading along the shoulders and forearms, designed to protect without hindering movement. Beneath it, a sturdy but plain tunic and dark breeches tucked into leather boots completed the ensemble. The outfit was intentionally low-profile, chosen to deflect unnecessary attention while maintaining an edge of readiness.

  This kind of place attracts all sorts—brash types, schemers, mercenaries, maybe even famed citizens, Alex thought as he scanned the room. It’s noisy, chaotic, and risky, but it’s also where the real information flows. You don’t learn much about a city in quiet little inns. The choice to come here had been simple; the hunters’ tavern would be more than just a rowdy den of gossip—it was where deals were struck, alliances were forged, and the undercurrents of the city’s culture were laid bare and revealed to all. If he wanted to understand this world, this was the place to do it.

  Navigating through the crowded room, Alex took in the details. A trio of hunters argued loudly near the bar, gesturing animatedly over a rolled-up map. At another table, a group inspected a bloodied beast’s claw, trading it for a pouch heavy with coin. A noticeboard near the wall was crowded with scraps of paper, detailing bounties for monsters, recovery jobs, and occasional “discreet assistance” requests.

  A barmaid darted past him, balancing a tray of drinks with practised precision. “Need a room?” she asked without breaking stride, her voice carrying just enough to reach him over the din.

  “Yeah,” Alex replied, falling into step behind her as she led him toward the counter. The barkeep, a broad-shouldered man with greying hair and a scar across his cheek, nodded as Alex approached. “Single room’s three silver. You want meals included, it’s four.”

  “Three’s fine,” Alex said, sliding the coins across the counter. The barkeep handed him a key, pointing toward a staircase tucked into the corner.

  “Upstairs, second on the right. Don’t cause trouble, and you’ll be fine,” the man said, turning back to fill another order.

  Alex pocketed the key, his mind already dissecting the room’s dynamics. The loudest hunters at the tables likely all worked in separate teams; their well-maintained weapons and gear suggested frequent outings. The patrons in the corner traded valuables that could hold deeper stories, while loners at the edges of the room kept to themselves, their silence speaking volumes about the lives they led, some holding impressive amounts of mana.

  Alex sat at the corner of the inn’s common room, his back pressed to the wall and his gaze fixed to the table, allowing his domain to envelop those around him.

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