Zi-Cheng nearly face-palmed himself as he realized in his haste to shake off the "young master" title, he had blurted out his real name without considering how foreign it sounded in this world. Yet, he managed to quickly shift gears, steadying his tone to sound as calm and casual as possible.

  (Okay, genius, you got one chance, don't mess this up....)

  "That is my family name. My name is Ventus. Ventus zi Cheng,"

  His online game alias became his last hope, and he could only hope this would sound convincing enough.

  Then, there was a moment of silence. Chris raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingered for a moment, and a smirk crept onto his face followed by a chuckle.

  "Ventus zi Cheng, huh? Fancy name. Definitely something straight out of a noble family's lineage."

  Convinced that Zi-Cheng was indeed a noble pretending to be a commoner, Chris turned his eyes back to the dirt path ahead. Little did the two know, this little exchange would eventually become one of the cornerstones that shaped the fate of this world.

  The cart rolled along the uneven dirt path, its wooden wheels kicking up small clouds of dust in the open meadow. Half a day had passed without incident, the soothing silence broken only by the steady groan of the wheels. Eventually, the dirt road gave way to smooth, stone-paved ground, and the wheels began to clatter rhythmically as the city gates came into view, along with a colossal tower looming high above the city walls.

  Even from this distance, the tower dominated the skyline, piercing the heavens like a spear. Its spiralling structure reflected the afternoon sun, a beacon visible for miles. At its peak, a massive brazier burned, its golden flames defying the daylight.

  (This tower.... It's nothing like the skyscrapers back home....it's like...it's alive?)

  Zi-Cheng couldn’t tear his eyes away from the colossal tower as it loomed closer with each passing moment. A strange sensation churned in his stomach — was it awe, unease, or something else entirely? Before he could figure it out, Chris suddenly picked up his pace, the cart lurching forward as rough terrain was behind them. In what felt like an instant, the wooden cart rolled through the stone archway of the city gates, delivering them into a medieval European-style town.

  Then, a sudden burst of activity hit Zi-Cheng like a wave. What had seemed like a faint hum in the distant swelled into a lively symphony, with merchants shouting to hawk their wares, clinking of coins exchanging hands, and steady murmur of conversations weaving through the air. The city felt alive in a way that was almost overwhelming, as though his senses has truly awaken for the first time.

  With a quick hop off the cart, Zi-Cheng stumbled slightly but able to keep up with Chris. Ahead, cobblestone streets stretched in neat lines, flanked by merchant stalls brimming with colorful goods, shimmering exotic fabrics, and fruits so unfamiliar they clearly belong to an unknown world.

  (This isn't some elaborate movie set, what...what kind of world is this?)

  “This city's got charm, doesn't it?” Chris said, his gruff voice carrying a hint of pride as he nodded toward the bustling streets. “Welcome to Hazelton, the southern frontier city of the human Kingdom of Izanich."

  (Human Kingdom of Izanich....?)

  While the name didn't ring any bells,the city's lively energy and medieval scenery was certainly intriguing.

  Does this city have a business district? Where do people go to eat? Is there a place for travellers to stay? And what's the deal with that massive tower?

  Questions swirled in Zi-Cheng's mind, too many at once for him to even know where to begin. Noticing his gaze locked on the towering structure in the distance, Chris let out a low chuckle, "That, my friend is the Colosseum. Smack in the middle of the Arena District. It's where legends are made... and, well, where plenty more get broken."

  Chris paused, his expression briefly clouding over, but before Zi-Cheng could catch the look in his eyes, he casually waved it off with a casual grin, "But hey, if you're after a stiff drink or a hot meal, the Gourmet District's just around the corner. Best damn taverns you'll find south of the capital. You can trust me on that."

  (Trust you? Sure... if these taverns can put me on a tab....)

  Before Zi-Cheng could even let out a sigh, a thunderous clatter of wheels echoed across the street. A carriage barreled past, its sheer speed rattling the cobblestones beneath it. Zi-Cheng's eyes widened as he instinctively turned toward the commotion, his attention snapping to the passing vehicle, or rather, the creatures that were pulling it.

  Two massive beasts with six legs, each with the head of an eagle and the body of a towering horse.

  Zi-Cheng's jaws dropped.

  (That can’t be CGI or animatronics… right?)

  "What's the matter, young master? Don't tell me you've never seen a carriage before," Chris teased, dismissing it as the reaction of a pampered noble unused to the mundane sights of the city.

  (So it’s true… I’ve been thrown into an entirely different world, where the arena reigns supreme and mystical beasts pull carriages....)

  With the confirmation he needed, Zi-Cheng trailed behind Chris and his wooden cart, his expression hollow as reality pressed down on him. Lost in thought, he barely noticed when Chris suddenly came to a stop.

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, young master, but once we cross that stone bridge up ahead, I’m heading to meet my buyer,” Chris’s voice broke the silence as Zi-Cheng's eyes drifted upward, taking in the scene before him.

  It was an intersection crowded with carts, carriages, and the clamor of people – the evening rush. The chaos felt familiar but it was set against the backdrop of a city he barely understood. Even though Zi-Cheng hadn’t planned to rely on Chris for long, the thought of parting ways left him feeling adrift. Meeting someone trustworthy in this strange world had been a blessing, but now that comfort was slipping away.

  Chris seemed to notice his hesitation. Reaching into the pouch at his waist, he pulled out a few silver coins and pressed them into Zi-Cheng's hand. “Here, take these. They’ll get you a warm meal and a bed for a few nights. Just follow this road, and you’ll hit the guard post in no time. Tell them what happened, and they’ll help you get back to your family.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Family? The word hit harder than Zi-Cheng expected, weighing heavy in his chest. He hadn’t told Chris that he had no family – not in this world, at least. Memories of betrayal and the cold grin of his former partner flashed in his mind, the last fragments of a life he was forced to leave behind. He had long since grown used to tackling life's challenges alone, bearing hardships in silence.

  And yet, there was something about Chris that reminded him of simpler times, when people lent a hand to strangers without expecting anything in return.

  Gratitude swelled in his chest. He offered Chris Coleman his most sincere thanks before uttering a quiet farewell. As the cart rumbled away and Chris’s broad figure disappeared into the crowd, Zi-Cheng stood alone in the bustling city, a strange sense of loss pressed down on him.

  (What now? Do I really want to ask the guards for help?)

  A bitter smile played on his lips. If he went to the guards claiming he came from another world and wants a way home, certainly they would take him as a lunatic and perhaps lock him up for good.

  (Being locked up in a cell in an unfamiliar world sounds like the worst kind of hell.)

  But if not the guards, then who should he turn to? The thought of having forgotten every detail of the agreement with the strange caller gnawed at him. In the ebb and flow of the crowd sweeping by him, Zi-Cheng only felt like a lonely boat lost in the open sea.

  Then, out of nowhere, a girl in a sapphire-blue school uniform bumped into him, her shoulder grazing his. Before he could react, the girl has vanished into the crowd, carried away by the currents of people.

  They didn’t even make eye contact.

  Not just her – everyone around him seemed to be in a hurry, with determined expression fixated forward, driven by something he couldn’t see. Though Zi-Cheng wore clothes that seemed out of place, yet not a single person spared him a second glance.

  (Cold... and all too familiar)

  Hazelton had no gleaming banks, no towering stock exchanges, no grand convention centers, but this cold indifference, this relentless pace – it was no different from the city he’d once called home. A city that pushed him, shaped him, and ultimately abandoned him.

  He, too had chased dreams so fiercely that he’d forgotten to look around. Priorities narrowed to the here and now, complaints swallowed, life endured.

  Until the day everything came crashing down.

  Realization struck like a chill. All those years of grinding effort had amounted to nothing. The city, his connections, his life – all had discarded him without a second thought. His very existence felt detached, like a spare part to be tossed aside, devoid of worth.

  Could he ever return to that world?

  The answer eluded him.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing over there!”

  Zi-Cheng’s dazed thought were cut short by the bark of a guard with neatly trimmed mustache. The man’s light armor clinked as he swaggered forward, eyes gleaming with suspicion and sharpness of someone who enjoyed exerting power.

  (Great. Just when I thought I could keep a low profile.)

  Zi-Cheng forced a smile, trying to suppress the unease rolling inside. “I’m… sorry, I seem to have lost my way.”

  “Lost? Yeah, right. Name and where you’re from,” the guard demanded, his tone leaving no room for excuses.

  The sharp question brought back memories of Chris’s probing during the cart ride, when he had shown skepticism about Zi-Cheng’s origins. Now, the guard’s imposing stance only deepened his discomfort.

  “My name is Ventus. I came to Hazelton with my family to watch the arena matches, but we got separated on the way,” he said, fabricating the story of a naive noble’s son, hoping it would sound convincing.

  Yet, the guard brow furrowed, his mouth curving into a smirk. “To watch the games at the arena, you say?”

  In a city obsessed with arena battles, Zi-Cheng’s answer should have been foolproof. Unfortunately, he overlooked one crucial detail: in a world where only the well-guarded or exceptionally skilled dared to travel between cities, who in their right mind would risk venturing beyond the safety of the city walls just to watch an arena match in another town?

  “Torenzo, enough with the chit-chat. Make him show his arena tag,” an icy, commanding voice cut through the tension from behind Zi-Cheng.

  He spun around, startled to find a woman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Her light armor bore the insignia of rank, and a long sword with a golden hilt rested at her side. Chestnut-brown hair fell like a cascade down her back, as her eyes gleamed with disdain and impatience.

  Her fingers draped over her sword’s hilt, a silent promise that she was ready to draw it at the slightest provocation.

  This was Julia Kinsley, one of the few female vice-captains of the town guard, and a formidable arena combatant who had reached the prestigious gold tier. Her unyielding gaze had made it clear: she wasn’t here to play games.

  Though he felt hostility radiating from her, Zi-Cheng kept his expression composed. “I won’t come of age until next month, so I haven’t received my tag yet.”

  Chris had mentioned that even the nobles weren’t required to participate in the arena until they reached adulthood, thus his story should have held up… or so he thought.

  Julia’s lips twisted into a sneer, a cold, mocking chuckle slipping past, “I thought you might be scrap metal, but turns out you’re not even that.”

  Zi-Cheng didn’t fully grasp what “scrap metal” meant, but the venom in Julia’s voice made the insult clear. It cut deep, stirring memories of the mockery he had endured in his world.

  As the head of an indie game studio, he had spent years chasing funding, only to be met with dismissive investors obsessed with quick returns. They didn’t care about the experiences his games offered—they only wanted the next tech trend to ride to profit.

  “Does your game use blockchain, NFTs, metaverse tech, or AI? Why should I waste money if it doesn’t?”

  “Player experience? Can that compete with flipping crypto or real estate?”

  He became a laughingstock in those circles, yet he learned to suppress his anger, don a brave face, and push his proposals forward, no matter how demeaning each meeting became. It always came down to two choices: retreat in shame and wait for the funds to run dry or swallow his pride and move to the next potential backer.

  The saying “if one eats salted fish, one must be able to stand the thirst” was ingrained in him—a constant reminder to endure the consequences of his path. Years of humiliation had sharpened his ability to bury his frustration under a composed facade, and this stoic demeanor seemed almost amusing to Julia.

  “Torenzo, this one says he’s here for the arena games. So how about I show him some courtesy and take him there myself?” Julia declared, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Zi-Cheng’s eyes widened, a surge of panic seizing him, but before he could utter a word, Torenzo’s laughter rang out. “You’re in luck, kid! The Golden Fox herself is taking you to the tournament!”

  (Chris mentioned he was called the “Silver Axe”… Does that mean this “Golden Fox” is even stronger?)

  His mind raced for a way out, but before he could act, Julia’s gloved hand seized his collar, lifting him like a stray cat.

  “I’m Julia Kinsley, vice-captain of the town guard. Ventus, wasn’t it? You said you wanted to see the games? I’ll make sure you have the best seat!” Her voice left no room for argument – it was clear this was anything but an invitation.

  A sharp pain shot through his wrist as she yanked him forward. He opened his mouth to protest, but her iron grip left no room for resistance. With no other choice, Zi-Cheng let his body go limp, hoping to make himself a burden as she dragged him along the street.

  But Julia saw right through it. With a swift motion, she released her hold, and he crumpled to the ground in an undignified heap.

  “Why did you let go!” Zi-Cheng muttered, holding his aching face, bewildered.

  “Because I don’t trust anyone who tries to play dead. A little punishment is what tricksters deserve,” she said, her tone icy, eyes daring him to pull another stunt.