Chapter 1.2 - Town of Eight Districts

The forge was already blazing when Lyle stepped outside with the cart. Amorosa’s strong hands, roughened by years of hammer and flame, stacked the last of the armor pieces onto it. The plates clinked against each other with a satisfying weight.

“There,” she said, brushing soot from her cheek. “Training armor goes to the Knight Barracks. Pipes for the Theater. Blank adventurer plates for the Guild.”

She leaned closer, her freckled face breaking into a sly smile. “And since I know you’ll sneak into Commerce anyway, pick me up some Forge Blitz Powder.”

Her wink was quick, but it hit like a hammer. Lyle’s ears burned. “…Y-yes, ma’am.”

Beside him, Lyla folded her arms dramatically. “I wanna come too!” she announced, her twin ponytails bouncing as she pouted. Then her chestnut eyes lit up with mischief. “…But I can’t. I have a tea party with my dolls today. We’re gossiping about how amazing I’ll be once I get my blessing next year.”

“Oh really?” Lyle arched a brow, pretending to glare. “Come here, you little white-haired crow. I’ll make sure you never gossip again.”

“Eek!” Lyla shrieked in delight, darting for the door. From the threshold, she spun around, grinning ear to ear. “Take care, big brother! Don’t miss me too much!”

Lyle sighed, but his smile betrayed him. He gripped the cart handles and pushed forward.

From the workshop window, Liamme called out without looking up from his delicate tools. “Remember to eat on time, Lyle. And stop flirting with adventurer girls.”

“I don’t flirt,” Lyle mumbled, scratching his cheek. “I just… carry their things.”

“Ha!” Amorosa barked a laugh from behind him. “Look who’s talking. Back in our day, you used that icky handsome face to charm women adventurers out of extra gold!”

Lyle quickened his pace, wheels rattling against cobblestone as he fled down the street, his ears glowing red.

The road north carried him past sprawling farmland. The Animal Farms stretched wide to his right, dotted with goats, pigs, and cows grazing lazily under the sun. To the left, the Produce Farms rippled like a sea of green and gold barley swaying in the breeze, orchard trees heavy with fruit. Farmers waved, their hands rough but their smiles easy.

Lyle waved back, cart creaking behind him. This was Lunyseria: full, alive, self-sufficient.

Beyond the fields, the North Gate loomed, its iron portcullis raised high. He caught himself staring. Tomorrow, he’d be out there again porter duty in a goblin dungeon. His chest tightened, then softened into a grin. Support or not, I’ll make it work.

The Knight Barracks was a storm of sound steel clashing, captains barking orders, cadets panting under drills. Lyle maneuvered his cart through the open yard, where sweat and dust mingled with the sharp scent of oil.

A guard took the training armor with a quick thanks, but before Lyle could leave, a booming voice rang out.

“Oi, Lyle! Day off today, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you’re already sneaking to Commerce for a date!”

Captain Zarjos strode from the yard, his scarred arms folded, grin wide. The man was a wall of muscle, his voice carrying over the clamor like thunder.

Lyle gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just helping in the forge when I don’t have dungeon work.”

“Hah! Always working, this one.” Zarjos chuckled, then tossed something at him. Lyle caught it instinctively a chilled glass bottle, condensation beading along its sides. Soda.

“For the town’s most hardworking porter,” Zarjos said. Then, softer, his grin easing into something earnest: “You know, Lyle, there’s always a place for you in the Guard. Blessing or no blessing you’ve got guts. Don’t forget that.”

The words landed warmly, sticking with Lyle long after Zarjos returned to his drills.

The road curved into the Temple District. Bells tolled from slender white spires, their notes carrying on the wind. Incense drifted from open doors, mingling with the scent of clean linen drying in the hospital courtyard. Students hurried across the school steps with books in hand, while clerks filed papers into the Town Hall.

Lyle slowed, guiding his cart to the shrine of the goddess. He clasped his hands and bowed his head.

I don’t ask for much, he prayed silently. Just one chance… to prove I’m not a mistake. Not just a bug in this world.

No voice answered. Only the bells. With a quiet breath, he pushed forward.

The Entertainment Quarter burst into view like a painted dream.

Bright banners rippled from balconies, and strings of colored lights crisscrossed the streets even in the morning, their bulbs winked like stars. Jugglers practiced with wooden batons, dancers rehearsed steps to the beat of a drum, musicians tuned their instruments until a sudden, discordant note sent children laughing. Theaters loomed grand and ornate, their facades painted with gold trim and bold letters advertising the upcoming festival shows.

Workers swarmed one building in particular, hammering wooden frames for a new signboard. Lyle dropped off the bundle of pipes, exchanging quick jokes as stagehands waved.

The Commerce District narrowed into chaos. Fabric stalls spilled into the street, merchants bellowed prices, spices and perfumes stung the air.

Lyle’s first stop was a cramped alchemy shop where shelves groaned with jars of powder and liquid. He exchanged twenty silvers for a pouch of Forge Blitz Powder, slipping it into the cart before weaving deeper into the district.

A familiar wooden sign came next: a mortar-and-pestle carved above the door.Noilla looked up from arranging jars as he entered, her pearl-white complexion glowing in the herb-scented shop. Her tired round eyes brightened, and her lips curved into a smile as her blue-violet braid swung behind her.

“You’re late,” she teased.

“I brought drama,” Lyle said, patting the cart. “Armor, pipes, plates and Forge Blitz Powder. Expensive stuff.”

Her gaze caught the pouch. She smirked. “You know, I could make that for you easily. Just five gold.”

“Five gold?!” Lyle sputtered. “I only paid twenty silvers!”

She laughed, covering her mouth. “Exactly. Which means I’d be rich, and you’d still be poor. Perfect deal, isn’t it?”

Their laughter lingered before softening into something gentler.

Noilla rested her hands on the counter. “The Convergence is coming soon.”

Lyle nodded. “Six months.”

“Do you think…” Her voice lowered. “Do you think we could change it? What the crystal decides? What it assigns us?”

His throat tightened. “If the goddess has already decided…”

“But what if she hasn’t?” she pressed. “What if there’s a way to bend it? You want more, don’t you? To be more than… this.”

He met her gaze. Partners in quiet rebellion. He let out a shaky laugh. “If you come up with a plan, Noilla, I’m in.”

Her smile returned, tired but full of fire. “Then it’s a pact.”

Lyle stepped back into the street, the pouch of Forge Blitz Powder tucked safely in the cart. The Commerce District was as noisy as ever hawkers shouting over one another, the smell of grilled skewers mixing with sharp perfumes, and children weaving between stalls with sticky fruit in their hands.

He guided the cart carefully through the crowd until the streets began to widen and the chaos thinned. The raucous chorus of merchants gave way to a steadier rhythm: the Guild and Inn District.

Here, tall inns with carved balconies leaned over the road, their wooden signs creaking in the breeze. Adventurers in mismatched armor laughed over mugs of ale even before noon, tossing dice on barrels outside taverns. Residential lanes split away from the main street, quieter but still lively families who made their living close to the adventurer trade.

The heart of it all loomed just ahead: the Guild Hall, its broad stone facade and double doors thrumming with traffic. With a deep breath, Lyle tightened his grip on the cart and rolled it inside.

The Guild Hall buzzed with life, its wide doors swinging open and shut as adventurers streamed in and out. The air smelled faintly of parchment and ale, the voices of mercenaries mixing with the scratching of quills behind the counter.

Lyle pushed his cart to the reception desk, carefully unloading the bundle of blank adventurer plates.

“Delivery from the forge,” he said.Alita, the black-furred cat beast-girl, leaned forward to take them. Her frilled uniform was one lace short of a café costume, the kind of outfit only the Guild would dare to call ‘professional.’ With sharp amber eyes and a tail that swayed lazily behind her, she looked every bit the predator even while counting plates.

She laid them out in neat stacks, running a claw lightly across their surfaces to check for flaws. Lyle stood quietly, watching her work, his gaze drifting past her to the display mounted on the wall behind the counter.

Rows of adventurer plates gleamed under lantern light. Bronze. Silver. Gold. And at the very top, a single frame reserved for Platinum.

A familiar heat stirred in his chest.

Bronze Plates for ranks F to D. Slime hunters, goblin chasers, errand runners. The fresh blood of adventuring.Silver Plates for ranks C and B. Strong, trusted, capable. Escort missions, dungeon delves, exterminations. Gold Plates for ranks A and S. Heroes of the realm. The ones who could command armies and face calamities.And Platinum… reserved for those beyond S-rank. Legends. In this era, only the Grand Hero’s party bore them.

His violet-grey eyes lingered on the golden sheen.

If I started at Bronze… how long would it take me to climb? Years for Silver. Decades for Gold, maybe. But if I could even take that first step…

His hand flexed at his side, not with bitterness, but with quiet determination. He was happy here he loved his town, his family, his life. But still, part of him yearned.

A soft thump brought him back. Alita had finished her inspection. She smirked, catching him staring past her.

“Hungry already?” she teased, tail flicking. “Want me to ask your harem to buy you lunch?”

Lyle nearly tripped over his own feet. “W-what harem?! I don’t have !”

She laughed, waving him off as she slid the plates into a drawer. “Relax, support hero. I’m only teasing.”

His cheeks still burning, Lyle bowed his head quickly, mumbled his thanks, and hurried for the door. Her chuckles followed him into the street, warm and teasing rather than cruel.

Finally, the Main Plaza opened wide before him.

At its heart, the Aegisheart Crystal floated above a circular fountain. Fifteen feet tall, uncut yet gleaming, its surface fractured light into a spectrum that bathed the plaza in shifting colors. Golden and silver orbs protective wards drifted lazily around it like moons. Its glow pulsed in rhythm, slow and steady, like the heartbeat of the world itself.

Every year, the plaza transformed for the Heartforge Convergence Festival, a celebration spanning seven days:

Days 1–3: The crystal renews Lunyseria’s barrier, weaving invisible walls that protect against monsters and corruption. Day 4: All children who turned eight that year gather to receive their blessings, their strength rising to match a level 20 adventurer. Day 5: Those turning fifteen return their borrowed strength. In exchange, the goddess grants them their fated profession the role they will serve for life. Days 6–7: Adventurers who reached level 20 stand beneath the crystal to receive their class, shaping their future paths as warriors, mages, or healers.

The festival drew nobles from every kingdom, merchants from across the continent, and adventurers eager for blessings and contracts. The plaza would be lined with stalls, its fountains glowing brighter, music echoing day and night.

Lyle gripped the cart handle, staring up at the crystal. Its glow reflected in his violet-grey eyes, steady and eternal.

This year, it’s my turn.

His heart pounded. I just hope… something happens that lets me break free of this cocoon.

The Aegisheart pulsed once more, as if acknowledging him, before settling back into its quiet, patient rhythm.