Chapter Forty Two: The Sacred Land Of The Noble

The capital was unlike anything I had ever seen. Densely populated, it stretched endlessly before my eyes, houses spreading across the land like grains of sand scattered on the ground. Each house bore the same brown roofing, blending perfectly with the dusty earth, a camouflage of civilization against nature.
But it wasn’t the houses on the surface that stole my breath—it was the mountain.
Rising from the center of the city like some impossible monument, the mountain stretched so high it seemed to pierce the heavens. Unlike natural peaks with their jagged, raw edges, this mountain was smooth, curved elegantly like an overturned cup crafted by the hands of gods.
On its slopes were houses—mansions, villas, sprawling estates that put the rest of the city to shame. Spaced apart, decorated with artistry beyond comprehension, they gleamed like jewels set into the mountain’s side. These were no mere dwellings; they were the abodes of nobles, each built to flaunt wealth and authority.
They called it the Sacred Land.
And crowning it all, barely visible through clouds that clung to its summit, was the castle. Vast, otherworldly, painted in shades of blue, green, and white that shimmered faintly in the sky. It stretched across the peak like a kingdom of its own.
I sat astride Duddul, gazing at this marvel. The thick barrier shimmered just meters behind me, separating the capital from the outside world. For a moment, I simply breathed it in—the order, the majesty, the overwhelming presence of power that radiated from this place.

---
I had ridden hard from the gate town, cutting across the land without pause. Duddul’s incredible speed carried me to the capital’s barrier in just a few hours. .
The gate loomed ahead: golden pillars thick and tall, standing proud. From afar, it seemed absurd—an ornate gate with no walls attached, an entrance to nothing. But I knew better. The barrier stretched invisibly across the land, shimmering faintly if one stared closely enough. That gate was the only sanctioned entrance for travelers. For “normal” people.
Which meant it wasn’t for me.
I veered away from it, ignoring the tents and crowds of those denied entry. Instead, I sought the remote side of the barrier, far from prying eyes. My heart thudded as the crystal-like veil rose before me, its surface gleaming faintly with shifting light.
“What if I can’t pass through?” I whispered to myself, pulse quickening.
But doubt vanished the instant I saw Duddul’s nose push through. Relief surged through me, and I drew in a steady breath, chest swelling with determination.
The barrier pressed down with a suffocating weight—three times heavier than the one at the nightmare forest—but it yielded. With a final shiver of resistance, we emerged inside.
Grasslands stretched endlessly before us, lush and green. Miles away, the first houses dotted the horizon. And beyond them, the Sacred Land rose like destiny itself.

---
The capital was alive.
The streets here were wide, paved smooth, lined with three-story houses far grander than anything in the town I’d left behind. Armor gleamed in the sun, polished to perfection, worn by warriors whose strength radiated from their very steps. The sheer presence of so many powerful people was suffocating.
And then there were the beast-people.
I had seen demi-humans before, but this… this was something else. They were everywhere. Men built like walking mountains, their fangs glinting, claws sharp as blades. Women whose robust bodies carried an untamed beauty, fur patterned across arms, legs, even parts of their faces. They moved with grace and danger, predators wrapped in human form.
And they weren’t the only ones. Races of every kind thronged the streets, each dressed in their own fashions. The men wore long coats of leather or luxurious materials, or lighter garb that spoke of ease and status.
The women…
It seemed in this world, no matter the race or class, they all clung to the same rule: bare the chest. Some covered only the upper halves of their breasts, others only the lower, exposing curves with shameless pride. Many had bodies as though sculpted by divine hands, their chests round and full, daring any eye to look away.
In another life, I would have been branded a pervert for staring so long. But my heart was too weighed with Leila’s absence to do more than glance. Even so, the sheer openness of this place startled me.
The capital dwarfed the town. Its population was at least tenfold greater, and it only grew more intimidating the deeper I went. Buildings shrank in height the closer I drew to the Sacred Land—five floors became three, then two. By the time I stood before the no-trespassing zone, only commercial buildings surrounded me.
And there it was.
The Sacred Land loomed like a mountain carved from eternity, its edges vanishing beyond sight. From every road, paths converged here. A vast five-hundred-meter stretch of red grass surrounded it, an empty space devoid of trees or buildings. At its edge shimmered a red barrier, and beside it a sign in bold, unmistakable letters: You must not pass.
I pressed forward anyway.
The spectators whispered behind me as Duddul’s claws clicked against stone. I ignored them. They weren’t my concern. Only Leila mattered.
But the sky had other plans.
A sound like a thousand storms cracked overhead. I looked up—and froze.
A mountain of ice, crystalline white, plummeted from above.
For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Then it hit.
The impact shattered the earth, a thunderclap tearing through the no-trespassing zone. Ice exploded in every direction, jagged shards encircling me in an instant. The black gear shielded me, its barrier flaring to life and absorbing the catastrophic blow.
When the storm of ice finally melted away, only silence remained. I hadn’t moved an inch. My expression was the same, my resolve unbroken.
“The sign wasn’t a bluff after all…” I muttered.
I turned Duddul around, withdrawing from the zone as the crowd erupted with shouts.
“He missed him on purpose!” one voice cried.“You fool! Didn’t you see the barrier around him?” another snapped.
Their words didn’t matter.
My gaze rose. High on the Sacred Land, a lone figure in white stood, a spear—or perhaps a staff—pointed directly at me.
“That’s the one…” I whispered. “The one who attacked.”
Breaking in head-on was suicide. Even if I could pass the barrier, guards like him made it impossible. I would have to sneak inside, wait for nightfall, and strike unseen.

---
I chose an inn close to the Sacred Land, ignoring the gawking eyes of the spectators. Inside, a dwarf woman greeted me, cigarette in hand, arrogance in every tilt of her chin.
“Yes, we have rooms,” she drawled, stretching her words as though savoring them.
But when I asked the price, my jaw dropped.
“One gold coin per night,” she said serenely, exhaling smoke in my face.
“One gold coin!? Are you insane!? With that, I could rent a whole inn for a week back in the town!”
She shrugged, unimpressed. “If you don’t like it, leave. My inn doesn’t need you.”
Anger burned in me, but I turned on my heel and stormed out. To my dismay, every inn near the Sacred Land charged the same—one gold coin, each demanding a magic registration with a honey-colored paper that could trace a person’s power.
I had no magic. And worse, it would expose the truth of how I entered the capital.
Rejected at every turn, I found myself drifting westward. There, the inns were cheaper—seventy-five silver coins, even fifty—but still demanded registration. No matter where I went, the rules were the same.
Frustration clawed at me. I couldn’t sleep in the streets forever, but revealing my secret was unthinkable.
As my thoughts spiraled, my eyes fell on the western horizon. There, a colossal structure rose—a black, round tower with no doors or windows, piercing the clouds like a spear into the heavens. The dungeon.
But before I could think further, a voice rang out.
“Wait…! I said wait!!”
The tone was sharp, feminine, far too familiar.
I ignored it, kept walking.
“Damn it, I said wait!!!”
Something smacked me hard on the head.
“GAAM!”
I spun around.
“Serila!” I hissed, staring at the mistress of deception herself.