Kabir stepped out of the Guild Hall and into the streets of Bullera.

  The noise hit differently out here.

  Not the rough chaos of the Badlands. Not the tense pressure inside the guild. This was… life.

  Devils walked the stone roads carrying crates and tools. Vendors shouted prices from wooden stalls. Kids with small horns chased each other through narrow alleys, laughing as they darted between adults who barely paid them any attention.

  Kabir slowed his steps.

  For a moment, it almost felt familiar.

  “…Huh,” he muttered.

  It wasn’t Earth—but it wasn’t so different either.

  People worked. People argued. People lived.

  The only real difference was the horns, the tails, the heat shimmer hanging in the air—and the fact that everyone here looked like they’d grown up fighting for survival.

  Most of the buildings were old—stone and dark wood, reinforced with metal plates instead of glass. It felt less like a modern city and more like something pulled straight out of history.

  Like Earth… from a long time ago, Kabir thought.

  He stopped in front of a small shop wedged between two taller buildings.

  Weapons hung on the walls—spears, axes, battered shields. Armor pieces lay stacked near the entrance. A faded sign above the door read:

  Adventurer Supplies

  Kabir stepped inside.

  The smell of metal and oil filled the air.

  Behind the counter sat an old devil, hunched slightly, his horns chipped and worn smooth with age. One cloudy eye glanced up at Kabir.

  “Oh?” the old man said. “New face.”

  Kabir nodded. “Yeah. Just registered.”

  The old devil chuckled softly. “Figures. You’ve got that look—half-lost, half-curious.”

  Kabir scratched his cheek. “That obvious?”

  “Very,” the man replied. “What can I help you with, kid?”

  Kabir leaned on the counter. “You got maps?”

  The old man’s brow rose. “Maps, huh? Regional, or full?”

  Kabir paused. “If possible… both.”

  The old devil let out a slow hum. “Both, he says. Ambitious.”

  He turned around, shuffling toward a cluttered shelf behind him, pulling down rolled parchments and cracked cases.

  “Regional’s easy,” the man muttered. “Plenty of fools like to know where they’re about to die.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He unrolled one map on the counter—clean, newer, clearly updated. Bullera marked clearly, with roads leading toward the capital.

  Then he frowned and went back to searching.

  “…Complete map, complete map…” he muttered. “Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

  Minutes passed.

  Kabir was about to speak when the old man suddenly froze.

  “Huh.”

  He pulled something free from the back of the shelf—a brittle, yellowed scroll wrapped in cracked leather.

  “This…” the old man said slowly, brushing dust from it, “is old.”

  He unrolled it carefully.

  The markings were faint. Borders half-erased. Names scratched out or overwritten by time.

  “Kid,” the old devil said, “this one’s ancient. Even the outlines are fading. I wouldn’t trust it for directions.”

  Kabir leaned closer.

  Before he could respond—

  Mara’s voice surged into his mind.

  Take it.

  Kabir blinked. What?

  That map is from the old world. Before the Devil Kings. It’s rare. You won’t find another like it.

  Kabir frowned internally. But it looks half-useless.

  You can buy a modern full map in the capital, Mara replied.

  You will never find this one again. Take it.

  Kabir exhaled through his nose.

  “…Wow,” he muttered aloud. “Okay, okay. Don’t get mad.”

  The old devil raised a brow. “Say something, kid?”

  Kabir waved it off. “Nothing. Just… talking to myself.”

  He straightened. “I’ll take both.”

  The old man hesitated. “You sure? That old one’s more history than guidance.”

  Kabir nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  The old devil studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Your shards.”

  Kabir paid without complaint and took the two maps, carefully rolling the older one first.

  As he tucked them into his coat, he glanced upward.

  “…You know,” he muttered quietly, “I really thought you were just some cold AI.”

  Mara replied instantly.

  The host is imagining things.

  Kabir smirked. “Sure you are.”

  He stepped back out into the street, the sounds of Bullera washing over him again.

  Two maps in hand.

  A village behind him.

  A capital ahead.

  And somewhere beyond that—

  The Blackwood Forest waited.

  Kabir left the main streets of Bullera behind and followed the road as it thinned into packed dirt and scorched stone.

  The buildings grew farther apart. The noise faded. The smell of metal and food gave way to dust and heat.

  Ahead, the land opened up.

  This was the outer skirt of the village—the hunting grounds.

  No walls. No guards. Just territory.

  Kabir slowed, eyes scanning the terrain. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground like broken teeth. Cracks split the earth in long, uneven lines, faint red light glowing beneath some of them. Every so often, something moved in the distance—too fast, too low to be wind.

  “So this is where they spawn, huh,” Kabir muttered.

  “These zones sit on thinner layers of Hell,” Mara replied. “Devils are drawn here. Low-level ones, mostly. Suitable for beginners. Or food.”

  Kabir snorted. “Comforting.”

  He adjusted the strap of his coat and rested a hand near his daggers.

  “If I hunt here,” he said, thinking out loud, “I can get experience, stat points… maybe even some drops. And if I get cores, I can sell them in the village.”

  “Yes,” Mara said. “But don’t expect every kill to reward you.”

  Kabir frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Not all devils drop cores,” she explained. “Some never form one. Others burn out before death. Some cores shatter on impact. Luck plays a role.”

  Kabir stopped walking.

  “…Wait.”

  He looked down at his daggers.

  “The Lavacarion. The sand worm cub. Both dropped something.”

  “Yes.”

  Kabir rubbed his chin. “So either I’m insanely lucky… or—”

  “—or your existence increases drop probability,” Mara finished calmly.

  Kabir stared ahead. “You could’ve led with that.”

  “I assumed you’d figure it out eventually.”

  He shook his head. “You know what? Forget it. I’m not questioning good fortune.”

  He stepped forward again.

  The ground shifted.

  Kabir froze.

  Something scuttled out from behind a rock—small, hunched, with skin like cracked charcoal. Two glowing embers for eyes. Clawed hands scraping against stone.

  A devil. Low-grade.

  Kabir inhaled slowly.

  “Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s see how far I’ve come.”

  The creature hissed and lunged.

  Kabir didn’t panic.

  He sidestepped smoothly, his body moving before his mind finished the thought. One dagger flashed—clean, efficient. The blade slid between ribs.

  The devil let out a choking screech and collapsed, dissolving into ash within seconds.

  A small chime echoed in Kabir’s head.

  [XP Gained]

  Kabir exhaled.

  “…That was easier.”

  “You’re adapting,” Mara said. “Your movements are cleaner. Less hesitation.”

  Kabir watched the ash scatter in the hot wind.

  “No core,” he muttered. “Figures.”

  He didn’t linger.

  The hunting grounds weren’t meant for standing still.

  Over the next hour, he moved steadily, engaging only what he needed to. Small packs. Lone wanderers. Creatures barely stronger than animals, but still dangerous if careless.

  Kabir learned quickly.

  Which sounds meant ambush.

  Which shadows moved wrong.

  Which fights weren’t worth taking.

  By the time the heat overhead shifted slightly, sweat clung to his back and his breathing grew heavier.

  His system flickered.

  [Fatigue Increasing]

  Kabir frowned. “Already?”

  “You’ve been fighting nonstop,” Mara replied. “Hell drains stamina faster the longer you remain active.”

  He leaned against a rock, rolling his shoulders. “I’m stronger than before. Why does it still feel like I’m running out of steam?”

  “Because strength doesn’t negate limits,” Mara said. “You’re still human.”

  Kabir chuckled weakly. “Yeah. Guess I forgot that part.”

  He pushed himself upright and moved again.

  Another devil fell.

  Then another.

  One finally dropped something—a small, dark core no bigger than a coin.

  Kabir picked it up, feeling the faint pulse inside.

  “…So they do exist,” he said.

  “Yes. And they sell well.”

  He pocketed it and checked his surroundings.

  No immediate threats.

  “Alright,” Kabir said quietly. “That’s enough for today.”

  He turned back toward Bullera, steps slower now, but steady.

  As the village came back into view, he glanced once more at the hunting grounds behind him.

  Not fear.

  Not excitement.

  Just understanding.

  This wasn’t a battlefield.

  It was a routine.

  And Kabir had just taken his first real step into it.

  “Let’s move,” he said.