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Chapter Four: The Gates of Illimara

  Dorian approached the gates to Illimara, blending seamlessly into the line of travelers waiting to enter the city. Merchants with heavily laden wagons chattered nervously as guards inspected their goods, while a sleek, hovering carriage glided to a stop nearby. Its hum resonated with a distinct mixture of mana and machine, a symphony of magic and engineering.

  Fascinated, Dorian watched as the mana-infused crystals embedded in the carriage pulsed rhythmically, powering the intricate mechanisms. The design was a marvel, and he couldn’t help but wonder how such a device had been constructed. He began calculating the framework in his mind, mentally disassembling the carriage’s components and considering how he might build one himself.

  The line moved steadily, and soon it was his turn. Two guards, armed with sleek weapons that resembled rifles but pulsed faintly with mana, stepped forward. The taller of the two scrutinized him, his face impassive but alert.

  “Name and reason for entering?” the guard asked, his tone brisk.

  “Dorian Kael,” Dorian replied calmly. “I’m here to seek work. Heard the capital’s thriving these days.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What kind of work?”

  “A sellsword,” Dorian said simply, shrugging. “Good with a blade. Figured a city like this would have plenty of need for one.”

  The second guard, shorter but stockier, motioned toward Dorian’s sword. “Weapons or contraband to declare?”

  Dorian unbuckled the blade and handed it over hilt-first. “Just the sword.”

  The stocky guard grunted as he hefted it, his expression briefly betraying surprise at its weight. “Heavy for a traveler.” He inspected the weapon, noting its craftsmanship. “Old, too. Where’d you get it?”

  “Family heirloom,” Dorian said smoothly.

  The taller guard gestured toward a glowing archway near the gate. “Step through the scanner.”

  Dorian complied, passing under the rune-etched device. A faint hum filled the air as the magic probed him, searching for hidden enchantments or forbidden items. For a moment, he wondered if it would detect the vast reservoir of magic coursing through him, but the machine gave no sign of alarm.

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  “He’s clear,” the taller guard said. “Welcome to Illimara, Dorian Kael. Follow the main road to the plaza if you’re looking for work. Notice boards and hiring agents will be there.”

  Dorian retrieved his sword and nodded. “Thanks.”

  As he passed through the gates, the sheer scale of the city unfolded before him.

  ---

  Illimara was a marvel of ingenuity, where magic and technology coexisted in perfect harmony. Mana-powered streetlights illuminated the bustling avenues, and elevated tracks carried humming magitech carriages that wove through the skyline. Merchants hawked enchanted trinkets, and street performers used minor spells to entertain passing crowds.

  Dorian’s gaze lingered on the massive obelisk that dominated the central plaza. Its dark surface shimmered with runes that pulsed faintly, projecting information into the air above it. He approached, curiosity piqued, and placed a hand on the cool stone.

  Instantly, a surge of information flooded his mind—public notices, city laws, even job postings. The magic interfaced directly with his thoughts, offering a glimpse into the city’s vast network of resources. He withdrew his hand, both impressed and unsettled by the innovation.

  His musings were interrupted by a commotion nearby. A young woman was pleading with a crowd, her voice shaking with desperation.

  “Please! My brother—he’s trapped outside the southern gates! A pack of direboars—he won’t survive!”

  The onlookers exchanged uneasy glances, but none stepped forward. Direboars were ferocious creatures, their tusks capable of shattering steel.

  Dorian sighed inwardly. He had promised himself he wouldn’t draw attention—not yet. But the woman’s panic stirred something within him, an echo of a time when he had failed to act.

  “I’ll help,” he said, stepping forward.

  The woman’s eyes filled with relief. “Thank you! Please, hurry!”

  ---

  The southern gates led to a dense forest, its towering trees casting long shadows over the narrow path. The woman led Dorian partway before stopping, pointing toward a distant clearing. “He’s there—up in the trees!”

  Dorian nodded. “Stay here.”

  Advancing silently, he soon spotted the boy. The teenager clung to a high branch, his face pale with fear as three direboars circled below. The beasts were enormous, their bristled hides glinting in the fading sunlight.

  One of the boars caught Dorian’s scent and let out a guttural roar, charging toward him with terrifying speed.

  Dorian sidestepped at the last moment, his blade flashing as he slashed across the beast’s flank. The wound was deep, but the creature barely faltered, its fury only growing. Dorian extended his free hand, conjuring a gust of wind that sent the boar crashing into a nearby tree.

  The other two charged simultaneously, their tusks aimed for his chest. Dorian leapt into the air, twisting gracefully as he unleashed a wave of fire from his outstretched hand. The flames engulfed one boar, its pained squeals echoing through the forest.

  The remaining beast hesitated, its eyes narrowing as it circled him warily. Dorian pressed his advantage, darting forward with inhuman speed. His blade struck true, piercing the creature’s heart.

  The final boar lay dead, steam rising from its still form. Dorian turned his attention to the boy. “You can come down now.”

  The teenager climbed down shakily, his gratitude evident despite his terror. Dorian led him back to his sister, who embraced him tightly.

  “Thank you,” she said, tears streaming down her face.

  Dorian nodded, already turning to leave. “Be careful next time. The world’s more dangerous than you think.”

  As he made his way back to the city, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter was only the beginning. Illimara held secrets and challenges he had yet to uncover, and his journey was far from over.

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