James’s world spun as he stumbled into the capital’s grand plaza, the teleportation array’s effects lingering in his disoriented mind. He blinked, trying to focus, and the bustling city gradually came into view. His senses were bombarded with the sights and sounds of High Human society—glowing signs floated above shops, enchanted streetlights pulsed with energy, and drones glided gracefully above, carrying parcels through the air. People moved in streams, weaving in and out of floating market stalls, their voices blending into a warm, chaotic hum.
Beside him, his master, A, watched James with an amused smirk. "Not quite the same as our quiet forest, is it?"
"It’s… overwhelming," James managed, still marveling at the towering architecture. The buildings were unlike anything he’d imagined: sleek, towering structures adorned with intricate patterns, with windows shimmering like stardust. Each shop seemed alive, magical runes pulsating with faint light that resonated with the energy of the city. Everything here felt as if it were not only built but brought to life through magic and ingenuity.
"Come on," A said, giving James a nudge forward. "You’re in for a treat today."
Visit freewёbnoνel.com for the best novel reading experience.
They began moving through the plaza, and A gestured to various spots, narrating in a mix of casual observations and sarcastic quips. He pointed out the potion stall run by an eccentric old woman with a keen eye for mixing both elixirs and gossip. "She’s got a concoction for everything—from warding off colds to helping love bloom. Though, I’d advise against her ’Unrequited Love Solution.’ Tends to cause more headaches than it solves."
James chuckled, captivated by the mixture of the strange and familiar in the bustling marketplace. He watched as the woman at the potion stall handed a bottle to a customer with a flourish, promising results with a mischievous grin. Each interaction in the city felt like a piece of theater, and he wondered how such a lively place could coexist with the serene forest where he’d grown up.
As they continued, they passed a smithy, where the clang of hammers echoed, and sparks flew in rhythmic bursts. This was no ordinary forge—enchanted weapons lined the walls, each blade shimmering with runes and humming faintly with power. James’s fingers itched to reach out, to feel the magic embedded in the metal.
"You like it, don’t you?" A said, noticing James’s entranced gaze. "This smithy’s been here for centuries. Each weapon’s custom-made, forged with magic-infused metal that only a few master artificers can craft. You might get your hands on one someday, if you ever stop drooling over other people’s work and make something extraordinary yourself."
James blushed but couldn’t help grinning. The capital was everything he’d dreamed of and more—a place where art and magic intertwined, and each shop seemed to hold secrets waiting to be discovered.
Their walk took them through narrow streets lined with tall, graceful buildings, each one more intricate than the last. The architecture itself felt alive; vines of luminescent runes crawled up the walls, and small gargoyle statues perched on ledges, their eyes flickering as if they were watching the passersby. It was a city where the mundane and the magical blended seamlessly.
"Why didn’t you tell me all this existed before?" James asked, his voice tinged with awe.
"Would you have believed me?" A replied with a chuckle. "Besides, some things are better experienced than described. Look over there."
He pointed to a gathering crowd where a storyteller had taken center stage. People of all ages watched in rapt attention as the performer, a middle-aged man draped in colorful robes, spun a tale of adventure and magic.
The storyteller’s voice boomed with theatrical flair. "In the ancient days, when the skies were darkened by shadow and the realms trembled, there arose a hero from the High Humans—a man unmatched in brilliance and valor." He gestured dramatically toward the square, where a statue stood tall and imposing. James’s eyes followed, and his breath caught.
There, towering above the crowd, was a statue of A—his master. Clad in gleaming armor, he stood with one arm raised, wielding a staff that radiated power. His expression was stern and unwavering, a figure carved from stone yet brimming with life and energy. This wasn’t the relaxed, sarcastic mentor James knew. This was a warrior, a symbol of strength and wisdom for the entire kingdom.
"He was known as the Champion of the High Humans, the one chosen by the gods themselves," the storyteller continued, his voice carrying over the plaza. "With his creation, the titanic golem, Alpha A, he struck down enemies of our people and paved the way for peace. All but the gods were free from his might."
James felt a strange surge of pride and disbelief as he looked up at the statue. His master—a figure of legends, a champion revered by countless people. It was hard to reconcile the man he’d grown up with, the one who berated him for not cleaning up his tools, with the towering figure of legend before him.
A nudged him, breaking his trance. "Come on, don’t go getting ideas. That guy up there, he’s just a story. The real me’s a lot less impressive."
James managed a laugh, shaking his head. "Less impressive? You’re standing right here, and they’re telling stories about you like you’re some kind of… mythical hero."
"That’s because people like their heroes wrapped in a bit of mystery and grandeur," A replied, winking. "If they knew the truth, they’d be far less impressed. Now, how about a snack?"
As they wandered toward a vendor selling fried pastries, James caught a glimpse of a young knight standing on the edge of the plaza. She was armored from head to toe, her chest plate emblazoned with the emblem of the High Human Kingdom—a golden sun with a piercing eye in the center. Her stance was confident, yet her gaze sharp as she scanned the crowd.
A waved lazily, as though he’d been expecting her. "Ah, Breona, perfect timing."
The knight’s eyes settled on them, and she strode over, her armor clinking softly with each step. Up close, James noticed the faint scars along her jaw and the intensity in her gaze—a hardened warrior, yet young, perhaps only a few years older than him.
"Greetings," she said, her voice formal and clear. "I am Breona, here to escort you to the palace."
James straightened, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. "Um, hello. I’m James."
Breona inclined her head, a faint smile softening her stern features. "It’s a pleasure, James. The king awaits you. Your master has spoken highly of you."
James shot A a look of surprise, but his master simply shrugged. "What? I may be a grouch, but I know talent when I see it."
Breona turned, gesturing for them to follow. "The king has arranged a private audience. It’s rare for outsiders to be granted entry to the palace, so consider yourselves honored."
As they walked, James’s excitement grew. The capital had been overwhelming enough, but the palace… it was beyond anything he’d ever imagined. They passed through massive gates carved with runes that pulsed faintly, giving off a protective aura, and entered a courtyard filled with flowering trees and fountains that shimmered with enchanted water.
In the distance, the marble spires of the palace gleamed under the afternoon sun, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like finish. Ornate carvings of mythical creatures decorated the walls, and the sounds of laughter and music drifted from within.
Breona led them through a maze of corridors, each one more lavish than the last. The floors were inlaid with gold and silver patterns, and tapestries depicting great battles and scenes of prosperity adorned the walls. James tried to take it all in, his heart racing as they neared the throne room.
They finally reached a pair of massive doors, carved from enchanted wood that glowed faintly with an inner light. Breona turned to them, her expression softening. "The king isn’t as intimidating as the stories make him seem," she said, a hint of warmth in her voice. "Just be yourself, and you’ll do fine."
James nodded, feeling a mixture of awe and anxiety. He glanced at A, who gave him a reassuring grin. "Remember, kid, no one ever made a difference by blending in. Be bold."
Taking a deep breath, James stepped forward as the doors opened with a soft creak. He entered the throne room, feeling the weight of countless eyes—imaginary or real—watching him. This was his chance, his moment to prove himself.
"The world is my oyster."