James hit cobblestones hard, his knees buckling as the teleportation's disorienting lurch faded. The scent of bread and roasted meat drifted on the wind, mixed with an earthy smell and wood smoke. Voices called out in a dozen languages, merchants hawking wares, children laughing somewhere in the distance. He pushed himself upright, blinking in the afternoon sun, trying to make sense of where the Domain had dropped him this time.
A massive fountain dominated the space before him, its carved stone figures spouting crystal-clear water in elaborate arcs that caught the light like scattered diamonds. The craftsmanship was intricate, depicting scenes of battle and triumph that seemed almost alive in the dancing water. Beyond it, a sprawling town stretched in all directions, buildings of stone and dark timber rising in organic clusters, their windows glinting amber in the slanted sunlight. Market stalls lined cobblestone streets, colorful awnings fluttering in the breeze.
This isn't a trial or challenge.
There was no system message. The Overseer had placed them in an actual town, complete with inhabitants who moved with the casual purpose of people living ordinary lives. James watched a woman haggle over vegetables, a blacksmith's hammer ring against an anvil, children chase each other between the stalls. Real people.
Are they also participants? How could they be.. happy?
"James!" Astor's voice cut through the marketplace noise. James spun, spotting his friend weaving between merchants and shoppers, a confident stride carrying him forward. Relief flooded through James's chest as they met near the fountain's edge before stepping back to survey their surroundings.
"Where the hell are we?" James asked, scanning the bustling marketplace that surrounded the fountain. The sun hung lower than he'd expected, casting long shadows between the buildings.
Astor shook his head, equally puzzled but alert. "No idea. One second I'm watching that psychotic clown melt people into blood puddles, next I'm here listening to someone argue over the price of turnips." His blue eyes swept the crowd with sharp attention. "But look at this place. It's massive, and everyone seems normal. Too normal."
The evening was approaching fast, the sky already showing hints of orange and pink at the horizon. James felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. Were they supposed to find lodging? Food? The Domain rarely gave them anything without strings attached, but here they were in what looked like a functioning town with actual commerce.
"We need to figure out shelter," James said, noting how the crowd was starting to thin as merchants began closing their stalls. "And food. The timer said twenty-four hours until the next trial."
Astor nodded, scanning the buildings that lined the square. "Look," he said, pointing to a structure across the market. A weathered sign hung above its door, painted with simple but clear images: a bed and a steaming bowl. "Tavern, maybe? Somewhere to get our bearings?"
They pushed through the thinning crowd, James noting how normal everything felt. No system screens, no ominous warnings, just the ordinary bustle of a town settling into evening. Children were being called home, shopkeepers were securing their wares, and the smell of cooking food drifted from various establishments.
The tavern looked modest from the outside, its wooden walls weathered but sturdy, with small windows that glowed warmly from within. A simple wooden door bore the painted sign they'd spotted, along with faded text in a language James couldn't read. He pushed the door open and immediately stopped short.
The interior stretched far beyond what the exterior had suggested. The common room was vast, filled with dozens of tables where patrons ate and drank, conversations creating a comfortable buzz. A bar extended along the far wall, easily fifty feet long, behind which barrels and bottles created an impressive display. Stairs led to multiple floors above, and James caught glimpses of additional rooms and corridors branching off in directions that shouldn't have been possible given the building's outside dimensions.
"Spatial magic," James muttered, impressed despite himself. The Domain's influence, or just advanced enchantment work?
"Can I help you gentlemen?" A portly man with a graying beard approached, wiping his hands on a stained apron. His eyes held the shrewd but friendly look of someone who'd spent years sizing up customers. "Looking for rooms? Meals? Both?"
"We need a room for the night," James said. "And food, if you have it available."
The innkeeper nodded approvingly. "Smart to get settled before full dark. Room's one silver, meals are two copper each. Good hearty fare, none of that watered-down shit some places serve." His expression grew slightly stern. "Payment upfront, though. Too many think they can work off their debts washing dishes."
Is that even a fair price? We don't know anything about this place. Finding information needs to be a priority.
James and Astor exchanged glances. Neither had any local currency, but James remembered the E- essence shard in his inventory. He focused, materializing it in his palm, its green glow immediately catching the innkeeper's attention.
"Would you trade for this?" James asked, holding up the crystalline shard.
The man's eyes widened, avarice flickering across his features before being quickly suppressed. "Now that's interesting. Essence crystal, decent grade too." He reached for it, then paused. "Mind if I have a proper look?"
Astor stepped forward smoothly before James could respond. "Worth considerably more than a night's stay and a couple of meals. How about the room, full meals for both of us tonight and tomorrow, and thirty-five silver in change?"
The innkeeper held the shard up to the light, watching its internal glow pulse rhythmically. James could practically see him calculating values. "Twenty silver change," he countered. "Essence's valuable, but I've got overhead costs."
"Thirty," Astor replied without hesitation. "And that's generous considering I could probably get forty for this at a proper essence merchant."
"Twenty-five, and I'll throw in those meals you mentioned."
Astor grinned. "Deal." They shook hands, the innkeeper producing a leather pouch and counting out the agreed amount. James watched the negotiation with appreciation. Astor hadn't been timid or weak-willed, just practical and confident.
"Room eight, second floor," the innkeeper said, pocketing the shard. "Kitchen's open until midnight. I'm Henrik, by the way. You need anything else, just holler."
They ordered immediately: thick beef stew, fresh bread still warm from the ovens, roasted vegetables that actually had flavor, and ale that tasted like it had been crafted by someone who cared about their work. Real food, James realized as he took his first bite in the Domain.
"This is incredible," Astor said around a mouthful of stew. "When's the last time you think we had real food? Feels like forever."
James nodded, savoring the flavors. The warmth of the meal, the comfortable buzz of conversation around them, the normalcy of it all felt almost surreal after the trials' intensity. They ate mostly in companionable silence, both too hungry and too relieved to talk much.
As they finished their meal, James counted their remaining coins. Twenty-five silver was apparently substantial local currency, judging by Henrik's reaction and the prices he'd quoted. They were set for supplies, maybe even equipment if needed.
Room eight was simple but clean: two beds with actual mattresses, a washbasin with soap that smelled of lavender, and a window overlooking the town square where the fountain continued its endless dance of water and light. James sat on one bed while Astor took the other, both finally able to relax.
"Alright," James said, his voice low. "We need to talk. About what happened in that cube room, about the trials, about everything."
Astor leaned forward, his expression serious. "That was horrific. Watching those people just... melt. The Overseer's completely insane."
"It gets worse," James began, and launched into everything. The awakening on the beach, the mysterious figure who'd given him the Oracle's Key, his dual classes and the deception he'd maintained about being purely a Healer. The nightmare visions, corrupted plants, the Echo wearing Mara's face, and the electric beast in the ravine. Astor listened without interruption, his face growing more serious with each revelation.
"Echoes are what happen to failed participants," James concluded. "Twisted into monsters, bound to cause havoc. That's our fate if we lose."
Astor absorbed this quietly, staring at the window where the last light of day was fading. "And you think I was in some kind of temporal stasis?"
"Has to be. You're talking like no time passed at all. From my perspective, you've been gone for days. I fought through an entire trial, watched people die, nearly died myself." James studied his friend's face. "What do you remember after we went through that door in the mansion?"
"We went through together, landed in that white room with the others. You called my name, looked confused about something, then that clown appeared and started announcing rankings." Astor frowned. "But now that you mention it, there must be a gap. I thought we'd just walked through the door, but maybe..."
Time dilation. The Domain had somehow kept Astor suspended while the trials proceeded, compressing his experience into what felt like moments. Cruel efficiency, keeping the rescued allies unaware of how long their friends had suffered to save them.
"The Oracle's Key," Astor said thoughtfully. "Divine grade. That has to be significant."
"The system doesn't even have letter grades above S, as far as I know. Divine is something else entirely." James materialized the key briefly, its golden surface catching the lamplight. The runes seemed to pulse faintly, responding to something unseen. "I can feel it sometimes, like it's alive. Waiting."
They discussed the trials' structure, the class challenges, the brutal reality that losing meant transformation into an Echo. James explained his deception about being purely a Healer, the dream warning that had saved him from revealing his Oracle abilities.
"Smart move," Astor agreed. "Healers seem like valuable assets, Oracles sound like threats. Better to be underestimated."