"..." Mark.

  Mark remained still, staring at the guard with a calm expression.

  Identification?

  Entry fee?

  For a second, he felt a brief sense of disorientation.

  The idea of needing an authorization scroll or explaining his reasons felt almost alien. What the hell was a "scroll"?

  How was he supposed to explain his reason for visiting Luminaris? Say he had come to see what had changed over the last thousand years after being reborn inside the game?

  Certainly not.

  He would just make something up.

  The guard let out a dry cough, shifting his gaze from Mark to the clipboard and back again, waiting for an answer.

  "I asked for your name and purpose, sir." He repeated, his authoritative, mechanical voice edged with impatience.

  "I am a lone traveler." Mark finally replied. His voice carried a stiff cadence. "My name... you may call me Vaelin. I came to Luminaris for a visit."

  He paused, his dark brown eyes fixed on the guard. "And I have no identification." Mark finished dryly, offering no excuses or lengthy explanations.

  The guard stopped writing. His forehead creased into a frown, irritation clear on his wrinkled face.

  "A visit? No identification? Luminaris is on alert due to activity in the East. Travelers without guild papers or merchant seals must pay the Risk Fee and undergo Mana Screening."

  'Mana Screening?' Mark froze.

  He did not remember anything by that name in Age of Blood. And it did not sound good.

  Noticing Mark's confusion, the old guard pointed to a small stone pedestal beside the post, where a dull crystal sphere rested on a bronze base.

  "Five silver coins for entry. Then you place your hand on the Screening. It is a basic alignment test to ensure no one enters carrying plagues, active curses, or monster signatures." The guard spoke with a suspicious look, clearly used to visitors like Mark.

  'So that is how it works...'

  Mark looked at the crystal sphere.

  He could feel the mana drifting inside it.

  If he touched it with his true strength, the crystal would likely do more than glow. It would explode. Mark needed to mask his essence now, or his "visit" would end before it even began.

  "Five silver coins and the test." The guard reminded him, eager to move Mark along and continue his work. A small line had already formed behind him.

  'Five silver coins...'

  He did not have that much.

  In Age of Blood, there were no silver coins, only gold, so everything in Mark's inventory was sack after sack of gold. He also did not know whether that currency was accepted in this world.

  But he had no choice.

  Mark slipped his hand beneath his cloak, out of the guard's sight, and mentally commanded his inventory to open. A dimensional rift opened before his hand, and after searching for a few seconds, his fingers brushed against the rough fabric of a cloth pouch.

  'I hope this works.' Mark discreetly opened it. As he pulled a single coin from beneath the cloak, the metal reflected the artificial light around them with an almost divine intensity.

  The guard's gaze snapped to it instantly.

  "Will this do?" Mark asked, extending his hand. Between his long, pale fingers, the gold coin rested like a small star.

  The guard, who had expected a few worn, oxidized silver coins, was stunned.

  He had never seen gold so pure, so... alive. The color was a deep gold, almost orange, and it seemed to shine with its own faint luminescence. The craftsmanship alone made the coin appear extraordinarily valuable.

  Valuable enough to make him suspicious.

  "This is all I have." Mark added, his tone dry and impatient.

  The guard took the coin cautiously. He held it close to his narrowed eyes and, under the light of a nearby mana crystal, tried to assess its weight and origin.

  The metal was too heavy, too dense. Then he noticed the crest.

  It was not the sun of the Empire of Solis. Nor the tower of Luminaris. Nor any crest he recognized, such as the eagle, the lion, or the moon.

  At the center of the coin, engraved with precision, was the emblem of a large inverted triangular structure surrounded by stylized flames.

  The guard looked Mark up and down, taking in the plain cloak and youthful face. Then he looked back at the coin.

  A flicker of contempt crossed his eyes.

  "What is this? Some kind of joke?" The old man tossed the coin back into Mark's hand and cleared his throat. "This is fake. Gold does not shine like this, and that crest does not exist in any exchange record. Do you think you can enter my city with toy money or medals from some backwater place?"

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  Mark's expression darkened instantly.

  Fake?

  He looked down at the coin in his hand.

  His eyes, once calm, seemed to darken, and a subtle pressure began to seep out, making the air around the checkpoint feel noticeably colder.

  This was a piece of pure gold, forged by the game system itself. It was impossible for it to be fake. Lifting his gaze, he stared at the guard, who instinctively stepped back, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his sword.

  "Gold is gold, regardless of the design it bears." Mark whispered, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.

  "Counterfeiting is a crime. You should be grateful I am not arresting you. Take your coin and turn around before I call security." The guard shot back, irritated by Mark's insistence.

  He believed the young man was not only trying to deceive him with counterfeit gold, but now attempting to intimidate him.

  Mark's expression was one step away from turning lethal when the tension was broken by a slightly provocative female voice.

  "Let it go, old man. I’ll cover the stranger."

  Mark turned his cold gaze to the side. A red-haired girl stepped forward with one hand on her hip, followed by her group, all wearing clear expressions of disapproval.

  He recognized them immediately. They were the adventuring party called Iron Wolf that he had seen minutes earlier.

  Kael, the leader, snorted and crossed his arms, while the archer Garret muttered something about not wasting coins on wanderers.

  The guard frowned at Lyra's interruption, his wrinkled face tightening in irritation. "He has no identification and attempted to pass counterfeit currency."

  "I know the rules." The girl replied, tossing six silver coins onto the wooden table. The metallic clink seemed to soften the guard's scowl slightly.

  "He looks like he came from far away. Maybe the gold where he is from is simply too exotic for your taste, old man. Consider it charity from the Iron Wolf party."

  Mark looked at the woman, his stunned mind slowly processing what had just happened.

  He had just been helped by someone who, in game terms, would be hundreds of levels below him. Beneath his cloak, a forgotten figure was seething with rage.

  Mark could feel Pippin trembling with contained fury, tiny claws digging into the fabric of his inner tunic.

  To Pippin, this was the ultimate insult.

  The Sovereign of Ziggurat being treated like a beggar by ordinary humans.

  "I acknowledge your assistance." Mark said, looking at the red-haired girl. His voice was dry and devoid of warmth, though minimally polite. "Thank you."

  Despite the bitterness rising in his throat, he could not help but smile inwardly in resignation.

  He truly had no money. She was helping him. But Vaelin would not admit that easily.

  "Do not get used to it." Lyra replied with a faint smile, unconcerned by his reaction. "I just do not like seeing anyone turned away after such a long night."

  "We are not finished yet." the old guard interrupted, glancing at the stone pedestal. "The coins cover entry, but they do not guarantee safety. Place your hand on the Mana Screening. Now."

  Mark narrowed his eyes at the reminder.

  It did not go unnoticed. Sensing his reluctance, the guard gestured with his chin toward the inner courtyard beyond the bars. A squad of battle mages and elite soldiers stood there, weapons lowered but ready to react at the slightest alarm.

  A clear warning.

  "Place your palm on the crystal. If the sphere glows blue or white, you are a normal mana user or an ordinary civilian."

  He paused, studying Mark carefully. "If it turns black or red, then we have a problem. It means you carry corruption, necromantic plagues, or forbidden magic. In that case, you will not enter the city. You will be taken to the dungeons, if you are lucky."

  Without dwelling on the implications, Mark stepped toward the pedestal while Lyra's group watched with wary curiosity.

  The Mana Screening pulsed with weak energy, almost laughable to his senses.

  However, Mark did not know whether the magic of a True Blood Progenitor would be considered forbidden by this world's standards.

  If he touched the crystal carelessly, his power might be exposed.

  Mark extended his pale hand, feeling the warmth of the crystal against his skin. Internally, he forced his blood essence to retreat to the core of his heart, leaving only a thin layer of neutral mana flowing through his arm.

  He had never attempted this before, but his blood essence was an extension of his body. Someone might fail to control a strand of hair. Vaelin would not.

  The guard watched closely.

  Lyra and her companions waited as well, curiosity overcoming reluctance.

  Beneath the cloak, Pippin was ready to leap into battle at a single command.

  "..." Mark's hand touched the cold glass of the sphere, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze.

  Inside, it felt like trying to contain an ocean with bare hands.

  His Blood Essence roared, demanding release, but Mark forced it down, circulating only a thin fraction of filtered, diluted neutral mana until it was nearly imperceptible.

  The sphere trembled.

  For a split second, a scarlet flash threatened to ignite at the crystal's core, but Mark's iron will held firm. The light stabilized into a steady pale blue glow.

  "Clean civilian. Normal mana user." The guard murmured, faint disappointment in his tone.

  Mark withdrew his hand quickly, feeling the mental strain of the suppression. He took a slow breath.

  "May I enter now?" he asked, his voice still cold, though edged with urgency.

  The old guard nodded, returning to his clipboard. "You may pass. But a word of advice, Vaelin. Obtain official identification from the Guild or the Civil Registry first thing in the morning. Patrol guards inside the city are not as patient as gate guards if they find you without papers."

  Mark nodded, slipping the rejected gold coin back into his cloak. The guard pointed toward the stone corridor leading through the wall, and Mark followed.

  Lyra stepped forward. "If you want, we can guide you. Luminaris can be a maze for newcomers."

  "Lyra, for the love of the gods." Garret groaned, adjusting the bow on his shoulder. "We need to deliver the sand essence to the guild before the shift changes, and I have not even eaten."

  Kael added with a scowl, "We still have reports to file. The stranger will manage. We have done enough."

  Lyra hesitated, glancing between Mark and her companions before shrugging. "Yeah... they are right. Duty calls."

  "It is not necessary." Mark replied with a slight nod. "Thank you for covering the fee."

  The group remained visibly uncomfortable around him. Lyra was the only one inclined to help, and Mark was a reasonable man.

  Despite finding the entire interaction suspicious.

  Memorizing their faces, Mark did not wait for further farewells. He passed through the final gate, disappearing under the watchful eyes of the guard and the Iron Wolf party.

  "Sovereign..." Pippin whispered from beneath the cloak.

  "Not now." Mark tightened the cloak around himself as he walked past guards who watched him with cold expressions.

  Finally, Luminaris opened before him.

  The shift from the checkpoint to the city felt like stepping from a silent desert into a festival of sensation.

  Mark took in every detail. The streets were paved with polished stone reflecting the bluish glow of mana spheres suspended from cast-iron posts.

  The city rose vertically and imposing. Pale stone buildings featured ornate balconies and stained-glass windows that cast shifting mosaics of light across the pavement.

  The sounds blended into a vibrant cacophony. The clatter of horseshoes against stone, the murmur of countless conversations, the distant calls of night merchants hawking their goods, and the steady rhythm of military patrols.

  He saw silk-robed figures carried in litters, adventurers openly displaying their gear, and ordinary citizens who moved with ease through the illuminated streets.

  The city pulsed with life.

  At every corner, armored guards stood watch.

  Mark walked for several minutes, his eyes bright as he observed the flow of people living their lives.

  For the first time, he felt as though he was truly standing in a real world.

  "Sovereign..." Pippin whispered again. "Where are we going now?"

  Mark looked toward the city lights, his gaze settling on a swinging sign in the distance.

  "We will find a place to rest. I need to understand how this place works first."