Two figures appeared out of thin air in a burst of light, the sharp glow slowly fading. One of them immediately stumbled, coughing and heaving violently, while the other stood beside him with a completely emotionless expression.
Tarkan bent over, holding his stomach. He gagged once more, nearly vomiting, but somehow managed to keep it down.
"Ma.." Slim paused mid-word, correcting himself, "Sir Tarkan."
Tarkan waved him off weakly, still trying to catch his breath.
"It's your first time teleporting," Slim explained in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. "The side effects are temporary. You'll feel better shortly."
Tarkan nodded absently, still pale and disoriented. He took a deep breath and finally managed to look around. They were in a large open field filled with people. Some stood alone, while others arrived in organized groups, each person surrounded by the same faint shimmering light he'd just experienced. It was clear they'd all just been teleported here.
But what really drew his attention was how others were arriving.
In the distance, people descended from the skies, not by teleportation, but through wild, fantastic means. Some rode giant birds; others sat atop monstrous, winged beasts. A few flew in on bizarre objects: floating disks, staffs, even metallic contraptions that hovered in the air.
Tarkan stared in awe, watching the surreal display with wide eyes.
This world is insane.
Before he could marvel too long, his gaze drifted past the spectacle to a massive city gate standing some distance ahead. Its towering walls stretched beyond what the eye could see, guarded by uniformed soldiers. A huge line of people arranged toward it, some waiting patiently, others chatting nervously.
Slim, standing just behind him, noticed his line of sight.
"This is tharn City, One of the most well-known cities in this region. It's also the commerce hub of the central province and the only official place in the region where one can undergo awakening."
Tarkan turned to ask more about this new world, eager to learn anything he could, but something suddenly made him pause.
He felt eyes on him.
A lot of them.
Turning slowly, he scanned the crowd behind him. At first, he couldn't see anything unusual, until he noticed that many people were staring directly at him.
Men. Women. Even beasts. All eyes… were on him.
His brows furrowed. What the hell are they looking at?
Then it clicked.
They are staring at me.
Some whispered among themselves, while others openly gawked. A few young women blushed and giggled. And just as he was about to turn away and ignore them.
"Hey, handsome! Want me to show you around the city?" a shrill, flirtatious voice called out.
It came from an older man, riding a horned beast, giving Tarkan an unmistakably coquettish wink.
A deep chill ran down Tarkan's spine.
He immediately raised his hand to cover his face and spun around.
Without saying a word, he speed-walked toward the city gate.
Slim followed silently, his expression unchanged, matching Tarkan's pace perfectly.
Reaching the line that led to the city entrance, Tarkan joined the queue, pretending the last thirty seconds had never happened. If anyone stood close to him, they would've felt his heartbeat thundering in his chest.
What kind of hell did I just walk into?
"Hey mister, are you alright?" came a friendly voice in front of him.
Tarkan looked up to see a plump teenage boy with warm eyes. The boy wore simple but clean clothes clearly poor, but well-kept. Despite the worn fabric, his shirt had been carefully pressed and his shoes neatly tied.
The boy tilted his head. "You look pale."
Tarkan, still recovering from both teleportation and emotional trauma, forced himself to respond.
"I'm fine. Thanks."
Taking a deep breath he tried to settle his nerves.
The boy smiled and leaned closer. "Are you here for the awakening too?"
Tarkan glanced at him. The boy's face lit up at the mention of awakening, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"No," Tarkan replied flatly.
He had no desire to talk. Hopefully, the boy would take the hint.
But of course, he didn't.
"You're not from around here, are you?" the boy asked, scanning Tarkan up and down. "If you were, am sure you would be popular with the girls. With looks like yours…"
Tarkan said nothing, hoping silence would end the conversation.
The boy scratched his head sheepishly, then offered a hand.
"I'm Ricky. What's your name?"
"Tarkan."
"Whoa! Even your name sounds cool!" Ricky said, practically bouncing.
To Tarkan's dismay, Ricky kept chattering. He asked question after question, answering half of them himself. Even after Tarkan stopped responding completely, Ricky remained undeterred. The way he carried on, you'd think they were old friends.
Tarkan had originally planned to use this waiting time to ask Slim about the world's politics, its dangers, its systems, but after encountering Ricky, he decided against it.
I'll ask Slim later. In private.
Two to three hours passed, and they were some of the most excruciatingly frustrating hours of Tarkan's life. He didn't know which was worse, Ricky's constant chatter or the slow crawl of the line.
Finally, it was Ricky's turn.
The boy stepped forward, approached the guards, and handed over a worn piece of paper. After inspecting it and exchanging a few words, they nodded and allowed him through the gates.
Then came the voice Tarkan had been waiting for the whole day.
"Next."