Chapter 9: Mystiron Alley

Sylvie followed the strange boy through a series of narrow backstreets, away from the lively bustle of the market square. The further they walked, the quieter the town became. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat faded, replaced by the damp, earthy smell of old stone. The alleyways twisted unnaturally, almost like a maze designed to confuse anyone unfamiliar with its layout.

A flicker of doubt crossed Sylvie's mind. She had followed a stranger into an unfamiliar part of town on nothing more than curiosity. Was this a mistake?

Before she could second-guess herself, the boy stopped in front of an unassuming stone archway nestled between two aging buildings. It looked like any ordinary alley—dimly lit, overgrown with moss, with nothing to hint at anything unusual.

"This is it," the boy said, his voice laced with amusement.

Sylvie frowned. "It's just a back alley."

He chuckled. "That's what it looks like to most people."

Before she could ask what he meant, the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, engraved metal token. The design on its surface looked almost like swirling storm clouds frozen in time. As he held it up, the air around the archway shifted, distorting like ripples on a pond.

For a brief second, Sylvie glimpsed something beyond—a narrow street bathed in an unnatural glow, lined with shadowy storefronts and flickering lanterns.

Then, just as quickly, the vision disappeared.

The boy smirked at her stunned expression. "Mystiron Alley isn't for just anyone. You need one of these to enter." He tapped the token against the archway.

The stone shimmered like liquid metal before parting like a veil.

Beyond it, the alley was no longer dark and forgotten. The space had expanded, revealing a hidden district unlike anything Sylvie had ever seen.

A part of the town that wasn't supposed to exist.

The boy tucked the token away and motioned for her to follow. "Well? Coming?"

Sylvie took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the world changed.

The first thing she noticed was the atmosphere. The air inside Mystiron Alley felt heavier, charged with something that made her skin tingle. There was no sunlight—only the glow of enchanted lanterns, casting eerie shadows across the stone buildings.

Unlike the loud and cheerful marketplace, this place was quiet. People moved with purpose, their conversations hushed. Cloaked figures inspected wares under flickering candlelight, merchants whispered deals in the shadows, and craftsmen hunched over workbenches, their tools glinting in the dim glow.

And then there were the items.

Sylvie's breath hitched.

Everywhere she looked, she saw objects that defied logic—a dagger that hovered an inch above its display stand, a quill that wrote on parchment without a hand to guide it, a lantern that burned with cold blue flames.

The sheer impossibility of it all made her pulse quicken.

"This place…" She turned in awe. "Everything here is magic."

"Not everything," the boy corrected with a smirk. "But close."

Sylvie barely heard him. Her eyes flitted across the various shops, each one more incredible than the last.

There was a small forge where a blacksmith hammered away at a blade that pulsed with faint blue veins of energy. Next to it, a vendor sold glowstone charms that flickered like captured starlight.

A nearby shop displayed spellwoven garments—cloaks that shimmered between colors, boots that left no footprints, gloves that never wore out.

Her fingers itched to touch them.

Sylvie's excitement dimmed as she caught sight of a wooden sign outside one of the stalls. It listed a grading system beside different price brackets:

• Iron-Tier (Common)

• Bronze-Tier (Low-Grade)

• Silver-Tier (Mid-Grade)

• Gold-Tier (High-Grade)

• Mythril-Tier (Rare)

At first, she thought it was a ranking of quality. Then, she noticed the prices.

Even the weakest items—Iron-Tier trinkets—cost more than her family likely made in a year. A single Bronze-Tier item could buy an entire farmstead.

Sylvie swallowed hard.

Magic was rare. The people who awakened magic-related classes were even rarer—so rare that those who did were instantly sought after, their futures secured. Those who didn't?

They had to rely on enchanted items, and judging by these prices, that was a luxury reserved for the wealthy.

She clenched her fists.

Even though she had an ability—[Tinkerer's Blessing]—she had no idea if it could ever compare to true magic. If she wanted to stand out in this world, she needed to push herself.

A deep hunger burned inside her.

She wanted to own something like this. To make something like this.

She just didn't know how yet.

The boy watched her expression carefully, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"You look like you're about to steal something."

Sylvie shot him a glare. "I'm not."

"Good, because the shopkeepers here would catch you in an instant." He tilted his head. "You really don't get out much, huh?"

Sylvie hesitated before answering. "Not to places like this."

The boy's smirk widened. "Well, you're in luck. I happen to know all the best spots."

She crossed her arms. "And why exactly are you showing me this place?"

"Call it a hunch," he said cryptically.

Sylvie narrowed her eyes. "That's not an answer."

The boy laughed. "Fine, fine. Let's just say… I like recognizing potential."

That didn't explain anything, but before she could press further, The boy extended a hand. "Since we're already here, might as well make it official. Name's Dain."

She hesitated, then took his hand. "Sylvie."

Dain's grip was firm, his green eyes sharp as they met hers. "Nice to meet you, Sylvie. Welcome to the place where people like us find opportunity."

"People like us?" she repeated, frowning.

"You'll see," he said with a grin.

After a while, Sylvie knew she had to leave. No matter how tempting it was to stay, her mother would kill her if she wasn't back by noon.

She turned to Dain. "Thanks for showing me this place."

He shrugged. "No problem. Just remember—you owe me a favor."

Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

As she stepped back toward the archway, ready to return to the normal world, she didn't notice the way Dain's eyes lingered on her.

A faint glint flickered in his gaze—something sharp, assessing.

"Oh, we'll see where this goes," he murmured to himself, crossing his arms.

His lips curled into an intrigued smile.

"I can see it… that tiny spark of mana in her."

And just like that, Sylvie unknowingly stepped onto a path that would change everything.