Velmora did not feel like a destination.
It felt like a system.
Andres stood at a distance from the towering gates longer than most travelers would.
It wasn’t hesitation that rooted him in place—it was observation.
The world beyond those walls was not something one simply walked into.
It had structure, rules, and an invisible weight that pressed down on anyone who approached without purpose.
Caravans lined up in organized rows, their goods inspected with careful attention.
Guards didn’t just watch—they evaluated.
Every individual that passed through the gates was questioned, measured, and silently judged.
Even the way people walked toward the entrance was different.
Confident merchants moved with steady strides, accustomed to passage.
Laborers lingered, waiting for approval.
Others were turned away without argument.
“…This isn’t just a city,” Andres murmured under his breath.
“…It’s a controlled economy.”
That realization settled deeply in his mind.
In his old world, cities were places people lived.
Here… they were mechanisms.
A guard stepped forward, his expression neutral but firm.
“Entry fee.
Two silver coins.”
Andres met his gaze, calm but honest.
“I don’t have money.”
The answer came as no surprise to the guard.
It was a response he had heard countless times before.
“Then leave.”
No sympathy.
Just procedure.
Andres didn’t argue.
He stepped aside quietly, allowing others to pass.
But his mind didn’t stop working.
Arguing against a system he didn’t understand would get him nowhere.
Instead, he watched.
And in watching, he learned.
This city didn’t reject people because they were weak.
It rejected those who had no value.
Andres exhaled slowly, his thoughts aligning into something clearer.
“…Then I won’t enter as a burden.”
His eyes returned to the gates.
“I’ll enter as value.”