11 steps out of Alola’s Wares into the blazing afternoon sun. She strolls towards the river that runs through the village, feeling the weight of her new tinderbox, medical kit, and plant-harvesting tools bouncing around in her backpack. She’s even picked out a new set of casual clothes, and a traveling potions-brewing kit, under the impression that maybe Aralyn might like them as a present.

As for herself, the doctor’s funds allowed 11 to leave Alola’s with an open-collar vest, breathable leggings, and her very own cloak, which hangs from her body like a pair of wings. She is still wearing Aralyn’s cotton shirt and shorts, but swapped out the slippers for some sturdy ankle boots.

11 turns in front of the river, admiring her simple yet robust clothing reflected in the water.

The river, known as “Ryugon”, weaves through the outskirts of the village like a crystalline python. As 11 strolls along the bank, she spots tiny silver fishes darting under the water’s glassy surface, nibbling at a carpet of mossy stones. She has walked a long way from the heart of the village, and the houses here are sparse and worn. There are clear signs of expansion, but 11 can find no workers about the skeletal buildings and dug-up land.

Sounds of chatter drift their way to 11. Further onwards, by the top of an oak-spotted hillock, she sees a group of women washing baskets of clothing and vegetables in the river. They wave when they spot 11, and she waves back. She has just started to make her way over when something catches her eye. Movement. Far in the overgrown field by the base of the eastern wall, a figure slips between the logs, disappearing from view.

11 jogs over to get a proper look.

Amongst the towering weeds, one of the logs making up the fence has its base rotted away, leaving a gap just big enough for a person to crawl through. 11 gets on her hands and knees, parting the weeds with her backpack held in front of her.

Plains stretch into a horizon of lush forest. A cloaked figure hustles towards the woods, sticking to the side of the winding dirt path.

11 follows without hesitation, pulling the straps of her backpack tight across her shoulders.

The forest begins with a trail of oaks on either side of the path, gradually growing denser as the 11 and the hooded figure head eastward. Soon, the path is concealed between towering trees, their gnarled roots grasping the dirt and their leaves blocking out the sunlight.

That is not the direction of the nearest Level 70 Demonic Entity, Gier 11.

"I know. But I have a feeling I'm going to find something equally big, very soon."

As 11 follows the figure deeper into the forest, a suffocating gloom encroaches from the depths of the woods, making it impossible to see without night vision. 11 moves silently, staying close to the shadows. After a few twists through the foliage, she loses sight of the figure, but can still hear the faint snapping of twigs somewhere ahead.

Eventually, she catches up, and the silhouette comes into view; a hooded figure, hunched over, torch in hand, scurries through the fog. The thick cloak makes discerning details difficult, but 11 guesses from the width of the shoulders and hips that it is likely a man. She slows, keeping far enough behind the suspicious person to prevent being spotted.

They walk for what seems like days. With the way the trees block off the sky, 11 can only tell between day and night by her internal clock.

The time is 9:12 pm (GMT +12)

Have we really been walking for that long?

The man hikes over the rough terrain with a hurried purpose, not wavering once in his direction as he forges onward. Every once in a while he will pause briefly, to inspect the trunk of a nearby tree, before continuing again. When 11 checks those trees, she notices little notch marks carved into the trunks, probably showing the man where to go.

Eventually, the mysterious man seems to tire. He sets down his sack, and sits with his back against the base of an old, swooping sycamore.

11’s internal clock tells her the sky should be filled with stars right now.

Within a moment, the man has laid out his straw mat, and is warming his hands against a tiny campfire, which he lights with a flint when 11 expects to see magic. The man unwraps half a loaf of bread and a piece of cheese, but just stares at the food, like a stranded man debating whether or not to exhaust the last of his morsel. Then, as if he has come to some silent conclusion, the man starts wolfing it all down, barely chewing before he swallows.

From behind her tree, 11 finds her own mouth watering.

After the food has disappeared, the man takes out a waterskin, and gulps down its contents in large mouthfuls. The action is so similar to the Doctor and his ale that, for a second, 11 almost expects to smell alcohol seeping through the air.

A fog has started to roll from deep within the woods, coiling around tree trunks and encasing the forest in an impenetrable haze. The darkness fills with the sounds of the night; chirping and whispering of insects, the distant howling of wolves.

11’s eyes pierce through the obscurity. She watches the man as he hunches over, a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Soon, his body starts to relax as his heat signature lowers, and he dozes off.

11 takes this time to finally give her nanobots some attention. She forages in the surroundings, finding all manners of things, from berries and seeds to mushrooms and roots. She gathers whatever her scanners tell her might be remotely edible, and stuffs it all into her mouth.

Nanobot count increased to 71%

Nanobot count increased to 72%

At one point 11 spots a furry little critter perched on a tree branch, nibbling on some bark. Even before her scanners tell her it is a level 0.2 Demonic Entity, 11 already has a throwing knife pinched between her fingers. But at the last second, she hesitates, remembering the spider she squished in the meadow, and the discomfort she felt for doing it.

The critter, perhaps sensing danger, scurries away into a hole in the tree.

It takes her an extra hour, but eventually, 11’s nanobot count is back to 100%. As she heads back to where the man is sleeping, she wonders about Aralyn.

The elf and her party had set off half a day before 11 and the mystery man, and with the passing of tonight, it will be a full 24 hours since they have last seen each other.

A scan of 11's surroundings shows no signs of any predators, and she plays with the idea of looking for Aralyn. But there is no logical reason even she can give for such an action. So, she climbs up a nearby tree, plonks down between two sturdy branches, and closes her eyes to sleep out the rest of the night.