I stepped into the room, moving purposefully towards Rorick. He seemed to hyperventilate if the sudden and frantic breaths he did meant anything. He staggered back, shaking his head. “H-How?! Faithe’s Domain is absolute! No one could have broken free!”

I snorted at him. “I wouldn’t call that ‘absolute.’” I shook my head. “But I’ll be sure to offer my gratitude. I had to realize something to break free.” I clenched my fists, the glow dimmed until it vanished, though I still felt the strength flowing through me. My grin turned playful. “Sadly, you don’t need to know.” I crouched and lunged forwards, cracking the earth beneath my feet from the force of my charge.

Rorick cursed as he stumbled back and fell onto his butt, fear crossing his face.

Unfortunately, before I could reach him, I had to stop and leap backward to avoid a veritable sea of black shards as they gored into the stone floor. Landing on the ground in a crouch, I turned towards the source. Faithe stood with an outstretched hand, left cheek bruised and lip busted, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. She glared, eyes flaring with fury. “What’s wrong?” I drawled at her as I rose from my crouch, straightening my posture and placing my hands at my hips. “Sad that I broke your illusion?”

She flinched minutely, but her eyes narrowed. “I had hoped to exhaust you so that Rorick and I could bring you back to Nyrill.” Her nostrils flared at my cocky grin. “But it seems like I’ll have to cripple you.”

My grin faltered as I considered her words, my good mood falling. “So…you want to cage me?”

“For your own good.” Faithe declared, clenching her fists. The shards of glass finally returned to her side, floating behind her aimlessly.

“I need you and Maggie to stay here now.”

“But why?”

“Because…you’ll be safe. It’s for your own good, so…continuing being the good brother I know you are.”

Hearing those words, taking in the apparent meaning behind them, I couldn’t help but feel a memory come forward: the day when my time trapped in a gilded cage began. A cold fury billowed within my chest, causing my smile to turn flinty, my eyes to narrow. That island. I hated it and everything it represented — the thought of returning to it…it’s anathema to me. But the idea of being trapped elsewhere; a return to a gilded cage, when I had just taken this freedom, did not sit well with me.

“That is a mistake.” I pushed as much power into my legs as I possibly could and leaped. The epicenter shook, and the ground behind me broke, sending rubble tearing and breaking from the earth. My punch flew true, once again crashing into Faithe’s face. Her eyes widened and watered as I put my body weight behind the blow, sending her careening into a stone wall. She screamed in agony from the strike, the glass shards clattering to the ground noisily. In the background, I heard Rorick cry out the name of his comrade, but I ignored him. As she fell from the wall, I followed immediately after her and caught her by the side of her head. I slammed her head into the wall once more and let her go. Tears flowed from her face, but it did not deter me from punching her in the stomach as hard as I possibly could.

Blood poured from her mouth as I heard a crack and tear. Faithe dropped to her knees, and I attempted to follow up with another attack, but my instincts screamed for me to move. Diving to the side, I watched as a sea of glass drilled into space I once stood. They reminded me of a woodchipper, countless spinning blades that scraped audibly against one another, eating through everything in their path. Faithe stood shakily, grimacing as she held a hand to her stomach, hunched over from the pain. “I will not lose here.” She pointed to me, and the glass shards zoomed towards me.

I offered no words, saving my energy to evade the shards. I dived to the side, feeling a breeze send my bangs fluttering. I rolled along the ground, and when my lead foot finally touched the ground. Upon contact, I flexed my legs and rocketed towards Faithe, sprinting headlong towards her. The shards followed after me, practically engulfing my shadow. I spared a glance over my shoulder, turning back to see that Faithe had decided to keep distance between us, running away from me. Still, I gained on her with my superior physical abilities.

Faithe dived to the side, extending a hand and waving it to the side. The shards audibly vibrated, before I felt the air itself become dense. I twisted around and dropped to the ground, evading a spear formation by the skin of my teeth. Watching the sea of shards followed a singular path, I saw them encircle my position; I looked around to see Sora and Rorick clashing, dagger and sword meeting time and time again. She had the advantage, pushing him back once more with the support of her magic and Marishka.

The corner of my lips curled upwards, and I sprinted towards them, knowing that the shards would follow me. “Sora!” I cried out, causing the trio to glance towards me. Sora grinned and twisted around, throwing her empty hand at her opponent. Rorick tried to break away, but his surprise prevented him from acting correctly. Ethereal energy tore into his armored torso as Marishka’s powerful jaws bit effortlessly into his left ankle. The sound of torn flesh and a cry of pain caused him to pause and try to kick her away.

I reached him within seconds, throwing my hand out to grasp the collar of his armor. Sliding forward, I crouched and drilled an elbow into his stomach. He heaved from the blow, leaning from the impact. I jerked him forward and released his collar. He staggered towards me, and I took hold of his wrist. Hooking my shoulder in his gut, I heaved him up and over my body, then slammed him bodily onto the ground. Rorick gagged from the impact, groaning as I wrenched my sword from his grip. Before I could follow up with a stomp, Sora slid in front of me and forced me to step back to release Rorick. She held up her free hand, causing a curved, luminescent barrier to manifest around us.

With a shrieking sound, the sea of shards parted from the impact, encircling us as Rorick rolled away from us to scramble back towards Faithe. Sora lowered her hand, and the barrier dissolved. She straightened her posture and stood right at my side, staring intently at the pair before us. “I believe that my King has given you his answer, clergy. We shall not return to Nyrill.” Sora declared to them, her brows furrowed and teeth bared in triumph.

“The Demon Lord must not rise.” Faithe said evenly, her expression hard. “Even if we must collapse the dungeon atop all of our heads, we will not allow that to come to pass.” Rorick climbed to his feet, favoring his left arm.

Sora sneered at her, placing her empty hand on her hip. “And you showed anger at being called a zealot.”

Faithe and Rorick stiffened, the former’s expression darkening while the latter became stoic. “You don’t know anything.”

“No,” I said to them, shaking my head. Eyes flickering to me, I sighed and lowered my sword. “It’s you who doesn’t know anything. I don’t want destruction. I don’t want chaos. I want to live my life free from those who want to control my life.”

Rorick scoffed, his lips curled in distaste. “It’s an inevitability that the next Demon Lord will spark a war. Nothing you say can change fate. They’d all be pointless and petty words.”

I felt a rumble of anger pulse through me, but I brushed it aside. “If nothing I ‘say’ will mean anything to you, then let my actions speak for me.” It took all I had not to growl out those words.

“We’re not fools, Joseph Blaine.” Rorick glared, shoulders tense as he waited for the melee to resume. “It is a monster’s nature to do whatever it takes to fulfill their ambition.” He motioned towards me, flinching as he used his injured arm. “The moment you accepted that mantle was the moment you became something else. We cannot trust you.”

I felt my hackles rise, and my knuckles crack as I clenched my fist. “Monster, huh?” Sora turned her head to glance at me in her periphery, an unreadable emotion in her gaze.

My words went ignored as Faithe picked up where Rorick left off, the sea of black shards aimlessly floating behind her and at hers and Rorick’s sides. “It is a shame that the Hero with the greatest potential fell the farthest, but I suppose it is human nature to succumb to temptation.” Regret and pity filled her gaze as she regarded me. “Still, to have you killed would be the greatest shame. We’d prefer you to live, Sir Blaine. Under the aegis and protection of our parish.”

Irrationality filled me; a building rage and rising fury. Faithe pitied me. She worded it kindly, but she intended to cage me like some wild animal. Still, I pushed it down. “You’re not listening. I don’t care about any of you. I don’t want to ruin any lives or hurt them. I want to be free to see this world for what it is.”

“And you can.” Faithe said, attempting to sound soothing, but her efforts only seemed fake. “You can see Verum, but with our people guiding you where it is most beautiful.”

Rorick shrugged, his gaze focusing intently on me. “Though, your desires don’t mean much, when the prophecy states you will start a war after your…journey.”

The anger returned in force, a white-hot rage blinding me. A part of me wanted to give in, to take catharsis from beating that smug bastard in the face. “You take your prophecy and go to hell.” I guess I didn’t have as much self-control as I thought I did. I took a step forward, and the ground cracked beneath the force of my footstep. “I will not bow in the face of words, like some weak-willed child.” I snarled at him.

Rorick’s gaze sharpened, his jaw straightening. “Fallen Hero or not, I will not allow you to affront the gospel from our God.” Faithe stiffened, her tentative gaze shifting from Rorick, to me, to Sora.

“I will be free.” I bared my teeth in defiance, lifting my sword. “I will not be chained, nor caged, nor shackled. Freedom is my right, and if I have to, I will take it from the hands of close-minded and cowardly fools like you, then I will.” I growled as I slashed through the air. “I am going to walk out of here, free; whether it’ll be over your bodies or not, is entirely up to you.”

Before either of them could respond, Sora let out an amused laugh. “Well spoken, Joey. I’ll second that belief with every fiber of my being.” At my other side, Marishka snarled an echoed affirmative, her hackles rose and fangs bared.

Rorick narrowed his eyes at me but said nothing.

Faithe closed her eyes and sighed reluctantly. “I…am sorry you feel such a way, Sir Blaine.” When she opened her eyes, she stared at us with determination, her gaze hardening. “But Rorick and I have a mission that we will see through to the end. You shall come with us, willingly or not.”

“I prefer the terms, alive or dead, personally,” Rorick growled as he unsheathed his sword.

Faithe glared at him. “Rorick, you shou-” Appearing next to her, as if from nowhere, Arce stepped out behind Faithe. Her expression was placid, though her eyes were intense. Her lips curled downwards as she pulled a stiletto from her sleeve, a seven-inch pointed, slender stake. Flipping it in her grasp, she caught it in a reverse grip and stabbed downwards. It tore through the flesh of Faithe’s thigh, causing her to freeze. An echoing scream tore from her lips, tears already streaming down her face. The shards floating around her froze, before collapsing uselessly onto the earth in a deafening cacophony.

Seeing an opening from a shocked and enraged Rorick turning towards Arce, I closed the distance between us with a lunged. I cleared the width of the entire room in an instant, my sword slicing through the air, aimed at his chest.

Rorick cursed as he noticed me, catching my sword with his before I could reach him. Our swords clashed, but I managed to push him back from the force of my charge. In my periphery, I caught sight of a black blur, before Rorick jumped back to avoid it.

On my left, Sora leaped into sight, her dagger held above her head and glowing with radiant green energy. Slashing the downwards, she unleashed a wave of energy that tore into the earth as Faithe jumped away. The ground parted from the force of the attack, shaking all of our balance. Sora landed with sure footing and lunged after Faithe, Arce following after with her bloody stiletto.

Rishka and I intercepted Rorick as he tried to support Faithe. My sword thrust forward, aimed towards his chest, but he parried it. His hand shot upwards and pushed my thrown punch aside, but he grunted in pain as Marishka bit into his armored thigh. Metal whined as her jaws tore into him as if no more than cardboard. Rorick kicked at her, and she leaped back, tearing away a piece of his armor in the process. Blood painted the ground at his side as flesh parted from her strike. He staggered back, flagging from the weight formerly held on his injured leg.

I followed up with a front kick, hitting him in the stomach. Metal bent inwards as he continued to stagger back, hacking out a breath as I winded him. His paled expression betrayed his pain as he glared hatefully at me. He squared his shoulders and grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands. A grimace set on his face as he placed his stance. Then, suddenly, his wound stopped bleeding, as if falling into stasis. “I’m done playing along with Faithe’s plan. I’ll kill you.” Rorick snarled at me, kicking forwards to lunge at me.

Despite myself, upon hearing his words, I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face. A tingle raced down my spine as laughter bubbled within my chest. As he charged towards me, unimpeded by his injury, I chuckled faintly. “You’re welcome to try. Don’t interfere, Rishka. I want this fight myself.” She huffed, scratching the stone floor with a paw. Crouching, I met his charge with my own. I slashed upwards and challenged his downward swing. Our swords clashed, and gravity acted in his favor, forcing me to stagger from the impact. I stepped backward and parried his next string of attacks.

Steel sang between us as our swords clashed again and again. He acted as the ever-advancing force as I causally bled off the energy of every one of his attacks. I twisted and side-stepped, feeling my smile grow as I noticed his growing frustration. As his swings became more ferocious and angrier, his expression tightened and darkened, eyes blazing with fury. His strikes became frenzied and desperate, jaw clenched, and hands tightened on his sword. Amid his assault, I parried one of his blows to the side, sending him stumbling from the redirected force.

“How long have you been training with the sword?” I mused to myself, not expecting an answer.

“Since the day I could hold the blade.” Rorick snarled through clenched teeth. He twisted around and attempted to resume his assault. My free hand lashed out and grabbed him by his left wrist, bending and breaking the metal of his gauntlets. He gasped breathlessly and dropped to a knee, but still held firm onto his sword.

Turning his sword away from me, I stared at him in disbelief. “Your entire life? You’ve trained your entire life and yet…” I paused as a faint melancholy settled in my gut, joy slowly leaving me as my smile fell. “To me, it feels like you’re a flailing child throwing a tantrum.” With a flick of my wrist, I pushed him back, my augmented strength causing him to fall back, landing with an echoing thud. I watched him scramble to his feet with a sense of disappointment. I no longer felt angry, just tired, and disappointed. I’ve barely held a sword for two months and change, and he for virtually his whole life.

I watched him take a stance in front of me, taking a bearing with his sword held in front of him. I saw the fear and anger in his glaring gaze and shook my head. “Just stop. Stop throwing your life away.” Please. I don’t want to kill you. I couldn’t bring myself to say those words but knew that I would, if it meant I could remain unchained.

“To hell with you, Demon Lord. I will succeed at what Sir Luke failed to do.” At that, fear left his eyes, replaced by a steely resolve.

I felt my entire world freeze at his words. A pounding sensation in the back of mind caused his words to echo in my thoughts. Slowly, gradually, the anger from before returned. It simmered beneath the surface. It cried out to be released, to be sent out to the world. It demanded destruction; it demanded reprisal and immediate satisfaction.

“What Luke failed to do?” My words came out rough and coarse, my throat tight. The corners of my eyes blurred, and I blinked it away. “You have no way to understand what he’s done to me.”

“His actions brought us time.” Rorick declared, a flicker of hesitation filling him as he gulped.

Yellow hovered over the surface of his body. He was afraid. Good.

“No,” I growled, my voice rumbling deep in my chest. Phantom pain flickered along my back, centering where Luke had stabbed me. I felt the sensation expand until it reached my chest. With that, my anger bubbled and cried out for catharsis. Red slowly colored the edges of my vision, a weight setting on my shoulders. “That bastard betrayed me. He broke a decade-long friendship.” My throat constricted as I gritted my teeth, adjusting my stance into a crouch, and shifting a foot forward.

Rorick gulped, shifting back as if to widen the gap between us. He steeled himself and met my gaze without hesitation. His hand shook as he retorted with words that pushed me over the edge. “Is it a betrayal when you were the one who deceived him first?”

All rational thought came to a screeching halt. My body stiffened as I stared at Rorick in disbelief. Slowly, I lowered my sword arm while still staring at Rorick. His own eyes widened at my reaction, a flicker of hope appearing his gaze. A part of me felt amused at that. “I’m done playing nice.” Strength filled my legs as I shot forwards, practically destroying the ground beneath my charge. My sword swung downwards and he managed to lift his to block me. This time, physics was on my side.

Rorick dropped to a knee as he held my sword back with his own, arms shaking from the exertion. I towered over his crouched form, opposite hand pushing down on the upper end of my single-edged sword. As I watched the hope leave his eyes, a cruel smile grew on my face. “You should have stayed home. Perhaps you would’ve lived long enough to see another sunrise.” Throwing my foot forward, I kicked him in the stomach hard enough to cave in the front of his armor. Blood and saliva shot from his mouth as he stumbled, no doubt to try and put distance between us.

I didn’t allow it.

I followed his retreat closely, my sword singing as it cut through the air towards his face. He frantically deflected it, unable to bleed off the force I put behind it. I kept him on the backfoot as I continued my forward march, conducting a single blade orchestra as I maintained my nonstop offensive. I tapped into my Affinity and pushed it as hard as I could. Strength and skill drove me forward, guided by my will to crush the one who stood before me utterly. My assault on him, like a dance, compared to his previous attack on me; every move transitioned flawlessly to the next, probing every last one of the gaps in his guard, opening wound after wound even with his frantic, desperate attempts to stop me.

I twisted and spun with every swing, my sword whistling as it carved a path through the air, crying for the blood of my chosen prey. Rorick lost the right to be called an ‘opponent’ the moment he allowed his fear to shatter his composure; I held no mercy for the fool before me, even as fresh tears flowed down his face. He begged me to stop, to let him go; he swore never even to speak my name, to forget that I even existed. His blithering words meant nothing to me; his childish blubbering only driving me to further ruthlessness.

My expression became masked, a blank façade that showed nothing to the one who stood before.

With a flick of my wrist, I ripped his sword from his hand and sent to flipping to the side. He stumbled away from me, but I followed him, effortlessly reaching him. I threw out my left arm, crashing an elbow into his face. He grunted and placed his hand over his face to staunch the bleeding; I followed up by lifting my sword and thrusting it towards his chest. I decided to end this farce. I had swiftly frown tired of his endless blubbering.

His eyes widened as he watched my sword rocketing towards him. With reflexes that even surprised me, he threw his arms in the path of my sword. The point of my steel, backed by my superior strength, tore through the steel of his armor and into the flesh and bone of his arm. He grunted in pain but forced his and my sword downwards as I pushed the thrust forward despite the resistance.

His arm had reached his left flank when the rest of my blade tore through it and ripped into the meaty side of his torso. I twisted my sword and listened as his echoing scream turned into something agonizingly primal. After the entire length of my sword ate through his body, I gave one last twist and ripped it out the side, painting the ground on his left with a generous amount of red. As I did so, I felt warm droplets pepper my cheek when I stood to my full height. I stared down at my brutalized foe impassively; my anger lost amid a determined apathy. Emotion had died off as the ‘fight’ continued, my blows growing heavier and faster. My rage no longer drove me forward, only the catalyst of the inevitable victory I held as I stood over my beaten, bloodied opponent.

“Rorick!” Faithe’s enraged, worried, cry, tore my attention from my foe. I glanced to the source to see her wounded, but still mobile. Fresh wounds peppered her, her armor hanging loosely and drenched in blood. Blood dripped down the side of her mouth, but she still held a hand out to me. Behind her, the sea of black shards had become a much smaller grouping, resembling the size of a large dog. The shards undulated and bloated until they rocketed through the air, spinning and drilling towards me.

The same desperation felt earlier, to dodge, to evade, did not return. I saw an obstacle. I lifted a foot and took a step back. One second I stood over a beaten and bloody Rorick, the next I stood on the other side of the epicenter of the dungeon, next to the floating orb. The shards tore into the ground next to Rorick, before the rose and encircled him, acting as a protective barrier. I turned face Faithe, but she ignored me, limping as she attempted to run towards Rorick.

As I watched her reach her partner, Sora, Arce, and Marishka went over to me. Sora, looking almost no worse for wear, smiled with pride as she studied me.

Arce remained expressionless as she stared after Faithe as if waiting for reprisal.

Marishka sat on her haunches at my left flank, bright red eyes watching the pair.

I too looked towards the pair who attempted to bring me back to Nyrill, watching the shards dispersed upon Faithe’s arrival. She fretted and worried over Rorick, whispering desperate assurances to him as she tried to press onto his stomach wound, tears gathering in her eyes.

We had won. Faithe and Rorick wouldn’t fight any longer.

That didn’t mean this was over, however.

“Please…” Faithe cried as she continued to try and stop Rorick from bleeding out. “We’ll stop. We’ll leave you alone. We’ll forget all about you. Please! Just…let us live.” He won’t. I was sure that’s what she tried not to consider, even as Rorick began to hyperventilate, the puddle of blood beneath him growing more prominent as time passed.

Did I believe them?

No.

When Sora had first awoken me, I never considered a situation like this. Hell, in hindsight, it’s easy to realize, especially since my grave was in perfect line of sight with the church.

If they had found me, it’s an inevitability that others can find me just as quickly. My anonymity would only last so much longer; it is as Sora had told me, I needed to find Mina before I could relax even a bit. My new role would cause panic and fear in people; armies would march and attempt to hunt me down. I needed an army to act as a deterrent. Regardless of what I decided to do to the two before me, people would find out about me and seek me out.

It was inevitable.

But I’d have more time if they didn’t walk out of here, regardless of Faithe’s desperate promise.

The big question that plagued me was whether I had it in me to take that first step…

Could I kill in cold blood?

“Please…” Faithe’s teary voice pulled me from my internal debates. “Have mercy…”

Just like that, I remembered the anger I had discarded as I defeated Rorick. I remembered the declaration he made about killing me and Faithe’s intentions of caging me. “Mercy?” Disbelief colored my voice as I furrowed my brow at her words. “You beg me for mercy after trying to dictate my life.” My voice came out rough from the rage I held back. “You threaten to cage me, to tear my freedom from my hands, and you have the gall to beg for mercy.” Incredulity filled me alongside my tired fury. “What gives you the right?” I scoffed and turned away from them.

A surprised gasp escaped her as I slashed my sword to the side, sending the blood that stayed on it off to the side. Sheathing my sword, I motioned for my group to follow. “We’re leaving.” I approached the orb and reached behind me and tapped Kato’s hilt.

I made my choice.

It would not be by my hand. Not yet.

Kato disappeared from the hilt at the back of my belt; I heard a gagging sound, followed by a slicing sound, then a thud. “It is done, Milord.” The knife returned her sheath as I closed my eyes, flickers of shame and resignation tickling the edges of my stomach. I had them killed, and I didn’t even have the heart to watch them. Or do it with my own hand.

I guess I’m shaping up to be a fine monster.

I just stood there, in front of the floating orb, staring at its smoky contents with a frown.

“Take the orb, and we’ll appear at the entrance of the dungeon.” Sora’s soft voice explained to me. I didn’t answer her as I lifted my hand; I stared at it in wonder, momentarily confused as to why it hadn’t begun shaking. Wouldn’t a reaction like that be reasonable? Shouldn’t I be moments away from hyperventilating from shock at my actions? Or has my Mantle changed me so much that I don’t react to death as a person should?

Whatever. “Let’s get out of here,” I said as I palmed the orb. A blinding light engulfed us, and the unstable stone flooring changed to the cushiony and drenched give of grass and mud as we appeared at the mouth of the cave. I lifted my head to stare up to the dark rainclouds that poured their contents upon the earth.

Sora cleared her throat. “We should return to Xadria.” I nodded at her. We swiftly made our way back to the horses. I passed by the horses of those who died, climbing onto a huffing and whining Kel. Sora got onto her horse, as did Arce with hers.

Marishka shrunk back down to her former size and yawned heavily, her head drooping as I hefted her onto my lap. She fell asleep as I rubbed my fingers through her swiftly dampening fur.

“I will take the orb to the guild, as well as the horses,” Sora explained as we turned our horses to make our return trip. “They’ll wish to know about the death of four adventurers.”

“Can they recover the bodies?” I asked her, not caring about the answer, but to fill the air.

“No,” Arce answered for her. “Those left in the dungeon belong to it; nature shall run its course, regardless of our wishes.” Her soft voice drew a nod from me.

I held the orb out to her and Sora took it, sliding it into her bag. “Let’s go. I’m going to sleep for the rest of the week.”

With that, we made our return trip to Xadria.

The remaining time of my trial period progressed uneventfully, thankfully. With Sora or Arce at my side, while the other picked up supplies or met with Alba to trade information, I grew more familiar with Xadria. While it would no doubt take much longer for me become as comfortable with it as they were, I became capable of traversing it on my own.

I visited a blacksmith within my budget and had my sword and armor service while commissioning a more permanent set.

I found the library and realized that my ability to read remained focused on English since the words translated themselves upon sight. Didn’t know how I felt about that, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

I watched as preparations for the upcoming festival were underway, occasionally helping when I could lend a hand. Honestly, I found that to be more amusing than anything else, considering for whom the festival is meant to celebrate. Regardless, if it were in front of me, then I’d help, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to help.

Even with all of that, I didn’t do the one thing that a part of me wanted so fervently. Even with their attempts to capture me, seeing Faithe and Rorick’s comradery made me feel…nostalgic. Solitude didn’t plague me, because Sora, Marishka, and Arce never let me feel alone. But…

I still wanted to speak with my old friends, to laugh with them, to share smiles and hopes and dreams.

It’s cheesy as all hell and pointlessly angsty, so I tried not to dwell on it. I did everything I could to pass the time until my trial week ended, all so I could finally become an adventurer and see more of Verum.

These thoughts jumped back and forth in my head as I stepped into the guild hall on the day my trial ended. A full week had passed, and I felt confident that things would go over well. Sora and Marishka had opted to stay at the inn, the former working on something for me while the latter didn’t want to deal with crowds. Arce had come with me, wanting to check in with the guild; No Kato, at least outside of her knife form, since she hadn’t been the one to receive the recommendation letter, so she had to wait two more weeks. She could appear at any point, though, so I did not need to worry for her.

As I stepped into the guild hall, I took in the loud interactions of the other adventurers, who laughed and shared drinks, talking and yelling amongst themselves. Almost all of the tables were filled with people eating and drinking, chatting, and debating various topics, drinks sloshing everywhere as they clanged mugs in celebration.

Along the bulletin boards, groups milled about and pointed to various listings, debating on what jobs to take and what to avoid.

For the first time since returning to the guild, I felt a genuine smile grow on my face. That childish joy from before came roaring back. I could finally experience the stories I had read over the course of my life. I could finally live the dreams that I had escaped to when trapped on Earth.

With a fortifying breath, I rolled my shoulders and walked purposefully towards the front desk.

As I approached, though, I heard something that nearly made me stumble…

“…while I am sad to see you go, Miss Fitzgerald, I’m happy that you’ve managed to find what your company needs.” The same clerk who had helped me, Aspen, speaking to a woman at the desk. From behind her, I could see that the woman wore a form-fitting leather jacket with metal bracers along the forearms; she wore a flowing, ankle-length dress with a slit cut up to mid-thigh, revealing a pair of armored boots. I compacted staff rested on her back, attached to a leather and steel harness on the back of her jacket. Her long, wavy hair was black and tied into a low braid, tied with dark brown string.

The woman replied; her voice hauntingly familiar. “Yes. It’s frustrating that I have to leave, considering my connections here, but needs must.” She nodded decisively, taking something from the counter and sliding it into her jacket. “I’ll have some noncombatants stay behind since they prefer it here. If needed, you can contact me through them.”

Aspen nodded once, writing something down before continuing. “I shall keep you in mind. The Twin Flags have been nothing but exemplary in their work ethic.”

“They should be. Nothing but the best.” Pride leaked into her tone.

Aspen smiled, shifting from professional to fond before her eyes flickered to the side. She caught sight of me and her smile widened. “Lyall! You’ve arrived early. Come. I’d like you to meet an acquaintance of mine.”

“Lyall?” The woman spoke, her voice affecting curiosity. She turned to face me, and as we locked eyes, I felt my lungs squeeze and my stomach drop. Brow length bangs, swept to the right, rested above a milky white left eye framed by a faded, thick scar from just above the brow to below the cheekbone; both it and her brown right eye rested beneath a pair of rounded lenses, outlined by thick frames. Her natural tan was darker than I last remembered if only by a bit; beneath her jacket, she wore a high-necked vest with black buttons. It hugged her slender, feminine frame well.

“Joseph?” Kacee Fitzgerald whispered hoarsely, hope warring with disbelief as if she had just seen a ghost.

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Alea Iacta Est - Fin