Though sea travel was still the preferred and most used method, transportation for longer distances, such as crossing continents or grand oceans, was done by planes. Though much faster than trains or boats, planes had to dodge around the many no-fly zones and extreme weather, limiting both destinations and possible routes they could take. One of the most used travels by planes was the east coast of Zabad since the great Athenian ocean was the second largest ocean in the world, separating Zabad from Milieu. The whole aviation field was centered around it and fortunately made the tickets slightly more affordable than other destinations.

It was the first time the three had gone on a plane. Though Orel and Ándras were eager to try it, they quickly found themselves sick. Diarmuid thankfully prepared with medication for feeling ill, though he did not reveal they were just sleeping pills. Fortunately for the two, they woke up just in time to admire the scenery above the clouds. They could wait to hear the plane land while watching the white sand stretch to both sides of the horizon.

Orel stepped into the sun wearing cotton shorts and a loose shirt. Ándras enjoyed his orange tank top and his usual coveralls wrapped open around his waist. He followed behind Orel with a child-like glee. Diarmuid followed along with mild amusement under his dark sunglasses and cap. The terminal was surprisingly quiet, but that did not stop them from striking up a conversation.

"Aren't you hot in that?" Ándras asked, looking at Diarmuid's jeans.

"I got a t-shirt, don't I?" Diarmuid raised his sunglasses.

"I didn't know you follow fashion," Orel said.

"What do you mean?" Diarmuid asked.

"I mean, ripped jeans are pretty expensive."

"These are my usual jeans."

"Oh."

"By the way, guys should use a hat." Diarmuid tapped his hat. "And remember to stay hydrated. Heatstroke is no joke."

"I'm good," Ándras said.

"Orel, I can let you borrow mine, but you should buy one yourself." Diarmuid offered his cap.

"Thanks, I guess." The cap was a bit large for him.

"Also, keep your valuables safe and secure, especially wallets. Tourist attractions are full of pickpockets, swindlers, conmen, and alike."

Orel pointed at a pouch hanging from his neck with his phone and wallet inside. Ándras shook his hips with a fanny pack.

Diarmuid sighed. "Those things are fine, but don't lose sight of them. Other than that, wasn't the plane a bit empty?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it." Ándras scratched his chin.

"Maybe it's not tourist season." Orel shrugged.

"I was about to say it should be." Diarmuid thought.

"Hey, you three!" Someone's voice came from the front doors.

The group turned to a well-dressed man with suspenders and a wide-brimmed hard hat.

"Yes?" Orel asked.

"Agent Cole Keibu, MIB." The man showed his badge.

The shiny badge had the letters imprinted on top of a world map, though Orel could barely catch a glance as Cole put it back into his pocket.

"Knew it. It's you, people," Diarmuid crossed his arms.

"Men in Black?" Ándras tilted his head.

"No, Mage Investigation Bureau."

"That's right. Come with me." Cole waved his finger.

The three followed the man back inside the airport, where he put them in an interrogation room. The workers gave the room immediately after Cole showed his badge.

"Your passports, please." Cole waved his finger.

As ordered, the three slid their credentials to the other side of the table.

"Is there something wrong, officer?" Orel asked.

"You three are mages, am I correct?" Cole sat down.

"Yeah?" Orel didn't understand.

"Sorta," Ándras said.

"Yup." Diarmuid nodded.

"What's your reason for coming here?"

"For work," Orel answered.

"Who is employing you, and where did you get the offer?"

"We got the offer from Guild. It's bodyguarding for a man named Oliver Spada."

"I see. Why come all this way?"

Orel paused to think.

"We're here to see our friend and wanted to make some money along the way."

Cole squinted his eyes tight´.

"Alright." He looked back at the papers. "Do you have any magic items on or with you?"

"No," Orel said.

"Nope." Ándras shook his head.

"If you count these." Diarmuid flexed his muscles with the rune tattoos.

"Do you have documentation for those?"

"I was expecting you'd ask that." Diarmuid took out a piece of paper.

"I see. Sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Cumhaill. You have full freedom to express your culture this way."

"No worries, I always have these papers for cases like this."

"I have concluded that you have no ill intentions for your visit. You are free to go. I am sorry to have bothered you." Cole stood up.

"Is there something going on?" Orel asked.

"I can't disclose the details, but you should already know."

"About what?"

"A local crime syndicate called the Avus has been quite active lately. It has made many tourists turn away."

"So that's why the plane was so empty." Diarmuid realized.

"They rarely bother themselves with tourists, but you should reconsider your options."

"We're fine, thank you," Orel said.

"It's your choice. Just don't cross paths with them. It would be a bother to find your corpse after they are done with you."

A vision of a large bleeding man hurdling before him in the dead of night made Orel's skin crawl. His vision blurred, and his legs barely kept him straight. Similarly, the not-too-old image of Vortigern in eternal torment gave Orel short breaths. Ándras noticed Orel's hyperventilating and tapped him on the shoulder. It made him jump like hearing a gunshot.

"You okay?" Ándras asked.

Orel took a deep breath. "Y-yeah."

Cole watched Orel's pale face. He had seen it numerous times during his investigations. It is the face of someone who had seen death before their own eyes. Cole still remembered his first corpse. It was something you would not simply forget. There were only a few things that robbed one's innocence quicker than that. Still, it bothered Cole how young you could lose that innocence.

"Take care of yourselves. May all mother bless you," Cole walked to the door and held it open.

"Thanks." Orel walked out.

"Ditto." Ándras waved.

As Diarmuid was about to walk out, Cole grabbed his shoulder.

"You, you're from the ADF, aren't you?" He asked.

"You can't run from your past." Diarmuid took off the hand. "Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all. My uncle used to work there."

"What did you hear?" Diarmuid was intrigued.

"A machine is how he put it. Precise, cold, and unforgiving. He didn't end up staying there for long."

"Heh, then he was smarter than me."

"I got interested in ADF. It's just that my uncle refuses to speak about it anymore."

"I'm not sure if you'd want that. ADF rarely leaves nice memories."

"I don't know about that, but maybe you could tell more about it over some drinks," Cole smirked.

"I don't mind telling my stories, but you can't complain if you find them boring. We'll be staying here for a while." Diarmuid took out his phone. "Here's my number. You choose the place."

"Hmph. I know a good place, but finding the time is another thing." Cole copied the number.

"Well, I better keep going." Diarmuid walked from the door. "So long, detective."

Orel and Ándras were already waiting for him outside with anticipation.

"What happened?" Ándras asked.

"Was there trouble?" Orel followed.

"No, just some chat between two government slaves," Diarmuid said.

"Then let's go." Orel pulled his luggage.

The three wandered on the sun-scorched streets between the towering skyscrapers and casinos. They had already rented a room in advance, though it was different from their usual get-up.

"What was it called again?" Ándras asked before the building.

"A SeaB&B They rent full houses instead of rooms," Orel explained.

"Sounds good to me." Diarmuid nodded. "As long as the price is reasonable."

Orel checked in to fetch the keys while Diarmuid and Ándras were left alone.

"Ándras, do you think the boy fits the job?" Diarmuid asked.

"You tell me. You're the only one who has any experience in this." Ándras shrugged.

"True, but you at least have a sturdy body."

"Don't worry. I'm sure he has some plan in mind."

"Does he have an idea to find your friend?"

Ándras raised his finger to lower it down.

"Uh-huh." Diarmuid thought so. "I might have an idea."

"Really?"

"If we find another B or A rank adventurer here, we could raise our rank and find a quest from Eden's gate. It's better than barging in there unannounced."

"Hmm." Ándras stroked his sideburns. "What if we just hire someone?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"We find an adventurer or anyone competent enough, and we pay him to join us for one quest."

"Right. It's not against the rules per se." Diarmuid nodded along.

What are you two talking about?" Orel walked in.

"Oh, we were just thinking about our options," Diarmuid said.

"What about it?"

"I was thinking we should hire someone to our party."

Orel crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "That could work, but I had another idea."

"Really?" Diarmuid dropped his chin.

"Let's go inside." Orel rolled the keys around his fingers.

The house was not too grand in either design or size, but enough for three people to live in.

Orel sat around the dinner table in the kitchen.

"So, what is it?" Diarmuid asked, sitting down.

"We could try to recruit someone from the bodyguards." He suggested.

Diarmuid blinked.

"That's- That could work." He said.

"And I was thinking about another idea."

"There's more?"

"I know that I'm not much of a bodyguard." Orel stood up from the chair with a smirk. "That's why I'll pose as your manager."

Ándras and Diarmuid looked at each other. It was as if Orel had heard their conversation.

"Well, yes, but how would they believe that?" Diarmuid asked honestly. "I mean, it's not that easy."

The following day the three gathered at the meeting point in a rented-out machine hall around the outskirts of the city. Before they could enter, they had to prove their business to a well-dressed woman with sunglasses guarding the door.

"You shouldn't be trespassing here. What is your business?" She asked with a cigarette in her mouth.

"We're the Voyagers, here for the bodyguarding business." Orel showed their information from the Guild app.

"What is a shrimp like you trying to work for us?" The lady sneered.

"I'm the manager of these two. Ándras here is rank B and Diarmuid A," Orel tapped their shoulders with a smile.

The woman looked at the two burly men standing between Orel. She looked with care through their details, both physical and any traces of magic.

"Alright. Come in." She opened the door.

The three passed inside. The first thing they did was sigh in unison.

"I can't believe that worked," Ándras shook his head.

"It's not over yet," Diarmuid reminded.

The dimly lit hall was both damp and stale, but it wasn't the greatest concern.

People from all backgrounds were gathered, yet united by one thing. The lack of care for their employer. Around them were groups of adventurers, mercenaries, and the like. Some wrapped in clothes and shadows, some petty and small, some grand and striking. Weapons, from firearms to bows, swords to staffs, seemed to be allowed. Some were unarmed or hid their guns well. Standing out was the norm, which paradoxically made the most normal stand out.

After a bit of waiting, the woman from the front entered the room, closing the door behind her. A muscly beast standing on two legs bound by a tuxedo walked to a stand with a microphone in his large hand. A great sideburn-like mane popped out of his collar, and a short fuzzy tail slipped under the coat. The fur led to a short, scarred snout and two sharp eyes. His ears turned around, flicking the tassels on their ends.

"Alright." The man-beast coughed. "I'm the representative of Mr. Spada, Zorina. Let's get right down to the point. Miss Faraday?"

The woman stepped forward and walked to the stand. Anyone smart enough gave space for her.

"Get out of the way." Faraday looked up to the brutes blocking her way.

"We have to prove we're strong, don't we?" The braided brute smiled. "How about we do it right here and now?" He looked up at Zorina.

Zorina smiled. "How about it, Faraday?"

"Fine." Faraday rolled her eyes. "You can go first, big guy."

"That confident, huh?" The brute cracked his knuckles. "Don't come crying if I break your pretty little face."

The man swung his fist, coated with Pierce. Faraday gripped the man's wrist. Within an instant, he fell to the ground. The brute's henchmen stepped back in terror as his mouth foamed and limbs twitched.

"Is that enough?" She crouched down to his level.

Though she got no answer, Faraday released her grip and let the man return to his senses.

"How was that, sir?" Zorina asked.

"That was playing dirty." The brute claimed.

"Then go cry back to your mom," Faraday kicked him on the balls.

"Please take this man and his posse out of here, Faraday."

Zorina continued his speech while walking off stage.

"Now, this is going to be simple. Please form a line to this door. I don't care how." He arrived at a steel door. "I will call when you can come in. You are also free to walk out of the door behind you."

Zorina stepped inside and closed the door.

All the groups exchanged hasty glances, fingers reaching for their weapons. Diarmuid was worried, and so was Orel.

"Alright, everyone!" Someone shouted. "Let's get this over peacefully, and everyone will walk away safe!"

A small man in floppy clothes swung his arms. Few took him seriously, but even fewer wanted to take risks, so they listened.

"Let's make some system to see who goes first." The man suggested.

"And what would that be?" A doubtful person from the crowd asked.

"How about rock-paper-scissors?" The man shrugged.

Upon hearing such a suggestion, the few that listened rolled their eyes and returned to thinking about other options. Three still listened and decided to walk over to him.

"Sure." Orel walked to the man. "We win, we go first, you win, you go first, right?"

"Y-yeah." The man raised his fist. "Ready?"

"Ready," Orel made a fist.

"Rock-paper-scissors!" The two shouted.

The man kept his fist, while Orel opened it.

"Paper beats rock. You win." The man shrugged with a laugh. "Geralt, nice to meet you."

"Hi, Geralt. I'm Orel."

"Alright, Orel. You go first." Geralt turned toward the door.

A tall gentleman in a red suit walked over to them after listening to their conversation. The man covered his face with a festive mask of a frowning jester.

"You want to play too?" Orel asked.

"...Yes." The man nodded.

"Okay." Orel took up his fist again.

The three played another round, ending with the man and Orel at a stalemate.

"Looks like I'm out again," Geralt said.

"It is just the two of us." The man noticed.

"That's alright." Orel was ready.

The man always kept a close eye on Orel. He had the insight that most people used rock, especially when anxious or hasty.

"Ready?" Orel asked.

"Say, boy, do you fear death?" The man asked.

Orel gulped. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Shall we continue?"

"Okay." Orel tightened his fist. "Rock-paper-scissors!" He chanted.

The man watched as Orel's fist lay down. He opened his fist. Yet, Orel took out two fingers.

"Looks like I win." Orel laughed.

"Seems so." The man straightened himself. His plan had failed.

"Thanks for playing." Orel reached his hand. "My name's Orel."

"...William." The man shook hands. "It was my pleasure."

Others saw the exchange, and Geralt knew to use that to his advantage.

"See? The earlier you join, the better chances you have!"

Though some remained skeptical, some groups decided to join. They played with Geralt, Orel, and William. Though Orel lost their position, the gathering made more and more join in. Geralt knew if they could get half or more to join, the rest would follow along. Soon enough, most people had joined and the line formed naturally. Orel found himself halfway through the line, behind Ándras and Diarmuid. Though he didn't need to test himself as the manager, he wanted to try his own.

What happened behind the door remained a mystery. No one had come back from there, and it only took a few minutes for the door to open again. Diarmuid entered first. The door opened after a moment of silence. Ándras was next. Orel, or rather, everyone expected silence as before. Then the door exploded.

"...Next," Zorina coughed.

Orel entered the room. It was covered in a thin layer of ash and the smell of smoke. Zorina was inside, neatly dressed and trying his hardest to seem unbothered.

"Could I say something?" Orel raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"I'm the manager of the earlier two. You can confirm it if you want."

"I see." Zorina raised his long eyebrow. "Then why did you enter?"

"I want to test myself." Orel readied himself.

"Humph, then don't waste my time." Zorina cracked his knuckles.

After the presentation, Orel was sweating from head to toe.

"How was that?" He asked while heaving.

Zorina held his hands together before opening them to reveal a pile of crushed coins, with more lying around his feet. He took one between his sharp claws to inspect its quality.

"If I wasn't careful, I might have lost my ear to this one." He admired the coin.

"So, do I pass?" Orel repeated the question.

"It was an interesting display, but," Zorina pinched the coin to two. "That coin was merely one of a hundred and three. Less than a percent. You do not pass."

Orel couldn't help but feel disappointed. His legs finally gave out, and he fell to the floor, barely holding in tears.

"The exit's that way." Zorina pointed.

Orel dragged himself out, utterly defeated. He could barely walk out before passing out from exhaustion, where Ándras and Diarmuid rushed to his side.

"Orel, stay with me!" Ándras took hold of him.

"You fool! Why did you go overboard?"

"Ándras," Orel said under his breath.

"What?" He asked.

"It's so frustrating, being weak," Orel broke into tears.

With the swing of a door, the next applicant entered. A small girl in patched overalls walked in with a teddy bear clutched in her tiny arms.

"Little girl, are you lost?" Zorina asked.

"Will you be my pet?" She asked in return.

Zorina could not shake an eerie feeling that made his back hair stand up. Zorina was not beyond accepting such a young person as a bodyguard, but it felt as if she was not after that at all.

"What is your name?" Zorina asked.

"Mel." The girl answered.

"Mel, you don't look like you from around here. Where are you from?"

"Swadia."

"Then how did you end here?"

"...I don't know."

"How was your family?"

"Daddy was a surgeon. He liked healing people, but mommy did not like him. One day she left me in the woods; said I was a bad girl."

"I see."

"I got a new mama and papa, but they were not nice to me. They left me out of the house. Then I found some new friends."

Zorina glared. "You know, little girls usually have rainbows on their clothes, not gang marks."

It was a simple and easy thing to miss. A rune sign similar to the letter F, meaning wealth. It was the signature of Pohjola's greatest criminal empire, Kotsi, centering around drug production and distribution. They manufactured a popular new drug called fish oil, popular even as far as Zabad.

Mel pouted with plumb cheeks and dropped her bear. "I wanted a pet, but the Nakki told me to make you my toy."

Zorina pushed out his claws and entered a battle stance. "Oh? Then try your best. I won't go easy even against a kid."

"If you don't, you will die." A vile smile crept on Mel's face.

The teddy bear suddenly grew in size on the floor as if doused in water. Its weight crushed the floor, and the mouth growled full of sharp nail-like teeth. The hands had long sharp claws almost as long as Zorina himself. Its legs grew veins as it stood up, towering over the ceiling. Zorina could feel the warm breaths it made. Looking deep into its mouth Zorina realized it. The bear was not a mere construct, but a living being of flesh and blood.

"A manipulator?" Zorina guessed.

"Dad taught me to make so many friends..."

"I'll rip that stuffing out!" Zorina smiled with his teeth out.

"I won't let you do that!" Mel yelled with anger.

The bear attacked with a broad sweep of its claws. Dodging was out of the question, but that was not what Zorina thought about. He concentrated Pierce on his claws, increasing their power. It was his special move, Skirmish Nails. It cut through not just the claws but the hand and arm, from muscle to bone. The bear did not growl, even though its arm was reduced to chunks of meat.

"Tastes like shit." Zorina licked some of the blood on his face.

His smile turned sour as the bear's arm grew back. Small tendrils of blood searched for the pieces of flesh and joined them together like a patchwork rug.

"It's always about taking out the controller with manipulators, isn't it?" Zorina lunged at Mel on four feet.

"You won't get here, ever." Mel grinned.

Dodging the strikes and swipes of the enormous bear, Zorina made his way to Mel. That was until Faraday jumped in front of Mel with open arms. Zorina stopped himself, grinding his claws along the concrete floor.

"Faraday, what are you doing?" He yelled in confusion.

Zorina looked into her eyes, but they were blank. Her head twitched. Then Zorina realized it. She was gone. The giant bear claw snatched him in its grip and pressed him against the floor.

Mel walked over to Zorina and kneeled over with a sinister smile on her face.

"I'm not letting you have my soul, manipulator! My ancestral spirits will block your witchcraft!" Zorina growled whilst trying to escape.

"Silly little cat." Mel shook her head. "I'm not going to kill you."

"Torture me all you want! I would rather die!"

"That's funny!" Mel giggled. "That's what they all say, but in the end, they always want to die."

An inescapable dread surged through every fiber of Zorina's being. Yet, try as he might, the paw held him captive with an iron grip.

"This will hurt." Mel reached her tiny arm to Zorina's forehead.

"No, stop it!" Zorina tried to evade it.

"You will make a great toy," Mel said with a wide grin. "Troya Dala."

The most horrible, skull-wrecking, searing headache filled Zorina's mind. He passed out on the spot without making a sound.

Outside, William was waiting for his turn but could not wait longer. He knocked on the doorframe before walking in.

"Hey, is something going on?" He asked.

"I apologize, we were cleaning up from the previous participant." Zorina stood in the middle of the room.

"Oh. Then, let's get this over with."

William could smell the blood in the air but paid it no mind. After all, he was dealing with criminals, not that he was different from them. To be safe, he also made sure not to give away his spell. William could feel something off about Zorina. His mannerisms were much less expressive, monotone even.

William passed quickly and walked out without a word. He made sure to walk to a secure place before taking out his phone and making a call.

"I got the job. I'll be busy for a while, so I will keep contact to a minimum."

"Good job. Are you sure they didn't recognize you?"

"No, but...Never mind."

"Alright. Good luck out there, Ocham."

"Thanks, Gab. I got to go before someone sees me. I will call you if I need to." Ocham ended the call.