The Amphail Festival

Fin's POV

The town square was alive with people, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat, sweet, honeyed pastries, and the faintest hint of spilled ale. Lanterns hung from wooden beams, swaying gently as people bustled past, their voices blending into an unceasing hum of laughter, haggling, and lively music.

I walked beside Helga, my small hand grasped in hers.

Not that I needed it, but she insisted.

The stone-paved square stretched wide, filled with hundreds of stalls, each a splash of colour in the late afternoon light. Merchants called out their wares, peddling freshly baked bread, hand-sewn cloaks, iron tools, and whatever else.

Somewhere to our right, a group of children ran past, shrieking excitedly as they chased a wooden hoop down the street. A bard strummed his lute by a fountain, his raspy voice playing a song about some witcher.

A pair of fire-breathers performed near the centre of the square, the gathered crowd gasping in awe each time a pillar of flame erupted into the sky.

Helga squeezed my hand, looking down at me with a smile. "Well, little one, what do you want to see first?"

Festivals weren't really my thing.

The energy, the noise, the sheer number of people.

It was all a bit too much.

Even in my past life, I never really saw the point in them. Maybe if I had someone to enjoy them with, it'd be different, but that wasn't the case then, and it sure as hell wasn't now.

I walked beside Helga, letting her lead me through the sea of people, my fingers loosely hooked around hers. She was probably saying something about trying the festival food or playing some games, but I wasn't listening. My focus was on the crowd, my Observation Haki painting a picture in my mind of all the moving figures around me.

And that's when I felt it.

A shift. A flicker of intent buried beneath the festival's cheer.

Two men, moving like shadows, weaving through the crowd. They weren't just walking.

They were hunting.

Hands dipped into coin purses with practised ease, disappearing before their owners even noticed. The moment I focused on them, I could feel their intent, their greed, and their steady patience as they worked through the crowd, stealing without anyone realizing.

My body tensed.

Thieves.

I turned my head slightly, watching them from the corner of my eye. One was short and wiry, his fingers quick as a snake. The other was taller, built solid, standing just close enough to look like a casual festival-goer but always ready to run.

Helga squeezed my hand gently, snapping me out of my focus. "Fin, don't be such a grump," she teased. "You're just a little boy. You should be enjoying yourself!"

I barely registered her words.

Because the thieves had just found a new target.

I know people have to make a living somehow, so I won't give them the time of day. Let them rob as many of these old farts as they want.

But their next target wasn't some random old man.

It was Helga.

The wiry thief moved first, slipping through the crowd like a rat, his fingers already reaching for the coin pouch hanging from Helga's belt. The taller one lingered a few feet back, ready to act if things went south.

You idiots, you had to go for her, didn't you?

I needed to stop them. Fast.

I couldn't exactly shout, "Hey, thief!" and expect things to go smoothly. That'd just cause a scene and give them time to escape. No, I needed to be subtle… or at least clever about it.

I bent down, pretending to fix my shoe—one of the few benefits of being a tiny kid was that no one really paid attention to you. With a small smirk, I grabbed a smooth, round festival sweet from a nearby stall's display and flicked it at full force.

It smacked into the thief's wrist with a sharp crack.

"Ack—!" The man yelped, pulling back his hand on instinct.

[+15PP]

Helga turned at the noise, blinking in confusion. "Hm?"

The thief had only a second to react before I grabbed another candy and chucked it at his face. This time, it hit him square in the nose.

"Gah!"

[+15PP]

That was all the time Helga needed.

Before I could even process what was happening, she moved.

Her hand snapped forward, seizing the thief's wrist in a grip so tight I swore I heard bones creak. In the same motion, she twisted—hard. The man yelped as his whole body flipped forward, slamming into the dirt with a thud.

The taller thief tried to move.

Bad idea.

Helga spun on her heel, closing the distance faster than I thought possible. In one smooth motion, she grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him forward, and drove her knee straight into his stomach. The air left his lungs in a violent whoosh, his body folding like a sack of flour.

What. The. Hell.

I stared, slack-jawed.

Helga—sweet, kind, farm-working Helga—just took down two men in less than five seconds.

She stood there momentarily, hands on her hips, looking at the two groaning thieves like they were misbehaving children. "Really?" she sighed. "Pickpocketing at a festival? How pathetic."

I swallowed.

Who was she?

What else was she hiding?

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sky as Helga and I made our way back home. The festival had come and gone, leaving us with aching feet, full stomachs, and arms overflowing with prizes.

It's mostly my fault.

It turns out that when you can predict movements with pinpoint accuracy, winning festival games is practically cheating. Every ring toss, every dart throw, every game of chance—I crushed them all. Helga had laughed at first, but by the fifth game, she started using me to win prizes for herself.

Now, we both carried an absurd amount of stuffed animals, trinkets, and sweets, struggling not to drop anything.

"See? I knew you'd enjoy yourself."

I rolled my eyes, though a small smirk tugged at my lips. "Yeah, yeah."

Truth be told, I had enjoyed it. Even if I hadn't wanted to at first, it was… nice. The games, the food, the liveliness of the festival—it had been a break from the usual farm work.

But there was still something I couldn't get out of my head.

I glanced up at her. "Hey, Helga."

"Hmm?"

"How'd you take those guys down like that?"

She slowed her pace.

For the first time all night, her face darkened, the joy from the festival fading as something… pained flickered behind her eyes.

I frowned.

It wasn't just surprise or hesitation. It was something deeper—something old.

She looked down at me, then forced a smile. "That's a story for another time, sweetheart."

I could've pushed.

I wanted to.

But I also knew that if I did, I'd ruin the night.

So, instead, I nodded, adjusting the stuffed bear under my arm. "Alright."

Helga seemed relieved, giving my head a quick ruffle.

The rest of the walk home was quiet, save for the distant chirping of crickets.

But I knew one thing for certain.

I'd get my answers.

Just not tonight. I'm exhausted.

...

The next month was… well, nothing crazy.

No shocking revelations, no grand adventures—just me, my training, and the never-ending grind for PP.

I spent most of my time honing my Observation Haki, using the goats as practice dummies. I was getting better, sensing their movements before they even twitched. It was actually kinda fun—until one of them headbutted me square in the gut, and I learned that just knowing something was coming didn't mean I could always dodge it.

Aside from training, I was also still grinding out achievements, finding whatever ridiculous little tasks I could to rack up points.

Pet 100 animals? Easy.

Harvest 50 crops? Done.

Avoid stepping on a single chicken for an entire day?… Harder than you'd think.

And, somehow, through all of it… I started to enjoy Helga's presence more.

Not that I'd ever say that out loud.

She was still annoying. Always nagging me to be careful, doting over me like I was made of glass. It was stupid. I wasn't some helpless toddler. I mean, I was, but technically, I'm an adult...in a child's body!

But…

It wasn't so bad.

She made things comfortable. Made things feel… warm.

Not that I cared or anything.

Anyway, one night, I was starving. I walked into the kitchen, following the scent of something amazing, and saw Helga cooking some crispy, golden chicken.

My body moved before my brain did.

I grabbed a piece.

Took a bite.

Delicious.

Helga stopped, slowly turning her head to look at me.

I froze mid-chew.

There was silence.

Then—WHACK.

She didn't even hesitate, smacking me upside the head before going in for a full-on beatdown.

"You little gremlin!"

"IT WAS JUST ONE PIECE—!"

WHACK.

"I'M A GROWING BOY—!"

WHACK.

I barely escaped, diving out of the kitchen like my life depended on it.

And as I sat outside, rubbing the new lump forming on my head, I couldn't help but scoff.

Ridiculous woman.

…She did make some damn good chicken, though.

End of Chapter.