Stroll

A young man wandered down the narrow alley, the hem of his coat dragging against the pavement. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, his short dark hair barely visible beneath the folds of his hood. A mask veiled the lower half of his face, but his eyes were locked straight ahead.

"You think we're enemies, huh? We're supposed to be on the same side, you bastard!" a voice barked from the dark cold streets.

A hunter staggered forward, blood smearing his coat, arm outstretched with trembling rage. "You look at me like I'm some kind of trash. Well, guess what, same goes for you!"

A surge of energy exploded from his palm. It screamed toward the boy, tearing through the space where he stood.

But the boy was gone.

The hunter's eyes widened. "Tch dammit! I need to get the hell out of here—"

Ryder stood before him.

The hunter stood in place with a quiet chuckle. "Of course, you survived that. "

Ryder let out a quiet sigh, his breath steaming in the chill air. "Let's make this quick," he said, barely above a whisper. "Boss said to wrap this up by sundown. So…hurry up and die."

The hunter ripped off his cracked mask, revealing a manic grin. "I know who you are. Yeah. You're his dog. Jinni's slave, right? You think all hunters should bow to your movement? Hah! I spit on that!"

He laughed, madness bubbling behind his eyes. "Once I meet the blue mask hunters myself, I'll be protected. They'll understand!"

Ryder tilted his head slightly, veins bulging from his neck, "I'm just another guy watching someone else. You don't need to know more than that… not like it matters. You're dead anyway!"

"Oh?" the hunter frowned. "Funny. I thought you were the one who was already dead."

"You caused a mess," Ryder replied coldly. "That explosion drew attention. My orders were clear, eliminate every trace. Quietly."

The hunter scoffed, lifting his arms defiantly. "How? Huh?! I can cross into the other space just like you! I've got a gift too! We're equals, brat!"

His hands glowed with unstable power. "You think I'll just roll over? I'll tear this whole place down if I have to. Let's see you keep it quiet then!"

Ryder narrowed his eyes. "Equals…?"

The hunter sneered, looking around the empty alleyway for an edge. But something shifted. Something broke.

The sky… cracked.

The walls around him flickered, warping like glass under pressure. Cracks zigzagged through the very air, and a low hum pulsed from beneath the earth.

"What the hell…?"

The world tilted.

The ground shattered, spikes of jagged stone erupted beneath the hunter, stabbing through his hands. He shrieked, his body jerking as frost raced up the spikes, searing his nerves with paralysing cold.

Then, Ryder walked forward.

The houses around them sank into the earth, swallowed by shadows and ice. The sky spun like a time-lapse, clouds tearing past at unnatural speed. The alley was gone. Only a frozen silence remained.

"On my level, you said?" Ryder said, approaching the twitching figure.

The hunter's eyes were wide, blood dribbling from his mouth. "You… you bastard… is this… the Third Po—"

Another spike exploded through his skull. The body dropped with a soft thud.

Ryder stood still. Silent. Unmoved.

He looked up.

What had once been a tight city corridor was now an endless land of frost and emptiness. No walls, no rooftops, no bystanders. Just him and silence.

And yet…

Something nagged at his thoughts.

Someone had found him.

Not a hunter but an adventurer.

A boy with a girl… and a swordsman.

"…How unfortunate," Ryder murmured, glancing toward the frozen horizon. "Another group that's already dead."

#

Emilia sat at the edge of her bed, knees drawn in, still wrapped in her loose morning clothes. Sunlight spilt across the floor in quiet gold, but her attention was locked on her journal, pen dancing furiously across the page.

"It's been a day since we left the dungeon. I managed to gather some intel on the other entrances—interesting stuff if I do say so myself. The first one was clear like Jiji said. Not a monster in sight. But the second one? Ugh. Disaster. Traps everywhere. Monsters swarming at every corner. I'm talking goblins, giant mosquitoes, and whatever else lives in nightmares. They didn't even finish the job. No pay for them. Jiji's a sweetheart but she's so harsh sometimes."

She tapped the pen against her lip.

"That was my first dungeon. Exciting… I think. Aside from the resets, collapsing boulders, fire traps, monsters, oh—and a dragon nearly skewering Pasta. Mr. Swordsman lost it for a second there too…"

Her hand stopped. Emilia gazed at the page, the ink still wet. Her thoughts drifted.

The others had scattered, gone their separate ways after the raid. She didn't even get the chance to speak to Lily—not properly. Especially about the 'disciple' thing. But fate had a strange way of crossing paths again. It always did, didn't it?

She set the pen down gently and stared into space.

Pasta and Mr. Swordsman had been acting… off. Normally, they'd planned to go sightseeing after the raid, but with this heavy air between them, it was unlikely.

Emilia frowned. Is it wrong to wonder? Am I being nosy?

"No," she whispered, smacking her cheeks lightly. "I have the right to pry. We are all in the same crew after all"

With renewed fire, she stood up, then sat back down.

Then stood again.

"No sulking allowed today! The sun's out, my bangs look perfect, and they're both locked up in their rooms brooding like two gloomy statues. If I have to drag them out kicking and screaming, then so be it!"

She pumped her fist, eyes gleaming.

A quiet giggle escaped her lips as she wandered over to the mirror. She began smoothing her hair, humming softly.

The Demir of Grandeur

Emilia was a scholar that spent more time, reading about dungeons and adventure than actual journals and history.

But Valdorith was a new name to her.

She paused, holding the brush midair.

Aurelis, guardian of the elves, a beast who could wield every element without even drawing from life force. She'd heard of her before. But this dragon, Valdorith… what was the connection?

She shook her head. "Focus, Emilia."

Setting the brush aside, she reached for her outfit, fingers hovering over her usual sweater, the one she'd been wearing far too many days in a row. It was soft, stylish, expensive and also the one that made half the town chase after her. That memory made her pout.

"Alright," she whispered, strapping her sword to her waist. "Let's visit Jiji later. She might know more about the dragon. But first…"

Her fingers reached for the doorknob.

"I'll drag those two out—"

BAM!

The door exploded open with a thunderclap. Emilia yelped as she tumbled backwards, reaching for her sword in a panic.

Standing in the doorway, grinning like the sun itself was Pasta.

"Let's go!"

"Eh?"

Before she could blink again, Pasta hauled her upright and tugged her into the hall. There, leaning casually against the wall, was Mr. Swordsman.

Emilia blinked at both of them. "Weren't you two in your rooms?"

Pasta leaned in with a goofy smile. "Rooms? What rooms? We're sightseeing, remember? Why would I be holed up?"

Emilia glanced from Pasta to Mr. Swordsman, a confused laugh slipping out. "But… you two were acting weird yesterday. After the raid, I thought—"

She caught the glint in Pasta's eyes.

"I was down?" he blinked, scratching his head. "Huh. Must've slipped my mind."

She squinted at him. "You're acting weird."

"I am weird," he said proudly. "Now c'mon! The day's wasting!"

He turned and marched ahead.

Emilia sighed and followed, her heart still uncertain. As she passed Mr. Swordsman, he pushed off the wall and began to walk beside her.

"I'm fine," he said, without looking at her.

She nodded slowly, unsure whether to press or let it go.

"Let's hurry," Mr. Swordsman said. "Before the innkeeper shows up."

Emilia nodded then shot a glance at him. "Wait, what? What's that supposed to mean?"

#

Earlier that morning…

He sat in complete stillness, legs crossed, posture straight, bare chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm against the cold wooden floor. The inn was quiet. Not even the birds had started singing.

Mr. Swordsman's eyes remained closed, his mind diving deep into the second layer of his life force. The energy there was volatile and alive with burning energy but he coaxed it gently, guiding it into a slow, steady flow through his body. No surges. No eruptions. Just focus.

But no matter how carefully he breathed or how still he sat, her image kept surfacing.

Lily.

His brow twitched. His concentration wavered. And like a ripple across a pond, his control slipped.

He exhaled sharply and opened his eyes.

"Again," he muttered, rising from the floor. He dressed quickly, pulling his dark undershirt over his head, tightening the belts of his layered garments, and draping the dark-furred cloak over his shoulders. An outfit Emilia had brought up earlier that she found better than rags and a cloak.

The long strands of Mr Swordsman's hair were woven back before the signature hat settled atop his head.

Still, her voice lingered.

"Forget everything I said."

No goodbye. Just a smile and silence. That was the last time they spoke after the commission.

He clenched his jaw.

No. He was right. It wasn't his fault. He had followed orders to the letter. Duke Bloodborne himself had chosen him, not for sentiment, not for companionship but because of his strength. His discipline.

My control over my life force and emotions. Why else would he pick me?

"I can be lively as well even," he said to himself as he approached the door to his room. His hand hovered midair, frozen just short of the handle.

There's no reason to remain in this city any longer. The second realm is merely a ship ride away. We should begin our preparations. It's time to move forward.

But his hand didn't move.

"Should I control my emotions better?" he asked. "Is she really right?"

With a silent step, he opened the door and entered the quiet halls of the inn.

He turned toward Pasta's room. No real reason why he's here.

But as he stood there, about to knock, he hesitated.

"...I'm going back to bed."

BOOM!

A thunderous crash shook the hallway.

"What in Mikah's name?!"

Mr. Swordsman kicked the door open, his blade gleaming in the early light as it left its sheath in a blink. He scanned the room with the eyes of a hawk, expecting an ambush, a monster, a—

He blinked.

There was no wall.

No, there was a wall. At some point. Now? A massive gaping hole yawned open where it used to be as if someone had punched through stone and pride in equal measure.

Pasta sat in the wreckage, legs sprawled, earth fragments clinging to his tousled hair. He grinned sheepishly.

"Working on my commandment of earth," he said, brushing dust off his shoulder.

Mr. Swordsman's sword lowered slightly. "Indoors?"

Pasta gave a lazy thumbs-up. "Yeah. Might've gone a bit overboard. We should probably leave before someone comes asking about, you know..."

Mr. Swordsman said nothing.

Instead, he stepped forward, grabbed Pasta by the collar, and hauled him to his feet.

Inside, something cracked just a little.

But his voice was calm. His face composed.

See, Lily? he thought, jaw tight as stone. I can control my emotions.

#

The morning sun bathed the quiet streets in a golden haze as the trio strolled through the city, their shadows stretched long behind them. Pasta walked with a carefree whistle with hands clasped behind his back as he avoided his sister's stare.

"You're acting strange," Emilia said, glancing at him suspiciously from the corner of her eye.

Pasta chuckled, then threw his hands on his hips in an exaggerated pose. "Hey! Mr. Swordsman! Teach me that third power already!"

Mr. Swordsman didn't break stride. "You haven't even mastered the second."

Pasta nudged him with his elbow. "Come on, just a peek! One tiny demonstration? Pleeeease?"

Mr. Swordsman adjusted the brim of his hat, gaze tilting toward the rooftops. "It's too crowded here."

"Ohh!" Emilia suddenly lit up, flipping open a well-worn guidebook. "There are so many places I want to see! The skating rink, the crystal forest, the Coliseum of Fate- Oh, oh! Aurora Isle for couples!"

She gasped, already lost in fantasy. In her mind's eye, she stood beneath a starlit sky with a silver-haired elf prince, fireworks bursting like dreams above them as he gently took her hand—

"My heart... it's going to explode," she whispered, eyes sparkling with deadly seriousness.

Pasta blinked. "Wait. Did you just say coliseum?!"

Before she could react, he snatched the book from her hands and frantically flipped through the pages.

"Where is it?! Where is it?!"

"Give that back!" Emilia reached up and smacked the guidebook out of his hands, catching it mid-air.

And then—

Snatch!

Mr. Swordsman took the book from her without warning.

"I want to see too," he said flatly, in a tone so forced it made Emilia stop and Pasta tilt his head.

"…Are you okay there, Mr. Swordsman?" Pasta asked.

Mr. Swordsman said nothing, eyes scanning the page as if searching for meaning in a sea of meaningless attractions. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Pasta folded his arms and squinted, shifting into his best impression. "You're never into stuff like this. You're always like, 'No,' 'Yes,' 'Energy,'" he said, deepening his voice with each word.

Emilia stifled a giggle, nodding along.

Mr. Swordsman, undeterred, pointed silently at a picture in the book.

"…This will do."

Emilia leaned closer. "Ice fishing?"

Her expression dropped into a flat stare.

Pasta blinked, then grinned. "Whoa, wait, you're also a Mr. Fisherman? That's kind of amazing. You sure you didn't mean to point at the coliseum though? It was on the same page. Right? Right?"

Mr. Swordsman remained stone-faced, arms crossed.

Emilia closed the book with a resolute clap. "Well, guess we're going ice fishing, then!"

"Wait, wait, wait a damn minute!" Pasta cried. "Who decided that?!"

Emilia met his eyes with righteous authority. "Mr. Swordsman never gets to enjoy his hobbies. We should support him for once. Be grateful for all he's done."

Mr. Swordsman blinked once.

I talk about my hobbies all the time, he thought but said nothing.

Pasta reached for Emilia's hand in one final plea. "But—but—"

She raised her fist to the sky. "Let's go ice fishing!"

They wandered the winding streets of the city, searching for a way out—only to find themselves drifting further into its glowing heart.

And then they saw it.

Everyone froze.

Massive, shimmering snowflakes hovered in the sky, like glowing sigils etched in frost and light. They formed a majestic dome above, softly filtering the snowfall, allowing just enough to drift down in delicate spirals.

Even during blizzards, the enchanted lifts nearby continued to glide without faltering.

The buildings were draped in banners bearing the crest of the nation, fluttering like noble standards. At the city's centre stood a breathtaking frozen waterfall, part of it locked in sparkling ice, while rivulets of silver water danced through untouched portions. Nearby, children in fluffy coats roared in battle, swinging wooden sticks like swords, declaring themselves the strongest across the heavens of snow.

The streets themselves glowed, not from torches or flames, but from elegant golden lamps that bathed the air in a soft, inviting warmth.

Mr. Swordsman let out a long sigh.

He felt like a caveman who had stumbled into the future, completely awestruck by the most ordinary things. But when he glanced at his companions. Of course, they'll be amazed as well.

"Let's keep moving," Emilia said with a yawn, tugging her coat tighter.

Pasta nodded eagerly. "Yeah, yeah, ice fishing now, but Coliseum next, right? I've said right so much, I've lost count"

A visible shadow of disappointment passed over Mr. Swordsman's face.

…He was the only caveman left.

Suddenly, posters fluttered through the air, carried by the wind and a series of booming voices:

"Be there by seven! It'll be the sight of a lifetime!"

"The brave, ambitious, and astonishingly loving Jiji will light up the skies with a firework show so grand, even the lords will weep!"

Pasta squinted, smirking. "What are those guys up to?"

Emilia recognized the voices and jogged forward. "Hey, Kabal! Shot! You promoting tonight's fireworks?"

Shot grinned beneath his cigar, saluting with two fingers. "You bet. Making sure no soul misses Jiji's big moment."

Kabal bellowed with laughter, placing a massive hand on Emilia's shoulder. "That's right! We're Jiji's finest messengers today! So we're promoting the show for her big moment"

A vein throbbed on Shot's forehead. "I just said that, you oversized hammer."

Kabal chuckled and clapped him on the back with enough force to shake the snow from the nearby rooftops.

Shot's vein bulged, then with a resigned sigh, he turned to Pasta, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "She promised us special seats. And also some ladies as well."

Mr. Swordsman raised an eyebrow. "What does a child know about courting women?"

"That's exactly what I asked," Shot said, shrugging. "But she told me that precisely because she's a child, she knows best. Honestly, I don't know how to argue with that."

Kabal grinned and turned to Mr. Swordsman, gripping his shoulder. "Comrade. It's been too long. Tell me, what's your type of woman?"

Emilia and Pasta immediately turned toward him, eyes wide and ears tilted forward like alert elves.

"…I don't have time for such things," Mr. Swordsman replied.

Kabal rubbed his chin. "Ah. I see. You prefer men."

Pasta collapsed onto the snow, howling with laughter. "Kabal, you read my mind!"

Emilia remained poised, but her lips twitched. Badly.

Mr. Swordsman exhaled, adjusting his hat. "…Fine. If you must know. I like tall girls. With a strong build. Skilled in combat. Preferably capable of channelling advanced energy… second-tier at least. She must be fun. Reliable in battle. And she absolutely must not like corn."

Silence.

Everyone stared at him, stunned.

"…Why corn?" Shot finally asked.

Emilia glanced at the sky. Her mind raced. There was only one girl she could think of that matched that… even the corn part…

Her cheeks turned crimson. She yanked out her journal and pretended to write something down to avoid eye contact.

Kabal threw his arms up. "So you're into beasts. Got it. Pasta, your turn. What's your dream girl like?"

Pasta stood up, brushing snow off his shoulders and clearing his throat. "Simple. A girl with a big, fat—"

BONK!

Emilia smacked him with her book. "Don't you dare finish that sentence in public!"

Pasta dropped back down, twitching. "I-I was going to say… big… personality…"

Kabal and Shot helped him up, both giving him a solemn thumbs-up. "We like big personalities too."

Mr. Swordsman crossed his arms and nodded with complete seriousness. "Indeed. A noble heart is the foundation of a worthy partner. Deception and evil have no place in love. I completely agree."

Again, everyone stared.

"…What?" he asked.

Emilia stretched with a soft giggle and tapped his forehead. "You're so innocent, Mr. Swordsman. Please stay that way."

He stood there as if someone had just pulled the floor out from under him.

And somehow, the snowflakes above glowed a little brighter.

Emilia turned to Kabal with a hopeful smile. "Hey, do you know anywhere we can try ice fishing? The adventurer's guild didn't list anything about it."

Kabal gave a firm nod. "You'll have to head a few towns up north. Bit of a distance, but totally worth it."

Shot raised an eyebrow, puffing his cigar. "That's hunter territory, isn't it? Even if it's a ways from Herald, it's still dangerous turf."

Kabal waved him off with a chuckle. "Dangerous? Please. Have you seen this team? Hunters wouldn't last a breath. Mr. Swordsman, the man who cleaved through two petrified True Dragon Guards with a single swing. And Pasta? He brought down that very dragon... along with a horde of monsters."

Shot gave a slow nod. "When you put it like that... yeah, hunters are basically livestock compared to them."

Mr. Swordsman shifted uncomfortably, clearly not basking in the glory. He caught a side glance from Emilia, it wasn't about what Kabal said but something else completely different.

Pasta's gaze dropped. He didn't feel deserving of the praise. That final encounter with the dragon… he couldn't even remember it clearly. The beast's last words echoed like whispers in a storm. I need to grow stronger, he thought.

A sudden shout pierced the peace.

"THERE THEY ARE!" A man's furious voice roared from behind. "Those are the adventurers that DESTROYED MY INN!"

Pasta's eyes bulged. "Don't ask, just RUN!" he shouted, grabbing Emilia's arm without warning.

"Wait, what's goi—" she began, but he yanked her into a full sprint, dragging her through the city.

Mr. Swordsman was already halfway down the road. He had zero intention of sacrificing his hard-earned savings for some broken wall.

Back by the square, Kabal and Shot waved them off as the innkeeper's scream echoed in the distance.

#

The crew bolted like leaves on the wind, only slowing once they reached a clearing near the lifts.

Emilia doubled over, hands on her knees, breath puffing visibly in the cold. Since when did Pasta get so fast? she wondered, chest heaving.

"H-Hold on... can someone please explain why that innkeeper was screaming at us?" she asked, voice sharp between gasps.

Pasta grinned, already waving off the question. "Ooh! Emilia, look! Lifts! Those can take us to the upper levels, right? Let's go!"

And just like that, he took off again.

Emilia narrowed her eyes and turned to Mr. Swordsman with a slow burn of suspicion. Her gaze alone was a blade demanding answers.

He met it with a shrug, though deep down, something coiled uncomfortably inside him. It wasn't fear, more like an echo. The same strange pressure he once felt when standing before Bloodborne.

"You should meditate more," he muttered, walking after Pasta.

"I do meditate! Sometimes. Not always, but I try! And don't just change the subject!" she called after him.

Pasta reached the lifts first, a spark of excitement in his eyes. Finally, he thought, the coliseum must be just up there.

But his face dropped. Yellow caution tape had been strung across the entrance, fluttering in the breeze. A man in a heavy coat leaned nearby, puffing lazily on a cigarette.

"Hey! What's going on with the lifts?" Pasta asked, approaching.

The man turned away slightly, feigning disinterest as he exhaled smoke.

Unbothered, Pasta moved to hop the barrier.

"Hey!" the man barked, flicking ash onto the snow. "You trying to get fired?"

Just then, Emilia and Mr. Swordsman arrived.

"What seems to be the issue here?" Emilia asked, polite but firm.

The man finally straightened his tone stiffening. "Nobles from across the realms are gathered above, including the swordsman Jinni. For reasons unknown that level's restricted until they're done."

Pasta groaned, flopping backwards. "First no ice fishing, now this? Can anything go right today?"

Emilia gave the man a graceful nod and tugged Pasta back. "Thank you for the information."

The guard, satisfied, turned away and resumed his cigarette break.

Pasta plopped down on a nearby bench, arms folded. "This may be the capital, but it's a snoozefest."

Emilia sat beside him, brushing snow from the seat. "It's only quiet down here. The upper levels are full of life. But it's also dangerous. That's why it feels so… locked in."

Pasta sighed. "Because of the hunters, right?"

Emilia nodded. "Partly. But there's more to it. Do you remember how the fourth realm doesn't have a border gate, unlike the sixth? That leaves the lower levels exposed to raids"

Pasta fell into the snow, absentmindedly drawing circles with a stick. "Why don't they just build a gate already?"

She sighed. "It takes an insane amount of resources. And with the weather this harsh, It'd take ages to complete. Some say that's why the fourth realm has the strongest guards... Others say the lord's just too stingy to fund one."

Mr. Swordsman joined them, arms crossed. "So the hunters running wild down here? That's on the lord. Figures."

Emilia joined Pasta on the snow and began shaping a ball of snow in her palms, her fingers moving idly. "At least the adventurer's guild is stationed below. Makes this level slightly more secure."

Suddenly, a wave of footsteps thundered past them, dozens of people rushing toward the plaza.

Emilia jumped to her feet. "Huh? What's happening over there? Come on, let's check it out!"

Pasta stood, flinging his stick aside. "Finally, something to do."

They followed the crowd, slipping through the growing sea of whispers and tension.

"Oh, heavens…"

"Where are the guards? This is awful…" murmured a man, his voice trembling.

The moment they reached the scene, Emilia's breath hitched in her throat. A man lay crumpled in the snow, motionless. From beneath him, a jagged spike of stone had erupted from the ground, its sharp point lodged clean through his skull.

Emilia staggered back in horror. "W-what…?"

Mr. Swordsman stepped forward, flashing his guild crest. "We're adventurers. Let us through."

The onlookers instinctively stepped aside.

He crouched beside the body, running his gloved fingers near the wound. "Faint traces of someone else's lifeforce… It wasn't random. Whoever did this wants us to find him."

Pasta knelt down next to him, squinting at the corpse. "Same aura as before. I felt it right before we raided the dungeon, that guy tried to take me out."

Wait, what are they talking about? Emilia blinked, glancing between them. Mr. Swordsman's right... I really do need to meditate more.

A new voice cut through the murmur.

"No use pitying him."

A man approached, dragging a coat over his shoulders. In his hand, he held a broken mask. "He was a hunter. This was found next to him."

Emilia frowned. "I heard there's been conflict between hunters and adventurers around here…"

The man nodded grimly. "You're not wrong. Been going on for a while now, both sides losing people. But this..."

He looked down at the gruesome sight, lowering his voice. "This wasn't some skirmish. Look at it. The ground itself turned on him. Adventurers don't kill like this. If I had to guess, the hunters are fighting among themselves."

Mr. Swordsman frowned. He could feel the same energy in a far distance, outside the city, waiting for them.

His hand drifted to the hilt of his blade. "We'll worry about that tomorrow. Ice fishing's still on.."

"Yeah, I'm down," Pasta said with a grin. "Hope we encounter some strong hunters in the way as well"

Emilia threw her hands up. "You two are insane. I'm not fighting some dangerous hunters. It's far too dangerous."

Pasta smirked. "Since when do you even fight?-"

Whack!

Emilia delivered a clean flick to the back of his head.

"And don't forget," she said with a puffed cheek. "The fireworks festival is tonight. If you guys still want to fish, we can do that tomorrow."

Both men let out matching groans. Mr. Swordsman, deep down, had been hoping to hunt down the killer tonight.

Moments later, the guards finally arrived, securing the area and taking the body away. The crowd began to scatter, their voices now dripping with wild rumours and theories.

Emilia turned to her companions, clapping her hands together. "Well, since we can't go back to the inn just yet… how about a little window shopping to kill time?"

Pasta stood up with a long sigh, brushing snow off his pants. "Window shopping, huh? Ugh… I guess that's better than freezing our butts out here."

Hours of shopping and running from the innkeeper passed in a blur as the crew spent every second with laughter, except the gloomy swordsman of course.

Then finally they arrived, the moment they'd all been waiting for.

The Grand Fireworks show was about to begin.

Pasta turned to the group, throwing a fist. "Let's go!!!"