The Misadventures Begin

Hansi walks through the empty streets of the coastal town, the early morning mist swirling around his feet. The once chaotic aura surrounding him feels quieter now, but the weight of his past still lingers. The red essence in his eyes remains dormant, yet he knows it hasn't disappeared completely.

As he moves deeper into town, his mind begins to process everything—the mission, the guild, the strange girl in the void. He remembers her soft voice: "Live."

He exhales, a rare sign of exhaustion escaping his lips. "Live, huh?"

His thoughts are interrupted when he senses a presence. Someone is following him.

Without turning, Hansi's grip tightens around the hilt of the sword still in his hand. The rhythmic sound of footsteps closing in sends a familiar rush of adrenaline through his veins.

"Still as sharp as ever, Galactico."

Hansi stops in his tracks. That voice—smooth, confident, and laced with amusement—belongs to none other than one of the guild's elites, Vayren, known as the "Silent Wolf."

Hansi finally turns to face him. Vayren stands casually, his arms crossed, a sly grin on his face. His long, silver hair falls effortlessly over his shoulders, and his dark assassin gear blends seamlessly into the shadows of the alleyway.

"You should be dead," Vayren says, his sharp eyes scanning Hansi from head to toe. "But here you are. Alive. And... different."

Hansi meets his gaze without emotion. "Did the boss send you?"

Vayren smirks. "Nah, just my curiosity. News travels fast, you know. Especially when it's about you. The guild thought they'd seen the last of the great Galactico, but it seems death wasn't part of your plan." He steps closer, his voice lowering. "But now you've got a problem. The guild won't stop looking for you."

Hansi's eyes narrow slightly. "Let them come."

Vayren chuckles. "Classic. But even you can't take them all, not forever. So what's next? Gonna run? Hide?"

Hansi considers the question. "I don't know."

Vayren raises an eyebrow. "That's new."

For a moment, silence hangs between them, then Vayren sighs dramatically. "Well, I suppose I should report you... but that seems like too much work." He leans in slightly. "Consider this a favor. You better figure out what you want, Hansi. Because if the guild finds you before you do, they'll make sure you don't get another chance."

Hansi watches him carefully, sensing no hostility. After a moment, he simply nods. "I'll keep that in mind."

Vayren grins and steps back. "Good. And hey... don't die too soon, yeah?" With a casual wave, he disappears into the mist, leaving Hansi alone once again.

Hansi stands still for a moment before turning away. He knows Vayren's warning isn't empty. The guild would send more, and they wouldn't all be as friendly.

As he continues walking, he finally reaches the town's main street. Shops are starting to open, vendors setting up their stalls, and life moves on as if the world wasn't nearly torn apart the night before.

A sudden aroma of freshly baked bread catches his attention. Hansi pauses in front of a small bakery, watching as the owner, an elderly woman, places warm loaves in the window. The sight feels foreign to him—simple, normal, peaceful.

He steps inside. The bell above the door jingles softly. The woman looks up and smiles kindly. "Good morning, dear. What can I get for you?"

Hansi stares at her for a long moment before finally speaking. "Something... sweet."

The woman chuckles. "You've come to the right place." She hands him a small pastry, warm to the touch. Hansi stares at it, the simple treat feeling heavier in his hands than any weapon he's ever held.

For the first time in a long time, he takes a bite.

And for the first time in a long time... he feels something close to normal.