Dawn slipped an orange thread of light through the cracks of the storeroom. Ryo opened one eye and was relieved to find the compass still where it belonged—at least it hadn't tried to strangle him overnight. The new boots at his feet waited like two loyal dogs.
"One day without toasted socks already counts as progress."
In the tavern, Toru set down a slice of herb-topped toast and a bowl of spiced broth.
"Eat well. The northern road is long, and there's no food stall until Cypress Hill."
Yuna was chewing with trance-level enthusiasm. Ryo, on the other hand, sniffed the broth warily.
"Is this hot? My stomach history is… delicate," he joked.
Toru raised an eyebrow. "It burns less than an Azure Wolf."
Touché. Ryo sipped. Surprisingly tasty.
With their packs—one stuffed with "just-in-case" flour—they left the village behind. The path soon turned into a mud-slick track; recent rains had transformed it into a festival of puddles.
"At least I'm breaking these boots in," Ryo sighed.
They walked single file: Yuna in front, pointing out "important" flowers and rocks; Toru at the rear with steady strides; and Ryo in the middle, eyeing every bush as if expecting another flaming Pokémon to leap out.
The forest was still asleep, except for a strange croak. Not a frog… thicker.
"That noise coming from the mud?" he asked.
"Clay slimes," Toru explained. "Peaceful—unless you step on them."
Yuna hopped right. "Ooh, one there!"
Ryo failed to imitate her and instead planted his boot in what he thought was mud. The "mud" wrapped around his foot like elastic goo.
"Agggh, let go!"
The clay slime started climbing his shin, leaving a gray coating.
"P-peaceful, you said…" he growled, shaking his leg.
He remembered the improvised flour sack hanging off his pack. He ripped it open and flung a handful at the slime.
Nothing happened.
Toru chuckled. "Clay doesn't explode, lad. But it does harden."
Sure enough, the slime was stiffening into cement around the boot.
"Perfect… brand-new cast-boot style."
The compass vibrated faintly and a tiny line appeared:
Protection 0 % → 20 %.
"Protection? How does pinning me in place protect anything?!"
Yet the hardened clay blocked two more slimes that tried to leap. Like an improvised shield, the cast-boot absorbed the hits.
Toru used a sharp branch to crack the crust and free Ryo's leg.
"Now you know why local hunters coat their shields in mud," he said.
Ryo muttered something unprintable and retied the flour sack. "Day one and I've invented the world's lamest armor."
They reached a clearing before noon. From there, they could see the old cobbled road winding north, lost among gnarled trees.
Yuna pointed to a rock marked in red.
"My mother left this symbol; it means 'I'm safe.'"
Ryo touched the runes. They looked fresh.
"Then maybe she isn't far…" he murmured.
Toru studied the ground. "Cart tracks—two mules pulling. Probably slavers."
Tension thickened the air. Ryo tightened his grip on the flour sack and took a deep breath.
"Come on, Courage I—give me those three seconds of glory when I need them."
In the distance, a bell rang: sharp, almost mocking. The compass shuddered; its needle spun north.
"Time to follow the arrow," he said—this time without complaining.
They headed up the ancient road under the blazing sun. Every hundred meters Yuna pointed out some edible shrub or rock that, according to her, "looks like a duck." Ryo smiled patiently until the tenth duck-rock.
"Yuna, I've seen two hours of rocky wildlife. May I ignore the next one?"
"No! It could be a goose," she answered, deadly serious.
Toru let out a short laugh. The lightness was welcome; the surroundings were growing creepy—the forest thickened, trees twisting to choke off the light.
Around a bend they found an overturned cart. Splintered barrels, torn sacks, a wheel still turning ever so slowly. Ryo swallowed.
"Great. Vacation package with bonus crime scene."
Quick search: no bodies, only tracks and drag marks. Yuna found a blue kerchief trimmed in white.
"It's my mother's," she whispered.
Ryo laid a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"We take it as a sign: we'll follow her trail and we won't stop."
While they spoke, a buzzing rose from the trees. A cloud of marble-sized insects drifted overhead.
"Sap wasps!" Toru warned. "Don't bother them."
Naturally, Ryo waved a hand to shoo them away, slipped, and landed squarely in a sticky pool of resin.
The wasps homed in on the sweet scent, landing all over his back.
"Argh, no, no, no! I'm not a pastry!" he bellowed, scrambling while Yuna laughed herself breathless.
Toru tossed him a green branch.
"Brush them off. And stop smelling like candy, stranger."
With most of his dignity lost and a fresh collection of welts, Ryo got rid of the pests—and discovered the resin clinging to his cloak was flammable: Toru lit a small piece, and it burned quick and bright.
"Good torch for the night," the old man noted.
"Fantastic. First invention: torch-cloak. Second patent: cast-boot. I'll launch my own fashion line soon," Ryo grumbled.
The compass flashed, as if laughing at the idea. That bluish pulse restored a bit of confidence, and the trio set off once more.
They moved along the old road, unaware that just beyond the next curve, a band of rookie brigands was haggling over kidnapping fees…
End of Chapter 3.