Lyric stood in the fields of Calden's Reach, the scent of freshly tilled soil and ripened fruit filling the warm air. The sun was high, golden light spilling across the endless rows of crops. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, the rhythm of nature steady and unbroken.
For a moment, he simply breathed.
His hands grasped a bundle of wheat, the stalks rough against his palms, the feeling so painfully familiar it almost made his chest ache. His feet sunk into the loose earth, warm and full of life. The farmhouse stood in the distance, wooden beams and a slanted roof casting a long shadow.
It was… home.
He turned—and saw Chime running toward him.
His breath caught.
She looked exactly as she had all those years ago—her long black hair flowing behind her, her tiny hands holding a bright red fruit she had just plucked from the orchard. Her grey eyes were filled with excitement, her small feet barely touching the ground as she sprinted toward him.
"Lyric! I got one! I picked it myself!"
His heart clenched.
The words stuck in his throat. He wanted to move, to reach out—but something was wrong.
The air felt thicker. The warmth of the sun dimmed, as if a shadow had passed over it. The wind stopped.
Chime slowed, her smile faltering. "Lyric?"
A shiver ran down his spine. The sky darkened—not like a sunset, but as if something was swallowing the light. The golden glow faded into sickly shades of grey and purple.
The ground quivered beneath his feet.
Chime took a step closer, confusion in her wide, innocent eyes.
"Lyric, what's happening?"
A sound split the silence—a deep, gut-wrenching groan, as if the world itself was being torn apart.
A rift opened.
Right behind Chime.
Lyric's breath left him.
"Chime—!"
The crack in reality spilled forth writhing tendrils of darkness, pulling at the air like hungry fingers. The wind howled, rushing into the void, sucking everything toward it.
Chime screamed as her feet lifted off the ground.
Lyric lunged forward. His fingers brushed against hers. Just a little more—just a little—
She was pulled in.
Her face disappeared into the abyss.
"CHIME!"
Lyric screamed, his voice breaking, raw and desperate. He dove, reaching into the void—
And the world shattered.
Lyric bolted upright, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.
The room was dimly lit, lantern light flickering from the corner. His hands clutched the fabric of the bed, his entire body covered in cold sweat. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He was not in the fields.
Not in Calden's Reach.
Not with Chime.
Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the present. Wooden beams. A rough mattress beneath him. The distant hum of voices from downstairs.
An inn. The Floating Market.
Safe.
"…What?"
Bell's voice was flat.
Lyric turned his head.
The tiny pixie was sitting cross-legged in mid-air, arms folded, staring at him like he was an anomaly she had been studying for hours.
"What?" he muttered, throat dry.
"You were whimpering in your sleep."
Lyric stiffened.
His face heated slightly.
"I was not," he lied immediately.
Bell blinked, unamused.
She raised an eyebrow. "So… what, you were just doing a bad impression of a dying animal?"
Lyric swung his legs over the bed, refusing to engage. "Doesn't matter. We need to figure out our next move."
Bell rolled her eyes but didn't press further.
"Alright, fine. Next move. What's the plan?"
Lyric grabbed his shirt from the chair beside the bed, pulling it over his head. "We need money. Gear. And information. That means checking the guild, seeing if there's any mention of the Desire Compass, and keeping a low profile."
Bell hovered over his shoulder, watching as he strapped his sword to his back.
"Yeah, about that," she muttered.
Lyric paused. "...About what?"
Bell sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"You do remember that you're literally a wanted man in this city, right?"
Silence.
Then Lyric let out a sharp exhale, rubbing his temples.
"...Right. That."
Bell floated in front of his face, arms crossed. "Just saying. Maybe not waltzing around in the same tattered clothes you arrived in would be a solid move."
Lyric grimaced. She wasn't wrong.
"And while we're at it," Bell continued, poking his forehead, "maybe invest in a hood or a mask? You know, so you don't, I don't know, GET ARRESTED?"
Lyric waved her away, standing up fully. "Alright, alright, I get it. Clothes first."
Bell smirked. "Smart boy."
The moment Lyric stepped outside, he was reminded of how truly unnatural this place was.
The Floating Market had no sun, no moon, no sky—only a vast expanse of stars and cosmic light stretching endlessly above. Despite this, the city never slept.
There was no day or night here. People simply chose when to sleep, when to work, when to exist.
The streets were made of layered metal slabs, ancient and worn, their surfaces smoothed by countless footsteps. Some sections were cracked, revealing green energy veins pulsing faintly beneath.
The air was thick, carrying a mixture of oil, roasted spices, and something vaguely metallic. Conversations in a hundred different languages overlapped, filling the space with a constant, buzzing murmur.
It was a place of deals, danger, and opportunity.
And somewhere in this chaos, Lyric was being hunted.
The sign above the store was bold and obnoxious, written in jagged letters:
BUSTER PIN – IF IT PROTECTS, WE SELL IT.
The moment Lyric stepped inside, he stopped.
His vision blurred—then sharpened.
Everything around him glowed. His mind felt… clearer.
He blinked, his breath hitching.
Bell, hovering beside him, narrowed her eyes. "Lyric… your eyes."
Lyric glanced at the nearest armor stand—and saw the weaknesses. The faulty chain links in the chest plates, the stress points in the leg guards, the exposed edges of every design flaw.
His shard ability had activated.
"…Whoa."
Before he could process it further—
A massive, walrus-faced merchant with HUMAN LEGS stomped into view.
The creature's voice boomed through the store.
"AH! CUSTOMER! YOU HAVE COIN, YES?"
Lyric stared.
The walrus-man grinned, his mustache quivering. "YOU LOOK LIKE YOU NEED PROTECTION."
Bell, beside him, was already shaking with silent laughter.
Lyric pinched the bridge of his nose.
This was going to be a long day.
Lyric wasn't sure what was more unsettling—the fact that his vision was glowing with insight, or the massive walrus-headed merchant with human legs standing right in front of him.
The creature's fur was a mix of gray and brown, bristling slightly as he grinned. His eyes were beady, sharp, and gleamed with the kind of intelligence only a seasoned merchant could have. His voice was deep and booming, practically vibrating through the air.
"YOU LOOK LIKE A MAN WHO NEEDS PROTECTION," he declared, throwing his arms wide. "WELCOME TO BUSTER PIN, WHERE IF IT PROTECTS, WE SELL IT!"
Lyric blinked.
Bell, hovering just over his shoulder, had already lost it. She was clutching her stomach, barely stifling her laughter.
"Oh, this is already my favorite shop," she wheezed.
Lyric exhaled slowly, trying to refocus. His shard ability was still active. His eyes scanned the shop, each piece of armor outlined with glowing weak points. Some had loose plates, others faulty straps—one even had a gap that would expose the wearer's heart if struck at the right angle.
It was strange.
He wasn't just seeing the flaws—he understood them.
As if his mind had already calculated every possible weak spot, every structural failure waiting to happen.
"...Huh," he muttered under his breath.
Bell leaned in. "What?"
Lyric hesitated, then pointed at a nearby chest plate. The edges of its shoulder guards flickered in his vision, flaws highlighting themselves.
"That armor over there—it's got a weak point at the straps. If someone grabbed you by the arm and yanked, the entire thing would rip apart."
Bell raised an eyebrow. "And you know that… how?"
Lyric frowned. "I—"
Before he could answer, the walrus merchant clapped a heavy hand onto his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance.
"AH! AN EYE FOR DETAIL! YOU HAVE A GOOD SENSE, CUSTOMER!" The walrus grinned, his massive tusks gleaming in the lantern light.
"BUT ONLY FOOLS LOOK FOR WEAKNESSES. THE WISE LOOK FOR STRENGTH."
Lyric barely had time to react before the merchant grabbed a nearby helmet, shoved it into his hands, and leaned in.
His breath smelled like salt and iron.
"TRY THIS ON."
Lyric stared at him.
Bell was shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Go on, Lyric," she whispered. "You don't want to disappoint Mr. Mustache."
Lyric shot her a glare before reluctantly slipping the helmet on.
The moment it settled over his head, his vision flared again. Weak points, stress fractures, potential break points—all of them highlighted in his mind instantly.
He pulled the helmet off.
"I'll take something without weak straps."
The walrus merchant beamed.
"A MAN WHO KNOWS QUALITY WHEN HE SEES IT! EXCELLENT! I HAVE JUST THE PIECE FOR YOU."
Lyric stood at the counter, staring at his dwindling funds.
The new armor piece—a reinforced chest guard made of some kind of flexible interwoven metal—had been ridiculously expensive.
He slid the last of his gold across the counter.
The walrus merchant slammed a fist against his chest in approval.
"YOU CHOOSE WELL! MAY IT KEEP YOUR GUTS INSIDE YOUR BODY FOR MANY FIGHTS TO COME!"
Lyric nodded, strapping the armor into place. It was lightweight, sturdy, and—thanks to his **shard ability's analysis—**one of the strongest options in the shop.
Still.
He was now basically broke.
Bell, now perched on his shoulder, grinned.
"So. How does it feel?"
Lyric adjusted the straps. "Like a good investment."
"...And also like you're out of money?"
"...Yeah."
Bell snickered.
Lyric grimaced, before smirking and pulling Bell back into his pocket.
"You're meant to stay hidden, remember, oh wise one", Lyric spoke sarcastically, Bell grumbling in his pocket.
By the time Lyric made his way to Tinder Fire, a place he saw yesterday, the city's streets had only grown busier.
The restaurant's wooden exterior looked strangely old-fashioned compared to the neon-lit chaos of the surrounding streets. A flickering sign hummed softly above the entrance, giving off a low, red glow.
Lyric pushed inside, instantly hit with the scent of sizzling meat, burning spices, and something vaguely… electric.
The inside was dimly lit, the walls lined with floating lanterns that adjusted their brightness when customers entered.
A few rough-looking travelers were already seated, some engaged in low conversations, others simply eating in silence.
Lyric took a seat in the farthest corner, keeping his back to the wall.
Bell floated out of his pocket onto the table.
"Smart. This way, you can see all the exits."
Lyric didn't answer. His eyes drifted toward a small notice board on the far wall.
More wanted posters.
Most were for criminals, bounty heads, rogue mages. But one, in particular, stood out.
His description.
The bounty was still vague—no picture, just a written warning. But that didn't matter.
The words stamped in bold lettering beneath his description sent a chill through him.
Suspected Possession of Celestial Shard. Wanted for Detainment. Report Sightings Immediately.
Bell followed his gaze.
"...Welp."
Lyric exhaled through his nose.
Bell tilted her head. "You panicking?"
Lyric grabbed his fork, poking at the strange, sizzling meat on his plate. "...Not yet."
Bell grinned. "Then we're making progress."
As Lyric stepped out of Tinder Fire, he wasted no time making his way toward a nearby clothing vendor.
His armor was strong, his sword was still sharp—but he needed to stay unnoticed.
The shop was less of a store and more of a large, open stall. Various hooded cloaks, traveling coats, and protective garments hung from metal racks, fluttering in the artificial breeze.
A thin, gray-skinned vendor with too many fingers raised an eyebrow as Lyric approached.
"You look like a man in need of obscurity," the vendor said, voice smooth as oil.
Lyric nodded.
The vendor smiled. "Then I have just the thing."
Minutes later, Lyric stepped back onto the street, the dark fabric of his new cloak draping around his shoulders. The hood covered most of his face, casting his features in shadow.
Bell hovered beside him, inspecting the look.
"Not bad," she admitted. "You officially look like every other suspicious guy in this city."
"Perfect," Lyric muttered.
By the time they returned to the inn, Lyric had successfully managed to hold it together.
That changed the moment the door shut behind him.
He collapsed into the chair, running a hand through his hair.
"...I have a bounty on my head."
Bell landed on the table, stretching lazily. "Yep."
"I have no money."
"Uh-huh."
Lyric tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. "...And I just spent everything I had on armor and a cloak."
Bell grinned. "But you look great doing it."
Lyric shot her a flat glare.
Bell huffed, fluttering up to his shoulder. "Look, you're overthinking it. Keep a low profile, don't get into trouble, and you'll be fine."
Lyric sighed. "And what if I do get into trouble?"
Bell grinned mischievously.
"Then we run like hell."