The inn was cloaked in the kind of silence that felt almost heavy, as if even the wooden beams and stone walls held their breath. The three returned—Wads, Ashborne, and Liora—moving as though shadows themselves, their footsteps barely whispering against the wooden floorboards. The faint creak of the door was the only sound that betrayed their entry.
Wads halted when his eyes caught the sight before him: two men sprawled on the wooden planks, unconscious and bound tightly with coarse rope. One's chest rose unevenly, a telltale sign of broken ribs, while the other's face was swollen, his nose grotesquely bent and smeared with dried blood. The smell of iron lingered faintly in the air.
Liora tugged her mask down and pulled her hood back, exhaling as though she'd been suffocating under its weight. She flopped onto her bed without care for her composure, her limbs spread like a child returning home after an exhausting errand. Across the room, Ashborne mirrored her relief, pulling his hood and mask free, stretching his arms wide until the joints in his shoulders cracked.
Near the desk, Reiyell sat gracefully, her posture straight despite the late hour. A lamp cast a soft amber glow on her face, highlighting the calm poise of her indicolite eyes. At the far end, Keiya sat cross-legged atop her bed, her chin propped lazily on one hand.
Klyden entered last, his energy still buzzing despite the night's ordeal. He bounded toward Liora with a bright grin.
"So? What happened?" he asked eagerly, his eyes sparkling like a child awaiting a bedtime story.
Reiyell looked up at Wads when he approached. "I did as you told," she said, her voice steady and composed, referring to the letter she had written to the ZAO. Her eyes met his, serene yet piercing.
Wads felt a jolt of guilt. His tone earlier with her—commanding, sharp—now seemed too harsh, especially against the cool grace of her obedience. Heat rose faintly in his face. "Thank you… Your Highness," he murmured, looking away quickly. But not before catching the faintest tug at the corner of her lips—half amusement, half pride.
To distract himself, Wads produced a small pack of Tres, placing it on the desk with a dull thud. Both Reiyell and Keiya's gazes sharpened, tracking the object as if it were more dangerous than it appeared.
Keiya stood, pacing lightly forward, but did not touch it. Her keen eyes narrowed, scanning it with precision. "So this was it?" she asked.
Reiyell leaned closer, her tone thoughtful. "Is it another variant? It feels… different. Not like the others."
Wads caught himself admiring the quick sharpness of her mind. "Yes. They're trying to perfect the drugs," he confirmed.
"Woah, woah," Klyden said, plopping comfortably onto Liora's bed, earning a sharp shove from her legs. "A bit greedy, don't you think?"
Wads straightened, his voice firm again. "Anyway. Get some rest. Tomorrow, we leave after hearing back from the ZAO."
But before leaving, he glanced once more at the two men unconscious on the floor. Their faint groans echoed in the silence. Wads turned to Ashborne.
"Ashborne, can you handle them?"
Ashborne simply nodded, stepping closer. His shadow stretched unnaturally across the wooden floor, creeping and curling like smoke until it swallowed the men whole. Their bodies sank without a sound, vanishing into the abyss beneath his feet as if they had never existed. Ashborne stood upright again, his expression blank, dusting off his gloves.
He turned toward the door, Ashborne trailing behind him with a nod. Klyden sprang up with his usual boundless energy, chirping "Good night!" to Liora, Reiyell, and Keiya before following.
---
The pale morning light spilled through the shutters, painting soft streaks across the small room where Wads stirred awake. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the sight of Ashborne and Klyden still fast asleep—Ashborne steady as stone, Klyden sprawled sideways, half his blanket kicked to the floor.
Rising quietly, Wads pulled on a plain dark-red shirt and stepped outside. The inn's lower floor smelled of baked bread, warm butter, and fresh coffee. The homely aroma belonged to Greg, the innkeeper, bustling behind the counter with a cloth over his shoulder.
Wads' gaze swept the room. At a table by the window sat Reiyell and Keiya. The two looked almost out of place in the rustic setting—dignity wrapped around them like cloaks. Reiyell sipped tea with measured grace, her eyes lowered, while Keiya had her nose buried in an old paper, flipping pages with the meticulous air of an elder matron.
As Wads approached, Reiyell's eyes lifted briefly. "Good morning," he greeted.
They both replied in kind, Reiyell's tone melodic, Keiya's clipped and distracted by her reading.
"Young lad! Want anything?" Greg's booming voice interrupted from behind the counter. Wads turned back slightly, already lowering himself into the seat beside Keiya.
"Uh… bread, if you have. And a hot coffee," he said.
Greg flashed him a thumbs up, vanishing back into the kitchen with clattering pans.
Reiyell slid a parchment across the wooden table. "The letter arrived."
Wads glanced down and unfolded it.
The words jumped at him:
"Yo-ho! Your favorite Vice President here—"
He twitched at the overly cheerful tone, jaw tightening as he read further.
"You guys did a good job! Don't worry, I already sent someone to take care of it. Just focus on advancing toward the Forsaken Forest! If there's something similar at the second town, I give you permission to eradicate it quietly. I expect the next letter to be a victory!"
Signed with Kaizer's flamboyant hand.
Wads sighed, folding the parchment again just as Greg returned with a steaming mug and a plate. The sight nearly made his stomach growl—two golden sandwiches stuffed with eggs and cheese, the buttery scent wrapping around him like a blanket. He swallowed hard before taking a bite, his eyes closing briefly at the taste.
"Where do you travel next?" Greg asked, smiling kindly as he set the food down. "The next town, perhaps?"
Wads chewed, so Reiyell answered with a sweet smile. "Yes. The Gallowsbright."
Greg's brow lifted, and he wiped sweat from his forehead. "Ah! Then when you arrive, you must visit Gena's inn—my sister owns it. Tell her I sent you!"
"We'll take note," Reiyell replied warmly.
As Wads finished his first sandwich and sipped coffee, he asked, "Is there anything we should take note of when we arrive?"
Greg tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmm. Only that there's one group you should watch out for. They call themselves the Scorpions." His voice carried no menace, only simple warning. "They aren't ones to be trifled with."
Wads frowned slightly, but Greg chuckled, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "But you lot seem strong, so I'm sure you'll be fine." With that, he turned toward the kitchen again—just as a half-asleep Klyden stumbled down the stairs.
His hair was a wild nest, eyes squinting against the morning light. Greg grinned at the sight. "And what'll you have for breakfast, young man?"
Klyden yawned so wide his jaw cracked. "Anything with rice… enough to fill me 'til lunch…" he mumbled.
Greg laughed heartily and vanished into the kitchen. Klyden trudged toward the table and slumped into the corner seat near Wads. He dropped his cheek onto the wooden surface with a dull thunk.
"So… hungry…" he groaned.
"You talk as if you didn't eat last night," Wads muttered, chewing through his second sandwich.
The food arrived moments later, steaming bowls of rice with fried meat, eggs, and vegetables stacked high. The instant the aroma reached Klyden, his spirit returned like a fire rekindled. He sat up so fast his chair squeaked, snatched his spoon, and devoured the first bite with a blissful sigh.
"Ahhh—life… is back!" he declared dramatically, shoving another spoonful in.
Then the floodgates opened. Klyden launched into a nonstop retelling of the previous night's mission—except his words came out muffled, mixed with rice and meat. "—and then Wads—shmpfh—you should've seen—pffft—like BAM!"
The others just stared. Keiya especially, one brow raised, her gaze sharp and unamused, like she was watching a dog wag its tail at the sight of food.
Reiyell placed her teacup down, expression serene but blank. Wads sipped his coffee. No one interrupted him, though none of them truly understood what he was saying.
Finally, Keiya let out a long, slow sigh. Without a word, she plucked a folded napkin from the stack and flicked it across the table. It smacked Klyden square on the face.
"Wha—?!" Klyden peeled it off, cheeks puffed with rice, looking utterly betrayed. "Assault… in the middle of breakfast! This is abuse, Keiya!"
"You're spitting food everywhere," Keiya said flatly. "And you sound like a pig."
Reiyell's lips twitched—just slightly. Wads kept sipping his coffee, pretending to ignore them but the corner of his mouth betrayed a suppressed smirk.
Klyden slumped in his chair, groaning dramatically as though he had been mortally wounded. Then, still sulking, he shoved another bite in. "You guys… don't… appreciate greatness…" he mumbled, mouth still full.
———
When their meal ended, Ashborne rose first, heading out to prepare the wagon. Wads lingered only long enough to pay Greg, leaving a small tip on the counter. Greg smiled at him, nodding with warmth.
Stepping outside, Wads found the others already waiting. They were dressed once more in their disguises—the muted uniforms of National Science students. Reiyell's hood framed her face elegantly, while Keiya's cloak draped with sharp neatness. Liora leaned close to Keiya, gesturing as she spoke, clearly discussing spellwork.
Klyden, meanwhile, whistled off-key, flashing cheerful smiles at every passerby who gave him curious looks.
Soon Ashborne arrived with the wagon, reins in hand. The horses snorted, their coats gleaming under the sun. One by one they climbed aboard. Liora sprinted ahead, racing Klyden to the front seat beside Ashborne, landing in victory with a triumphant grin. Ashborne groaned—not with irritation, just a natural sound when saddled with company. Liora stuck her tongue out at Klyden in triumph.
Klyden sighed theatrically, throwing his hands up in defeat before clambering into the back. There, he joined Reiyell, Keiya, and Wads.
With reins snapping lightly, the wagon rolled forward. Klyden grinned and yelped. "Onward! Onward to adventure and snacks!" he cried, waving his hands like a puppeteer. The town melted behind them, the road drawing a line into green beyond; the world unfolded as it always does on the edge of a mission—full of unknowns and small consolations: warm bread, a friend's laugh, the feel of a sample bottle in a coat pocket.
Their journey to Gallowsbright began—accompanied by the endless chatter of Klyden, who spoke with the confidence of someone who thought he knew what lay ahead, as if the roads and forests were his childhood backyard.
The others only exchanged glances, some amused, some exasperated, as his voice carried with tireless enthusiasm into the morning air.