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Journal Entry – June 3rd – Gustavo City – Northwestern Region
The steady clatter of carriage wheels echoed along the dirt road, blending with the cheerful chirping of birds perched upon the branches. Morning sunlight pierced through the canopy, painting the forest in hues of serenity and poetry.
Drake, seated at the front with reins in hand, turned his head slightly and spoke:
— "Up ahead is Gustavo City. We can rest there for a while."
The horses neighed loudly, their hooves clattering rhythmically against the sandy path, pulling the wagon ever forward.
After a long stretch, the massive city gates loomed into view. Towering spires and sturdy walls stood as silent sentinels, guarding the Northwestern lands. Passing through the gates, the wagon finally stopped in front of a familiar inn—a favored resting place for adventurers and hunters alike.
A gentle spring breeze swept through the streets, carrying with it the fresh scent of grass and wildflowers.
The carriage door creaked open. Footsteps followed one another—Miliana stepping out first, trailed by Drake and Bruno. Together, they made their way toward the city center to arrange for lodging.
But then Miliana paused, her curious gaze shifting:
— "Willin? What's keeping you staring like that?"
Willin stood still beside the carriage, eyes lifted toward the endless, unclouded sky. A silent moment stretched between them before he smiled faintly and replied:
— "Ah… nothing really. I was just… breathing in the fresh air."
The central street of Gustavo was bustling and full of life. Shops lined both sides of the road, crammed together, their displays overflowing with goods. Vendors shouted their calls into the air: stalls with slabs of meat hanging in rows, freshly caught fish still dripping with water, piles of vegetables and fruit stacked high. Scents mingled in the air— the salt of fish, the savory fat of roasting meat, the sweet fragrance of ripe fruit.
From the upper floor of the inn, Willin stood silently on the balcony, his gaze wandering across the noisy market below. A soft spring breeze swept through, brushing his hair aside, carrying with it a feeling both refreshing and faintly uneasy.
Suddenly, a voice called from behind:
— "Willin!"
He flinched and spun around. Miliana stood there, one hand on her hip, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
— "Miliana! Don't scare me like that!" Willin muttered, his hand instinctively pressing to his chest.
— "Sorry, sorry." Miliana giggled, covering her mouth. "It's just… you seem so tense today. Why don't we go down to the market and stock up on some food?"
Willin sighed, his brows knitting slightly.
— "Where are Drake and Bruno? Don't tell me they're napping again?"
— "Probably. I haven't seen them," Miliana replied, her voice tinged with mild concern.
Willin shook his head, letting out another helpless sigh.
— "Alright then, I'll go with you."
Together, the two left the inn and stepped into the sea of people flowing through the marketplace. Stalls stretched endlessly, bright with bolts of cloth, gleaming with the sharp shine of polished weapons on display. With every step, Willin felt himself drawn deeper into the chaotic yet vibrant world— and yet, somewhere deep inside, that quiet unease lingered.
Under his breath, barely audible, he whispered to himself:
— "Peace like this… it never lasts."
Willin and Miliana wandered through the bustling market streets, moving from stall to stall. They bought dried foods, fresh fruits, smoked meats, and a few other supplies to prepare for the journey ahead. By the time they were done, the sun was already sinking in the west, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson.
When the errands were finished, they found a stone bench near the fountain in the city park. The gentle sound of water trickling mixed with the distant laughter of children, creating a rare moment of peace amidst their restless travels.
Miliana reached into a small paper bag, pulling out a handful of grains. She scattered them gently onto the ground, and within moments, pigeons fluttered down, cooing as they pecked eagerly at the seeds. She smiled faintly, but the sorrow hidden in her eyes betrayed her attempt at lightness.
Willin sat beside her in silence for a while, then finally spoke in a low voice:
— "Do you… still think of Break?"
Her hand froze mid-motion. A long silence followed, broken only by the beating wings of the birds. At last, she forced a smile and answered softly:
— "…I do. But… what's in the past is best left there, isn't it?"
Her eyes shimmered, betraying the truth her lips tried to deny.
Willin studied her quietly, then leaned slightly, offering his shoulder.
— "Yeah… I remember him too. Break was a good man. Maybe even… a good husband. If only he hadn't fallen there."
The words carried slowly, like a breeze drifting across the fading sky.
Miliana didn't respond. She simply rested her head against his shoulder, a single tear escaping and soaking into his sleeve. Willin said nothing more, only lifting a hand to gently pat her trembling shoulder—offering presence rather than hollow comfort.
The last light of sunset washed over the park, gilding the trees, the fountain, and the pigeons taking flight. For that fleeting moment, time itself seemed to pause—to hold onto the sorrow and memories that could never fade.
In the quiet glow of dusk, Willin gently pulled her into his arms.
— "I know I'm not perfect," he whispered, voice low but unwavering, "but I want to stay by your side… I want you to know that I… love you."
His eyes burned into Miliana's, locking on the tears shimmering there.
Miliana's breath caught. For a moment she was frozen, startled by his confession. Then slowly, a fragile smile curved her lips as she returned his embrace.
— "I wish… I could forget Break's shadow," she murmured, voice trembling with sorrow. "I wish I could—"
But before she could finish, Willin pressed on:
— "Then let me take his place. Let me be the one to protect you. Break would grieve if he knew the woman he loved still suffered because of his death."
Miliana lowered her gaze, her hands tightening against his chest. Slowly, she nodded.
Willin brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering with tenderness. Then, drawing in a deep breath, he leaned closer—pressing his lips gently against hers.
It was a kiss both tentative and desperate, a promise and a plea.
Miliana trembled, but her arms wrapped tighter around him, surrendering to the moment.
The world seemed to still—sunlight bathing the park in golden warmth, pigeons fluttering into the air as if blessing the embrace.
But then—
Thunk!
An arrow split the air, striking the ground just inches from Willin's feet.
Miliana gasped, breaking the kiss. Her eyes widened in shock as the echo of the impact reverberated through the empty square.
Willin instantly shifted, pulling her behind him. His hand reached for his weapon, eyes scanning the rooftops.
A shadow moved against the fading sunlight. A cloaked figure stood poised on the edge of a building, bowstring drawn, the tip of another arrow gleaming with lethal intent.
The stranger's voice rang out, cold and sharp as steel:
— "Willin… your journey ends here."
Miliana clutched Willin's arm, her body shaking.
But Willin's eyes narrowed, his voice low and steady:
— "Then you'll have to kill me first."
The quiet park that had moments ago held their fragile confession was now drenched in tension.
The setting sun bore witness—as love and danger collided in the same breath.
Under the blood-red sky of dusk, the air was drawn taut like the string of a bow. The first arrow still quivered in the ground, trembling as if to herald a coming nightmare.
Willin turned back, gripping Miliana's shoulders tightly. In his eyes burned both tenderness and an unshakable resolve. He leaned down and pressed a hurried kiss to her lips—brief, fleeting, yet carrying all the feelings he could not voice.
— "Miliana… run back to the Hunter's Inn. Find Bruno and Drake—they'll protect you." His voice was rough, urgent, almost breaking under the weight of danger. "Don't look back, no matter what happens."
Miliana trembled, tears threatening to spill, but she nodded. She knew this was no time for hesitation.
Willin squeezed her hand one last time before spinning away, springing forward like a predator finally unleashed.
The archer on the rooftop had already retreated, leaping to the next building, bowstring drawn once more.
Willin had no ranged weapon—but from his pocket, he suddenly produced… an old, battered slingshot.
He crouched low, scooping a handful of loose stones from the path and shoving them into his pocket. Without slowing, he fired—snap!—a rock cutting through the air toward the rooftop.
The archer tilted his head, narrowly evading it, his half-drawn arrow thrown off course.
— "Tch. You think pebbles can stop me?" he sneered, eyes glinting beneath the hood.
But Willin gave no reply. His legs pounded against the ground, relentless, closing the distance inch by inch.
Stones flew in rapid succession, each one like a desperate gunshot. Some only forced the archer to shift his footing, but each hesitation carved a sliver of advantage for Willin.
Arrows hissed downward, slamming into wood and stone around him, sparks flying on impact. Willin twisted aside, breath sharp, and snapped another shot—this one striking the archer's arm.
— "Damn you!" the cloaked figure snarled, his grip on the bow faltering.
In that instant, Willin surged forward, a wolf chasing down prey.
Behind him, Miliana glanced back, tears streaming down her cheeks. She bit her lip hard, forcing herself to turn away, running toward the Hunter's Inn as Willin had commanded. Her chest ached with the crushing fear that this might be the last time she ever saw him alive.
On the rooftops, bathed in dying sunlight, the hunt began—between the man with a weathered slingshot, and the assassin wielding a bow of death.
Back at the inn, Bruno and Drake were cornered against a stone wall. Even with his heavy armor and massive shield, Drake—the party's Tank—was hurled back by a brutal strike, his body slamming hard into the wall with a thunderous crack.
Bruno, meanwhile, was locked in a vicious duel with another assailant, steel clashing against steel, sparks flying with every blow.
— "Who the hell are you people?!" Drake roared, fury burning in his voice.
Their attackers gave no answer. With cold, wordless intent, they charged straight at him once more.
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Out in the bustling streets, Miliana was sprinting with all her strength toward the Hunter's Inn when suddenly—a shadow fell across her path.
A woman stepped forward, her presence sharp as a blade, lips curved in a mocking smile.
— "Well, well… hello, little mage ~" she purred, her voice dripping with taunt and provocation.
Elsewhere, Willin was still running at full speed, arrows whistling around him as the rooftop archer rained death from above. He twisted, ducked, and rolled, the world a blur of stone, dust, and fleeting shadows.
Then—disaster.
As he dashed across a crowded street, a carriage barreled into his path. Willin barely had time to react before it slammed into him, sending his body tumbling across the cobblestones. He rolled several times, finally coming to a stop, blood smearing the ground beneath him.
Groaning, he forced himself to his knees, vision swimming.
The carriage door creaked open. From it stepped a towering brute, a massive warhammer slung across his back. His eyes locked on Willin with murderous intent.
— "WILLIN WILLIAMS!!" the man bellowed, his voice shaking the air. "I'll crush you where you stand!!!"
With a roar, he swung his colossal hammer downward. The strike ripped through the air, powerful enough to split the very wind in half as it came crashing toward Willin's head.