Roaming through the yellow-lit streets of the market district, the group wandered past shop after shop. The buzz of pedestrians filled the air, wrapping around them with a strange, soothing energy. Maybe it was peace. Maybe it was hunger.
Now, more than anything, they just wanted food.
After walking past dozens of food stalls, they finally found a small one with a free table. The tables were set on the sidewalk, and the whole stall was bathed in a warm red glow.
They took their seats and picked up the menu. The options were... unconventional. Mushroom-based dishes, synthetic pasta and noodles, monster meat, and a few insect delicacies.
The cheapest item? Mushroom soup.
"So, what are you guys thinking?" Myth asked, scanning the menu.
Victor replied first in a low voice. "I'll have some synthetic pasta."
"Me too," Ashley chimed in.
"Same for me," Sira added.
"I'll have synthetic noodles," Walker said quietly.
"Really? Pasta and noodles?" Myth gave them a baffled look.
"Even you, Sira? I thought you'd learned a thing or two staying with me. But no…"
"What?" Sira raised a brow. "What's wrong with my choice? It's the most edible thing here."
"Just wait. Watch and learn," Myth said, getting up to place the order himself.
Once he was gone, Ashley leaned over to Sira and smirked. "Don't worry about him. You'll see—he's the one who's going to regret it."
The group chatted quietly while waiting. Most of the conversation flowed between Sira, Ashley, and Myth when he returned. Victor occasionally added a few words, while Walker remained the most reserved of the bunch.
Eventually, the pasta arrived. Steaming hot and creamy white under the red lighting, it looked almost too perfect to eat.
Walker's noodles came next—a large bowl of deep red strands, visibly spicy and inviting.
Myth sat, silently suffering as he watched everyone dig into their meals. He was starving. Watching others eat was torture.
Ashley shot him a knowing smirk as she twirled her pasta.
Like heartless villains, they all devoured their food. The pasta, with its thick cream and heat rising in tendrils, was a delight.
As they ate, their eyes teared up—not from spice, but from sheer satisfaction. The cold air, the warm lights, and the heavenly food—it all made the moment unforgettable.
"Myth, do you want a taste?" Sira asked, holding out her bowl.
'What a kind soul this woman is, Myth thought. Ashley should take notes.'
"Yes, yes—please. I was wondering when someone would offer," he replied, almost too eagerly.
Sira chuckled and passed the bowl to him.
Myth took a spoonful, drooling as he raised it. As it hit his tongue, the creamy, cheesy explosion of flavor made his eyes close in bliss.
His stomach screamed for more, but with great reluctance, he handed the bowl back.
Just then, as if fate had heard his hunger, his own dish arrived: mushroom soup with garlic bread.
"Seriously? That's what you ordered?" Ashley raised an eyebrow.
"Yes... my beautiful lady," Myth replied, dramatic as always.
The soup was thick, creamy, and piping hot. The garlic bread was golden and crisp—perfectly toasted.
Despite all the exotic meals Myth had tried before, this humble dish looked like it might top them all.
He dipped the bread into the soup, took a bite, and was instantly transported to another world. Heaven, if it had flavor, would taste like this.
He offered tastes around the table.
Everyone accepted—except for Walker.
"I'd say the mushroom soup is the best," Sira declared with a satisfied smile.
There's something strange about food.
Eating at home is comforting. But food on a journey, amidst laughter and stories, tastes different. Better.
The most memorable meals are never about the ingredients—they're about the people, the place, and the moment.
For the entire day's escapades, they ended up spending around 1,900 sols. That left them with only 750 sols in hand—barely enough for emergencies.
They switched through a few local trams, weaving through side alleys and lesser-used routes, until they finally reached the Middle Main Tram Track. From there, they boarded one of the larger mainline Trams.
Half an hour later, they arrived at their destination—
The biggest and most lively area of the Fifth Ring: Draymont.
By the time they stepped off the final Tram, their pockets were lighter by 500 sols. Just 250 left among them. That meant 50 per person.
Dirty poor.
The street they entered was sparsely populated, the usual yellow streetlights casting long shadows. A few closed shops lined the quiet sidewalk. The night air was cold, and even the wind felt distant.
Then Walker spoke—his voice deeper than usual, laced with something heavy.
"Let's talk. Somewhere quiet."
The group froze.
Myth turned to him.
"What's this about?"
Walker didn't look at him. He stared ahead, into the dark.
"You know what this is about."
Silence.
Myth sighed and spoke with a strange calmness.
"Let's find a deserted alley."
Sira looked confused, but the others understood. And that silence, that unspoken tension, grew heavier.
They walked without a word.
The empty street, once just quiet, now felt wrong. Every step echoed too loud. It felt like the whole city was holding its breath.
Eventually, they reached a narrow alley—dim, cold, and empty. Perfect.
Walker turned to Myth, eyes dark.
"The portal incident... that was you. Wasn't it?"
The group tensed.
Myth met Walker's gaze.
"Yes. I did it."
His voice was level. Calm. Certain.
Walker stepped forward and, without hesitation, grabbed Myth by the collar, slamming him into the wall.
In an instant, Victor's knife was at Walker's neck.
"Back up."
Victor's expression, usually unreadable, now carried a sharp edge of warning.
But he didn't stop there.
"I'm with him. I helped cause the incident."
Walker didn't let go and asked Myth.
"You did it… just to become a Seeker?"
"Yes."
Walker's voice rose.
"Do you even understand what you've done? How many people you killed? How many you're still tormenting? Families torn apart. Lives ruined. All because some kid wanted power."
He paused, breath heavy with fury.
"Whose idea was it—yours or Victor's?"
"Mine," Myth replied. "You are in no position to judge me, you are a Seeker. I find it hard to believe that you haven't killed anyone. I am quite sure that your kill count is much higher than mine."
Myth then looked at Walker and spoke,
"Haven't you killed two people already since you came here? The Seeker and the guard we talked to. Tell me, how are we different? For your goal—to escape—you killed two innocent people who were just doing their jobs. So, having killed people to achieve power and still killing innocent people, you are judging me when I am trying to achieve power.
Well, talk about being a hypocrite."
Victor stepped in again.
"You were supposed to stop him. You're a Seeker detective, sworn to protect people. But you failed. You're as much a part of this as he is. Don't blame Myth. Blame your incompetence."
Myth added,
"And if you're that obsessed with law, then I'm just an innocent victim of the incident. Isn't that what your reports would say?"
A heavy silence followed.
Then Myth asked,
"So what's the point of this talk?"
Walker looked around.
"Just wanted everyone on the same page."
But Myth knew exactly what he was doing.
Walker wasn't going to leave. He couldn't make it out alone—and he knew it. What he was doing, was testing the group. Gauging support. Seeing if Myth was isolated. Seeing who sided with whom.
If Myth had no allies, they could cut him off. Use him. Push him into a subservient role.
But Victor—stoic, unpredictable Victor—had chosen Myth's side. That was a surprise.
Ashley was expected to side with Walker.
Sira was supposed to be with Myth.
Yet… both looked unsure now.
Walker turned to Victor.
"So tell us, Victor. Why are you here?"
Victor, face unreadable as always, replied in a calm, almost detached voice.
"My girlfriend disappeared during the incident. Four years ago. I came here to bring her back."
Walker opened his mouth to press further—maybe shift the topic toward Sira, figure out what her abilities were. But before he could say a word, Sira spoke.
Her voice was loud and trembling, slicing through the silence like a blade.
She'd figured it out.
Her expression twisted into something between fury and heartbreak. Eyes wide. Breathing heavy. The realization hit her hard—Myth had betrayed her.
And Myth, for the first time in a while, felt a cold knot of fear tighten in his stomach.
He didn't know what was coming next. But he knew it wouldn't be good.