The sun had initiated its descent, adorning the street in a soft golden light. Lit, multicoloured paper lanterns hung on festive overhangs. The streets of Piercing Jade Valley were alight with cheer, with festival goers mingling, playing, haggling, eating, drinking, and laughing in the merry atmosphere.

The town never felt as alive as during the Summer Solstice Festival. People of all stations paraded their best garments in front of the numerous temporary stalls and tents. Paper dragons and flower crowns abounded. Music floated at every corner. Kids ran after each other, hitting strangers’ legs with mild chiding in return. Truly, the annual Summer Solstice Festival remained such a miserable time for the one named Suna Ranil.

The scarred man was bored. So bored. The evening was too young for the rowdy ones to express their disruptive talents. The streets were filled with civilians and kids. Civilians and kids everywhere. Little bundles of terrifying joy completely clueless about any lurking dangers. Not that many monsters hid in the daylight. The few Suna had found, he had dispatched with a mere slap, tied them up like juicy hams and delivered them to justice or what else the Mayor's minions called themselves. Suna did not care. Small frys were small frys, beneath his attention span. No more of a challenge than drowning a fanged wasp in blood.

Even his half-empty flask of firesooz did not relieve Ranil of his boredom. He was currently on duty. Or whatever dregs of it he deigned to fulfill. So he kept tipsy and no more. More than tipsy was getting too expensive anyway. He kept his alcohol intake at just enough to prevent the edge of his pending existential crisis from encroaching further in.

He would get proper wasted later, after his shift. Suna did have some remnants of a reputation to maintain. Not that the man cared himself, no, but someone Suna Ranil respected did, and so the man behaved most of the time. Enough not to make too many waves, lest he made his respected one's life more difficult than it had to. In the meantime, Suna would control his ennui the old-fashioned way: with copious amounts of firesooz, the heavenly mix of perfectly fermented red apples, firefruits, cinnamon, potent green ginger, gold raken leaves, and virum extract. And if his boredom became too much, there was always the underground arena. He could pass the time watching a fight or two. Or challenge a group with his little finger if Chafu let him. Always a fun thing. To remind people who was boss, not that they were ever at risk of forgetting.

Suna was so bored, the man almost missed that damned ape Kalor Hakhmir. Kalor had been a dumbass brute, without question, but at least that dumbass had been able to fight. And so fun to enrage, the hot-blooded fool. Shortsighted and explosive, Kalor Hakhmir had been the perfect opponent. Ready to fight again and again at the tiniest perceived slight. The asshole was dead now, burned of all things. As if to spite Suna on purpose.

With Kalor gone, no one worth their weight was left to fight in Piercing Jade Valley. The few stronger than Suna Ranil were not to be messed with, so far above him in power and influence only a fool would dare. Having reached the Sky Realm wasn't as fun as Suna had thought it would. Too few advanced Earthen Realm cultivators were around to pose any kind of proper challenge. People still in the Mortal Realm were so beneath him it wasn't even funny anymore—though it had been for a while, their faces!

But no point in risking his position for a bout of fun. It wasn't yet time to go after the Governor's people. And the Provincial Governor was still so far above Suna, to attack him was a sure way to get his lovely butt kicked. And Suna liked his butt both intact and in one piece. The man possessed an objectively nice behind, or so he had been told. Anyway, he largely preferred to deliver the beatings, instead of receiving them.

The burly man sighed while reminiscing about the past few nonats. Suna had been busy. Depressingly busy. Slave traders had poked their noses, allied with some random mountain bandits. Stupid, weak bandits. It had nonetheless been entertaining for a time to put them back in their place, to bloody his hands a bit. It almost made Suna smile as he reminisced. Warranted violence and mayhem, his favorites. But they were too late again.

Half the kids had already been sold and shipped. Records burned. The sponsors and masterminds gone with the wind. In any case, Suna had recognized enough of the kids to know which motherless bastard son of a gnoll had sold them first. That crooked pimp was nicely buried with his mountain bandit friends. Suna knew where blood blossoms would bloom next spring. He'd have to let Koriss know. Or get one of his own subordinates to harvest. The alchemist could get so squeamish sometimes.

Suna had truly stepped in some bloody shit this time. He couldn't leave while slavers ran around. Slavers always meant either crooked nobles, demonic cultivators, or a mix of both. He could not let it rest. Or the Provincial Lord would have Suna Ranil's hide. If only all nobles were of the greedy, corrupted kind. Slaughter them all, then problem gone. But no, some had to take the whole "Noblesse Oblige" thing seriously, the self-righteous cunts. Made Suna's job harder, needing to sort the rot from the sane instead of burning the whole field at once.

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Saving the little ones had been satisfying though, Suna thought.

The kids were scarred and scared, but scars healed and fears faded. Or were conquered. The young ones had a better chance to recover at the temple's orphanage than in whomever's clutches had awaited them. The little rascals were someone else's problem by now. Suna had no need for any rugrats to mess up with his path.

The large man smirked as he took a sip from his flask. The hunt was still on. He could hope for a better fight at the end of this trail. A real challenge for once. He wished for a really evil demonic cultivator. One he'd have no qualms in annihilating. No place for pesky empathy. A ruthless fight to the death, filled with nothing but primal instinct. Suna's inherent bloodlust rose at the thought.

The crowd parted around the scarred man. While Suna kept himself in check as routine, an impalpable pressure seeped from him to his surroundings at that moment. The people shivered in the warm air of the summer solstice. It did not last as Suna Ranil noticed and reigned himself in. His guard uniform was not enough to reassure passersby when the cultivator let a hint of bloodlust sneak out. Especially since the city guard outfit, even the ones for officers, were not in the best of shapes.

The light inner robe barely showed traces of its original spring leaf colour. The verdant, sleeveless kaftan overlying it was reinforced with scoffed leather pieces and old, burnished bronze. The same metal adorned more than one set before seeing the armourers' hands again for maintenance. The large, utilitarian belt holding it together was in a similar state. Its only redemption lay in the fact that no one wanted to start his shift with a defective strap. Hence, the belts were in a slightly better shape than the rest. The pants needed no comments. One was lucky if they were close in colour to the regulatory brown beige. Same for their plain leather boots. At least those had steel toes.

The city guard uniform did not offer much in terms of protection. It mostly served to differentiate city guards from common thugs. And spot them from afar. That stupid helmet. The hardened leather and bronze mix was adequate, with minimal field of vision loss. But did they really need the stupid center fringe mimicking a row of Piercing Jade Grass? It looked ridiculous. The sheer shame. There was no need to be so on the nose with the town's name.

He had to get out while he was still sane. The slaver thing wouldn't last long. They would scramble, find new associates worse than the last, and make mistakes. Suna would get to kill them all and be done here. He had to hurry. Had to leave before his roots grew too deep. Escape a complacent life or risk that annoying man's too-smug satisfaction. The nagging stayed better than his smugness.

All that did nothing for his current problem though. Suna Ranil was bored. The usual had become redundant. Getting drunk and his dick wet did not have the same novelty as they used to in his younger years. The man was tired. Of course, Suna had choices. He could always switch it up. Visit the guys at the bathhouse instead of the usual working tavern girls. See if any new faces needed to be introduced to Suna's special delivery of pleasure and pain. Get some tight ass as opposed to a nice mouth.

The bathhouse did pose some risks though. The men there got confused sometimes, expecting feelings, and coddles. It was most annoying when they got attached. Suna never had that issue with other men's women. No complications as long as he left their keys alone. No risk of leaving little nameless offspring behind.

That was one mistake Suna refused to make. The man did not need any more chains. He lived as a drifter. Free to wander wherever he wanted. Beholden mostly to his own damned self. If Suna had wanted a warm place to call home, he would have accepted a wife or two a long time ago. Owned their keys, his alone, never to be shared or rented.

Annoying, all of it. So bothersome. Obligations killed all fun. Suna only wanted to be entertained. Distracted. To lose his senses in the few pleasures found in this wretched existence. To black out in blissful oblivion, away from nightmares and memories of failures.

It looked more and more like it was time to move on, to go back to his meandering mercenary ways. Once the slavers were dealt with. Suna had fulfilled his main task here anyway. Time for a break from responsibilities. Although, the perks included with his city guard officer role were nice. One got used to recognition. Made some transactions easier. And life on the road seemed bleary compared to his current comforts. Dirt roads and wild animals never made for good company. The lack of running water didn't help with new encounters. Suna remembered how tired he had been of the long, monotonous travels as a mercenary. It had left quite a bad taste in his psyche.

The man needed to get drunk. He still had ample time to decide. And people to find and massacre first. Forgetting everything, going back to the primality of "kill or be killed," of pure survival. It always helped when Suna sunk into darker moods. To bathe himself in heathens' blood and wash it all away. Guiltless release.

No need to torture his mind right this instant. His conundrum would wait. To stay or to go. Suna Ranil's torn desires would settle in time. The man needed a sign first. For fate to hint at the way... He almost laughed at the thought. As if fate would bother with him. Thank Heavens Suna never bothered with seers and soothsayers. The definition of troublesome.

The sun had descended halfway down the horizon. Suna's patrol was coming to a close. The thuggish man sighed, undecided. He had yet to choose the way to end his day. He surveyed his surroundings. An unusual sight caught his eyes on his second pass around. A rabbit, perched on a boy's shoulder. The animal was adorable. Its little nose twitched about in the air, its two front paws resting in the kid's mass of messy black curls. Quite a peculiar vision. So interesting. Rife with possibilities.

The more Suna looked, the more familiar it all seemed. Something about that rabbit... That pure white fur...

How did I ever forget? Such a missed opportunity!

This, this had potential. What Suna had been waiting for. An answer to his infinite boredom. The man smiled crookedly. His new toy was back in sight.