After giving his promise, Wesley promptly fell back onto his bed and fell asleep. Meanwhile, on the other bed, Gust lifted his head up.

“Huh, the kid actually fell asleep.” Gust moved to get out of bed, paused, then laid back down. “Well, I guess they’re no harm in sleeping in.”

As they had to wait for a sizeable group to be formed before they could even attempt to cross the Alaki Mountain Range, Gust and Wesley decided to use their time in Border Town wisely, and developed a routine.

In the morning, the two would wake, eat breakfast, then head to the stadium to compete in duels. Over time, the crowd, as well as the stadium’s veteran fighters, came to recognize the two.

As they gained combat experience, the two developed and redeveloped their fighting styles. Wesley continuously experimented with spells he’d learned in the dream world, settling on a control-based fighting style, where he won by limiting and controlling his opponent’s actions.

However, fighting like this was very stressful, so once every few fights, he would compete with his opponent in as direct a form as possible. Whatever magic you specialize in, I’ll match you!

After a few weeks, Wesley had garnered a respectable record of twenty wins, eleven losses, and one draw, with most of his losses coming from his “stress-relief” fights. Despite his record however, he’d been injured a few times as well. His worst injury came when his left chest had been burned by an enemy’s fire-based spell. Fortunately, that had been the only occasion where Wesley had needed to be rushed to the stadium’s emergency care station.

A recent pain point for Wesley, however, was that after Thomas had died in the battle scene Wesley had witnessed, he no longer appeared in Wesley’s dream world to teach him about the intricacies of magic. Instead, each time Wesley slept, he would find himself in a classroom, surrounded by classmates he didn’t recognize, learning from a teacher he knew nothing about.

He wondered how his old friends were doing.

Unlike Wesley, Gust had long ago developed his own fighting style, and “merely” used his duels as opportunities to practice his old fighting tricks, as well as to develop his body’s physical strength.

Gust, as if possessed by a demon, had gone on a rampage in the stadium, with an incredible record of 27 wins, 5 losses.

With their records, they were now recognized by many across Border Town, and could be counted as minor celebrities.

Each day, after finishing their duels in the stadium, the two would visit the signboard at the town’s east entrance.

Without fail, they’d be disappointed, with not enough people to form a full group to cross the mountain range. To heal their emotional wounds, they’d visit a different food stall each day, and feed themselves until they had to roll themselves back to the inn. Finally, before they went to sleep, Gust would sharpen his kukris, while Wesley would practice drawing seals, before going to bed.

That is, until today.

It’d been thirty five days since they’d signed their names on the signboard, and finally, FINALLY, an additional announcement had been posted.

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The new announcement read, “All those who have signed, please ready yourselves and report to the eastern entrance of Border Town at sunrise on the first day of the 1008th year of the Richerant Calendar.”

Gust repeated the contents of the message to Wesley, who started.

“How long is it until New Years?”

“Two days, I think.”

“...What should we do for New Year's Eve?”

“The hell you think, we’re going to buy rations so we won’t starve to death, additional clothes so we don’t freeze to death, and now that we have money, we should buy spare weapons and…”

‘I really shouldn’t have asked.”, thought Wesley.

But it wasn’t just Gust. All over Border Town, people could be seen rummaging through stores and shops, spending their hard earned cash on supplies as well as repairing their weapons and armor.

Money could be earned again, but one’s life could not be regained after it was lost.

The day after the new announcement had been posted, Border Town’s stadium sat in complete silence, without a soul in sight. Even the ticketer at the entrance, the fierce lady in the registration office, and the announcers were missing from their posts.

However, for the residents of Border Town, this was simply the norm—they understood that the vast majority of fighters and mages who trickled through the town’s stadium were there only there to prepare to cross the Alaki Mountain Range, and they wouldn’t be willing to risk any fighting related injuries now that the date to leave was so close.

Two days later, the sun had barely risen above the far horizon when Gust and Wesley, still shaking off their sleepiness, ran out of the inn they’d stayed at for the last month, headed to the eastern entrance.

By the time they’d arrived at the eastern entrance, an odd assortment of over three hundred people had already gathered. Dressed in different clothes, equipped with different weapons, the group looked more like a ragtag militia than anything.

As Gust and Wesley worked their way through the crowd, Gust noticed many of their past stadium opponents, including their first in Kay and Marcus, respectively.

Despite that most in the group knew at least a few others from the stadium, only a few smaller groups of fighters chatted with each other - clearly, most of these people didn’t view the others as allies, but simply as a means to cross the mountain range.

Gust however, clearly didn’t care what his past opponent thought of him, and instantly dragged Wesley over to Kay.

“Hey, Kay! Fancy seeing you here. Where in the Reiniad Kingdom are you headed to?”

Kay didn’t even turn her head to look at Gust, instead opting to glare at him through the side of her eye.

“Jeez, are you still mad that you lost to me? Alright, alright, I’ll leave you be.”

Kay could hear Gust preaching to Wesley as they left. “Let this be a lesson to you, little man. Always let girls win, or they’ll hate you for the rest of your life. You don’t want to be single forever, yeah?”

“Mhmm, makes sense.”

Kay rubbed her temples. Just what the hell was that stupid kukri user teaching the poor kid?

Meanwhile, hovering a slight distance away from the rest of those who had convened at the eastern entrance, Marcus stood, leaning against the signboard itself, casting his gaze over the rabble before him.

Finally, as those who’d gathered began wondering if they should just start heading towards the mountain range, an older man, who looked to be around fifty years of age, flanked by two younger men who looked quite similar to him, yelled to quiet the crowd.

“Quiet, quiet, QUIET!”

The few groups who’d been chatting quieted down, and everyone stared at the man.

“My name's Clark, and I’ll be leading this expedition across the Alaki Mountain Range. I’ve been doing this for thirty years, and I’m the best damn guide you’ll get. Any questions?”