“I thought you told Cyrus you’d give him half of these brownie things?” Cass asked with a sly grin, eying the tray of brownies I’d pulled out as we walked.
“I made extra,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Besides, he didn’t even let me give him the other tray. So my conscience is clear.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she replied, as she took a still-warm piece, popping it into her mouth. Did the earring keep them warm?
The afternoon had turned oppressively humid, the sky a stark, cloudless blue. The heat radiating off the stone streets started to burn the soles of my feet, and I looked down.
“Son of a bitch. Why do I keep forgetting my shoes?” I muttered, and Cass burst out laughing, her mouth still half-full.
“I thought it was a human thing,” she teased, motioning back toward Doreen’s. The faint sounds of shouting and crashing still echoed in the distance as they fought over brownies. “You’re welcome to go back and get them.”
“Not a chance. Anywhere I can get some around here?” I said storing the tray back into my earring.
“Obviously. Follow me,” she said, leading the way away from the tower and into an area of the city I hadn’t seen yet. As we walked, the architecture shifted. The buildings became taller, with Gothic spires and intricate carvings, but they were in visible disrepair. Cass had mentioned that people were only just starting to resettle this city after it was destroyed, but seeing it up close was jarring. Several towers leaned precariously, and broken bridges hung between them like skeletal remains.
Cass suddenly wheeled onto a narrow side street, and a man in a blue shirt and green pants stood up from where he’d been sitting on a wooden chair. He was an older Aldertree, his bark-like skin reminding me of Diana. A thin, grassy beard framed his chin, and his smooth, bald head gleamed faintly in the sun.
“Oh, Cassandra!” he greeted in a gruff, booming voice that caught me off guard. “What brings you to our shop?”
“Hey, Ron! The Breaker here needs some shoes and a few essentials. Got anything in his size?”
Ron’s eyes swept over me appraisingly. “The Breaker, huh? Oh, you’re that fancy Outworlder everyone’s been talking about.”
“That’s me,” I said, raising a hand awkwardly. “I’ve got some blue coins—”
“Nonsense,” he interrupted with a toothy smile. Standing up, he walked to a side door and knocked a few times. A dark-skinned woman answered, her black hair tied neatly back. Her skin tone was deep, almost like Chas, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. Something about her presence felt oddly timeless.
“Ronald, I told you to—oh, hello, customers,” she said, her vaguely British accent shifting to warm friendliness as she noticed us.
“Hi, Hazel. Ben here needs some shoes. And, if you have any, I’ll pay for some Sevenfold,” Cass added, already fishing a pouch out of her vest.
“Come, come, let me see you,” Hazel said, stepping forward to inspect me. “The Breaker, is it?” Her amber eyes glimmered as she studied me, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She seemed older, wiser than she let on, and there was something about her that made me pause.
“Oh, honey, look! He’s human,” she said, motioning toward Ron, who had somehow managed to doze off while standing.
“Huh?” he said, blinking awake. “Oh, right, shoes. He needs shoes, my love.”
“Ronald, dear, please keep up,” Hazel chided, rolling her eyes before turning back to me. “Cassandra’s friend is human!” She clapped her hands lightly. “You’re one of the ones Charles keeps talking about! The people from nowhere!”
Ron stared at me blankly, shrugged, and muttered, “Guess so.”
Hazel huffed but smiled anyway. “Come inside, then. We’ll find you some proper shoes, Ben.”
She led us into the building, and my jaw dropped. The parlor looked like a dragon’s hoard—but for knick-knacks instead of gold. It was chaos, pure and simple. Every surface and corner was stuffed with trinkets, ornaments, and random decorations were fighting for attention.
The runic fireplace should’ve been the cozy centerpiece of the room, but instead, it was a shrine of gaudiness. The mantel sagged under gilded candlesticks and porcelain figurines of animals. Above it, a massive gold-framed mirror reflected the mess, doubling the clutter for maximum impact.
A pair of wingback chairs flanked a coffee table buried under a landslide of mismatched doilies. The chairs themselves were upholstered in floral fabric so aggressive it looked like they were upholstered with curtains.
Wallpaper—a green-and-gold brocade—fought a losing battle against the sheer number of framed paintings and tapestries crammed onto the walls. Meanwhile, the bay window was drowning in velvet drapes that looked like they’d been stolen from a Victorian opera house. A patch of lace curtains peeked out meekly from underneath, barely managing to let in a sliver of sunlight.
Even the air felt overstuffed, thick with the scent of lavender potpourri and beeswax candles.
Fuck me, I was at my grandma’s. Not my Aapo on my mom’s side—no, this was Dad’s territory. Grandma Gladys. It wasn’t her house of course, but it had her energy. Loud, cluttered, and unapologetically old. These two had to be retired hunters, plain and simple.
“Wow. Holy shit it looks like my room at Doreen’s” I said. It was all I could think of and Cass let out a pained sigh.
“You’re staying in our old room?” Hazel said. “Oh how adorable! Ronald did you hear that?
“Eh?” He said loudly. “You’re laying down soon? Alright, I’ll man the door. This young man needs some shoes.”
“Oh for Fuck’s sake Ronald. I’ll get the Gods-damned shoes.” Hazel said and stomped down a hallway. When she left, Ron got a mischievous look on his face and sat down in a chair. Drawing out a drawer in the coffee table he pulled a glass jar out and handed us each quite a few mana pearls.
“Go on, be quick!” He said like a kid that was misbehaving.
I looked at Cass but she was already absorbing the orbs, so I followed suit dropping a few into my earring experimentally.
Hazel returned with two boxes and caught Ron with his hand literally in the cookie jar.
“Ronald! I am trying to run a reputable business here. Stop eating all our profits every time I look away.”
“Oh. Sorry dear.” He said and returned the jar to the drawer.
“I swear to the roots that you don’t want our business to ever make any profit.” Hazel said shaking her head.
“Of course not, dear,” He said with a not-so-subtle wink to us and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself.
“Nevermind him,” Hazel said handing me a small brown wooden box. “Here you go. These should fit.”
Sliding the lid off the box revealed a pair of shoes identical in style to the ones I already had, more like slippers, but these had a noticeably sturdier sole. I placed them on the ground and slipped them onto my feet, taking a few steps. They fit perfectly, and the extra support was immediately obvious.
“Damn, these are way better than the ones I have. How many coins?” I asked, pulling my money pouch from the earring.
“Oh, please,” Hazel said, waving a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t dream of taking your coins. And this is for you, Cassandra.” She handed another box to Cass, who opened it to reveal a bottle tightly wrapped in black paper with a large, wax-sealed cork.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Cass said, grinning as she pulled out some coins, but Hazel shook her head firmly.
“These are gifts, young ones. Do tell my Charles to come visit, if you see him?” Hazel added, her voice softening.
“Of course! Thank you,” Cass replied earnestly, not a hint of her usual sharpness in her tone.
“You kids have a long trip,” Ron suddenly said, his voice weighted as if he knew something we didn’t. “Come visit us soon, alright?”
Cass barely had time to hand me the bottle to store in the earring before we were ushered out of the gaudy parlor and into the blazing heat of the street. The door clicked shut behind us, and for a moment, we just stood there, blinking in the sun.
We hadn’t made it more than thirty meters before I had to ask. “Who’s Charles?”
“Chas!” Cass said, as though it were obvious. “Those are his parents. You didn’t notice Hazel’s skin?”
I blinked. “A lot of people where I come from have skin that dark. Wait… Chas? Doesn’t Charles usually shorten to Chuck?”
Cass barked a laugh. “Call him that, and he’ll put you through a wall. I watched him do it to my brother Henrik once—funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“She’s Floran? Uh… Blackwood? And they run a shop?” I asked, still confused. “They didn’t even try to sell us what we needed.”
“Yep! And it’s because we needed it,” Cass said, shrugging. “They figured as much. They’re really old-world. The idea of money to them is abstract—we paid in karma.”
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I glanced down at my new shoes, then back at Cass. “So we need to convince Chas to visit his parents in return?”
“We should at least try,” she said, laughing. “Wait until you see what’s in the bottle.”
We continued walking, heading further from the bustling city center. The streets grew quieter, the buildings less maintained, and the crowds thinned. After about a half hour of brisk walking, I realized most of the people we were passing were Sentarian. Their presence seemed to come with a blanket of calm.
“There’s a lot more Sentarian out this way,” I said, breaking the silence.
“They like peace and quiet,” Cass replied. A few Sentarian glanced our way, bowing their heads slightly in greeting. “Most of them live underground. The old pathways are much nicer than what’s left up here.”
The greenery and carefully maintained infrastructure near the harbor had vanished entirely, replaced by wide, crumbling streets and ruins that spoke of a city still recovering from catastrophe. The difference was striking.
Saying La-Roc had walls was being generous. The crumbling remains at the edge of the city looked more like forgotten ruins than defenses. The stone was cracked and uneven, with entire sections missing, swallowed by ivy that climbed and twisted over every surface. Faded runes were carved into some of the visible stone, barely legible now, their meaning long worn away by time and weather.
A handful of Sentarian lingered along the wall, but they weren’t repairing anything. One poured water over the ivy, while another carefully adjusted the vines like they were arranging flowers. It was clear the plants, not the wall, were their focus.
Two Sentarian nodded as we passed.
“Amituofo,” one said quietly.
I smiled and nodded back. For all their alien features, the Sentarian felt deeply human in their spirituality. Even their robes reminded me of meditation gowns—simple, deliberate, and calming.
The city gave way to fields as we walked, the heat intensifying now that we had no shade. My shirt and vest clung to my back, and I wiped sweat from my face.
“Alright, I can’t wait anymore,” I said, pulling the bottle from my mana sanctum. “What is this stuff?”
“Sevenfold Spirit,” Cass said, her grin giving away the mischief. “Chas’s favorite. Tastes like crap he says, but it’ll get you there. Go on, take a sip. We’ve got a long walk ahead.”
I pulled the cork, and the smell hit me immediately. A sour, acidic tang clung to my nostrils, followed by an ethanol punch that made me flinch.
“Holy fuck, that’s awful!” I coughed, nearly dropping the bottle. “Deathroot wine didn’t even smell this bad, and it had death in the name.”
“You and your smells,” Cass said, grabbing the bottle. She took a bold swig and immediately regretted it, sputtering and coughing so hard she nearly doubled over.
“Graceful Gods, what is that?!” she yelled, spitting onto the ground.
“You’ve never had it?!” I asked, incredulous. “Why the hell did you ask for it? Is this even drinkable?”
“Chas carries a flask of it, said it’s made from seven fruits! I thought it’d be good!”
“Seven rotting fruits!” I snatched the bottle back, shaking my head. She glared at me like I’d betrayed her.
I sniffed again, more cautiously this time. Beneath the fumes, there was something faintly sweet, like overripe bananas. It couldn’t be that bad, right?
I took a small sip, bracing for disaster. But… it wasn’t half bad. Sure, the smell lingered in my nose like a bad decision, and it was definitely over half alcohol, but there was something smooth about it. Burnt sugar and bruised peaches gave it a caramel flavor that almost worked. It burned like hell going down, but it wasn’t unbearable.
“Yep, that’s hooch,” I said, coughing lightly as I took another swig. “Just don’t drink it like water.”
It was for sure better than the Deathroot wine we tried all the way back in that spirit realm’s tavern. It felt like an age ago and yet only a few days had passed. Part of me felt like a whole different person after just such a short time. It felt like everything had changed since I had unlocked my mana sight. I couldn’t remember more than flashes of when I meditated and I knew I had been growing stronger and faster almost passively since then. I was actually scared to meditate again in fear of losing myself, losing who I was. And the danger of whatever a Soul Seal was still resonated in my thoughts.
I took another swig of the Sevenfold spirit and handed Cass the bottle as we walked in silence for a while just sipping the drink and enjoying the countryside.
“So…” Cass started and handed me the bottle wiggling her eyebrows. “You and Katie, huh?”
“Nothing’s happened,” I laughed. “I think we’re both amplifying each other’s love of cooking so much that we forgot all about our date.”
“You gotta speed things up! She’s not going to be available forever.”
Taking another larger swig of the liquor forced me to cough a bit and I spat, buying myself some time to think.
“I’m pretty sure this is what she needs right now.” I admitted. “Did you know her husband?”
“Yeah, Carlos was a friend since we were kids. We used to race through the Greenmarch, the woods up there,” Cass said gesturing towards a distant tree line, good memories showing in her now glossy eyes. Katie told me a bit about Carlos, he was a Carmintree Floran which I found fascinating.
“Do Florans and Gaians marry frequently?” I asked, suddenly curious.
“It’s rare enough that it was pretty sweet gossip for a while,” Cass confirmed with a smile. “I thought he’d become a hunter when we were younger.”
“He sounds like he was a really great guy,” I said with another larger swig. We had started taking tiny sips but now, as we approached a tree-line we had drunk about half the bottle. Cass took a long drink and nearly choked.
“You know you are too, right?” She said. Her cheeks burning both with the drink and embarrassment. “Don’t get your fucking hopes up,” I raised my eyebrows and she swatted at me. “I mean you’re a lot like Carlos. Erik liked him a lot, too.”
“Thanks, Cass,” I said as sincerely as I could. “You’re the main reason I haven’t gone crazy since getting here.”
“I know,” Cass said with a grin. “Naked curtain guy is on a proper monster hunt.”
The moment we stepped into the trees, the path underfoot changed to natural stone, smoothed in spots and uneven in others, like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be a road or a ruin. It was clear people still used this route—frequently, judging by the way the undergrowth had surrendered. The grass and shrubs near the edges were sparse, beat down from years of boots and wagons grinding them into submission.
But beyond the path, the forest was something else entirely. It was a tangle of rock, grass, and shrubs left to grow wild for what had to be centuries. The trees were massive, their trunks twisted and gnarled like they’d seen more than their fair share of storms. Moss covered everything that stood still long enough, clinging to rocks and roots with a stubbornness I could respect. Vines twisted lazily around the trunks, creeping upward like they were racing to touch the sun.
The air smelled damp and earthy, with just a hint of something floral wafting in from deeper within. Somewhere out in the brush, something rustled, and a bird let out a single, questioning call before going quiet again. The whole place felt alive in a way that made the hairs on my arms stand on end—like it wasn’t just a forest, but something watching, waiting.
It wasn’t menacing—just… aware. A familiar prickling anxiety hit me as Bravery made me hyper-aware of everything around us—even the insects. My instincts were firing on all cylinders, and I knew it. Cass caught my darting glances toward the trees as we walked.
“This isn’t the Lobby,” she said, her tone almost casual. “Most things this close to the city are harmless.”
“It’s not that,” I replied, frowning. “I’m not feeling any danger. It’s just… there’s a lot paying attention to us right now.”
Cass scanned the trees, shrugged, and kept walking. “Can you turn it off?”
I thought about it. The city had been full of people, and sure, there was wildlife, but most of it was just looking for food. I had sensed mana beasts behind Doreen’s and even fed some scraps. But this? This was different. The wilderness felt alive in a way I hadn’t dealt with since the Lobby. Even though I’d learned a lot about Bravery, I still had a long way to go.
“I think it’s something I’m going to have to get used to,” I admitted, taking a long gulp from the bottle.
“Then I don’t want to hear you bitch about it,” she shot back with a smirk, snatching the bottle for a swig of her own.
That’s when I felt it—something brushing against my aura, tugging at the edges of my awareness. I turned just in time to see a quick flash of orange fur as a fox darted into the underbrush. I exhaled, tension leaving my shoulders, and Cass and I picked up the pace, jogging to cover more ground.
Clouds were forming in the sky above us as we walked, the air thickening with humidity. It was hot.
Some rain would be really nice.
Cass and I jogged for quite some time when I noticed another fox darting away behind a tree, but… wait. That couldn’t be right—it was too big and the tail was wrong... It looked like a dog.
“Red?” I called out instinctively. The creature froze mid-step, then turned its head, revealing a canine face and an impressive display of side-eye. He looked more embarrassed than startled, like I’d caught him snatching food off the counter. My focus zeroed in on him, the forest and Bravery's constant hum fading into the background.
“Hey, buddy. Why are you hiding? You following us?” I crouched, pulling a chunk of bread from my earring and holding it out. “We’re heading far from the city. You should go back.”
The shameless creature trotted forward, scarfing down the bread without hesitation.
“Chew your food, you’re an animal!” I teased, shaking my head. I glanced at Cass, expecting some comment, but she just stared at Red, wide-eyed.
“What the fuck is that?” she asked, pointing like he was some mythical beast. Red pulled his ears back and sat nervously, his fur bristling under her scrutiny.
“It looks like a Vulpes. Or a Lupes? A Wolf?” She glanced at me. “Is it both?”
I laughed. “He’s a dog. Uh… sort of like both? Same family, I guess. Kind of. He only started to let me pet him last night,” I scratched behind Red’s ears, calming him. “I had one back on Earth. Pretty much my best friend.”
“Humans have fucking familiars?!” Cass swore, clearly more impressed than alarmed. Red yawned, unimpressed with her excitement, though his bristling eased as I continued petting him.
“Not exactly,” I said, grinning. “A lot of us keep pets—dogs especially. We’ve had them around for thousands of years. They eat whatever they want, sleep all day, and fart constantly. Completely one-sided deal, but we love them.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Cass’s excitement bubbled over. “We could’ve visited so many mana beasts in the Lobby! Most people are freaked out by them, but I love visiting them. We even have a few at the farm that help out.”
“You’re telling me this now?” I groaned. “I’ve been feeding him behind Doreen’s for days.” Cass looked at me like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be annoyed.
“Well, it’s not exactly allowed without a hunter, you’ve seen it,” she said slyly, “but if I sweet-talk Gary, he’ll take us back down.”
I stood and sighed, patting Red’s side. “Let’s go, bud. Head back to the city, alright?”
Red made a noise—half rumble, half honk—that stopped me in my tracks. Not a growl, but definitely a sound of protest. I turned to see him giving me the full-on puppy eyes: head low, ears tilted forward, and a look so pitiful it would’ve made a stone-hearted monster cave.
“Do you…” I started, and Red cocked his head to one side, listening. “Want more bread?” His head tilted the other way, like that wasn’t quite it.
I glanced at Cass, who looked as bemused as I felt, then back at Red. He was grinning now, panting lightly, his tail wagging furiously.
“Do you… want to come with us?” I asked.
Before the words were even out of my mouth, Red bolted to my side, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.
“Guess we have a dog now,” I sighed, shrugging at Cass. “Maybe he can stay at your farm when we get there?”
As we kept walking, Red stuck close, trotting just behind me like a perfectly trained companion. Not close enough to trip me, but never far enough to lose pace. Cass kept glancing at him, her curiosity clearly building to a breaking point. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a low rumble of thunder echoed ahead of us. Her head snapped up, and she let out a sharp whistle.
I followed her gaze. The cloudy blue sky had been replaced by heavy gray clouds, their edges churning ominously above the treetops.
“About time we got some Gods-damned rain,” Cass muttered, her tone half-relief, half-annoyance. Another thunderclap sounded, this one much closer.
Then the sky opened up. I barely had time to store the open bottle before we were hit by a literal wall of water. Within seconds, the three of us were completely drenched, no hope of staying dry. We broke into a run, Cass leading the way while Red and I struggled to keep up with her pace.
After about half an hour, I finally had to stop, panting as I ducked under the cover of a tree. Red huddled beside me, looking like a wet carpet. Cass jogged back, raising a brow as she stood dripping in the downpour.
“Can’t we just wait it out?” I asked, raising my voice over the relentless roar of the rain.
Cass tilted her head at me like I’d asked if the sky was blue. “What do you mean?”
“How long does it rain here? Can’t we just hang out for a bit?”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Usually a few days. Hopefully more. We need it.”
I blinked. “A few days? That’s, like… rainforest levels of rain.”
As if to punctuate my disbelief, Red chose that moment to shake himself dry, spraying Cass and me with a fresh coat of wet-dog-scented mist. I threw my hands up in defeat.
“This world sucks!” I shouted over the rain.
Cass just laughed, slapping me on the shoulder as she turned to lead the way again.