Chapter 162: Tickets
In the immediate aftermath of Olivir’s cruel, heinous “sacrifice,” the way ahead was now open—but only for the moment. The disruption and disarray caused by the army of self-destructing, reanimated corpses, combined with the small delay before the enemy managed to load another round of rockets onto their MLRS, meant that a window now existed in which the badly battered remnants of the mechanized infantry brigades, as well as the fresh—and far more numerous—light infantry troops stood a very real chance of getting in and capturing the objective. Even better, their artillery had now gotten into place and had begun shelling the highway, clearing their way forward.
But victory was still far from certain.
A twisting, burning sourness spread through Alex’s insides as he took in the corpse-strewn battlefield. It wasn’t even because the number of dead on both sides was higher than he’d anticipated, but rather, it was more that actually seeing it for himself brought things into perspective in a way that little else could. It really highlighted Alex’s feeling of extreme desire to finally end this wickedness. He had joined the Lords of Justice to serve as a conduit between human beings and the other races of Galterra: not to slaughter people or…or “sacrifice” them. He’d quit adventuring and had left behind his old life out of a desire to make the world a more peaceful place for everyone.
And yet, here he was, doing this.
“Advance!” he shouted into the Comm. “Leveled squads, get in there and batter your way through. Go now while you still can! Watch out for enemy trickery!”
If there is one moment in my entire life where I make a difference, then please, Gods, let it be this one.
Alex raised his right hand as high as he could, reaching above the top of his head. He held his breath a moment as he concentrated. Mentally, he focused on what he wanted: what he yearned for. Less than a mile ahead of him was a section of the northern highway, and bodies littered it as well as the grasslands before it. But beyond this was where the Guild of Gentlemen’s defensive perimeter had moved. And from the looks of things, they’d finally brought out their truly powerful assets.
Until now, anyone with any real status in the guild had remained hunkered down somewhere much deeper inside the city. But that seemed to have changed. Even from this distance, Alex could vaguely recognize numerous individuals who ranked in the top 50 of the Guild of Gentlemen’s hierarchy. And although he would not be certain until he ventured nearer, Alex was fairly sure that, among this defensive line of leveled fighters, was a man he believed to be none other than the third-in-command of the Guild of Gentlemen. And he was also someone Alex knew very, very well.
Strong as an ox, braver than a bear, and looming larger than most, the third-ranking member of the Guild of Gentlemen wasn’t just someone that Alex knew due to his significance on the world stage or by virtue of his rank, nor was it someone Alex knew out of mere responsibility given his new role in life. No, this was a man Alex had dined with, laughed with, and whose estate he’d visited on holidays. For he was none other than Wexzel Ultdern, the younger brother to the cat-loving adventurer, Maric Ultdern, though “younger” in this context meant that the man was only around a century old.
They really don’t want to let us through here. They’re starting to bring out the big players.
Supposedly, for the first 80 years of his life, Maric had been one of the highest-ranking members of the Guild of Gentlemen, before inexplicably and bafflingly throwing it all away to become an adventurer and, even more confusingly, a university graduate in the field of nuclear science—at the age of around 90, nonetheless. After joining the GSG, Alex had fast become friends with Maric, and occasionally, Maric would invite Alex to his family’s estate, where he’d dine with Maric and Wexzel, a man Alex had always found surprisingly tolerable and kind for being a political guild member.
And now I’ll have to kill him.
Wexzel, along with a well-armored, well-equipped, and sturdy-looking row of other leveled members of the Guild of Gentlemen, were now standing frontmost ahead of 1st Avenue and forming almost a barricade of their own. A great number of the enemy’s troops were sheltered behind them, having ceded much of the northern highway. And behind all of them were the MLRS systems that would be firing again at any moment.
Though it was difficult to make out, Alex was sure he spotted two large columns of MLRS occupying the entirety of the two-way street that made up 1st and Haven St. as well as 1st and New Town. It may well have even extended into 1st and Killington, but Alex was unable to see that far. Interestingly, the artillery was being manually reloaded as opposed to machine loaded; hundreds of burly, level-1 men were carrying the rockets and attaching them in person. Yet they were moving fast, which meant their forces had no time to waste in storming forward. No matter what, they simply couldn’t afford to eat another barrage of rocket fire. It was going to take everything they had—Alex included.
And so, with his hand still raised, Alex activated his one and only unique ability: Summon Blade of Soul. Immediately, four blue rings came into existence above his hand, and all four popped straight up, with one stacked on top of the other. All four rings then fell as Alex clenched his open hand into a fist, causing the first ring to travel down his arm and stop just above his shoulder. The second then slid down to his upper arm, the third to his forearm, and the last by his wrist.
Now, all four rings began to spin, faster and faster, shooting out orange-colored sparks until they flew up and off his arm a second time, heading straight upwards. But this time, rather than fall, they bunched up together, and all four rings combined into one solid mass of liquidized metal—which began to stretch, elongate, and shape itself into something larger, solid, and sword-shaped. The blade of this sword turned from a blue-orange into a shimmering, sharp silver, and the hilt became black and polished. Once it had completed forming, Alex swiped his floating blade out of the air in front of him, and to stretch his muscles, he swung it several times back and forth at the emptiness ahead, the sound of a whoosh following each slash. Then, weapon in hand, he craned his neck to look at High-Lord Besh, who was still standing beside him.
“You should stay here,” he said. “Or better yet, move a bit farther back.”
Kolorn seemed to balk at this. “Excuse yourself, Lord Oren. I’m the leader of this damned guild. I can’t cower in the back while I watch the rest of us die!”
“Yes, you can,” Alex insisted. “Sir, you’re not just the leader of the Lords of Justice. You’re also the closest thing humanity has to a leader as well.” Alex shook his head. “You can’t be allowed to die in this battle. Please don’t risk plunging us into an even more unstable world by dying and creating a power struggle for control of Dal’Zarrah.”
There was reluctance in Kolorn’s eyes as he spat out a wad of saliva but nevertheless obliged Alex’s request. “We’ve paid a grave price so far,” he said as he began to back away. “Just make sure it ends up being worth it in the end, Lord Oren. The future of humanity depends on it—and on you.”
“Of course.”
High-Lord Besh pressed his clenched fist against his chest. “Show them your conviction, Lord Oren.”
His guild-leader’s words spurring him on, Alex bent his knees a moment then blasted forward, running as fast as his legs would carry him. This would be the second time in recent memory where he’d allow himself to run at such a reckless, dangerous speed. But he needed to get in the fight as fast as he could. He needed to give every last bit of himself, sparing nothing. Because that, and only that, stood any chance of leading to the kind of world he wanted to live in.
Thus, with his sword held in a reverse grip in his right hand, he pumped his arms as he ran, his feet stomping down on the grass with enough force to send constant, massive clumps of dirt behind him like a watercraft zipping through the ocean. The world whipped by as he tore ahead, and for every bit of speed he gained, the wind seemed to pick up and try to match him, losing out each time. Sparing no exertion, he raced towards the battle.
Finally, as he darted onto the highway, and his feet began to rip up asphalt while simultaneously creating sparks, he dug both of them into the ground and came into a sliding stop, leaving a trail behind himself as he slowed and then came to a halt just before colliding with a bunch of level-1 troops, whose terrified faces seemed to become just the slightest bit more emboldened upon seeing him.
“Lord Oren!” a young man shouted. He was almost the exact same age as Zach. He looked like he belonged in Alex’s classroom, not here on the battlefield. It was another reminder of the ugliness of war. “Thank the Gods,” he said. “You’re joining us!”
Alex offered the kid a confident smile as well as a friendly rap with his fist on the helmet. “Who’re you with?”
“I’m Private Kenseg Nisha, sir,” he said. “I’m with Hope Company, 3rd infantry brigade.”
“It’s good to meet you, Kenseg. Hey, do you mind if I borrow those?” Alex pointed to the binoculars secured around the boy’s chest by a strap.
“Uh, sure! Wow. Yeah. Of course you can!”
He removed them and handed them to Alex, who lifted them to his face and peered through the eyepieces. Though he was eager to charge right in to the fight, he needed to make sure he did not waste his potential reinforcing at the wrong spot. He was positive he had the strength to have a significant impact on the battle, but only if he struck exactly where he was needed the most. And so, with a much clearer view now of the city, he took a look around, honing in on where the highway transitioned to 1st Avenue, as that was there the leveled squads were just about to be facing off against the…hey, wait a second. What…what was that behind them? It looked like the MLRS were…
Gods, no! Alex shouted in his mind as he realized he’d wildly miscalculated. It’s too soon!
Alex saw something: something he did not wish to see. Immediately, his heart began pounding in his chest. He blinked. Then he blinked again. Yet neither contraction of his eyes changed the truth of what they saw.
Turning on a dime, his mood, morale, and confidence plummeted. His muscles tensed so tightly his body began to ache. He even chewed his bottom lip to the point he tasted blood. For all that he’d tried to hurry, it seemed he was too late. The MLRS had finished reloading, as evident by the sight of all nearby troops on 1st Avenue squatting down, their chins tucked into their chests, many with their hands covering their ears; this meant that, at any second now, they were expecting the artillery to fire. And when it did, thousands more on Alex’s side were going to die. But even more troubling would be the psychological impact it had on the troops.
The first barrage had badly rattled the infantry and even many of the leveled squads. The second barrage? It would cause a tremendous number of them to break. They would turn around and flee. Alex was certain of this. No matter the stakes at hand, they simply would not be able to withstand the terror that came with another bombardment. Truly, it was a miracle that the men and women fighting for the Lords of Justice had managed to keep pressing on as they had after the first such bombardment. But asking them to endure yet another hammering from the enemy’s rocket artillery? For sure, that would spell the end of the invasion. At that point, it would be all up to Queen Vayra—which meant a complete eradication of hundreds of thousands of innocent lives caught in the crossfire.
What can I do? Alex thought, dejected and frustrated, a sick feeling snaking down his throat. I can’t stop it. We’re just too late. The only thing I can still do is warn the troops to brace themselves for artillery fire, but there’s no stopping what happens next. The Gods curse me!
Faced with an unstoppable, imminent threat, Alex took the only action he still could. If it even saved one single life, it would be still be for the better. “All brigades!” he called into his Comm. “Get to cover immediately! The enemy is about to fire another barrage of…another barrage of…”
Alex’s words quieted then trailed off completely as his eyes caught sight of something in the corner of his vision: something far up above that caused his head to turn skyward. It was something he saw first and then heard, though the sound of it came very soon after. It was the high-pitched, thunderous whine of four supersonic aircraft blazing across the sky.
The fighter jets!
With a screech as they carved a path through the air, the four F-15E Strike Eagles flew low over 1st Avenue, then continued on right past it, causing thousands of heads to look upwards as they soared directly overhead before continuing on their way, now moving in the direction of the grasslands. Yet it was what they left behind in their wake that Alex was more interested in. Even as they only first began to turn around midair and reverse direction, the first of the giant booms echoed throughout the city. Then came the rest.
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Now, it was the Guild of Gentlemen who were forced to endure the horror of a bombardment. Multiple deafening blasts filled the world along with several flashes of light and fire; yet, even still, the equally loud cheering from the troops storming the city managed to somehow rival it. Many raised their rifles above their heads and roared out in celebration as all of 1st and Haven St. went up in fire and smoke.
“Kill them all!” the young man next to Alex screamed. “Send them to hell, Royal Roses! Yeahhhh!”
Reversing their direction, the planes came back around, and now they flew once more over 1st Avenue, moving so fast that they had practically disappeared out of sight when yet another series of explosions rocked the city street, one even taking down a two-story residential building. Though Alex said nothing, he did not appreciate the way the men and women cheered for that as well. But at least…at least the Gods had sent them a miracle.
“How you holding up, Lord Oren?” asked Vim Alazar over the Comm line. Never had Alex wanted to hear his voice so badly. “You were sounding pretty gloomy there a second ago.”
“You just…you saved us, Sir Alazar,” Alex breathed out, suddenly realizing he felt low on oxygen for having held his breath through most of this.
“You bet your ass I did. Don’t worry: we’re just getting started, so keep pushing! As for us, we emptied out the Piercing Thorn, and everyone who can hold a gun, a sword, or a staff is joining me in the attack. We’re ending this today! Anyways, the Royal Roses always take care of our allies. Never forget that.”
“Thank you. On behalf of everyone in the Lords of Justice, you have my utmost gratitude.”
“Don’t mention it. And like I said, we’re just getting started.”
True to his word, the fighter jets wrapped around and commenced a third, then fourth bombing run. Then, rather than resupply for more bombs and missiles, they began extending their flaps, which slowed them down enough so that they could begin firing their six-barrel gatling guns, absolutely ripping apart and shredding legions of level-1s who had the misfortune of being out in the open. Many of the shots went wide and killed innocent people sheltering inside nearby buildings. It was a scene of absolute devastation, yet the men and women of the Lords of Justice, both leveled and infantry alike, were absolutely loving every moment of it.
The cheering intensified, and morale skyrocketed. Alex was far too disgusted by the entire affair to feel any sort of cheer. It was a tragedy that so many were dying. All he wanted was for this to be dealt with: for the Guild of Gentlemen to cease being a threat. Humans deserved better than the way they treated each other. Gods, please, what would it take for humans to finally tire of this? To finally put war behind them for good?
We’ll do what we have to do, and then we’ll pick up the pieces, Alex thought.
With the F-15E Strike Eagles entering the fray, Alex’s entire plan now had to change to accommodate their arrival. All around him, level-1 troops were gazing up at the aircraft as though they were winged angels sent by the Gods themselves to personally deliver them to salvation. But to Alex, they were just more pieces of an ever-expanding puzzle. A puzzle that had so many moving parts it was difficult to keep track of them all. Truly, it was.
With so many variables and so many factors, no one could reasonably be expected to account for everything. And that was why Alex did not end up blaming himself for forgetting about the ring. That was why he did not end up chastising either himself or any of those below him for failing to mention it, nor would he point the finger at the Royal Roses, who above all, should have considered it. Because why would they? Why would anyone be expected to remember the ring?
Yes, that ring from several weeks ago that had dropped from the dragon. That ring from an event that had taken place before a nuclear bomb had eradicated a city, and before a war had been reignited, and before Alex had come to discover the truth of King Morrison’s bluff. With so much going on in the world, and far too many factors to consider, how could anyone fault him, his guild, the Royal Roses, or really anyone for completely forgetting that the Guild of Gentlemen had stolen an artifact-quality ring? That they had in their possession a level-115 item that had a particular ability usable just once every month: an ability that summoned a level-190 sky drake? But now, Alex sure did remember it, and so did just about everyone else, too. All it took to jog everyone's memory was a single, terrifying scream.
“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
********
“I won!” Zach cheered. He stood up from the table in this casino-like card parlor, which was decorated all around with flashing lights and had dozens of random, non-sentient NPCs in fancy, flashy dresses doing any number of silly activities. With a big grin, he extended his arm and high-fived Kalana, as well as Tena, whom they’d managed to pick up before coming here. Gods, was this place incredible. It might’ve been the best place. Zach couldn’t believe he hadn’t come here until now.
“Ding-ding-ding,” the machine at the table beeped as little, square-shaped, and orange tickets began sliding out of a slot beneath it.
The cowboy-hat-wearing NPC, a handsome-looking man in rodeo gear chewing a toothpick, dramatically threw down his stack of cards and said, “Gosh-darn it! I fold. Ya’ll gonna run me out of Texas!”
The six of them had been sitting at the table playing a game called “Texas Hold ’em.” At first, Fluffles had been playing as well, but he’d given up after complaining that it was “stupid and boring.” Zach actually found himself really liking it once he’d gotten into the groove, though he had no idea what a “Texas” was or why anybody needed to “hold it.” Either way, he laughed as he greedily scooped up his tickets.
“I lost again,” Trelvor said, scratching his head. “This game is…not for me.”
“Oh, come on. Enjoy it.”
Zach fucking loved this place, this so-called “dungeon.” Despite never having come here until now, he’d learned recently that Hamen’s Isle was actually the most traveled dungeon in all of Galterra, even more than Yorna’s or Tower of Eternity. Or at least it was the most-popular dungeon until Trials of Nolak was put back on the map thanks to him and Jimmy. But all that aside, it was still a very close second, and honestly, it was always only a matter of time before Zach ended up here.
I love it so much!
Since becoming an adventurer, if there was one name the other adventurers could never shut up about, it was the Great One known as “Olandrin.” Everyone was obsessed with him, even Fluffles. All they ever wanted to do was talk about Olandrin and his amazing dungeons, with this being one of them. And now, finally, Zach could understand why. This was the safest he’d ever felt in a dungeon. Honestly, you’d probably have to try to die in a place like this. The few mobs that even existed were just slimes lower than level 5, and they weren’t even really meant to be attacked. They were passive and only seemed to serve as like a sort of “decoration” in certain locations.
Aside from the slimes, there were no bosses to fight, and there was also shockingly no “order” in which an adventurer needed to traverse the floors. The entire dungeon was just an amusement-park-like island, where each “attraction” had a number that stood in place of a floor, and each floor could be accessed from the central hub whenever you wanted. There were even metal placards, billboards, and other guiding signs all over the island with arrows indicating where you were currently and where you had to go depending on the “floor” you wanted to reach.
Based on what Zach could see, the entire dungeon served as the central transit hub for North Bastia, even more so than Yorna’s and TOE. It was, as far as he was aware, the only known way to get to and from Faded Island. But it also wasn’t as simple as merely moving through it, either. Unlike with Yorna’s, where you just had to proceed from one location to the next, in Hamen’s Isle, you had to earn your passage by playing games or satisfying other requirements. And yes, failing did in fact come with certain consequences, only they weren’t of the dangerous, dying kind.
For example, right now, in this very moment, Zach and Kal were both “suffering” the consequence of failure. And anyone who looked at them would be aware of this, as giant, four-foot-tall, blue steeple hats with the word “dunce” was glued to the top their heads. For the next twenty minutes, they would be unable to remove them. And that, by the way, was all the fault of Fluffles, who had somehow ended up on their team during a match of “Galterran Trivia” against an NPC on F11.
During the game, Fluffles, who had his own little cat chair next to him, Kalana, and Tena, kept on using his paw on the buzzer whenever it lit up, and each time, he answered “give tuna” no matter the question. Oh, he was also wearing one of the hats too, by the way. And in his case, he might’ve been the only adventurer in history who genuinely considered it a real form of serious punishment.
“Get it off!” he hissed, rolling around on the multi-colored, whimsically tiled flooring in this wide, open, and spacious gaming hall on F5. “Fluffles suffering! I suffer!”
Kalana knelt down and scratched his chin. “Awwh! I’m sorry. It’ll come off on its own in fifteen more minutes.”
“Kalana kill Fluffles,” the cat begged. “I hate hats!”
Zach turned his head away and pressed his fist to his mouth so he could conceal his laughter, as he knew Fluffles would take it personally. As Lienne, Tena, and Kalana all tried to comfort the cat, he, Rian, and Trelvor had to turn away so that they wouldn’t be spotted giggling. Fluffles was clearly not appreciating this place as much as Zach did. Honestly, Zach couldn’t believe that something this fun could actually be called a dungeon. A dungeon!
“So, what should we do next?” he asked as he stretched his shoulder muscles and looked around. He raised his index finger and an attractive, non-sentient, female NPC wearing a glitzy red dress came by, snatched five of his tickets out of his hand, and returned less than a minute later with a regular cola.
“How many more tickets does everybody still need to get to Faded Island?” Tena asked. She spoke as though she were trying her hardest to sound patient, though it was obvious that she clearly wasn’t. Before Fluffles had earned his “punishment hat,” she had been the only one of them who Zach could tell wasn’t having any fun, though in her case, it was totally understandable. She probably wanted everybody to hurry up and get the tickets needed to buy passage to Faded Island so she could get to Jimmy.
In this dungeon, it seemed that each destination had its own set of requirements for passage, which often depended on where you were heading but could sometimes even take into account where you’d started off, too. And though it was possible to permanently unlock any given destination, doing so required a very significant amount of time and effort as opposed to merely earning a one-time travel pass. But yeah, the requirements really did depend on where you were going and sometimes your point of origin.
Case in point: going from Dal’Zarrah to Angelica’s required you to ride a ferry and then win a dance competition. But going from Whispery Woods—which served as the point of origin for all seven of them thanks to everyone using Rian’s exit door—and heading to Faded Island required a flat 500 tickets. And tickets could be earned just about everywhere. Right now, Zach had 240 tickets, but a short while ago, he’d had 550. This was because he’d needed to spend a few of his tickets, though it had been for a very good cause.
“Oh, I just love my stuffed animal,” Kalana said, cradling the gigantic pink teddy bear that Zach had bought for her at the prize booth.
“Me too,” Lienne said, cradling her own. “Thank you, Trelvor.”
Seiley glared at Rian. She had no stuffed animal. Rian turned over his palms and shrugged. “I wanna save my tickets,” he said. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”
“Buy me a stuffed animal, Rian.”
“Buy your own.”
Seiley’s glare intensified. “Buy it or I’ll cut your balls off.”
“Okay fine.”
Now, as they exited F5 and returned to the beautiful outdoor beachfront on a planet where it was apparently always daytime, summer, and sunny—yes, this place was that great—Zach reached into his pocket and studied the brochure he’d gotten at the entrance. They were all over the place, actually. Stands with brochures could be found just about anywhere you went. And as Rian had found out the hard way, since this place did not reset weekly like other dungeons, littering came with severe consequences.
Rian had thrown his on the ground instead of using one of the numerous wastebaskets all over the place, and because of this, he now wore clown makeup that couldn’t be removed for another half hour. He even had a rubber nose.
“Umm, can we try the game on F3?” Kalana asked.
Zach lifted his brochure and studied it. “Karaoke?”
“Mhm!”
“What’s ‘Take on Me’ by ‘a-ha’?” Lienne asked with a grumble. Zach assumed she was scanning through the list of weekly-changing songs. “Where are all the good songs we actually know? All this music is weird, and I’ve never heard of any of it before. I think this one song is sung by a dragon.”
“Which one?” Rian asked. For seemingly no reason, he squeezed his nose, making a “honk-honk” sound. This caused Seiley to laugh every time.
“That one,” Lienne said, pointing. “It says the artist is a Drake.”
Rian shrugged. “Who the fuck knows? Hey, we should try the F7 game.”
“Yeah, we can do that, but umm, please, F3 first?” Kalana asked.
“Pfft, forget F3. Let’s just do F7.”
“Rian!” Trelvor snapped. “How dare you disobey Her Highness? We shall only do F3 until or unless Her Highness says otherwise.” He bowed to Kalana. “Lead the way.”
Zach snickered, and Rian grunted. Through it all, Tena had remained silent. She was clearly trying not to pout, but over the last few minutes, her general sense of desperation had been growing. And now, finally, she seemed to snap.
“Can we please just get the fucking tickets and go?” she shouted seemingly out of nowhere. Then she covered her mouth, shook her head, and made a squeak. “I’m so sorry. I never talk like that.”
Zach looked at her, as did all of the others, even Fluffles. “You’re worried about Jimmy. I get that."
“I am,” she said. “I know he’s probably fine, but…but imagine if it was Kalana. Would you be in the mood for games?”
Zach sighed. Kalana put her arm around Tena’s shoulder and began profusely apologizing. Even Seiley and Trelvor were sending out guilty looks, and those two were the least responsible, as they were only here because Queen Vayra had ordered them to stay with Kalana. Only Rian looked annoyed at the idea of rushing through this place.
“Okay, let’s just farm tickets on F5 and then hurry on our way," Zach said. "Tena is right. We can come back here and spend all the time we want once we've found Jimmy."
“Thank you,” Tena said, bowing her head. “I’m so sorry to…to ruin everyone’s fun. I really am. It’s just that Jimmy…you don’t understand how much this must’ve hurt him.” Saying a touch more than she should have around Trelvor and Seiley, she added, “Eilea told him that she brought him here for a special reason, and now he feels like it was a lie, so he's really upset.”
Trelvor and Seiley looked at one another, and then both set their gaze on Tena. “Is that why he’s so upset?” Trelvor asked.
“It must be,” Seiley said. “He feels as though he has disappointed the Great Goddess.”
“Of course,” Trelvor agreed. “No wonder. I too would be in despair. We must go to him at once. I had no idea this was something so important. If Her Greatness is involved, then we must see to it that he continues her mission.”
Zach scratched the side of his head, unable to decide if it was a good or bad thing that those two overheard just enough to convince them that Jimmy had been given a mission from their Goddess that he was now running from. On the one hand, it meant they’d do pretty much anything to help lift him out of his current funk and get him back in gear. On the other hand, however, they might also kill, torture, maim, or otherwise brutalize him if he refused. It was a real coin toss.
We’ll play it by ear.
That thought in mind, Zach proceeded with the others to try earning some more tickets. But damn, he needed to bring Kal back here. It was too great a place not to return.