It was an open inn. The kind with long windows, a vast hearth, and an even larger clientele of teetering drunks. It is a perfect ratio for a thriving pub and inn. The noise was the first thing one noticed as they descended the spiral steps; then came the aromas of well-made food and the morale boost of a good ale and chat with friends by a warm fire. From the sound of the accents alone, with the way they butchered their words and their thick slurs, I immediately thought of Coastal Port. Somewhere in the Northeast, away from the city central, passed the spiraled mountains, the same peaks I had first explored. Way past the frontline, several transport crystals away. A hefty bag of gold would be needed for that trip.

With a sigh, I let out most of the tension I had stored away upon waking up. I was happy that we were most likely at the edge of the civil world. Where mostly the people of the realm thrived. An area needing more quests, gold, or exp means that adventurers would be few, if any.

Candlelight rested on the walls, casting a warm glow on the night. There were no fears in this room, no raucous men who battled their pride with strangers at night.

It was warm and friendly.

It was everything an inn should be.

That's why it was wrong, all wrong.

Creaking, the stairs voiced my entrance before my words had the chance to fumble my opening scene.

Good, I thought. At least I wouldn't embarrass myself right off the bat.

Their eyes burned holes, like spears thrown from the darkened savages, piercing through me. Every fraction of sound resolved, and every conversation started and ended, the creaking of my feet taking center stage, then the straining of their necks as they set eyes on me.

Still, the room stilled. It was as if the universe itself had decided to stop expanding, the world to stop turning, and time to stop for this moment alone.

My breath became audible, my heart racing; I finally cracked and emptied the air.

So, what does a guy have to do for a round of ale and a plate of food around here?

The joke did not fall flat, which would have been much too kind. It was as if the joke woke up and fell down the spiral stairs.

Another silence joined the first, but thankfully, this one did not last. It was stopped short by an eruption of cheers, first small, then momentous, enough to shake the foundation, move the wooden pillars, and cause the barmaids to hold down every glass behind the bar.

Everything was still in that hazy fog of lacking context. After all, I had just woken up from who knows how long and who knows where. My last memory is of the boat and the wave, the systems manifested in corporeal form.

It was its boundaries, its limiters. By normal means, those with power granted by the system should never be able to surmount that power. So, I used a greater power. Well, I still lacked experience, so to name it, it would be a shot in the dark, but it was a power that rested outside the system's control.

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Within moments, I had been sat at a table in which many of my island mates rested. The long-haired savage man named Rafael, who communed with the birds and was given prophetic dreams, sat near. Even in the island's rough conditions, you could see the rough stone of his interior contain a potential sparkle, a gleam. Now, seeing him cleaned up, sporting an adventurous tunic that resembled the garb of the middle country with the ruffles, the hemmed zippers, and the vibrant red, he practically glowed under the dim candlelight.

"You're a bard, ain't ya. And I never bothered asking you for a song."

He responded with a smile, revealing a set of perfectly tuned teeth—an instrument in their own right.

"I couldn't find my voice in that dark island of lost souls. My heart wavered. And well, I've never been one to sing when my whole being isn't in tune."

Spoken like a true bard, note for note even in conversation, he sang, I thought.

He stopped as if to think, his eyes a soft golden brown that refracted off the fire that rested at my back. This man, those people with whom I shared only a few days but a journey that equaled a lifetime, they weren't nobodies. They had been placed on that island for a reason.

"Now, lord. I would sing whenever asked in whichever tongue or in whichever place, whether a palace, a castle, or a rock on the corner of the world.

Turning around, spinning his head for dramatic effect, he finished with.

"Oh, like this one."

Raising his mug and smiling, he saluted me, reaffirming the zeal of his words with a nod and dancing eyes.

Thank you, I muttered to end the conversation without any more glorifying. Then, before anyone else could take the table's conversation, my plate of food and ale arrived. Serving it had been that same young feline maid from before.

First, before anything else, I dug in. Losing myself to a hunger that seemed surprising, as if bottled up, and only now, when a plate of food made especially for me was in front of me, it was released, notifying me just how hungry I was. Not just hungry, starved.

I was fucking starving.

As I finished the first helpings of what seemed to be an assorted fish medley, reaffirming my initial assumptions of us being at some significant port on the Eastern Isles.

Another thought came to my mind. One that was flushed away by a second ale, followed by another helping of the fish medley that now, as I ate it slower with less voracity, I noticed at the colors, the myriad of edible scales, and how not only did it satiate, but it also left me feeling better than I had felt in, well, years.

The system chimed with buffs around me, almost bringing a tear to my eye. How long had it been since I'd seen so many?

{Well fed.}

{Well rested.}

{Exquisite Meal Buff}

{Oceans Blessing}

{Safety's Hold}

Passive buffs were so familiar in the realm that one forgot about them or put them to the back of their mind. It was akin to blinking or breathing; it would take over every waking second if you gave it any thought.

Pushing the plate back, I relaxed and allowed myself to look around. At first, I had only recognized the bard. Well, how couldn't you with those bright colors and fine features? Now, I was beginning to pick up a few other familiar faces. Shadeo, for one, was the giant bull of a man, the one who, even under the starvation diet that was the island, was still packed on enough muscle and size to fill a heavy armor set but now looked like a mountain among even the largest of men.

He didn't look my way, partially because he was still devouring what was before him, even if the man had awoken before me. Given our size difference, he still had seven more stomachs to fill.

Other faces lingered around the inn. We had been a small joint crew, but my heart had grown attached. So, seeing that Astra wasn't here, I tugged at a piece of me.

As if reading my mind, the bard spoke.

Astra took off a few days ago, seeing that you hadn't awoken and, frankly, gave us no signs that you ever would; she decided it was best to handle business that she said needed burying. Those are her exact words.

Just how long have I been asleep?

His eyes, calm and brown, held mine in their stare.

Two weeks would have been tomorrow.

Two whole weeks?? How?

After you did what you did, I get nervous just talking about it. We went over to you as you lay there. We all thought you were dead. But you were frozen still, yet you hummed with power, like you were in a protective mode, yet not there. It was odd, sir.

Sir, already, I thought as I chewed on his words. Two weeks, huh? Well, no use freaking out over that.

Well, I woke up; that's all that matters.

A voice full of food not yet swallowed broke in.

That isn't what matters; it isn't what matters at all. Tell him, Bard, about the dreams and our shared quest.

Suddenly, the fear of the system and its demonic games returned to me with full force, causing the fish medley to attempt to swim back up and out onto the inn's floors. Holding it back, I asked.

Shared quest?