The setting sun rested shyly just above the distant wall. The city below was even more bustling than before. Rows of people were coming out for a gathering, to eat, to hang out, to come home from work, etc.

  Through the crowd, the hooded robe man whispered curses under his breath as he clicked away his staff along the limestone road, weaving through the blobs of people. Leading him was his companion, the Chosen One in her armor attire, and cape fluttering aimlessly. It contrasted to being surrounded by crowds. How did the wind even got through this crowd anyway, to flutter the cape like that?

  The Chosen One eyed up the stalls set along the road. Her eyes were trained to the point she could see the smallest details from afar once focused. Those… juicy meat skewers… Her mouth betrayed her, letting a small string of drool dipping from the edge of her lip.

  “Hey hey,” she tugged him. “We should get some!”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be saving money? The whole reason you got me to register in the Adventurer’s guild?”

  “Think of it like me celebrating your re-entry into society.”

  “No. Think of us finding a place to sleep as the celebration.” He frowned at how much traffic there was, a clear disdain for the city life. “Hey Arlene.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Can’t you just teleport us back to Tamare? It’ll be funny spooking Rond.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Alright let’s sta- wait what?”

  “I can’t.”

  “But you said you could teleport.” He started scratching his own forearm.

  “I did! And I also said I need to attune to the local mana winds!” She glanced to him with one eyes only.

  “And… you didn’t attune?”

  “Nope. I was… occupied.” She rubbed the headband briefly. “Anyway, I know an inn we can stay. It’s not far from here!”

  Arlene led him to a quiet corner from the bustling street. It wasn’t a wide path compared to the street before. More like a small road akin to alleyway. She walked through with no guards up at all. Wattyson’s eyes kept darting to the small windows, the hanging clothes on the railing, the hot dog stands on a balcony, and the poles jutting out. It was quiet. Too quiet.

  “Ow,” he grunted out as he walked forward, and hit the stationary chosen one. He wasn’t paying attention.

  “Relax, Watty!” A finger poked his forehead once, then twice. “There’s nothing here to worry about!”

  “This reeks of a hive filled with scum and villainy.”

  “Isn’t that the same as your Red Grove?”

  “Choose your words wisely, O’ Chosen One.”

  A heartfelt giggle came from her. “Oh I have, O’ Grand Chaos,” in a very exaggerated deeper tone. “Around the corner is the inn I used to stay. It’s quiet and homey. You like quiet, you’ll like it there!”

  The Inn had a board atop labeled: TREEHOUSE’S INN. The name didn’t lie… at least in aesthetic. The small roof over the entrance, the front doors and walls all had layered like woods texture mixed with plank look. Wattyson strode close to the wall, his hand brushed against it. It was cement.

  She looked with a smirk. “Don’t be too down. It’s not real wood.”

  He turned to her, shaking his head lightly with a small sigh. “I’m not that nature eccentric. You’ve been here before?”

  “Mmmh. I liked my stay here back with the party. It’s very comfy.”

  He sidestepped, extending his arm to the doorway in a mocking formality way. “Lead the way then.”

  A quick jab to his extended arm as she went in. A small wave beckoned him to follow.

  An old woman by the counter was there to greet us. “Ahhh~ do my eyes deceive me? Is that you, young choseny.” She said despite her eyes shut… maybe it was half lid.

  “It is me, Arlene. Yes. How are you doing, Miss Elara?”

  “Hoho, I’m doing quite well… my inn is a farcry from when you came, now it has been filled to the brim since the end of the Dark Lord’s era, thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad! I really like the atmosphere here.”

  She chuckled then noticed the scholarly looking fellow next to her. “Young Choseny, who’s the fellow next to you? Are you not travelling with your party anymore?”

  “They… they moved on in their life. Fulfilling their goals.” She rested both her hands over the counter. “Lara went to her royal duties. Eilifr chasing her endless pursuit of the world’s knowledge and Harves… I don’t know what he’s up to.”

  A warm ruffling of her blonde hair as it moved right and left. A headpat from the old woman. “There, there. Such is life… though I would never imagine the elf to be a princess. She was very timid when you showed up with them four years ago.”

  A soft smile and a scoff, “She wasn’t used to humans back then… I don’t think she is now. I hope she’s doing well…” She retracted her hands back. “He’s Wattyson by the way, my newest companion!”

  “My… is he a wizard.”

  “I’m not a wizard.” Rejected the man in question dryly.

  “He is…” A half laugh from Arlene.

  A grin from Elara as she studied Wattyson, the robed man who clearly didn’t want to be anywhere in here. A smirked played on her wrinkled face. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  Arlene shook her head quite fast. “No no, we’re not like that. I’m his caretaker.”

  “Caretaker?”

  “Yes. She cares so I don’t have to.” Added the disgruntled man.

  “He’s been drained mentally recently, forgive him.”

  “It’s fine, young choseny. As always you keep strange company around you.”

  “So how long will you be staying for?”

  Arlene took a minute to ponder. How long indeed… She harkened back to her money problem. How many quests would it take to last her a month? How many days would it take for her to catch up on everything she missed out on after leaving the city for four years? How many days could they stay without Wattyson constantly groaning?

  “A week.”

  Wattyson was already not paying attention with his eyes half lid widened. “A week?!”

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  Arlene nodded without facing him, reaffirming to Elara. “Yep! A week!”

  “A week it is.” Elara already bent over to the counter, taking out trinket of keys. Unbuckling one of them, she gave the Chosen One a key looking like a sword. “This one for you, second floor end of the hallway.”

  Before Arlene accepted the key, she opened the flap of her bag and her free hand ran through the lightened leather container. There was money left enough for foods and stays for just over a week.

  “You don’t need to pay yet, young choseny.”

  “I think I should-“

  “I insist. I trust you enough.” Elara had a face of warmth and inviting. It was impossible to reject. Also because it would be rude to reject someone after they insisted.

  “Very well,” she bowed. “Thank you, Miss Elara.”

  She accepted the key with grace and waved goodbye to the old innkeeper. Taking off to the designated room. Wattyson followed her, started waddling like a… penguin?

  Elara laughed to herself. Muttering for her ears only, “She really attracted strange people to her… even one whose shadow I feel could cover Toulasi in darkness…”

  Room 019. It housed two beds with drawer each, a small dining table and a connected bathroom. A massive closet stood in between two windows out looking at the sprawling heads of people outside.

  Arlene undone her armour and longswords, leaving them dangling off the hanger rack. In her tunic clothes, she sat on the bed with mattress filled with cotton peeking out slightly. Wattyson immediately fell flat on his own bed.

  “Are you that exhausted, Watty?” She shifted backward till leaning against the wall on the bed.

  “Yes. Seeing people exhaust me.”

  She sighed as she glanced out the window. “After the first quest, can we go around the city tomorrow?”

  He dragged his face slightly to the left, to her. “Sure…”

  She scoffed into a smile half etched onto her face. “Thanks.”

  “Hey…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I never ask because I never care about it but… how did you become the Chosen One? What’s the prophecy of the Chosen One?”

  The moment lingered. Her hands fell to her laid out legs, tracing along her thigh to her knee. Then the legs bent up as she embraced them.

  “The Chosen One’s Prophecy as told by the Holy Helios Church and the Luminare Church… is someone who’s powerful could rival the Dark Lord and able to best the demon lord in combat, banishing it forever.”

  “So… a cry for help? For the strong one to come by?” He asked still lying down but faced to her fully.

  “I guess so in the broader sense. Someone like me is said to be a blessing from the almighty heaven. As a salvation for all races against the forces of evil. I… I don’t believe that… I think people who lived and fought against the Dark Lord for ages are the true chosen. I’m just someone with the power to make it happen. I didn’t fight centuries upon centuries against evil. I came late.”

  She let go of her legs, laying them out again. “One of my goals after the war and travelling to find you… is to go into ruins of old, to find anything left behind that might shed light on the prophecy more.

  As for your other question… the Luminare Church found me after a demon attacked my town back in Roye’shi. I was among the few that had survived and they were taking me to a church orphanage. They had a larger crystal for appraisal and they found my physical feats and magical affinity to be much higher on everything. Higher than even the Great Sage Vilvane and stronger than any humanoid races… so they escorted me to the capital and had me under my mentor’s care.

  I was raised there… in a palace away from danger. They did send me with an attachment to fight the demons when I past milestones set by my mentor. Then… my mentor just told me to go adventure like a normal person and find party members to aid my quest… The rest of how I gathered my companions and went on a four to five years long quest to defeat the Dark Lord is history.”

  She gazed out again to the window, to the people enjoying their lives.

  “I missed out on those… You know when I saw Neciel… a day before it happened, she was shopping by herself. Buying ingredients and supplies for the party to celebrate the Elder’s recovery with the family. I had this thought to myself… how nice it was to enjoy something like that like a family. I think only my mentor and few servants in that palace treated me as a normal child growing up. The nobles and royalties treated me with reverent and this… sense of fear and duty.”

  Wattyson sat up, leaning against his side of the wall now. “Do you want to call me big brother?”

  “Big brother Watty…” In a hush tone.

  “Okay nevermind.”

  A laugh from the Chosen One after, her cheek was slightly pink. “Thank you though…” She looked to him now, sitting one leg up while another rested down off the bed. His eyes of violet were half shut. That aggressive eyebrows seemingly softened. The ashen white hair with contrast color at the bottom swayed gently from the window.

  “Hey, Watty? Since I opened about myself… Can I ask something?”

  “An acceptable exchange of equivalent sure.”

  “Why are you making this out like a business transaction?” Another beat of laugh from her. “Can you tell me… about your ‘Anathema’ name?”

  “Why?”

  “I… I want to understand you more. That name stuck with me since Neciel yelled it out during the confrontation… why that name? What did you do to earn such a name? It just stuck with me ever since… I never knew when to bring it up and ask. It was a sensitive topic from what I’ve witnessed. I froze whenever I thought of it.”

  Wattyson lowered his shoulder as he leaned further against the wall. His other leg fell down, following the other one down the bed. He didn’t gaze out to the crowd outside. His eyes firmly on her while still half shut.

  “It’s something they called me by… when I was an active hunter.”

  Her gaze fixed on him, never leaving. “You said you’re a vampire hunter.”

  “I did. I just didn’t say I had retired.”

  “Was this after your banishment?”

  “Yeah… after they exiled me. I just didn’t see the point of it all again. I said I did it for something I firmly believe in… Justice. I don’t see the points of leaving those races of leeches continue to prey on humanity and wear the same mask as us.

  I actively hunt them down, one by one. Block by block. It had gotten to the point my reputation preceded me with the name ‘Anathema’ – Killer of all Supernatural.”

  He looked down to his hands for a brief moment before back to her. “I… I realized I was too brash back then. I hunted everything that was supernatural. Vampires, Werewolves, Wraith, Faeries, Wendigo and many more…”

  “I thought you said werewolves are protector of nature?”

  “They are. Doesn’t mean they won’t kill human. They kill everything in their path if it’s to protect nature.”

  “And whoever you were with exile you because you were too extremist?”

  “Yeah… that I threatened the balance between the mundane and the supernatural.”

  “Do you ever regret it? The past you that earned the title ‘Anathema’?”

  “I believe it fitted my own intention, but lately I’m not so sure anymore. I still firmly believe they had it coming… but then I discover there are supernatural who were just trying to live their lives. Trying to best to not give in to the monster within. I… I’m still struggling to come into term with it. I don’t think I ever will. At least I know for sure, I’m not actively hunting them down anymore.”

  “I guess that’s make the two of us then… The Chosen One and Anathema.” She turned her head slightly to the side, smiling at him. “I guess I should start overriding that title with the one I got for you, O’ Grand Chaos.”

  “O’ Chosen One and O’ Grand Chaos?”

  “Yep!”

  She flopped sideway onto the bed. Lying on the cyan pillow as it slowly absorbed her into comfort. “Hey Watty, can I ask something else?”

  He still in the same posture. “Sure… since we’re being so open.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Ehhhh~,” in a light pitch. “Are you coming on to me?”

  “Obviously not you werido.” She rolled a full loop on her wide bed. “I mean… you kept referencing stuffs that doesn’t exist anymore like Equiliarum.”

  “I told you. I’m just a big fan of history.”

  “Yet you don’t know who the Great Sage Vilvane, my mentor, is?”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “See! Everyone knows who he is! Alive for three hundred years and you never did hear a single thing?! I might believe if you had lived your entire life in the Red Grove, but clearly you didn’t since you earned such a terrifying nickname!”

  He sighed as he leaned his head against the shoulder. “I suppose I’ll tell you… I’m twenty.”

  “LIES!” She sighed in return. “Then can I ask you if you know why the appraisal couldn’t assess you properly? We both know you have affinity for magic you got F on.”

  “I don’t know. Why are you asking me?”

  “Because it confused me! You flicked through elements so easily on the way to the city, there’s no way you only have aptitude for Fire and Earth only!” She rolled again to the edge of her bed. “Tell me honest! What are you really?”

  “I am what I am.”

  “And you are?”

  “Am.”

  “Then… can you at least elaborate further?” Her eyes squinted. “Are you also… a chosen one but just hidden?”

  “That would be cool, wouldn’t it? But alas no. I can’t give you an answer to something I don’t know myself…”

  “Watty… I’ll be honest. You act like you’re older than half of the nations in this world. You clearly have abilities that are powerful than it seems. You have a nickname that invoked terrifying prospect. You completely showed of disdain to anything modern and loud….” She paused, catching her breath. Sitting back up and locked eyes with him. “Are you a primordial ooze?”

  “A what now?”

  “Something something since the beginning of the world, are you it?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

  “Tell me something you don’t know about the world then?”

  “Uhh… Great Sage Vilvane?”

  “Ok…”

  A yawn soon infected the whole room, it was from him.

  Arlene flopped back to her bed in a satisfying small leap. “I want to ask more about how you see magic but clearly we’re both tired… Let’s just rest for the night.”

  “No dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry. You can go eat and pay with your antique coins, or have the beef jerky in my bag.” She rolled to face the ceiling, eyes closing. “Oh yeah,” she added. “You said you would show me your whole clothes collection and let me choose what you’ll wear. Let’s do that tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll show you why robes are superior.”

  “Sure sure, cryptid werido. Goodnight, Watty!”

  Wattyson didn’t lie down. He was still seated though his shoulders slumped even more. “Goodnight, Arlene.”