The clink of mugs and the crash of shattered glasses heralded another raucous celebration. At the In Medias Res Bar—sanctuary for hunters and local drunks—the air thrummed with triumph. In a corner, a taciturn man lifted a cup of cheap whiskey, his black eyes lost in an uncharted void. To some, a loathsome monster; to the poor, a spark of revolution; to the Bar, a silent, dependable leader.
Zack drifted through the crowd, out of place amid dancing figures, brawls, and bets in the makeshift ring. Each victory climbed the challenger's rank, edging them closer to the ultimate prize: a chance to face the Absolute Leader himself—Zack.
Ranking: Absolute Leader [Zack] – 0 Losses / 1500 Wins
Challengers:
Pacho – 1 Loss / 1000 Wins
Ace – 5 Losses / 805 Wins
Black Mouth – 1 Loss / 2511 Wins
Black Hand – 1 Loss / 3001 Wins
Ygon – 1 Loss / 1055 Wins
Newcomers:
Bilua – 0 Losses / 657 Wins
Lelua – 0 Losses / 600 Wins
Baron – 0 Losses / 151 Wins
Elen – 0 Losses / 120 Wins
"Hey, boss!"
The bartender called as the door swung open.
Zack raised his mug in response:
"Pour me another, Alf. It's going to be a long day…"
Alf grinned, clapped him on the shoulder:
"Easy there, boss—it's just a kid."
The wooden stool creaked as someone slid in beside Zack.
"Alf, great to see you! It's been two years. And where's your wife? Still keeping you fed?"
Young laughter rang out, and Alf toasted:
"To your health—whiskey's on the house."
Zack offered a faint, fleeting smile.
"Look at that—he actually laughed!"
Alf and the newcomer shared a warm laugh. But when Zack fixed his gaze on the stranger, the mood shifted instantly.
"Milos is coming. If they search this district, we're in trouble. We need to ambush him before he reaches In Medias Res—or we'll have to leave the city."
The Unknown raised an eyebrow:
"That's unwise, friend. The mist is thick. Last time we ventured out, you nearly died. The monsters are stronger—and worse, they've begun to think."
Alf sensed the tension and, with a quiet gesture, raised his hands. An invisible dome enveloped the three of them, muting their voices to the rest of the bar.
"Damn!" Zack growled, slamming his mug down.
"And your research?" The frustration in his eyes was all that anyone beyond the dome could glimpse.
"Norvig is lost—Skull swept through there. Chaos reigned. The study was aborted. I saved a few and brought them here."
Silence fell between them.
"You did well, brother." Zack nodded.
"Then here's the plan. You're the best with scrolls: siphon my power, use it as a shield—like before. Then, with the hunters' map, we gain the upper hand. My informant says Milos is in Gresco, four to five days' ride. Stick to the red route, we'll get there in two. We'll skirt the Andur peaks for a vantage point. You know the Void like no one else, Orpheus."
Orpheus lifted his mug in salute, laughter lighting his eyes.
"That's my leader—crafts plans in minutes while footing the bill, only to end the night alone."
Zack's smile was genuine as he rested a hand on Orpheus's shoulder. He met his friend's gaze.
"You're worthless, Red Eyes."
The taunt hung in the smoky air. Orpheus stood two meters tall, red eyes like rubies in the dim light, hair the color of embers, a black katana bound in scarlet ribbons, robes loose like a careless monk. A formidable presence—Zack's greatest ally.
Between sips and strategies, they mapped their return into the mist—and their final confrontation with the Void.