Outside the Bar – Daylight
The village of Veymoor Hollow, once gloomy and lifeless, now buzzed with excitement. The fog had cleared, and in the center of the crowd stood Ryan—dressed in a white apron and a wide-brimmed straw hat, sleeves rolled up, sweat trickling down his temple. A wooden stand had been erected outside the bar, hand-painted letters across a nailed-up sign read:
"Paradise Healing Juice"
The villagers lined up in droves, stretching far down the main road. The sick, the elderly, and even the healthy waited eagerly. The once-dull air was filled with hope.
A bald man stepped forward, his face pale and his left arm faintly marked with purple residue. "One bottle, please," he rasped.
Ryan smiled confidently, reaching into a wooden crate. He brought out a glass bottle glowing with a radiant green hue—mana-infused, pulsing softly like a heartbeat. The man took it, chugged it down in one go, and paused.
Then it happened.
