Zephyr's worldly wealth amounted to two measly silvers, jingling forlornly in his pocket like a sad reminder of his current state.
One of them, however, had just pulled a spectacular vanishing act mid-transaction, dissolving into a puff of golden sparkles that left a faint, mocking shimmer in the air.
"…You call that payment?" the bartender growled, her single eye twitching with barely restrained fury, her meaty hand still outstretched where the coin had been moments ago.
The bar counter fizzed faintly, dusted with the glittery residue of Zephyr's failed financial gambit.
Zephyr threw up his palms in a desperate show of innocence, his gray eyes darting between the sizzling countertop and the dissipating cloud of sparkles that marked the grave of his conjured currency.
"It was real when I handed it to you!" he protested, his voice cracking with a mix of sincerity and panic. "Temporarily, sure, but—y'know—real enough!"
"You tryin' to scam me, sparkle-boy?" The bartender's tone was a low, dangerous rumble, her patience fraying like a worn rope as she leaned forward, her bulk casting a shadow that swallowed Zephyr whole.
"No!" Zephyr said quickly, then winced, backpedaling.
"I mean, technically—yes? But also, no! It was an honest mistake!" His heart hammered as he caught the glint of something menacing under the counter—likely that reinforced paddle she kept for troublemakers.
GlitchWitch materialized beside his ear, her tiny sprite form radiating smug amusement.
"Fun fact: Chaos Echo is not a minting spell. Who knew?" she chirped, her neon-purple hair flickering with static as she folded her arms, clearly enjoying the chaos.
"I thought I knew," Zephyr hissed under his breath, shooting her a glare that could've melted a lesser sprite. "Apparently, I was very wrong."
The past ten minutes had been a humiliating exercise in desperation.
Starving and broke, Zephyr had tried to barter for anything edible—even the tavern's dubious "mystery gumbo," a bubbling concoction with something suspiciously wriggly swimming in its depths.
Out of options and with his stomach growling like an angry mana-beast, he'd gotten creative.
One risky Chaos Echo test later, he'd mimicked a nearby adventurer's flashy gold coin flip, conjuring a gleaming silver that sparkled with promise… only to watch it fizzle out of existence thirty seconds after he'd handed it to the bartender.
Now, he was facing the consequences: a towering woman with arms like tree trunks and a paddle that promised pain.
Zephyr edged backward, his sneakers scuffing against the worn floorboards.
"Look, I'll clean tables, mop floors, maybe whip up a tavern website—y'know, something modern, with pop-ups and a booking system—"
"Or you could stop embarrassing yourself." The voice sliced through the tavern's low murmur like a blade through fog, cool and sharp with an edge of amusement.
A woman stepped forward from a shadowed booth, her presence commanding the room's attention without effort.
She dropped two real silvers onto the counter with a crisp clink, the coins glinting under the flickering lantern light.
Fiery red hair spilled over one shoulder in a loose braid, catching the glow like molten copper.
Her emerald eyes locked onto Zephyr with a piercing intensity, cold as a dagger left in frost, yet sparking with a hint of curiosity.
A sapphire staff leaned casually against her leg, its surface etched with flame runes that pulsed faintly, as if alive with barely contained power.
The bartender grunted, her scowl softening just enough to scoop up the coins with a calloused hand.
"Mages…" she muttered, turning away to polish a mug with more force than necessary, leaving a trail of grumbled curses in her wake.
Zephyr blinked, his mouth half-open as he processed the save.
"Uh… thanks?" he said, his voice tinged with cautious gratitude, though his eyes lingered on the staff, wary of its ominous glow.
The redhead crossed her arms, her posture relaxed but radiating a quiet authority that made Zephyr feel like a rookie stepping into a pro lobby.
"Don't thank me," she said, her tone dry as ash. "That was the worst con I've seen since a slime tried to sell me invisible armor. And trust me, that was a low bar."
"Hey," Zephyr replied, clutching his chest in mock offense, "I'll have you know I'm excellent at improvising under pressure. This was just… a beta test gone wrong."
She snorted, the sound sharp and unladylike, but her lips quirked in a way that suggested she wasn't entirely unimpressed.
"Clearly," she said, brushing past him with a swish of her cloak, revealing a bronze Guild badge pinned to her shoulder—a spiral symbol etched with glowing lines that seemed to hum with latent energy.
Zephyr's eyes widened. "Wait, you're with a Guild?"
She paused, turning halfway to arch a single, perfectly sculpted brow.
"Lyra Vex," she said, her voice clipped but not unkind. "Rank-Four Mage. Glitch bounty specialist. And you are…?"
"Zephyr," he answered automatically, then added with a wry grin, "Technically adventuring. Definitely starving. Possibly cursed."
"Definitely clueless," GlitchWitch muttered, her sprite zipping into view with a crackle of static, her tiny smirk dripping with glee.
Lyra's gaze flicked to the floating sprite, her expression shifting from curiosity to something closer to exasperation.
"What… is that?" she asked, her tone suggesting she was already regretting the question.
"I'm his tutorial failure," GlitchWitch said sweetly, batting her pixelated eyelashes. "And apparently now yours, too, Red. Congrats on the downgrade."
Lyra sighed, rubbing her temple with two fingers as if warding off a headache.
"Figures," she muttered. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Zephyr, her gaze sharp enough to dissect him.
"You've got a CosmoCore interface—sort of—but it's all wrong. Your system's… glitched. Badly."
Zephyr shrugged, leaning against the booth with a forced nonchalance.
"You're not the first to point that out," he said, though the weight of her words sent a prickle of unease down his spine.
Her expression hardened, her voice dropping to a low, deliberate cadence. "You shouldn't even have access to Chaos Echo. That's a Tier-Three mimic spell. Restricted to vetted mages with stable mana cores. You're either a prodigy or a walking system error."
Zephyr flashed his best innocent smile, the one he'd perfected for dodging sponsor interrogations back in the esports days.
"Maybe I'm just that talented," he said, waggling his brows for effect.
"Or that broken," GlitchWitch cut in, her sprite performing a mocking somersault. "Hard to tell with you these days, champ."
Lyra's gaze flicked to the tavern door, then back to Zephyr, her expression unreadable but tinged with something like reluctant pity.
"You're lucky I'm feeling charitable," she said, her voice firm but not cruel. "But if you keep pulling stunts like that coin trick, this city's going to chew you up and spit out glitter. And trust me, Ironspire doesn't do second chances."
Zephyr tilted his head, his grin widening despite the warning. "…So, business as usual, then."
She didn't smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched, a fleeting crack in her icy demeanor that felt like a small victory.
He straightened, emboldened by the moment. "Thanks again for the save, Sparkle Princess," he said, his tone teasing but laced with genuine gratitude.
Her emerald eyes flared with a dangerous light, the air around her crackling faintly as the runes on her staff pulsed brighter.
"Did you just call me what?" she asked, her voice low and laced with a warning that made Zephyr's grin falter.
"Just a term of respect!" he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "Very regal. Majestic, even. Total compliment."
"Oh, this is going to be painful," GlitchWitch groaned, her sprite flickering into a tiny popcorn bucket, complete with animated kernels. "For everyone involved."