(The character will be introduced immediately after the episode concludes.)

Scene 1: A Fading Dream

The tavern’s corner table, dimly lit by a single sputtering candle, becomes the stage for a raw and intimate confrontation. The clink of mugs and distant cheers from the rowdy matches outside seem to fade into a muted backdrop as Mechan finally breaks the silence, his voice edged with both curiosity and weary resignation.

Mechan: (leaning forward, eyes searching theirs)
"So, what exactly brought you two to Freaky Town? Was it merely the lure of chaos, or was there something deeper behind your arrival?"

Xero, casually draped with his arms behind his head and a smirk playing at his lips, replies with an effortless coolness that belies the tension in his gaze.
Xero:
"We came to register a guild."

Mechan’s brow arches in a mix of disbelief and exasperation. He scoffs, letting his hand wave dismissively as if shooing away a trivial notion, though his voice trembles slightly with unsaid burdens.
Mechan: (flatly)
"Tch. You do know how much of a hassle that is, right? The endless regulations, the labyrinth of licensing, recruitment headaches, funding issues… It’ll drive you insane before you even get started."

As he speaks, his fingers drift unconsciously to a small, worn pendant hanging from his collar. The motion is subtle—a fleeting caress that betrays a deeper pain hidden beneath his hard exterior. Xero and Claude, catching the movement, exchange a silent, knowing smile, a shared memory of loss and the weight of unhealed wounds.

Claude, breaking the pause with a gentle chuckle, offers a light remark to ease the heaviness.
Claude: (smirking)
"Well, good thing we already have our third member."

Mechan freezes, his eyes narrowing as he looks between his two friends. The room’s dim light casts deep shadows on his face as he asks, incredulously,
Mechan: (deadpan)
"…Who?"

Almost in unison, Xero and Claude point directly at him, their smiles both teasing and sincere.
Xero: (grinning softly)
"You, obviously."

Mechan’s scowl deepens, and he scoffs sharply. His voice rises with a bitter edge as he recalls painful memories.
Mechan:
"Forget it. I’m done with guilds. I lost everything back then. Nothing’s left worth trying to rebuild."

For a long, charged moment, silence stretches between them. Xero’s grin fades into a look of solemn determination, his eyes dark with unspoken sorrow as he speaks in a quiet, earnest tone.
Xero:
"You’re not the only one who’s lost something, Mechan. Claude lost his father—his hero—and I lost everyone I held dear. The Border Village, the promise of a safe haven... it all went up in flames when the Black Cloaks tore it away. We keep moving forward because we have to. Not for glory, but because there’s nothing left to lose."

The words hang heavy in the air. Mechan’s hardened expression flickers, revealing a storm of conflicting emotions behind his eyes. His hand tightens around the pendant until his knuckles blanch, and for a moment, his breath catches as if the very sound of his friends' truths has shattered his resolve. The mention of "Anna" slips out in the half-heard cadence of his silent thoughts—an echo of loss that forces him to avert his gaze and clench his jaw tightly.

After what feels like an eternity, Mechan exhales slowly, a deep, resigned sigh that carries the weight of a thousand broken promises.
Mechan: (softly, barely above a whisper)
"...We’ll talk tomorrow."

In that fragile moment, the conversation falls silent. The candle’s flame trembles as if sharing their inner turmoil, and the room, with its worn wooden walls and the faint aroma of spiced ale, seems to hold its breath. The fading dream of a new beginning now battles against the raw scars of the past—a reminder that sometimes, hope must be nurtured slowly, one painful truth at a time.

The night wears on, leaving them with the quiet understanding that tomorrow may offer a chance for healing, even if tonight, the dream remains just out of reach.

Scene 2: The Decision

Morning breaks over the training grounds beside the hidden treehouse with a chorus of chirping birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. In the dewy light, Xero and Claude are engaged in a spirited sparring session, their movements fluid and determined. Their blows echo softly as they test each other’s strength, each strike and parry punctuating their commitment to the cause. Nearby, Mechan stands at the doorway, arms folded, his gaze heavy with conflicted emotions as he watches their every move.

Xero, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, pauses and smirks.
Xero:
"We’re not leaving until you join us, Mechan."

Claude, catching his breath, grins broadly and nods in agreement.
Claude:
"You said it yourself—a guild needs three members. You’re the missing piece, the spark we need to ignite a future."

Mechan scoffs, shaking his head as memories of loss flash in his eyes.
Mechan:
"I told you—I’m done with that. I lost everything back then. What’s the point of building something new when the past still haunts me?"

Xero steps forward, his voice firm yet laced with quiet empathy.
Xero:
"What about Viktor and Rael? Do you think they’d want you to fade away in despair? And what about Anna—her sacrifice, her memory? We’re not building this guild just for revenge, but to honor those who gave everything for us."

A heavy silence falls, punctuated only by the soft thud of their heartbeats and the distant call of morning birds. Mechan’s eyes dart between Xero and Claude as he wrestles with his own inner demons. Finally, he exhales sharply and a slight smirk tugs at his lips, as if a long-buried ember of hope is flickering to life.
Mechan: (softly, yet with resolve)
"Fine. I’ll join you—but not just for revenge. I’m doing this for adventure, for a real future, and yes—to rescue Anna."

Xero and Claude exchange victorious grins before clapping Mechan heartily on the back.
Claude:
"Then it’s settled. Our guild is officially formed—an alliance built on our scars and our strength!"

Mechan raises a hand, caution returning to his tone as he checks his surroundings.
Mechan:
"Not so fast, though. We can’t register here; Maximus and Leonidas have their eyes on us, and our names would be too loud to hide."

Xero frowns, leaning over the worn map spread out on a rickety wooden table.
Xero:
"Then where do we go? We need a safe haven—somewhere we can grow without attracting unwanted attention."

Mechan points to a marked area on the map, his finger tracing the route with deliberate precision.
Mechan:
"Twain District. It’s less crowded and has fewer prying eyes. We can move freely there."

Claude scans the map, excitement lighting up his face.
Claude:
"That means we’ll have to pass through Swiss Hamlet—the place where the Soul Master, Dylan, mentioned unlocking true strength. This could be our gateway to finally understanding our own potential."

Xero’s eyes sparkle with anticipation, and he claps his hands together.
Xero:
"Sweet Hamlet! First stop, then—let’s get moving!"

Mechan smacks Xero lightly on the head, his tone teasing but firm.
Mechan:
"Swiss Hamlet. Not Sweet Hamlet, you dork."

Claude rubs his head and pouts playfully.
Claude:
"Sounds sweeter, though. Maybe we can convince you to adopt a new nickname."

Xero chuckles as Mechan shakes his head in mild exasperation. Then, in a symbolic gesture of new beginnings, Claude takes out a piece of charcoal and draws a rough emblem on the map—a simple, bold mark that signifies their shared future. The emblem glows faintly in the morning light, as if blessed by fate itself.

Laughter bubbles among them, mingling with the crisp air of dawn, and for a fleeting moment, hope feels tangible—real. Their journey as a guild is no longer just a dream; it’s a promise sealed in ink and heartbeats. With resolve rekindled and a path laid out before them, they gather their few belongings, check their gear, and set off toward Twain District—each step echoing the determination to rebuild, to honor the past, and to carve a brighter future together.