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

Scene 1: A Strange Silence

Morning breaks over the dirt path as the group bids farewell to Lolo Norman and Lina. The soft glow of dawn casts long, gentle shadows on their path. Wicca lingers for a moment, her fingers tightening around a small pendant dangling from her neck. She glances back at her mother, Lina, whose eyes are full of both pride and concern. In that silent exchange, doubt flickers across Wicca’s face—but with a deep, steadying breath, she resolves: there’s no turning back.

As they step onto the worn path, Claude carefully unfolds a crinkled map, his voice steady with determination:
Claude:
"Our first stop is Ashenfall. It used to be a glorious city, but after the Astral Gates’ destruction, it collapsed into chaos."

Wicca’s tone is laced with both intrigue and caution as she recalls old tales:
Wicca:
"My grandfather always said Ashenfall is overrun by criminals—a battleground where different factions clash for power."

Mechan grins mischievously, excitement glinting in his eyes:
Mechan:
"Sounds fun. I could use a good brawl."

Claude rolls his eyes, his expression turning serious:
Claude:
"We should avoid conflict. We don’t know who controls that city now—whether it’s a ruthless crime syndicate or rogue mercenaries."

Xero, ever the optimist, beams:
Xero:
"Sounds exciting! I wanna see it for myself."

Claude’s tone grows cautious as he adds:
Claude:
"But remember, we must be careful. If we stand out as outsiders, we’ll be easy targets. We need to blend in—look poor, dirty, and unarmed."

Mechan can’t help but tease:
Mechan:
"Oh, sure. Let’s roll in the mud and act like peasants. Brilliant plan, strategist."

Claude fires back dryly:
Claude:
"Better than getting stabbed in an alley, genius."

Xero snickers at their back-and-forth banter while Wicca shakes her head in quiet amusement.
Xero: (cheerfully)
"Let’s figure it out when we get there. For now, let’s just enjoy the journey! Who’s up for a song?"

Their laughter mingles with the rustling leaves, but soon a thoughtful silence falls. After a few moments, Mechan squints at the open plains around them and remarks:
Mechan: (frowning)
"This is odd. Usually, open plains like these teem with wild beasts. We should’ve been ambushed by now."

Claude ponders aloud, his gaze scanning the empty fields:
Claude:
"Maybe this place lacks prey. Without smaller animals, predators might have nothing to hunt."

Mechan nods slowly, though his expression darkens with unease:
Mechan:
"That makes sense—but I still don’t like it. It feels... unnaturally quiet."

Before their conversation can dig deeper, Xero suddenly points excitedly ahead, his eyes wide:
Xero:
"Look! There’s a city up ahead!"

Energized, they quicken their pace until the ghostly outline of a city emerges from the distance. As they draw near, the eerie stillness becomes undeniable. Crumbling buildings stand like silent sentinels, their broken windows reflecting a past long gone. The wind howls mournfully through the ruins, carrying with it whispers of forgotten lives. A faint metallic tang mingles with the stale scent of decay, and the cobblestone streets are marred by broken weapons and dried bloodstains.

Xero shivers slightly as he surveys the desolation.
Xero: (softly, with a mix of awe and trepidation)
"It’s like a ghost town."

Their footsteps echo through the empty streets, every sound amplified in the oppressive silence. Suddenly, a controlled, deliberate rustling—too rhythmic to be the wind—sends a chill down Wicca’s spine.

Mechan’s grip on his weapon tightens, his eyes narrowing as he surveys the rooftops and shadowed alleys.
Mechan:
"We’re not alone..."

Claude tenses, his voice steady but laced with warning:
Claude:
"Stay alert—"

Before he can finish, the stillness shatters. Thick, billowing smoke bombs erupt around them, and a dense, choking fog engulfs their vision. Shadows twist and flicker within the haze, darting with unsettling speed. Mechan shouts in alarm, but his voice is swallowed by the roar of the explosion. Xero barely has time to swivel away as a figure lunges from the obscuring darkness, a flash of movement followed by a sharp, searing pain. Then everything plunges into darkness.

The ambush leaves their fate hanging in the balance—an ominous prelude to the chaos awaiting them in Ashenfall.

Scene 2: The Survivors of Ashenfall

Xero groans as consciousness slowly returns, his vision blurring before sharpening to reveal Claude and Wicca stirring quietly beside him. Mechan is already fully awake, his eyes narrowing into a steely glare as he takes in the scene around them. They find themselves bound and surrounded by ragged survivors—desperate villagers whose gaunt faces and hollow eyes speak of long days without hope. Men, women, and even small children clutch makeshift weapons, their fingers trembling with both fear and determination.

A thin, worn man dressed in tattered clothes steps forward, his voice tentative yet laden with regret.
Troy: (lowering his hood)
"We’re sorry for attacking you. We thought you were hunters coming to enslave us."

Xero’s gaze sweeps over the villagers—their gaunt profiles, skeletal hands gripping rusted tools, and eyes filled with desperate suspicion—and his heart clenches. Slowly, he reaches into his bag and retrieves a modest bundle of food supplies. Instead of hurling it in haste, he carefully places the food on the ground, nudging it forward with gentle insistence, as if offering a lifeline.

Xero: (softly, with sincere compassion)
"You guys need this more than we do. Please, take it—no one should go hungry."

The villagers exchange wary glances. A small child, hesitant yet hopeful, steps forward and snatches a piece of dried meat before retreating quickly into the shadows, stuffing it into his mouth. One by one, the others overcome their caution as hunger eclipses fear, and they begin to gather the provisions with grateful, trembling hands.

Just as one of the villagers reaches for the remaining food, a subtle glow pulses around Xero’s fingertips—a faint ember of energy that flares and then vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Xero flinches, glancing down at his hand, a flicker of self-doubt and surprise mingling in his eyes. Claude notices immediately, his gaze sharpening in quiet concern.

Mechan: (gritting his teeth in exasperation)
"Xero! What are you doing?! We need those supplies!"

Claude: (firmly, interjecting)
"Mechan, be quiet. Look at them—they’re starving. Isn't it obvious? Perhaps the beasts are gone because you’ve hunted them all into extinction."
(He pauses, his eyes meeting Troy’s, heavy with unspoken accusation.)
"Is that why there’s no wild prey left?"

Troy sighs deeply, guilt etched on his weathered face.
Troy:
"You’re right. We had no choice. The wild beasts vanished months ago—there was simply nothing left to hunt. It’s all about survival now."

Claude unfolds the map on a nearby stone table, intending to mark a path forward, but as he concentrates, the map momentarily hovers above his hands, suspended by an unseen energy. Distracted by his thoughts, he doesn’t notice this ethereal moment until Wicca catches the anomaly, her eyes flickering with quiet curiosity before the glow dissipates.

As the villagers continue eating, Xero turns to Troy with a pressing question.
Xero:
"Do you know if there are any blacksmiths around here?"

Troy’s face darkens slightly, his expression turning somber.
Troy:
"We had one… Mr. Chuck. He vanished months ago, and without him, no one can forge weapons here."

Wicca leans forward, her interest piqued by the mention of weapons imbued with strange energy.
Wicca:
"Did Mr. Chuck ever mention anything about Soul Weapons?"

Troy shakes his head slowly, regret softening his features.
Troy:
"Not directly, but he used to forge glowing weapons before he disappeared into the city’s heart. Now, that place is nothing but debris and danger—the path is blocked, and the climb is too perilous."

A spark of determination lights up Xero’s face as he cracks his knuckles with resolve.
Xero: (with a determined grin)
"Then we’ll find him. We have to."

At that moment, the villagers begin untying their chains in feet, their eyes filled with cautious hope as Troy points toward the crumbling center of the city, bidding them farewell. As the group starts moving, Mechan stoops to pick up a small stone from the ground. In a moment of frustration, he tightens his grip too much—and with a sharp, startling crack, the stone shatters into fine dust, as if crushed by an unseen force. His eyes widen in surprise, and he mutters under his breath.

Mechan: (frowning, flexing his fingers)
"What the hell...?"

Wicca, noticing the unusual occurrence, raises an eyebrow but remains silent, her gaze thoughtful.

In this charged atmosphere, the desolation of Ashenfall—the ghostly, crumbling city, the bitter taste of survival, and the echoes of a once-glorious past—melds with the subtle hints of untapped magic. The encounter leaves a lingering question: what strange forces are at work in this ruined city, and what might it mean for their journey ahead?

The scene fades as the group prepares to set off into the heart of Ashenfall, their minds brimming with both hope and foreboding, ready to unravel the mysteries of a city lost to time.