The next two days of traveling were filled with only minor obstacles, both during the day and night, but were nothing more than trivial in the long term. We helped a little ghost girl get her life back on track, stopped an elderly couple from becoming bandits, and even saved a family from a pack of wild animals—but none of it was truly something worthy of note.

Ghithyan's warm welcome in the dead of night was of a surprise, however—we hadn't really considered a shelter as we rode up to the gates with the moonlight shining so bright, but the people were very accepting of our visit. So much so, to the point that we were immediately pointed in the direction of the nearest inn, where we would be allowed to stay for as long as we could pay—the price of which was, at least according to the Freelancers, very cheap.

Steven: "It's because of our unity."

That was his explanation, at least. With a common enemy to focus against, that being the Monsters, the majority of Humanity made the unspoken rule to always accommodate necessities for those who needed them, so long as they could be spared. In the case of shelter, which was the most abundant of the many necessities, accommodations could always be spared.

Jessie: "In that sense, we can show our gratitude to the Monsters for one thing."

Ann: "Isn't peace such a wonderful thing?"

Peace. Right, yeah. That was it. Despite there being an absurd enemy in infinite droves, there was peace among Humans. Quarrels and fights still broke out, and there would always be the rogue villain on the loose here and there, but more drastic and tragic times—that of wars, invasions, genocides, mass murder, sex trafficking, kidnapping and ransoming, unrestricted torture, even rape—all of it was nothing more than a distant nightmare, from a world long since destroyed by the Age of Monsters.

Connie: "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if that was a fair trade-off..."

John: "Fair for who?"

Connie: "...I wonder."

Peace...I'm not so sure it can always be called that.

There was peace between Humanity, sure, but the entire world itself? Not one bit. The Monsters were the last piece of the puzzle known as peace. Rather, it would be better to call them a broken puzzle piece from the box of chaos, forcing itself into the place of a better fitting peace puzzle piece.

If it could be removed, and replaced with something that actually fit with the vision of peace...

Bentley: "It'd be pretty nice, but I'm not so sure it would happen just like that."

John: "Why not?"

Bentley: "Because there aren't any beds left!"

All: "...Huh?"

I think he missed the point of our conversation, but, strangely enough, his answer still fit. His intention, however, was to redirect his own interests back into traveling.

Bentley: "Sorry, but this is where we split ways! There's a big festival coming up tomorrow, and I don't want to miss it, so uh...maybe I'll see you there?"

Jessie: "I don't understand...what does that have to do with the beds?"

Bentley: "Listen, you've all been really accommodating for me, and I would hate to leave you and Connie on your own with your issues but...I've got my own problems to deal with, okay?"

His tone and eyes softened as he said so, indicating possibly the most genuine part of his emotions we had ever seen to this point. Something, or someone, had been hurting him, and he intended to find the last piece of his own puzzle before coming back to aid us with our solution.

Bentley: "Maybe we'll cross paths, okay? In any case, you all deserve quite a bit of a break, from everything I had to see these past few days...I wasn't kidding about the festival. You should take a stroll around town tomorrow, wind down."

Steven: "We'll take you up on that. Thanks, Bentley."

Bentley: "Hey! And be sure to buy some potions next time! My manager will kill me if I don't get more of these sold by next quota!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Ghithyan Annual Festival was what he spoke of—a celebration that was held in almost every town, just based on the founding of its purpose. For example, as Steven explained as we readied ourselves up in the next morning:

Steven: "Every city likes to celebrate its founding, and Ghithyan's is December 25th. It's a way to...keep spirits up, I guess. Just a bit of fun in between the danger-filled year of Monsters."

Jessie: "We won't be in contact with our contractor for a few more days, so let's make this our welcome home mat, so to speak."

John: "Right, you said we came here for your next job. What...exactly do you guys do?"

Connie: "Eh. Bounty hunting, Monster-culling, diplomatic relations—the usual."

John: "None of that sounds usual to me..."

Such was the work of a freelancer. Today's task was simply to acclimate to the new society, and become knowledgeable on the streets of the city itself.

Jessie: "If we ever need to make a quick escape, it would be necessary to understand the layout of Ghithyan. Be sure to closely examine—"

Ann: "Oh, shut up! We're here to have fun! It's a festival, Jess, please just take the time to wind down a bit?"

Jessie: "I—yes. You're absolutely right."

It was then, as we stepped outside of the inn and into the festival, that the true meaning of a celebration became clear to us. The loud cheering, pompous vendors, flashing colors of hope and joy—Ghithyan's Annual Festival became my first ever party, and what a party it was.

And, for it be a "party" on this day, December 25th, that was—

John: "It's a pretty nice birthday present..."

Connie: "Huh? OH—"

Connie was the only one who would reasonably know about my birthday, considering our talk as we ended our journey in the prior village. Everyone else, after hearing those words, gave a similar reaction of surprise, but without the revelation. It was Steven who broke that silence first, trying to bring everything back to the cheery mood that surrounded us.

Steven: "Your birthday, huh? Well, how old are you this year?"

John: "I'd be...thirteen."

Originally, there had been no statement of discourse about my young age, even after my direct statement of being thirteen. It was only afterward, when I added the context to such a thing that only Connie would have known. That being,

John: "It's already been...two years without a home."

I didn't say it to gain pity or anything, nor did I even intend to say it with such a sorrow tone. It was a fact. It was only the truth. For two years, I had wandered aimlessly on my own, seeking nothing more than the purpose with which I was expected. After so long a time, I began to doubt that that purpose was truly for me, and then I met the Freelancers.

To be a hero.

You could say I had already accomplished it, having terminated that Smack Palm in the forest. If that goal was done, then could I return home, proudly boasting of my success?

No, there's still something I need to do.

Then, in that case, with a smile, I should stand proud and proclaim that I'm not sad anymore. I should calm their nerves, for after all, this is a festival! Why should I bring everyone else down just because—

Ann: "Well, you've got a home with us, now. Okay, Johnny? No more running away."

Ah, she beat me to it.

John: "Right! Come on, guys, it was so long ago now. Do you seriously think I'm upset about it?"

Connie: "R-right! Hey, today's supposed to be our day off from work and driveling boringness—let's just start moving!"

It's easy to shift away from a necessary conversation, and much harder to talk about what needs to be talked about. But—

The easy things are hardly worthwhile, and the things that give us the most joy in life are always the harshest to us. If I were to live a life full of ease, climbing over pebbles when I could be challenging boulders, then I would never be able to claim happiness.

But they don't need to be a part of my problems. It's a conversation for another day, with myself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We spent about an hour just observing the many things that the festival had to offer. It seemed as if the entire town, down to the center royal castle, had been filled to the brim with events, vendors, and makeshift games. After that hour had passed, Connie took Steven by the arm and, with a strength of which had never been seen before, she forcefully pulled the supposed "strongman" off to the side, exclaiming her intentions back to us as we watched Steven's fearful face disappear into the crowd.

Connie: "Okay, fun being with you all, Steven and I have to go now, alone, don't follow us, okay? Bye! We'll see you laterrrrrrrrrrr!"

Jessie: "...I'm almost certain that they're dating by now."

Ann: "Just dating?"

John: "I think I need to erase my memory of everything that just happened there..."

I had always had an aversion to the sight of love. I think many kids often do—it usually stems from their parents being lovey-dovey, and so anything in that realm begins to remind them of—

John: "It's just like my mom and dad..."

Jessie: "Hm? Did you have a good relationship with them?"

Ann: "Jess! Pipe it down!"

Jessie: "I don't understand, are we not allowed to ask the boy questions?"

John: "It's fine, go ahead. I figure questions are bound to happen by now..."

Ann: "Ugh, fine. But in return, you better ask us some stuff, too!"

Riley: "ROWH!"

Butting into the conversation was a young wolf with gray hair, and bright adventurous eyes. Over the course of our trip to Ghithyan, his quiet and shy demeanor began to change, as he became more excitable and eager to play than ever before. This festival was an opportunity for him to be surrounded by people other than his new owners, and possibly be capable of acclimating to high amounts of stress.

But, for now and much longer, he would take a secondary role to many of the scenes he accompanied. Simply observing, barking every now and then, and serving as a comfort toy when needed—that was all that was required of him.

Of course, I had also been taking a minor role in this story so far; it seemed as if most of the world's focus had been slowly shifting away from me, and further onto the Freelancers. In all fairness, there wasn't much to say about myself as of yet, and so, even as I record these memories, I understand that they seem to be the true protagonists of this point in my life. As such, they will be written in that way—also as such, I, as the secondary character, continued to poke and prod into their lives via endless questioning, such as a young child without manners would have done.

John: "What's your job in Ghithyan?"

Jessie: "A Monster extermination for a Mothra. We're to await information on its whereabouts, which should be relinquished in the coming days."

John: "A Mothra...Are you the leader of your group?"

Jessie: "The leader depends on the mission, and which strengths it requires. For this task, it's likely that Ann will be leading, seeing her expertise on Monsters and their weaknesses."

Ann: "When you can phase into anything you want, it gets easier to study a thing's anatomy!"

John: "Oh...But how did you die? You've got a blood splatter on your shirt, is that it?"

Ann: "My death wound is a lot more hidden than you'd think, so no. It was a...warzone accident, we'll call it. Jess and I just got caught up in a little something, that's all."

Jessie: "An understatement..."

John: "Can any of you do magic?"

Jessie: "If you're referring to your Rune, then no. None of us possess such techniques. You've got a rare gift, actually."

John: "How rare is rare?"

Ann: "To put it simply, seven Runics were chosen out of the dying population of about 100,000 Humans. For the most part, the numbers have stayed pretty consistent since those first seven were chosen."

Jessie: "What's more, is that no Runic has ever held the exact same Rune as a previous Runic. Your power is unique to yourself, even among the most unique people in history."

Ann: "The same goes for other Runics too, though, so don't get on your high horse just yet."

Round one of the questioning came to an end, as a small bearded man with fiery orange hair interjected from his stand as we passed by. The man, holding two blackened sticks, gestured his surrounding crowd to the passerbys—us.

???: "Did I hear you folks correct? Magic? There's talk of magic over there?!"

Crowd: "Oh! Where! Is it another Elemental?"

???: "Oh, there they are! The young boy with the two maidens and a wolf! What a strange little family...ya've either got two moms, or you're just that good at charming the ladies!"

Jessie: "Would it surprise him to know that neither of those is even close to the truth?"

Ann: "I don't really think that was the crux of his point, so no."

???: "Well, come join us! I heard a bit of magic-talk being thrown around back then—what were ya saying?"

Jessie: "It doesn't concern you—"

John: "I was just asking my friends if they knew magic!"

Jessie: "...Dammit."

As Jessie placed her armored hand over her face, in sheer disappointment of my lack of impulse control, Ann guided me closer to the spectacle that the strange—and short—man was about to produce.

???: "Well folks, for those new here, my name is Maximus Ardoyle! The famous Flame Elemental from Beyond the Great Barriers!"

Crowd: "From beyond the Barriers?! How wonderful!"

John: "Beyond them? But that means he's like me. Is that...special?"

Ann: "Not in the slightest. Just give him time..."

Maximus: "What I am about to show all of you is the sheer divine power of my own creation—that of the Flame Elemental! If you would all simply cash in now, there's a small hat just down there...and a little more...alright! Let the show begin!"

Fishing for tips where he could, the man who proclaimed himself to be an "Elemental" capable of fire magic began his presentation. The two blackened sticks that he wielded were held up to his face, where he slowly and quietly blew on them until a spark appeared. With that spark, the man kindled the ember into a blazing flame confined on the sticks' points. His two flaming sticks became the main focus of his act, as he tossed and juggled them around, swinging them wildly without the flames ever ceasing—it was a perfectly normal act for a circus, but hardly anything that could be considered magic.

Maximus: "And now for the final miracle!"

Taking the flaming stick in his left hand, he raised it up to the sky; then, as his head slowly tilted backward, and the stick pointed downward, the flame closed in on the man's lips as the entire balled point of the stick was consumed without even a wince from the supposed pain. To consume an entire flame like that, and then, as he demonstrated so just a moment later, to further put out said flame within your mouth, and not have a scratch on your tongue whatsoever—

John: "There's no way...is he really?!"

Crowd: "He truly is an Elemental!"

Jessie: "It's nonsense..."