Falling Star Pit, a place where directions couldn't be discerned.
The gray fog was heavy, the mountain rocks rugged and angular; a few protruding crystal stones were notably striking in the eyes of the caravan.
"We've circled back here again, something's not right, very not right!"
A burly man dressed in navy blue armor, wielding a sword and shield, furrowed his brow, carefully guarding the front of the carriage as it slowly advanced.
Although there were only a handful of Mysterious Evils around, posing no threat, the middle-aged strongman still had an ominous premonition.
Suddenly,
with a dreadful scream, the middle-aged strongman swiftly turned his head, only to find one less figure in his team.
"Where's Little Five?"
On hearing the captain of the guards' words, the few guards suddenly widened their eyes,
"Little Five... Little Five is gone!"
"He couldn't have gone to relieve himself."
"I remember he was just here a moment ago."
