Bawang's current mission involved a simple yet crucial sequence of actions: indulging in a hearty meal, replenishing his energy, and biding his time until the witching hour. It was a moment when most souls would surrender to the embrace of slumber, rendering Fask Harbor nearly deserted. And that was precisely when Bawang would make his move, plunging into the depths of Fask Harbor for a colossal confrontation.
His body had traversed countless nautical miles with an almost supernatural fluidity, a single breath serving as his steadfast companion. Never had he relented, never had he paused to satiate his hunger. Consequently, the ceaseless journey had left him drained and famished, with an emptiness that was as profound as the abyss he navigated.
For a connoisseur of flavors, the gnawing pangs of hunger were akin to a symphony of torment, each note striking a dissonant chord within his very being.
