The contractor sitting in front of Quinn looked down at him quite a bit, considering the fact that he was over six foot while Quinn was. . . not even close, it was pretty obvious, especially to the fellow sword-for-hires that sat next to him. Each of them was a soldier in their own rights, a man carry a sword the size of Quinn's torso sat to his left, a woman with hands that glowed bright blue to his right, and half a dozen more scattered about, trying to appear interesting and powerful, powerful enough to finish whatever mission was about to pay enough to buy a small apartment in the inner sanctum of New Hope.

Finally, the contractor (Quinn remembered that he introduced himself, but couldn't care enough to learn his name) looked up, and smiled. "Well. I like what I'm seeing." He tapped the resumes each adventurer had put on his desk and straightened them, "I really do. However, I must warn you of the danger of the. . . I guess we could call it a mission, yeah, mission. Especially when your only," He held up a hand, then pointed at Quinn and put up a single finger, "one man strong."

Quinn nodded, "If I didn't realize the risks of this assignment, then I wouldn't be here." The contractor looked at him for a long moment before grinning even wider, and started handing papers back tot he other adventures before shooing them out of the room.

While they were leaving, Quinn took the chance to gaze out of a window behind the contractors desk, and immediately regretted it.

After the end of the world came, people had rebuilt. The sun was still shining at the end of the day, but now it was hidden behind a dozen miles of clouds, dark blue and black and pink clouds that moved asymmetrically, signifying their connection to the magic that had infected their world. The city walls were almost high enough to hide the outside, but from the second floor of the recruitment center, or any building for that matter, you could easily see the ruined remains of the world.

Large, jagged trees split up the already shattered landscape, strange animals swung from their branches and clawed at each other to try and wrestle a juicy fruit from the cursed wood they made their home in. Eventually, one kicked the other, and a shriek split through the air for a moment before it hit the ground, thankfully out of sight from the window. The other turned to eat the fruit, only to fall as well, as it was poison.

And poison it was, as well as about ninety percent of any organic material you would find where there had previously been apples, or bananas, or whatever fruits or vegetables existed back then, but were now locked away behind forty or fifty armed guards, only for the king and queen to enjoy.

Quinn kept looking out for another moment, but his gaze was blocked by the contractor, who finished shooing the others out of the room before sitting down. He reached into his desk and pulled out another sheet of paper, a sign that he was wealthy, as paper was expensive these days. He slid it across the desk towards Quinn before motioning towards a wall to his left, where a map of the land rested.

It was. . . pitifully small, five or six thousand square miles where there had previously been hundreds of millions. Quinn looked at the paper, but was cut off from his reading by the contractor, who had seemingly only put it out for show. Gods, Quinn hated rich people.

"Tera has stopped sending messages," Tera, a nearby settlement that had a population of two or three thousand, pitiful compared to New Hope, which was almost ten times that, "We simply need you to go and talk to the elder that runs the village."

Quinn nodded, "How is this dangerous, the path between them and us is clear?" It had taken years to kill all the wildlife that threatened them, but when they finally did, they were left with a bare rock pathway through an otherwise dangerous forest and cut travel time by weeks.

The contractor shrugged, "I didn't make the job. You'd have to talk to my boss for why the payment is so massive, but otherwise, I assume you're willing to take the job?"

Quinn nodded, and the two shook hands, sealing the deal. The contractor passed Quinn the upfront payment before motioning for him to leave the office, which Quinn did quite happily.

Stepping into the hallway and down the stairs was a motion that was almost second nature, considering he had done it so often. The downstairs was busy, with people of all shape, size, color, gender, and age drinking and laughing. Quinn smiled and laughed along, cheering at the drunk magician who was dancing on a table and casting cooling spells over peoples alcohol, playing with the table of gamblers, winning, then leaving as they started reaching for their weapons, paying for a drink and passing it to a man who looked like he needed something, and all sorts of activities to pass the time.

Finally, he walked through the door and out into the humid night, a strange weather pattern that had come with the changing season, signifying the arrival of the caravan of traders that traveled across the land. He sniffed the air and inhaled the scent of baking bread and soot, his feet moved quickly, almost dancing through the streets, and he skidded to a halt in front of the bakery he had worked at up until recently.

Dashing in, he slung himself over the counter, where he saw a very sheepish May looking down at her feet. He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it, "I know you don't work here anymore, but-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." He jumped over the counter in one smooth motion before dodging the new baker that had been hired in his place and putting on an apron. He pulled the now burned bread out of the over and dumped it into a bag, he quickly made another batch and threw it into the over. He grabbed the bag, and a few pieces of a batch that had come out good, and jumped back over the counter.

"Thanks Quinn!" May grinned, "You always know when to stop by."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem May, I just have a sixth sense for when you and, eugh, Brad, are about to burn down the place." May giggled as he mimed throwing up when he said the name of the new baker, and she shooed him off.

"Come back safely! I'll be here running the bakery, and make sure the bread doesn't go to waste!" She shouted after him as he ran out.

With one last stop to make, Quinn dashed to the blacksmith near the edge of the city, who was hammering against a glowing blade on a sturdy iron anvil. The ancient concrete building that held his shop had long since stopped resembling anything recognizable, but a dull, rotted, rusty yellow shape hung from the roof, two curved lines, like half circles, made a letter from a language long forgotten, and Quinn shouted over the hammering:

"Don! Donald!" The blacksmith looked up and grinned, dropping his hammer and releasing his hold on the heat resistance magic he had woven around his fingers to stand up and hug Quinn. Quinn patted him on the back awkwardly, and they stepped back towards the shop.

"Quinn! Ya'r sword is ready, give mi one second to get eet." His voice was deep and burly, heavily accented, and his large black beard muffled it somewhat. He ran back into the room he made his shop in and grabbed a long sheath and blade. "Some pritty good work, eef I say su miself, so don't go cricking this one like ya' did the last, ya' shurt budger!"

"Donald, I'm not that short." He felt the lie roll off his tongue, but Don simply chuckled. "I gotta go now, I'll be back in a few weeks, alright?"

"Ulright budger, off ya' go!" He pushed Quinn towards the gate and turned back to his work, and Quinn began jogging out into the outer city.

The 'wall' was less of a wall and more of a pile of bricks loosely held together with whatever ancient glue had been scrounged up and purified. It was barely taller than Don, who has a man and a half in his height, and Quinn barely believed it could keep anything out apart from the mutated rats that had grown several sizes too big.

He leaped over with a quick jump spell and felt his connection drain for a moment before refilling. Magic was strange, everybody had a connection to it, and that connection showed how much you could use in any single spell. Once you cast a spell, your connection would empty for a moment before it refilled, sucking in mana from the surrounding area. If you ever cast a spell that took more than what you had, your spell would either fail or it would barely succeed your connection would be completely severed, and it was the latter more often than not. Either way, that was magical theory, and Quinn did not like science or study or anything of the sort.

Quinn hit the ground with a dampened thud before casting a faster movement spell and taking off. The trees around the city cast large, unnatural shadows, ones that stayed in the same spot no matter what level of light, and seemed to reach out and tug people towards them. He quickly dodged one before curving his path around to the pathway towards Tera. It was going to be a long journey.