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Sylanwood, Outskirt of Barcemanca, Time: 8:00 PM
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The carriage door swung open to reveal Barcemanca, or what remained of it. Derelict buildings stood dark and empty, only the wind stirring scattered debris through abandoned streets. An oppressive silence hung over the ghostly town, sending a chill down their spines.
Bada stepped down cautiously, fidgeting something on his gauntlet. "Stay alert," he murmured. "We know not what lingers in the shadows here."
Bada pressed a button on his left agent buds, activating a visor night vision, the haunted ruins rendered in ghostly greens and grays on his HUD. Beside him, Mianne whispered an incantation, writhing magic coalescing in her palm to illuminate their surroundings.
They moved through the desolate streets single-file, senses straining for any signs of life. Doors swung crookedly on broken hinges, belongings lay strewn as if dropped in a panic. But not a soul stirred anywhere.
"Whatever happened, it seems they left in great haste," Bada remarked grimly, studying an overturned wagon. Mianne nodded, magic flickering erratically with her unease.
Badas' night vision suddenly glitched, static momentarily obscuring his display. He smacked the side of his ears piece, but the image remained jittery, flashes of strange shadowy shapes appearing then vanishing again.
"Hmph, well, that's one check on the list," Bada muttered to himself. He had seen these paranormal activities before, so it wouldn't scare him this time.
James heard Bada's words, "Seems like you've got the handle on everything. I guess that's how ArchSentinels go, huh?" He was a little jealous at how calmly Bada was handling the situation.
Bada chuckled a little as he smiled, "You just need experience. I had to learn as much as you do, James. ArchSentinels are mostly chosen based on their specialization. I was given my role by my idol." Bada gripped his suit with a smile on his face.
"I see... you never told us about your mentor. What were they like?" James asked, knowing that people stronger than him had to be trained by others.
Bada looked at the sky, his smile still shining as he tried to remember the past.
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Meanwhile, 5 years ago...
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Sugar was punching Bada in the face repeatedly, his hand holding him in place. It made a nasty crack on Bada's face.
"Oh god, I think you broke something!" Bada covered his nose as Sugar stopped for a second.
"Bada, what did I tell you about trying to recover in the enemy's hold?" Sugar stated, his expression neutral.
"Not to...?" Bada guessed the answer, his left eye winced as he slowly opened it.
"Correct answer." Sugar smiled as he continued his assault on the poor boy.
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Sylanwood, Barcemanca: The Street, Time: 8:30 PM
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Bada realized the memory of his mentor, "I don't want to talk about it." As much as he loved his idol, he had some... interesting methods.
"Aw, why not? Surely, your mentor must have been your father, right?" James stated. Asmon must have been, if it wasn't him, then how did Bada get these proper attitudes?
"Let's just focus on the mission, alright?" Bada rubbed James's hair as all of them continued to traverse through the desolate town.
James decided to give him puppy eyes before Bada sighed, deciding to give in.
Bada smiled wistfully as James inquired after his mentor, though shadows seemed to pass behind his eyes.
"I'm afraid my teacher was not my father, though arguably just as...impactful, for better or worse," he remarked cryptically.
Fond yet complicated memories surfaced of bruising sparring sessions, and wise counsel given alongside playful taunting. Hands that could shatter bones one moment and ruffle his hair the next...
Bada shook himself. "In any case, they imparted many philosophies that guide me still today. 'Always project strength, even when you feel weakest,'" he quoted.
"Although, he has his girlfriend to help him out with that one because one of his quotes is just 'Shit happens, and you can't do anything about it.'" Bada laughed, causing a giggle to come out of James.
James listened eagerly, but Bada decided against recounting any specific tales. His mentor's legacy was...complex.
"Suffice to say, they pushed me far past imagined limits to find the sentinel within," Bada summarized. "Often through rather unconventional methods..."
He unconsciously rubbed his jaw, vividly recalling the "motivational" right hooks. But a deep well of admiration still lingered beneath the lingering aches.
"I owe who I became to their peculiar tutelage," Bada finished earnestly. "One day I hope to pass on similar wisdom, kindled through hardship into strength."
James grinned excitedly at that prospect, always hungry for new mentors. But discussion halted abruptly as Mianne signaled ahead.
Faint music reached their ears, unearthly notes that sent chills down their spines. Gripping their weapons tighter, they crept towards the source through the ghostly ruins.
Drawing nearer, the hypnotic melody overwhelmed their senses. Bada's vision blurred, and strange images flashed through his mind. Beside him, Mianne and James wavered on their feet, equally entranced.
Bada shook his head sharply, the hypnotic fog clouding his mind dispersing. The ominous figure had vanished, no trace remaining save lingering unease.
"Is everyone alright?" he asked James and Mianne worriedly. They too seemed to be regaining clarity, expressions confused but unharmed.
"Y-yeah, I think so," James said unsteadily. "What the heck was that about though?"
Before Bada could speculate, Mianne touched his arm. "Look!" She pointed down the street where warm lantern light now glowed in a window.
Cautiously they approached the one lived-in dwelling amidst the abandoned town. The door creaked open to reveal a bewildered elderly man peering out.
"Eh? Who's there?" he asked, squinting at the strangers.
Bada stepped forward diplomatically. "Apologies sir, we did not mean to disturb you. We are...visitors, searching for clues about the fate of this village."
The old man frowned. "Fate? Nothing wrong with our village that I know. Though we don't get many travelers out this way."
The trio exchanged stunned glances. According to Asmon, Barcemanca had been utterly emptied years ago. Could this man be a ghost? Some illusion?
Bada cleared his throat. "You say you have seen no odd events or disappearances here then?"
"None that I can recall," the man shook his head.
Bada hesitated before asking carefully, "Might we speak with your mayor about the town records? There may be past events forgotten to time now."
But the elderly man just peered at them in bafflement. "Mayor? We have no mayor. Is this some jest?"
Indeed nothing about this encounter made sense. Unease stirred in Bada's gut - they had found one living soul, yet no answers.
Bada tried again to gently probe the befuddled old man for answers about Barcemanca's fate. But further inquiry only deepened the mystery.
"Town records? Census? I've no idea what you speak of," the elder insisted, squinting in confusion. "This has always been a simple village. Though my memory ain't what it used to be..."
Bada suppressed a sigh, shooting Mianne and James a subtle helpless look. Clearly, no straightforward truths would be gleaned here tonight.
Behind him, Mianne twirled a finger beside her ear, crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue. James struggled to maintain a straight face watching her silent antics.
"Well, our apologies for the intrusion then," Bada told the villager diplomatically. "We shall let you return to your evening."
The old man nodded amiably. "No harm done. Feel free to stay if more lost travelers come this way." He waved a gnarled hand before closing his door again.
As soon as it shut, Mianne doubled over snickering. "Okay, that guy was absolutely bonkers!" she laughed. "Kept staring at your forehead instead of your eyes the whole time!"
James finally gave in to his suppressed laughter too. But Bada looked more troubled than amused after the bewildering encounter.
"Something here is amiss, though I cannot deduce what," he murmured, gazing around the lifeless town and one illogical sole inhabitant. "We appear players in some absurd masquerade..."
Mianne's grin faded as she too sensed they were embroiled in an unsettling riddle yet to fully unfold. And the night still potentially held unseen dangers...
Their chuckles died away, replaced by wary vigilance. Pieces lurked beneath this puzzle - but fitting them together could prove more jarring than anticipated.
"Hmph, good kids, aren't they? Remind me of..." The old man pondered for a bit, "What was I thinking again?" He checked the newspaper, trying to learn something.
He could hear a faint melody, an almost harmonic tone behind him. It felt familiar, a song that made him feel tranquility.
"I must have turned the radio on accidentally..." The old man walked toward the radio; it had been silent for almost a year. He tried to adjust it, but the song felt louder like it was close to him.
The old man felt something breathing down his neck as he turned to his side to see his wife's head. Her skin was pale, her eyes jet-black with streams coming down from them, wearing a wicked smile.
He was about to scream before it took him away, devouring and eating. Blood splattered all over the wall and shelf, with the radio stained with blood.
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