Walking with brisk and elegant steps, Remirg Kryptos was making his way towards the small town of Shisa, which resided barely a kilometer away from his own settlement.
The town, though small, always bustled with hordes of people making their way for their daily work. Being one of the most crucial port cities of the Kingdom, it served as a crucial location for export and import of goods.
Keeping aside its economic importance, the town was also famous for one other thing throughout the whole kingdom. The presence of the greatest number of restaurants.
Being a business town, a lot of owners had set up their restaurants, almost plaguing the whole of the city with it. From every point of view in this city, one could easily spot a food court or a small bar.
Nourishment was available to all at nominal prices right at their doorstep.
From a distance, one could easily smell the aroma of delicious food rising from distinct brick huts, announcing that the traveler has officially entered the food city of Shisa.
But with such a great blessing comes a great bane as well.
The great presence of food had also created a large group of "street terrorizers", often seen bullying people, snatching the food right off them, as though it rightfully belonged to themselves.
Though such cases were not very common, they were likely to happen once in every two weeks, almost like a routine cycle.
Remirg was an occasional visitor to this city. Sometimes, he will visit it just for the sake of fresh air, or for most of the cases, to get some food, if his supplies were diminished from the royal palace.
Being the son of martyrs who sacrificed their lives for the sake of this nation, a singular privilege was given to him, the continuous supply of food. Till Remirg managed to get a job, he was promised a plentiful supply of foodstuffs to his shack.
Being living in quite a large kingdom, some corruption was bound to happen and occasionally, the supply would arrive less than what was prescribed. And that was when Remirg would burst into the town.
The aftermath of the first quest and the training quest had drained a lot of energy out of it and a single day's rest was not enough to rejuvenate all of it. And he needed good food at that. He deserved something good after having experienced such harsh conditions.
And so, Remirg reached the town, humming to himself, letting himself calm his soul, trying to suppress the memories of his recent encounters, for now.
But still, one fact still resonated inside the back of his head.
"I'm getting stronger. It's just a matter of time before I get significantly strong enough to overpower those crackers. Just let them wait..."
Though still, the pleasant chirping of the birds seems to divert his mind into the world he truly belonged, his home.
After traversing a narrow brick path, turning a few nooks and corners, Remirg halted outside of a small and lonely shop.
Though the shop was not closed, its hanging sign clearly pointing out that it was currently functioning, the absence of any lighting inside the small and dingy shop told otherwise. The absence of any recognizable placard also contributed to its desolate aura.
Apparently, the shop was not appreciated enough, making it devoid of any customers, even though it was almost impossible for a restaurant to be not packed with them. This one clearly seemed to be an exception.
Stretching his dry lips to produce a faint, empathetic smile, Remirg entered the shop.
Indeed, Remirg was one of the few customers that knew about the existence of this shop. But to him, it was something special. A legacy which was the one and only remnant of memories of his parents.
The shop was, matter of factly, owned by Remirg's one and only uncle, the brother of his father. Though he too, was a part of the great battle, his luck seemed to have worked out.
Seeing all the horrors the war had bestowed upon the victims; he was terrified to the heart.
He vowed never to hold a weapon again and resorted to being a chef, one of the things he was the best at. And for Remirg, he always had a jolly heart.
The occasionally visits by his nephew would bring joy to his heart, as he clearly resembled the father in most of his prospects. And that was the one thing which made Remirg the most precious thing he had. One which he would sacrifice his life to protect.
And today was one of the days which proved to be a pleasant surprise for the forty-five-year-old Verberg Kryptos.
Sitting behind the dusty counter, facing not more than half a dozen chairs, he saw the familiar figure approaching.
Producing a warm smile on his face, he welcomed Remirg inside, almost shrugging him into the shop, trying to conceal him.
Having made himself comfortable in one of the chairs, Remirg turned around to face the counter, where, with what seemed like the speed of light, Verberg was already positioned, having zoomed past the entrance, standing right behind it.
"So young one, you show up after such a long time? Make your visits a little more frequent, wouldn't you!", exclaimed Verberg, throwing a sarcastic joke at Remirg.
Remirg replied in the very same style.
"Work calls. Had some pretty business to take care of."
Remirg had cautiously made sure not to reveal anything about the Simulator and his hidden training to his uncle. Meaning talks really had costed lives in the past.
Being in quite a hurry, wanting to enter back to the training island as soon as possible, Remirg ordered his food.
Verberg let out a usual sigh, marking the fact that he gave in to the futile attempts to make Remirg come here more frequently. Turning his voice a little business-like, he replied,
"As you wish sir", with a playful smile on his face.
It was one of the things that Remirg liked the most. The charming smile that his uncle produced. It somehow brought internal peace to his mind, stating to himself the fact that there still lived someone who cared for him, not discriminating for being different.
And that was quite special for him.
Nevertheless, he received his order of pancakes topped with mashed cottage cheese, in not more than five minutes.
Though the lonely cook didn't possess a working staff, his cooking skill were quite legendary.
Sheepishly grabbing the package from the scarred hand of his uncle, Remirg bade him goodbye, though with a hint of guiltiness. Of not being able to visit him much.
But still, waving the trivial thought away, he focused on what he was going to do next.
Feeling much better in the fresh outdoor air, he made himself comfortable against the foot of a considerably large oak tree, his de facto favorite spot in the entire city.
He started pondering about the future uses of the Basic Possession spell. The prospect of mastering its second level was also building inside him a sense of excitement.
The Basic Possession Spell Level 2 would really help in his future combats, as he may restrict his opponent's motion, simply by raising them off the ground, effectively immobilizing them.
He would then simply...
The chain of his thoughts were broken by the entry of two fairly built figures of adolescents, each one brandishing a stick, almost waist length.
Their facial features were quite haphazard, making them look a lot ugly.
A single gaze made Remirg realize what situation he was in. He was going to fall victim to the "Street terrorizers".
The thread of silence between the two factions was broken by what seemed like the older of the two, though it could not be told clearly. He was clearly sneering as he towered upon the sitting Remirg, blocking the Sun.
"Oi punk, you really wanna leave that stuff right here, will ya? I think that thing ya holdin' belongs to us, not it ?"
Remirg, who had already activated Prana presence, realized that they didn't possess any magical core at all. Their prana was immature, drifting away carelessly in all directions.
Quite satisfied about the outcome of the events which were going to unfold in a few minutes, he looked upon the two, his eyes showing not a speck of fear. In a very unamused voice, he said,
"Do you really want to mess with me?"