Ethan stepped out of the VR training area, his body drenched in sweat and his muscles aching. The D-Rank simulations had pushed him to his limit, demanding rapid reflexes, precise timing, and relentless endurance. He had completed wave after wave of scenarios: ambushes, multi-enemy combat, and high-pressure infiltration. Though exhausting, the sessions had honed his skills, forcing him to adapt and improve.
As he walked back toward his quarters, the weight of recent events settled over him like a suffocating cloud. No matter how grueling the training, it couldn't erase the memories etched in his mind. The dead outpost civilians, their faces twisted in pain from Syndicate experiments. Lyra, her final words urging him to complete the mission even as her body succumbed to the mind-altering weapon.
Ethan stopped in his tracks, letting out a slow breath. He knew he wouldn't find peace in his quarters, not tonight. He needed a change of scenery, a place to quiet his mind, even if only temporarily.
His feet carried him to Nara's Nest, a cantina tucked in one of Valeris City's busier streets. The hum of the city was a stark contrast to the silence of the compound he'd infiltrated days ago, but he welcomed the noise. The familiar buzz of life was grounding in a way that no training simulation could match.
The cantina was alive with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft strum of live music in the corner. It was a haven for mercenaries, traders, and locals alike, a place where stories of missions and adventures were swapped over drinks and hearty meals. Ethan stepped inside, greeted by the warm glow of hanging lights and the comforting hum of conversation.
Behind the bar, Nara looked up, her sharp eyes immediately catching sight of him. She offered a smile, waving him over as she finished pouring a drink for another customer. Ethan made his way to the counter, nodding briefly at a few patrons who recognized him.
"Well, if it isn't Valeris' newest D-Rank," Nara said as Ethan slid onto a stool. "Word travels fast around here, Walker. Congratulations on the promotion."
Ethan gave her a polite nod. "Thanks, Nara. Just needed a drink tonight."
She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "Tough day?"
"Something like that," he replied, his voice low.
Nara didn't press further, setting a glass of amber liquid in front of him. "First round's on the house. Consider it a celebration of your new rank."
Ethan murmured his thanks, wrapping his fingers around the glass. The liquid glinted in the light, but his thoughts were far from celebratory.
As he took a sip, his mind wandered back to Xelthar's compound. The faces of the outpost civilians he'd found there flashed before him, men and women whose lives had been stolen for experiments that twisted both body and mind. The memory of their lifeless bodies, piled like discarded tools, gnawed at him.
His grip on the glass tightened. How could anyone justify such cruelty? The Syndicate's pursuit of power knew no bounds, and Xelthar's operation had been a horrifying glimpse into the depths of their depravity.
Then there was Lyra. He could still hear her voice, strained but firm, telling him to finish the mission. She'd known she wouldn't make it, yet she'd refused to let that stop him. Ethan had respected her resolve, admired her strength, and now, her absence left a hollow ache he couldn't shake.
"You're carrying a heavy weight, aren't you?"
Nara's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She leaned on the counter, her expression softer than usual.
Ethan looked up, surprised by the question. "It's nothing I can't handle."
"Is that so?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Because it looks like you've got the world on your shoulders."
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't in the mood for a heart-to-heart, but Nara had a way of cutting through pretenses. "Just… thinking about the last mission. Some things you can't unsee."
Nara nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "I've been there. Believe me, I know what it's like."
He glanced at her, curious despite himself. "You?"
She folded her arms, her eyes distant as if recalling a memory she'd tried to bury. "A decade ago. My husband and I ran a small trading post on the outskirts. It was quiet, peaceful, until some Syndicate thugs decided they wanted what we had. He stood up to them, wouldn't let them take what was ours. They killed him for it."
Ethan felt a pang of guilt for his earlier dismissiveness. "I'm sorry."
Nara gave a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It broke me for a long time. I couldn't see past the anger, the grief. But eventually, I realized something: the best way to honor his memory wasn't to drown in sorrow. It was to live, to make this place-" she gestured around the cantina "a space where people like us could find a moment of peace."
Ethan was quiet, her words sinking in.
"You've lost people," Nara continued gently. "I can see it in your eyes. And I'm not saying it's easy, but don't let their memory drag you down. Let it drive you forward. Live, Ethan. Live, because they can't."
For a moment, Ethan said nothing, his gaze fixed on the glass in his hand. Her words resonated in a way he hadn't expected, cutting through the fog of his grief and anger.
Finally, he looked up, offering a small, sincere nod. "Thanks, Nara. For the drink, and… for the advice."
She smiled, patting his arm before moving to tend to another customer.
Ethan finished his drink, the noise of the cantina fading into the background as he collected his thoughts. Nara's words lingered, a quiet reminder that while loss was inevitable, how he carried it was his choice.
He set the glass down and stood, nodding to Nara as he made his way to the door. The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped outside, the bustle of Valeris City a constant hum around him.
For the first time in days, his mind felt clearer, the weight on his shoulders a little lighter. He wasn't done grieving for the lost lives, not by a long shot, but Nara's words had given him a sense of direction.
Tomorrow, he'd be back in the field, ready to take the fight to the Black Sun Syndicate. But tonight, he let himself find a moment of peace, knowing that the road ahead would demand everything he had to give.