Chapter 71: Morning Tales and Hangovers
The morning light streamed through the windows of Eleanor's Hearth, casting a golden glow across the bustling tavern. The savory scent of breakfast filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of ale from the night before. Near the bar, a burly adventurer groaned as he massaged his temples. "Why does he have to be so loud?" he muttered, glaring half-heartedly at the storyteller.
"You're just hungover, Rolf," said a mage at the same table, chuckling softly. She raised her hands, muttering a quick incantation. A small burst of light shimmered around Rolf's head, but instead of easing his headache, a loud popping sound echoed in his ears.
"Ow! What the—?" Rolf winced, glaring at the mage.
"Oops," she said, biting back a laugh. "Guess I need more practice."
Behind the counter, Eleanor mixed up her infamous hangover remedy—a thick, green concoction that smelled faintly of mint and something unidentifiable. She placed it in front of another groaning patron, who eyed it with suspicion.
"Drink it," Eleanor said firmly. "It'll help."
The patron reluctantly downed the drink, his face twisting in disgust. "Tastes like swamp water!"
"Maybe," Eleanor replied with a smirk, "but you'll thank me later." Despite the lingering headaches, there was an air of anticipation.
The storyteller, standing proudly on the small stage near the hearth, cleared his throat and adjusted his cloak. "Thank you all for your patience, my friends. As promised, we'll continue with something special this morning—a tale from a far-off world unlike any you've imagined. A world of conflict, power, and choices." He paused, letting the crowd settle.
Mugs clinked and plates scraped as adventurers and knights on leave turned their attention to the stage. Despite their grogginess, they were eager for the next story.
"This is the story of s-CRY-ed," the storyteller began, his voice deep and commanding. "A tale of two men destined to clash. One, a brash and independent warrior fighting for freedom. The other, a disciplined and loyal protector of order. Their names? Kazuma and Ryuho."
"Far away, in a fractured land torn apart by a mysterious geological disaster, there exists the Lost Ground—a place where the remnants of humanity struggle to survive amidst chaos. Here, some are born with the mysterious ability known as Alter, a power to reshape matter through sheer will.
In this harsh world, Kazuma lives as a rogue—a hotheaded and fiercely independent mercenary. With unkempt brown hair and a wild grin, he embodies raw power and defiance. For Kazuma, survival means fighting, protecting those close to him, and never bowing to authority.
Kazuma wields an Alter ability he calls Shell Bullet, which manifests as a massive, energized gauntlet on his right arm. It grants him explosive speed and strength, allowing him to deliver devastating punches that can obliterate anything in his path.
One day, a job brings him face-to-face with HOLY, an elite force that works under the Mainland government to control and capture rogue Alter Users. Among HOLY's ranks is Ryuho, a young but highly skilled officer. Unlike Kazuma, Ryuho is calm and disciplined, driven by a deep sense of duty to maintain order. His Alter, Zetsuei, is a sleek, snake-like entity that strikes with unparalleled precision.
When HOLY targets Kazuma, their battle begins with all the ferocity of a storm. Kazuma's reckless, all-out attacks clash against Ryuho's precise, calculated strikes. The two combatants are as different as fire and ice, yet their powers are evenly matched, shaking the very earth around them.
Despite his raw strength and unyielding spirit, Kazuma is no match for Ryuho's experience and tactics. As their fight reaches its climax, Ryuho's Zetsuei lands a decisive blow, leaving Kazuma battered and defeated. HOLY captures him, shackling the fiery rogue and bringing him back to their headquarters.
This world," the storyteller said, gesturing grandly, "is unlike ours in many ways. They have machines called cars that can carry people faster than any horse, and contraptions called planes that allow people to soar through the skies without magic."
Gasps rippled through the room.
"Without magic?" one mage scoffed. "Impossible."
"But how?" another patron wondered aloud. "Machines that let regular folks fly? If such a thing existed here, it would change everything."
A knight, his armor gleaming even in the tavern's dim light, leaned forward, intrigued. "Perhaps one day," he mused. "If mages and blacksmiths worked together, who knows what we could create? A flying carriage, maybe."
Others chimed in with their own thoughts. "Imagine how quickly we could reach the frontlines," said a young squire.
"Or how easy it'd be to explore uncharted lands," an adventurer added.
The storyteller let the murmurs settle before continuing. "While their world has its marvels, it is also rife with strife. Kazuma and Ryuho's conflict is but a reflection of the larger struggle between the haves and the have-nots, the powerful and the powerless. Each side believes they are right, but in the end, who can truly say?"
The crowd was silent, pondering the question.
"The world of the Lost Ground remained as unforgiving as ever, where survival depended on power, wit, and resolve. Following Kazuma's capture at the hands of HOLY, the rogue Alter User found himself in their custody, bruised but defiant.
While Kazuma languished in a sterile, high-tech cell, his fiery spirit remained undimmed. HOLY viewed him as little more than a wild card, a disruptive force that needed to be controlled or eliminated. Yet, even as a prisoner, Kazuma's presence sent ripples through their ranks.
Meanwhile, the focus shifted to Ryuho, the elite HOLY officer who had subdued Kazuma in their previous battle. Ryuho stood as the polar opposite of Kazuma—calm, composed, and dedicated to maintaining order in the chaos of the Lost Ground. His powerful Alter, Zetsuei, reflected his precision and discipline, a far cry from Kazuma's raw, untamed Shell Bullet.
Ryuho was tasked with a mission to apprehend another rogue Alter User wreaking havoc on the outskirts of the city. This mission offered a glimpse into HOLY's operations and Ryuho's personal motivations. As he prepared for the mission, Ryuho's demeanor revealed hints of the pain he carried—a tragic past that drove his sense of duty and his belief in maintaining control over the chaos of the world.
The rogue Alter User, Biff, was no match for Ryuho's strength and tactics. With Zetsuei at his command, Ryuho effortlessly subdued the criminal, demonstrating why he was one of HOLY's most formidable officers. Yet, this mission wasn't without its complications. While Ryuho believed in the ideals HOLY claimed to uphold, the harsh realities of their enforcement methods troubled him.
Back at the HOLY base, Scheris Adjani, a spirited and cheerful member of the organization, observed Ryuho with a mix of admiration and curiosity. Though Scheris often masked her feelings behind a playful demeanor, she was deeply loyal to HOLY and harbored her own reasons for fighting. Her interactions with Ryuho hinted at the complex dynamics within the group and the humanity that lingered beneath their polished exteriors.
Meanwhile, Kanami, back in the village, continued to dream of Kazuma. Her mysterious ability allowed her to sense his emotions, and she could feel his frustration and defiance even from afar. Her quiet hope and unwavering belief in Kazuma provided a poignant counterbalance to the chaos of the Lost Ground.
As the things came to a close, Kazuma remained imprisoned, his eyes burning with determination. Though he was temporarily subdued, the rogue Alter User was far from broken. He knew his fight was only just beginning, and the fire within him would not be extinguished.
As the storyteller stepped down from the stage, applause erupted throughout the tavern. Plates and mugs were raised in a toast to the thrilling tale.
"That was something else," Kael said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. "Kazuma's my kind of guy. Fights hard, doesn't take orders. I'd follow someone like him any day."
Alarcus chuckled, shaking his head. "You'd be a disaster under Ryuho, that's for sure."
Nearby, a knight quietly murmured, "If only we had someone like Ryuho leading our armies. Imagine what we could accomplish with someone so steadfast."
Even Eleanor, wiping her hands on her apron as she stood behind the counter, found herself lost in thought. "Machines that can fly," she whispered, a wistful smile on her face. "Maybe Reyn will make something like that one day."
And so, the morning passed, with the tale of s-CRY-ed sparking conversations and imaginations throughout Eleanor's Hearth. Though few realized it, the story had planted seeds of ambition, curiosity, and inspiration that would grow far beyond the walls of the bustling tavern