When we stepped out of the Tower of Worsetingale, the first thing that hit me was the air.
Fresh air, even if it was fake, it was more fulfilling than what felt like hours in there, god, it smelled faintly of apple pie.
The scene were strangely orange, like a nightstand lightbulb, it shaded the trees, the people and the blood a hue that was… Almost nostalgic and trancing.
Then I saw them.
Just a few meters ahead, right near the forest clearing, stood three very familiar figures—Hailie, Akira, and Marc—absolutely drenched in sweat, surrounded by the enormous corpses of five brown bears. The bodies hadn't despawned yet, steam rising faintly from their ragged fur.
…They hadn't despawn yet? I have one theory for that, indeed I do.
The trio looked like they had just crawled out of a raid gone wrong. Hailie leaned on her staff, panting, while Marc knelt down, checking his armor. Akira stood upright, her posture rigid even through the exhaustion, shield still raised out of instinct.
