It had been about a week since the excursion to the ruins. The little girl was now safely at Cynthia and Barth's orphanage—no objections, no questions asked. After everything Trafalgar had done for them, directly or indirectly, neither of them hesitated.
Now, Velkaris was alive with its usual rhythm — glowing runic streetlamps hummed softly, and the faint metallic whisper of magic trains echoed through the air. Trafalgar stepped out of the station, stretching his shoulders as he glanced toward the northern district.
'Hm, the ruins were worth it,' he thought, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked. 'That armor alone… a Unique piece, plus a set bonus. Feels like a damn RPG. Except—' his gaze wandered to the crystalline skyline, '—if this is a game, where's the player? Or maybe this really is my world now.'
He shook his head, exhaling sharply. 'Pointless. There's no answer for that.'
