"Ha—ow—" Yawning widely, Sora tied his shoelaces and called into the hut. "I'm heading out."
"Oh, safe travels," Tiffany replied, poking her head out with a smile for Sora.
"Yeah."
He hefted three animal pelts. Tiffany had asked him to sell them in the nearby town beyond the forest and pick up rice and salt on the way back.
"Partner," Dever grumbled from his belt, "I'm not saying this to be rude, but you were Gundaruf — mage, general. Now you've devolved into a plain hunter."
Sora shrugged it off. "Yeah?"
The sword's barbs grated a bit, but he sensed its sincerity. The blade felt natural in his grip — like an old comrade. He knew instinctively how to wield it, how to move with it, how to strike. They must have shared countless battles for that familiarity. (In truth, it was [Gundaruf]'s ingrained prowess.)
He crossed seven thousand meters of woodland with ease. Beasts shied away — overlords of the wild had fallen to him these past seven days, their hides now slung over his shoulder.
Here it was: the town.
Sora blinked at the bustling crowds, a vague disquiet nagging him. Something felt off. Cars rushing by… black suits, T-shirts, jeans. What's a car? What's a suit? Headache bloomed; he shook it off.
Grabbing a passerby at random: "Where's the fur trader?"
"Huh?" A two-meter brute glared down menacingly. "You don't know?"
"I'll show you I'm not soft." A ham-sized fist swung like a vinegar jar.
"Fight?" Sora sidestepped smoothly.
"Huh?" The giant gawked — that punch packed real power.
Then Sora's uppercut connected with his chin. Irresistible force launched the man four or five meters back; he crumpled, lights out.
Onlookers gaped.
Sora retracted his fist and snagged another passerby. "Fur shop — where?"
"A-ah, third-to-last on the west side!"
"Right." He released the man and strode off.
"Hoo—" The scrawny fellow collapsed, convinced he'd die. But… that guy looked familiar.
(Wait — four months back, queen's coronation in the capital. That's the man behind her! Griffin captain?! Here?!)
The thin man bolted for the town noble's manor, reporting the sighting for a gold coin reward. Windfall secured, he splurged on food and drink.
Meanwhile, Sora sold three prime pelts for five gold, slung two rice sacks over one shoulder, tucked salt pouches into his shirt, and trekked back to the woods.
Five days prior, Tabasa and Churuka had reached Sausgotha, demanding local nobles aid the search.
Nobles, unknown to them, moved to arrest — only to get schooled by two Triangle-class Academy elites. Chastened, they dispatched soldiers house-to-house: strange sights? Odd strangers? Loud booms?
Queen's edict arrived a day late: full cooperation with Tabasa and Churuka — or face earl Tabasa's execution right. War-level severity stunned nobles; most troops fanned out, quizzing all.
But Sora's crash site lay too deep in forest for town ears. No leads — needle-in-haystack futility. Tabasa and Churuka scoured daily, returned disheartened.
Today: Westwood Village report of a Griffin-captain lookalike.
Likely another dead end — yet they mounted Yunlong and flew.
By arrival, Sora was long gone.
Deeply disappointed, they nearly left — but the noble produced his tipster.
Drunken man, sweat-drenched before beauties: "Any traits on the man?"
He racked his brains desperately.
"Strong — one-punched a two-meter brute flying four-five meters. Hunter — pelts over shoulder, asked fur shop directions. Oh — waist sword gleamed high-quality."
"Sword?" Tabasa and Churuka exchanged glances, hope flickering.
"Dismissed."
"Fetch the fur trader," Churuka ordered.
Soldiers hauled the pudgy shopkeep.
"Fur sale today?"
"Ah, n-no?" He mopped sweat.
"Hmph — lying. I saw him enter," Churuka bluffed.
"Ah, lords! Didn't know he knew you — cut price half. Mercy!"
"You know him?" Churuka pressed urgently.
"Mercy if I speak?"
"Talk — or die." Churuka's wand tip flared red.
"Ah — mage lord! Yes — hunter from nearby woods. Odd — only this week, twice with prime pelts."
"Oh — first time, woman brought him."
Woman? Tabasa and Churuka's eyes sharpened.
"Know her? Lives in woods. Two kilometers past gate, five more north — cabin. That's all — mercy, mage lord!"
"Out."
"Tabasa?"
"Go."
They exited, Yunlong-bound to forest.
Flat roads meant nothing to the dragon; soon over treetops, circling till spotting a barren ring: five hundred meters radius of dead trees, vibrant green beyond.
"Remarkable power — unknown caster."
"Doesn't matter," Tabasa said.
Yunlong circled again; two thousand meters off, open glade. They descended: wooden cabin.
Three p.m.: dappled sun bathed the hut in serene peace.
Searchers couldn't help relaxing.
Tiffany emerged bucket-in-hand for water — spotted them: petite short-blue, fiery long-red.
She froze, then paled — recalling the Sword of Wisdom's words.
"Who?" Tiffany croaked.
"Pardon — tall man here with talking sword?" Churuka gestured: "High nose, eyes like this, face so."
Tiffany blanched. They seek Sora… come for Sora.
"I…"
The week with Sora — happiest since Mother's death. Headaches daily, fretting for him. If only it lasted…
Know? Lie? What to do, Sora?
"What's wrong, Tifa?"
Sora's voice from within.
Field-women froze.
Tabasa and Churuka's eyes blazed excitement.
"Sora! Sora — us! Tabasa and me, searching!"
"You bastard — alive? Thought dead!"
Sora emerged into sun-dapple.
Tiffany shadowed tree-back to him; short-blue stared trembling; fiery-red lifted tear-streaked face.
Blue-short, red-long — who?
"All good now — women at door. Handle it, partner," Dever snarked.
"Ah!!!" Memories flooded chaotic; Sora clutched head, screaming, collapsing.
"Sora?!" Tabasa, Churuka, Tiffany rushed.
Face purpling, body convulsing — agony writ large.
"What — why?!" Churuka panicked.
Tabasa silent, eyes worried.
Tiffany: "I can ease pain — but…"
"But?"
"Sora amnesiac. Can't recall past — hurts like death each try. Erase recalled bits — ends pain."
"Why — erases us too?" Churuka anguished.
"Do," Tabasa fixed Tiffany.
Tiffany eyed the short-flat-yet-radiant girl — stronger rival than busty redhead. Huge pressure.
"Understood. Step back."
Churuka, Tabasa retreated three meters.
Tiffany clasped hands, eyes shut, chanted.
"Narsis al Sa Awas…"
"Hagala's… also Polko…"
"Ned Ace Algerus…"
"Belken Mana Raghu!!" — [Void Magic: Memory Erase].
White light bloomed from Tiffany, sinking into Sora's brow.
Light faded; Sora stilled, eyes opening slow.
"Where…? Tifa — recalling again? Sorry."
"No… fine." Tiffany smiled bittersweet.
"What? You seem sad."
Sora hugged her close.
"Ahh…" Tiffany sobbed into him.
Tabasa and Churuka ached, helpless — craving his arms too.
Tiffany wept three minutes, calming red-eyed.
"Fine now, Tifa."
"Yeah… fine, Sora."
Sora eyed Tabasa, Churuka.
"So — these beautiful girls?"
"Heartless, partner," Dever griped.
"Your women: blue's Tabasa, red's Churuka."
"Uh…" Sora flushed, words failing.
Amnesia — sword says intimates, but blank.
"Talk first." Sora scratched head, pained.
Three women trailed into hut.
Silence, utter.
Round wooden table: three women, Sora — wordless.
Just their stares pinned Sora like death row.
Dever mute.
"Uh…" Sora tried.
Shing — three knife-gazes lanced.
Sora shrank silent.
Women eyed mutual — Tabasa, Churuka especially Tiffany.
"Take Sora home — restore memory," Churuka said.
"Yeah." Tabasa nodded.
"Sora pains — memories near-kill each recall. Don't want him suffering," gentle Tiffany argued.
"No — Sora ours."
"Best here."
"Other women's lives capital-tied — can't abandon for amnesia. Back — doctors cure."
"Well. Sora — mine." Tabasa added.
"I-I won't leave Sora. Past lovers, career — still won't. Stay. I like you."
Tiffany teared, pleading eyes on Tabasa, Churuka — then Sora.
Sora's heart wrenched. First sight post-revival: Tiffany. Week's pull — her scent drew him. Her smiles gladdened. First tears crushed him.
"I… like you too."
Sora pulled Tiffany embrace.
"Sora…" Tiffany wept joyfully.
"Sora — my hero."
"Sora — promised protect."
Tabasa, Churuka mourned.
Memory-first girl — yet their sadness stabbed like twin blades. Blood-pain.
Blue-short, red-long surged mind-ward.
No — stop. Sora clamped down.
"Hah—hah—" Sweat-drenched, memory-search ceased.
Three worried faces above.
"Fine… no need remember."
Tabasa, Churuka saddened.
"Tifa — dinner. Chat after. Sit by me."
Young-couple-hosting-friends vibe irked Tabasa, Churuka.
Tiffany beamed.
Sora felt sweet-awkward. Girlfriend-facing-new-girl flirt… I'm scum? No — man. Bit too much woman-trouble.
Tiffany's glow, Churuka-Tabasa beauties: resolve hardened.
Memory or no — none forsaken.
Shameless, limitless, Sora grinned — served ladies dinner, chatter flowing free.
(Shameless invincible — go get 'em, Sora.)