He walked to the edge of the roof, the cold wind whipping against his face, and looked down at the empty, quiet street below.
The neon lights flickered in the distance, casting long, distorted shadows that stretched across the pavement like sleeping beasts.
He let out a long breath, watching it dissolve into the freezing air, and finally allowed himself to relax his shoulders.
The mission was complete, the loose ends were tied, and for the first time in months, there was nothing pressing demanding his immediate attention.
He turned around, walked back toward the center of the platform, and sat down with his legs dangling over the concrete ledge.
It really is quiet tonight.
"Why are you still sitting in that rickety wheelchair? Didn't Mosna already repair the control program in the Gnoll Civilization Museum? The biological pod made specifically for gnolls should be usable now. Didn't you get yourself treated?"
Later that day, at the entrance to the Green Palace, Murphy stood beside Princess Fleur, who was smiling as she welcomed their honored guest. He eyed Hogg, who was pushing his wheelchair toward them, with an odd expression and teased him:
"Have you fallen in love with the feeling of sitting in a wheelchair, shorty?"
"It's not what I want, Lord Murphy—cough, cough. Commander Murphy."
Hogg sat in a wooden wheelchair and pointed at his head with a helpless expression.
"My body has recovered, but some kind of mental 'pressure' has grown heavier and heavier recently. The closer I get to the Origin, the more pronounced it becomes. A few days ago, I completely lost feeling in my lower body.
Lord Payin examined me personally. He told me that once this mental pressure is dispelled, I'll be able to stand again."
"Hmm, I see."
Murphy nodded and asked