Celebration

Xilian studied himself in the mirror.

Compared to before, he had grown sturdier, thanks to the Resilient Body Trait.

Nearly every extraordinary on every path possessed this general ability. As they rose in rank, the trait grew stronger, improving their physical abilities across the board.

Xilian raised his left hand, doubt on his face.

Ever since the Ouroboros Mark had stopped accepting sacrifices of Demons, Xilian had spent his night patrols acting like a killer. Every so often, he leaped down from the high wall and threw himself into a happy tangle with the Demons, hoping sheer numbers would do the trick.

If one wasn't enough, he'd try two. If two weren't enough, fifty.

Unfortunately, even after Xilian killed over a hundred Demons, the Ouroboros Mark remained unimpressed. It was as though it had grown tired of cake and wanted a tastier dessert.

"Looks like you won't be satisfied until I kill a Chaos Follower."

Xilian let out a long sigh.

At least the all-night slaughter counted as training. It had helped him grow familiar with his Torchbearer powers.

He opened the door, and a familiar aroma greeted him.

In the living room, Ava was preparing breakfast for the Sofluowa brothers as usual. She bustled among the cookware while meat patties sizzled in a pan.

"That smells great, Ava. What's for breakfast?"

Tim rubbed his sleepy eyes and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking expectant.

Without turning around, Ava said, "Toast, fried meat patties, and mushroom soup."

"Not bad."

That was what Tim said, but he was thinking, Those again?

Ava rarely changed the menu. It wasn't that she couldn't cook anything else; supplies in White Cliff Town were limited. She wanted to make other delicious dishes, but she always lacked some essential ingredient.

Seeing Xilian come out of the bath, Mick asked,

"How was patrol?"

"Very quiet. There were far fewer Demons," Xilian said, startling everyone. "Sometimes I had to go deep into the Wilderness just to find a dozen or so."

"The Demons were like ladies who weren't interested in me and didn't want to keep our date. It took a lot of effort to drag them onto the dance floor."

Everyone stared at Xilian blankly. Mistaking their reaction, he explained,

"You can think of the Source-Energy Tide as a periodic release of energy. It threw all the Demons and Chaos power accumulated in the Spirit Realm into our world at once."

"Now that the Source-Energy Tide has ended and all that stored power has been released, things will naturally be much quieter. But before long, Chaos power and Demons will fill the Spirit Realm again, waiting for the moment they can pour out."

Ava rapped the table. "No. That's not what we're worried about at all."

"Oh? Then what are you worried about?"

Xilian picked up his plate. There were two extra meat patties on it. "These are my extra serving, right?"

Ava stared straight at him. Xilian lowered his voice.

"...Right?"

"Xilian!"

Ava raised her voice. "Demons are dangerous! Most people can't get away from them fast enough, and you went hunting them down!

"Even if you're a Torchbearer now, don't go looking for danger!"

"Ah..."

Xilian had no idea how to explain. He could hardly tell her that the more Demons he killed, the stronger he became. He'd sound obsessed with killing them.

"I'll be careful."

Xilian gave his solemn word.

"You'd better."

Ava shot him a fierce look, then turned back to fry the meat patties.

Tim came down the stairs, snickered at Xilian, and sat at the table to enjoy the moment.

It was like a classic scene from a novel: the hero returned after vanquishing the dragon, while the princess waited for him in the castle.

The boys had just come home from a night of fighting to a warm room, where the girl they adored was carefully making them breakfast.

Ava stood on tiptoe to take a copper-handled ladle from its cast-iron hook. As she moved, the morning light gave the ends of her hair a honeyed sheen.

She always began preparing breakfast well in advance. A jar of blueberry jam already sat on the long pine table, while clear fat seeped from the patties in the sizzling pan.

Her youthful, graceful figure amid the aroma of food made the room feel especially peaceful.

It was a wonderful morning, as perfect as a scene carefully arranged in a novel.

How lovely...

Tim admired the sight, but a bitter pang soon followed. He glanced at Xilian, who was doing nothing in particular, and sighed.

"What a shame. Such a shame."

Tim shook his head helplessly, saying things no one else understood.

After Tim and Mick left, Xilian lingered in the living room a little longer, as if the two of them had planned it. Ava looked around, then brought over a plate with an air of secrecy.

"Try this. It's a dessert I just learned to make: Syrup Pancakes."

"Don't tell them," Ava said slyly.

Xilian understood. He picked up a knife and fork and cut off a small piece.

"It's sweet. Really good."

After one bite, Xilian praised Ava's cooking.

Ava beamed and puffed out her chest with pride.

"It'd be a waste to eat it all at once. I'll save some for a late-night snack."

Xilian ate only a quarter. He called it a late-night snack, but he clearly intended to let the others try it too.

Ava didn't mind. It was enough that Xilian had tasted it first.

After breakfast, Xilian caught up on sleep for a while.

He was in charge of sorting supplies and repairing the motorcycles for the trip to Her City. Tim and Mick patrolled the high wall and oversaw the repairs, while Ava joined the other townspeople in their daily work.

Toward afternoon, Xilian studied the map and planned their route.

Conditions in the Wilderness were unpredictable. A route that had been clear of ruins yesterday might be filled with a vast cluster of buildings by morning.

There were also countless ravines and cliffs across the Wilderness.

Xilian had to study the route carefully. One mistake could add several days to his journey through the Wilderness.

A few days might not sound like much, but the vehicles could carry only so much. Xilian couldn't bring many supplies, so he had to make every mile count.

After another stretch of writing and sketching, Xilian put away the map, pen, and paper.

Around midday, work on the high wall was finished. By evening, the townspeople would gather at the Town Hall for a long-awaited celebration.

Calling it a celebration was generous. It was really just a crowd getting together to eat and drink to their hearts' content.

For safety's sake, the Sofluowa brothers wouldn't stay long. After a quick bite, they would return to the high wall for their nightly patrol.

Xilian had no objection. After so many years, he was used to it.

The last light of the setting sun faded. The Torchlight Lighthouse had been lit early, its gentle glow spreading evenly over White Cliff Town and carving out a peaceful haven.

The celebration was about to begin. The women dug silk dresses from the bottoms of their trunks, where they had been stored with dried lavender. Gowns that had once graced engagement parties and christenings now gleamed faintly in the lamplight.

Silver pins trembled in gray-white buns, and tiny diamond earrings swayed against sallow earlobes. They softened cracked lips with their last scraps of beeswax, then crushed dried rose petals into rouge and rubbed it onto their hollow cheeks.

The men put on faded velvet coats, rusty medals pinned to their collars.

The townspeople all cared deeply about this celebration. In an age of despair and darkness, even the smallest bit of joy was precious.

Before long, the square was crowded. Open-air tables were laden with food, and townspeople chatted and laughed.

Children ran with lanterns made from tin cans and candles. Their light cast monstrous, flailing shadows across the ruined walls, as though they had all forgotten that the dreadful Grey Fog lay only one wall away.

Xilian stood before a mottled bronze mirror beside the square and smoothed his hair at the temples.

His reflection looked like a carefully framed oil painting. A charcoal-gray three-piece suit fit snugly across his straight shoulders. Beneath the collar was a stiffly starched white shirt, and even his cufflinks were enamel blue to match his pocket-watch chain.

Of the Sofluowa brothers, Tim was the tallest and Mick the most delicate and handsome. Xilian fell between them and had always drawn the least attention.

Dressed so carefully tonight, Xilian could hardly recognize himself. He looked nothing like his usual dusty, disheveled self.

"See? I do have good taste, don't I?"

Ava stood behind Xilian, admiring her handiwork in the bronze mirror. She pinched his cheek.

After Ava's careful efforts, Xilian really did look distinguished, almost like the heir to a noble family.

But the sword at his waist shattered that impression, lending him a frightening edge.

"I don't get it. Do you have to carry a weapon even now?"

Ava leaned forward to ask.

She tried to persuade Xilian to put down the sword. With everyone eating, drinking, and celebrating, its sharp blade seemed out of place.

"No. I can't stay at the celebration long. After I've looked around for a bit, I have to go on patrol," Xilian said, shaking his head.

"Then you could put it down and pick it up when you leave for patrol," Ava suggested. "You may want to dance with a sword, but I don't... It'll hit my feet."

Xilian rested a hand on the hilt. As he hesitated, Ava stepped close and looked up at him with large, bright eyes full of pleading and anticipation.

Xilian felt his heart skip a beat.

Ava had put up her long hair with a fishbone-shaped pin. Her pale-blue silk dress trailed behind her like waves steeped in moonlight. As she swayed her skirts, she looked like a goldfish that had swum ashore.

She rarely wore the dress. Supposedly her mother had left it to her, and in impoverished White Cliff Town, beautiful things seldom lasted long.

"Please?" Ava asked cautiously.

"Just this once."

Xilian took a deep breath, unbuckled the sword from his waist, and gently leaned it against the long table.

"Yes!"

Ava happily linked her arm through Xilian's and drew him toward the center of the square.

The celebration wouldn't last long. Usually, once the Twin Cold Moons had fully risen, the townspeople reluctantly went home, while the Sofluowa brothers climbed the high wall.

The mess left by the revelry would wait until the sun rose again. As they cleaned, people would fondly recall the previous night's fun.

And so the celebration began.

When the first accordion struck up an off-key waltz, a seventy-year-old widow suddenly lifted her patch-covered skirt and placed her age-spotted hand in the butcher's calloused palm.

They spun into a barrel of potatoes and crushed dried sage underfoot, until someone spotted the widow's dentures flying into the fountain as she whirled.

"Dance! Dance!"

No one knew who shouted first, but the cry spread like sparks landing in dry hay.

Ava took Xilian's hand and danced with light steps, like a swift skimming the ground. Xilian, by comparison, was clumsy. Only his exceptional physical ability and coordination kept him from stepping on her dress.

"You don't know how to dance?"

"Do I seem like someone who would?"

Xilian didn't know how to dance. Nuen had taught him to wield a sword, find his bearings, and survive in the Wilderness, but there were no dances to attend out there.

"My goodness, Xilian. You know how to do so much, but you can't manage the simplest dance steps."

"It's all right," Ava reassured him. "I'll teach you. Slower... yes, like that."

With Ava guiding him, Xilian swayed with her among the crowd. His gaze fell now on her face, now somewhere else.

Noticing his distraction, Ava puffed out her cheeks. "What are you looking at?"

"Tim," Xilian said with a smile. "He's sulking."

Just as Xilian had said, Tim sat in a chair, eating a chicken leg with a gloomy expression. Anyone could see he was unhappy. No one sat beside him except Mick.

"Why don't you go sit inside the Town Hall for a while?"

Mick teased him. "You look miserable. You have to watch the girl you like dance with someone else, and that someone is your own brother. You can't beat him in a fight, and you can't even drown your sorrows in drink."

"No."

Tim rejected the idea firmly. After a long sigh, a rueful smile appeared on his face.

"If I hid in the Town Hall, I'd miss this beautiful sight."

"What beautiful sight?"

Mick shifted his chair closer, trying to find what Tim meant.

"Ava. Look how beautifully she's dressed, and how well she dances."

Tim watched her in admiration, but his dreamy expression soon turned fierce. "It's just that Xilian dances so badly he's ruining the view."

Mick quietly moved his chair a little farther from Tim. Then Tim spoke again.

"Still, there's nothing to be done about Xilian's awful dancing."

Tim picked up a glass of fruit juice and drained it as though it were wine.

"Xilian's the only one who can make Ava dance."