Servi nodded and opened the door. If she was able to have a free thought at that moment, she would’ve gasped. The floors were hardwood, with little strips of carpet acting as decorations. Pictures of different kinds of berry trees hung on the shiny wooden walls, and a small desk, with appealing notches carved into it, stood front and center against the back wall. A large book was opened, and it was surrounded by three exquisite candles. An elderly woman with glasses stood behind it.  

“Dearie, how—blood?!” she gasped in fright. Servi looked down at her arms and legs.  The blood had gone cold, and it stuck to her body and clothes like a wet piece of ham.

Servi ignored her and walked closer, prompting the woman to pull a small dagger from a sheath hidden under the desk. The flame of a nearby candle reflected off of its virgin blade.

Slapping a hand on the table and grabbing the dagger by its blade, Servi demanded to know if Momo came here.  

“A Singi did come in here crying, and I gave her a room out of pity, but I refuse to tell you if it was this ‘Momo.’ A part of me believes you were responsible for her tears, so I have to ask you to leave!” the woman said those words with a heart and voice backed by nothing but adrenaline.

Servi looked down at the book, which was most certainly a hotel registry and began to flip through it. The old woman tried to stop her but was forced against the wall by an invisible force.  

“Stop!” she begged, but Servi took a sword from her ring and pressed it against the woman’s chest. She quickly realized what it meant and shut up.  

I saw her name in the book, and she's in room 205. Itarr said.

Servi absorbed the sword and dropped the book on the desk, scattering uncleaned dust into the air. Then she released Telekinesis, and the woman fell to the ground, spraining her ankle.  

The woman opened her mouth to shout for help but stopped when she realized it would be useless. She was just held against the wall, and a sword appeared from nothing. A part of her mind told her that she was lucky to even be alive and forced herself to make a decision.  

“Stop! You murderer! Don’t you hurt—” the woman used the desk for support as she painfully stood up and roared at Servi. She responded by lifting her up with Telekinesis. Spotting a door nearby, Servi walked over to it and opened it to reveal a tidy room inside. A soft white bed, a simple candle-lit lamp, and some tables here and chairs were the décors of choice.  

Maneuvering the old woman around, Servi tossed her onto the bed. She slightly bounced and rolled off the other side, landing on the hardwood floor with a groan. Servi absorbed the opened door and blocked it off with two sets of Earth Wall before making her way up to the second floor via carpet-covered stairs.  

The second-floor hallway was narrow and cramped, with nary enough room for two people to walk side by side. The same blue and white stripes that decorated the exterior painted the interior.  Numbers, forged from metal, were on the top half of each door to indicate which room number it belonged to.  

Room 205 was on the right side of the hall, located three rooms down. Servi lifted her hand and gently rapped on the door.  

“Hello?” a tiny voice came from the inside.  Muffled by the door, Servi knew it belonged to Momo.

“Mosie, it’s me, Servy. Your best friend.  Please, open—“ 

“GO AWAY!!!” she shouted. Hearing the voice of someone claiming to be her best friend reignited the dying flame of anger in her heart.  

“Bu—“ 

“And don’t call me Mosie!!! You lied to me about everything!! EVERYTHING!!! Is Servi even your real name?!?! Did you even care about me?! At all?! Of course you didn’t! When we get back to Canary, I bet you would’ve lied to me!!! I bet you just looked at our friendship like I was a weak cat. You just wanted the satisfaction of saving me, right? WELL, NO MORE!!! I DON’T EVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!! I DON’T NEED YOU TO PRETEND TO CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE!!! I won the tournament! I’m stronger than I used to be!! SO LEAVE!!! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU EVER AGAIN!!!” 

An explosion of epic proportions occurred inside Servi’s soul. More and more cages began to explode. Unable to handle the growing emotions, Servi slumped to the floor.  

Servi… Itarr said in a voice full of sorrow. Even though she needed to deal with the emotional cages, she couldn’t be bothered. The explosion that happened wasn’t a violent one, but one of sorrow and regret. Right then, there was no chance of Servi going off the deep end and slaughtering everything in sight to fulfill her anger. It was impossible.  

Servi stayed kneeling in front of the door for minutes on end. During that time, the other residents emerged from their rooms to see what was going on, but since it didn't concern them, they ignored Servi, leaving her to wallow in her sadness. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore and made her way down the hall.

What are you doing?  

“Maybe it’s better if I died back then.” 

Don’t say that!!  

“If I died, then Momo would’ve found someone else to adventure with. Maybe someone who….deserves to be her friend.” 

You are her friend!!! 

“Shit….” Servi whispered. She reached the lobby and looked around. The depressed girl saw things that didn't matter, and that included her own reflection Servi saw in a mirror hanging nearby. “It’s not as if that even matters at this point,” making her way outside, Servi walked towards the nearest dark alley, but she was unaware that she was being observed by someone she knew.

Pulling out a dagger after she reached the alley, she stabbed herself in the throat. She died, but it was for just a moment that couldn’t even be measured.  

Servi?! Stop that! 

“Let me die,” she impaled her forehead, touching the hard concrete wall behind her with the tip of the dagger.  

Please! Stop it!!! 

“Let me die,” she stabbed her throat again but made sure to use her free hand to squeeze out everything inside, crushing her throat and windpipe in the process and throwing it all down into the dirty ground. But like before, all of the damage she inflicted on herself disappeared instantly. The sweet taste of death that she so desperately wanted was out of reach.  

STOP IT! 

“Please, let me die. I have nothing to live for. Not anymore. Memories? Who cares about that shit...” Servi forced herself to swallow the dagger as she pulled out another one to stab her eyes. It made its way down her throat, cutting and slicing any and everything it could.  Blood pooled in her lungs, but she didn't need to breathe.  It was futile since all of the damage disappeared, and Itarr absorbed the dagger after it stopped in her stomach. “These eyes can’t cry. This mouth can’t frown. My body is fucked up. I’m happy, then I’m sad, then I’m happy, then I’m sad again. I can’t control how I feel. Fuck, maybe I really didn’t care about Momo…..” 

THAT’S ENOUGH!!!!! Itarr roared. 

“Please, just kill—maybe I should walk around? I might find something nice,” Servi said, unaware that the smile on her face was held together so loosely with a stopgap measurement that could break at any point. Servi walked out of the dark alley with blood covering her entire body. It was like she stepped out of a literal river of crimson and left a trail of red behind her.

These events did not go unnoticed by someone she knew. Someone she met during her first three days in Canary. Someone she had a little bit of history with.  

He had skin the color of dirt and two pointy ears. A button-down striped shirt that had seen much better days had slight stains from being worn without being washed. His trousers came down to his feet but were too small in some areas, gripping his waist. A lone sword sat on his hip. He would’ve loved to have better clothes and a bow and arrows, but life wasn’t treating him the way he wanted it to.  

A few months ago, he had tried to take Momo away from Servi’s party and have her join his own. And even now, after he had forgotten about it, he smiled because of the Gods' generosity to allow him to witness what he saw.  

“With this,” Nimea said, greedily rubbing his  fingers together, “I can get my revenge. If you’re here, then Momo’s here as well. How would you react if she found out what kind of monster you are.” 

---

"Let’s see….the book at the front said she was in room 205,” Nimea whispered to himself. He thought it a bit odd that there was no one at the front desk, but he didn’t question it. If anything, he considered it a stroke of luck. He turned around and walked over to the steps. The wispy candlelight illuminated his dirt-colored skin for all to see.  

Unfortunately for the innkeeper, Nimea didn’t realize that the oddly colored surface he saw was an Earth Wall. And it wasn’t like the innkeeper could do anything to help, either. She was far too weak to stand up, and she didn’t have the strength to scream for help. Fear gripped her vocal cords and threatened to reduce the amount of oxygen that went to her lungs, so she could do nothing but wait for help to arrive. She hoped that someone would notice and send help.   

As Nimea ascended the stairs to the second floor, his mind raced back to that moment. It was just a few months ago when he first met Servi and Momo, and he really didn’t think much of them. At first, he wanted to be a responsible lower member and help his high-ranking juniors out. But when he heard about how Servi, the tank, couldn’t afford a shield, he got worried.  

How could a tank defend with no shield? It’s impossible. I couldn’t possibly let a dazzling flower like Momo get hurt or injured! Or worse, how could I stand by if there was a chance she could die?  

I knew that Servi was a rotten apple. I felt it in my bones when we first met, but I didn’t realize she was some kind of monster. To be honest, I was afraid when I saw her in that alley. How did she not die?!?! I have to get Momo away from that thing! 

Reinvigorated, Nimea reached the second floor and made his way to room 205. When he arrived, he noticed something strange and alarming. Someone had smashed the door and forcibly ripped it off its hinges.

What the? Why is it broken? Did she get robbed? 

Panicking, he rushed in to find an Elf in a white coat.  Turning around at the noise, Nimea realized that the mysterious stranger had a familiar Singi in his arms. She was asleep, somehow, and looked so peaceful as her pink hair draped down the side of her face. 

He couldn’t see any signs of struggle. The paintings on the wall were undisturbed, the small vase next to the bed was untouched, and even the silver bedspread and blue and white striped covers were perfectly folded up. The white carpet had red stains that could’ve come from either Momo or the stranger.  And since he didn't see any wounds or blood drip from Momo, he concluded there was a struggle, and it came from the stranger.

Shit, I don’t have time to think about that.  

Drawing his sword, Nimea pointed it to the only other conscious person in the room. “Put her down and leave!” he commanded.  

“A second one? Wait, you’re no Human girl with black hair and red eyes. Hmm…. What to do…..what to do. I suppose I can take you.” 

At hearing those words, Nimea charged in. Though he didn’t act like it, he once achieved Rank 7 and had a fair amount of combat experience under his belt. He went to fake a thrust but stopped in his tracks when his opponent reached into his coat pockets.  

“I didn’t want to use more than one, but I guess there’s no helping it.” The Elf in white smoothly muttered something and pulled out a small black ball.  It wasn't perfectly circular, and a small amount of dusty material fell to the floor. But what was strange was that the dust wasn't black; it was red and flashy like volcanic fire.

Nimea eyed this carefully and chanted Wind Strike. His opponent remained as calm as the surface of a dead lake and tossed the ball at Nimea’s feet. It exploded into a small cloud of black dust as thick as smoke. A short time later, he started to lose the strength in his limbs, and his eyes became heavy. He eventually fell to his knees, becoming acquainted with the bloodstains in the carpet. It was safe to say Nimea lost the battle, and he would soon visit the cold and lonely realm of unconsciousness.

“What a waste of a sleep ball... Oh, I have to leave this letter, or Sakdu won’t be happy with me,” the Elf said. He opened his Dimensional Storage and pulled out a letter he was given a few hours ago.  

“I have the utmost belief that the girl with black hair and red eyes will come back here. Is it not the behavior of a normal person to want to make up after having some sort of spat or argument? If not, then it’s no big deal at all. You’ll only be alive for a week, and it’s not like some Rank 10 could force her way through the Mafia. Not even a Rank 0 could do that.” 

With a mother's gentleness, the Elf placed the message on the bed where it wouldn't be overlooked. After that, he bent down to pick up Nimea by his left arm as he allowed Momo’s unconscious body to adorn his shoulder.  

“Now then, let the game begin,” he said. Making his way down the stairs and into the streets, he took a path that would ensure he wouldn’t be seen by anyone willing to tattle or betray him.  

---

“Oh, this little thing? It’s going to be 22 dupla,” a short man said. A fierce scar accented his exposed chest, and he sat behind a blanket filled with handcrafted wooden statues. The item the seller meant was a wooden figurine of a small cat sleeping next to a horse. Underneath the glow of the moon above, the statuette seemed much more vibrant and vivid.  

He was looking up at a girl with damaged leather armor. There used to be a shield attached to her left hand, and her red eyes didn’t harbor any life within them.  

“Yeah,” she said, in a voice that held no tone or emotion. Servi tossed down 50 dupla to the man and absorbed the little figurine. If he was frightened by the sudden disappearance, he didn’t let it show. Narrowing his eyes, the seller gave Servi a simple nod while pocketing the coin. He didn't try to give Servi her change back, and she didn't push the issue.

Good. If we give that to Momo as a gift, maybe she’d be willing to listen.  

“Yeah,” while Servi was walking by herself, her mind was filled with artificial thoughts Itarr produced by manipulating the right emotions. Of course, she didn’t want to do it, but she had no choice. The only way to fix her mistakes, in her eyes, was to tamper with Servi’s emotions even more as she brainstormed a way to permanently repair it.  

Now let’s go back to the inn.  

“Yeah.” 

I guess we were lucky to find this market.  

“Yeah.” 

I thought this place was nothing but the slums, like in Canary, but this side of the town seems nice. I’d say it was a good thing I got rid of all that blood so they wouldn’t turn us away. I guess the people we saw earlier aren’t allowed in here. Everyone here looked to be somewhat well-fed, so I suppose they’re healthier than those people near that RASP building.  

“Yeah.” 

Sobbing, Itarr begged for Servi to say something different. I love you, Servi. Can you say it back? 

“Yeah.” 

Say, ‘I love you.’ 

“Yeah.” 

What have I done now? Every time I try to make things right, I mess up. Servi, please, say something else! Anything else! I’m begging you! 

“Yeah.” 

The way back, through the twists and turns of the expensive noble-like district, with the clean roads and dirt-free buildings, into the dirty and slummy homeless-like neighborhoods, full of disease-ridden dirt and abandoned buildings, was awkward. More often than not, a scrounger would come up and harass Servi for some food or money. But she ignored them, and they eventually scurried off.

Servi responded to every question Itarr asked her with a single word. It was like the person Itarr fell in love with, her savior and rescuer, had died with nothing left but a former shell of what they used to be.  

And the worst part was she knew it was her fault. If possible, she’d prefer to be sealed up for millions and billions and trillions of years if it meant she would have a single second with the normal Servi. The Servi she met that so bravely jumped down into her seal-like jail cell. The Servi who risked her immortal life to free the slaves of Canary. The Servi looked past her grudges and hatred to make peace with the man she most wanted to kill. The Servi who became filled with such genuine happiness and joy that her best friend won the tournament.  

Itarr wanted that Servi back. And at the rate everything was going, she wasn’t even sure if she could get her back. The emotional cages were super fragile, and the problem itself could be described as the most mind-boggling Gordian Knot to have ever existed.

To get the right amount of emotions to precisely leak in a way that wouldn’t cause any damage or trouble was simple. The problem was the hundreds of other cages that held a near-infinite amount of emotions. Even after observing for months on end, Itarr’s infantile knowledge of the fickle concept of ‘emotion’ was much like a toddler’s. She couldn't come up with the right formula of when to leak out what and how much of a particular emotion in a way that wouldn’t overload Servi.

There has to be a way...  Come on, Itarr, this is your problem! You have to fix it!

Fifteen or so minutes later, Servi found herself facing the doors of The Berrycanta Inn.  

Servi, we can do this, right? I know we can... Itarr didn’t want to finish her sentence, but Servi didn’t notice. Like a robot, she followed her emotional commands. Opening the front door, she walked right past an empty front desk, up the stairs to the second floor, and stopped right in front of room 205.  

 Momo?! Shouted Itarr, after seeing that the door was ripped off its hinges. Servi cautiously walked in and examined the area. Other than the door, the only other things of note were a letter on the bed and red stains on the floor.

Servi picked up the sealed envelope, opened it, and read it out loud.  

“You don't know me, but I’m assuming if you’re reading this letter, then that Singi is no longer with you.  

“Are you scared? Frightened? Maybe seething with a rage that not even the Gods can extinguish? How did it happen? Did that fool Roko manage to do his job? How many times did he cut you? Burn you? Did he break anything? Are you wallowing in your weakness and self-pity? You may curse your very existence, or you may curse me; it doesn’t matter. But what does matter is this: I will give you a chance.  

“If you can get to me without me knowing, then consider this little game to be won.  Just know that your failure means that Singi's death, and your success, however improbable, means you would die in her place. Would you sacrifice yourself for her? Would you go to the depths of hell for someone even if it meant you won’t ever escape? Of course, this only matters if you’re angry enough to take me up on my offer.  

“I do suppose you need a starting point. Therefore I will leave you with this. Mafia.  

“This is a game with no winners, except for me, but let’s see how far you make it. The time limit is exactly one week from today at noon. I would say good luck, but that’s not really necessary.” 

Itarr was speechless. She couldn't think of a single thing to say to soften the blow. And she didn't know how to act. She might've been a Goddess, but her mental state and knowledge were anything but.  She quietly listened as Servi absorbed the letter and spoke out loud as a blank look adorned her face.  

“Itarr, I can only kill. All I’m good for is taking lives. It seems that I always have to turn to it. Was I a murderer before I lost my memory? Was this the life I led every day? Why do I not feel anything from tearing the heads off and crushing the hearts of my enemies? Do their feelings not count for anything? Just who the fuck am I?"

Itarr tried to speak, but Servi's sudden voice and deep tone cut her off.

“Momo, I’ll find the bastards who took you. I’ll kill them all and rescue you. Then, I’ll go my own way. That’s really all I have in my future, isn’t it? A world of utter loneliness...” 

For a split second, Servi growled like a Mad Dog.