412 Something Big is Afoot—Spreading Wings and Fly into the Clouds

8 p.m., Saturday.

Demon Faction, Sin City, the second floor of a certain tavern near the city gates.

Near the window, a middle-aged warrior had been mingling nearby the Sin City portal, the cities' various famous taverns and shops. Then, as if an old cat that had picked up the scent of fish, he narrowed his single-eyelid gaze as he excitedly scanned the endless crowd at the street below from the window ledge of the higher floor, all while happily grabbing sweets from the plate before him, stuffing it into his mouth and chewing slowly.

The name of the middle-aged warrior was Squealing Hog, an elite enthusiast who had lived as a professional player for many years.