Mission, start! 3

Ellianor walked out of the hotel, the key safely stored within his inventory.

Orange eyes kept a silent watch over her friend, a slight smile on her lips, giddy to get to run through the trash piles.

"Don't even think about that," Ellianor warned, and a sharp shriek came from his friend, unhappy with the warning.

"I am just looking, okay? I am not going to do anything stupid." She whined, and the black-haired man turned to look at her, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Kissenn looked away, her face breaking into an embarrassed frown. "I promise not to make anything BIG stupid."

Ellianor was not filled with confidence after hearing those words, on the contrary.

He approached Kissenn, watching over her steps silently as the black-haired woman blushed in embarrassment.

People walked and talked everywhere, a sentiment of crowds filled the streets of the Scrapyard, as vendors were everywhere, and no cycle of day and night was visible.

The place was always on high capacity and filled to the brim with passersby, vendors, and buyers seeking all kinds of things, and people spelunking on the piles of trash and metal as if it were natural.

Buildings and large scrap piles existed side by side, a picturesque view of a place that should not be ripple for life to prosper, yet it did, from people that looked like birds, or human-hybrids with birds, to robots.

It was filled with all kinds of beings who wanted to make a living or survive in that place. The air was strange, it was not cold or warm, nor was it dry or humid.

Only the smell of rust, dust, and rotting components with a small pinch of dirt and rock smells existed, just like a junkyard. It was a junkyard, in any way you looked like that.

'How bad it is to warrant the presence of Wardens multiple times?' Ellianor held them at the highest point of strength, and Goreas said other Scrapyards existed, but were not that big.

It was as if the place was amassing everything that it came in contact with, adding it to its mass and metaphorical treasury. Constantly in expansion and search of more, anything to add to itself.

Biological hazards, mechanical ones, rock and raw ore, metal plates, and electronics, biological or robotic, did not matter.

They walked, and he saw people dismantle a vehicle, a type of jet in mere minutes.

It was gone, down to the last cog and screw, and bleed dry from any oil within it. On a metaphorical level, the place was alive to absorb and to add to itself, even if it was just a pile of rock.

The people acted like an emanation, a personification of the concept that place represented. A resting spot for all that was lost and forgotten, a patchwork of materials and anything.

The place was not pleasant, and even the hotel they were in had a baroque, rustic atmosphere to it, but there was no deniable evidence of how the Scrapyard held its unique beauty.

Even if that beauty was built upon the corpses of those stranded in it. 'Eat or be eaten, as a place.' The duo hoped there would be anything willing to place those words on a physical level.

Becoming food of something unfortunate enough to attack was not a desirable experience. Ellianor noticed that Kissenn only held one sword by her waist instead of the dying blades she once held.

"What happened to the other one you had? You have only one sword." Ellianor questioned in an attempt to start a small talk, it was better than starting to talk openly about the Scrapyard they knew nothing of.

"It melted while I fought. No big deal, I still have one to spare." For a moment, red eyes fell on the lonely blade, slightly charred and a bit twisted because of the hit that enveloped it.

It, however, was still in "fighting shape", refusing to bend or break despite the heat that it endured, charred and blackened, but whole and defiant, to fulfill its purpose even as it was damaged.

A nice blade, that for some reason filled her heart with nostalgia. An ostalgia that was not there two days ago, a fondness that did not exist previously.

The blade only started to feel familiar once it was charred and damaged. Kissen wondered why…

"I see, so we both lost our weapons back there." Ellianor jested with a smile, breaking Kissenn's thoughts.

She smiled back at him. The blade he lost was more valuable than one of her swords, she could feel it from the stone sword's presence back then, but he still found time to joke and make fun of his loss.

Ignoring it would be rude and disrespectful to him. She received a smile back, happy that she liked the joke. "——! Help me!"Someone screamed from one of the trash piles, frantic shouts and screams came from there.

Everyone ignored it, used to the screams and insanities that happened within the Scrapyard. 'If one doesn't want trouble, they should avoid trouble' Type of mindset.

For a moment, Ellianor stopped walking, his hand rested over an invisible blade, itching to summon it, but it could break the natural flow of things, and mess with their time within the Scrapyard.

Kissenn looked him in the eyes, a silent confirmation that whatever choice he would make, she would have his back, independent of the consequences.

'It may be more trouble than it is worth.' Ellianor moved his hand out of the way, letting things take their natural course without his interference.

Kissenn nodded in solemnity and pity towards the person who screamed, and they walked away. 

They continued to explore the streets, watching the sceneries unfold and seeing the diversity in everything, even if it made no sense.

A ring echoed inside Ellianor's brain.

[QUEST STARTED: THE JUNKYARD PROBLEM

REWARDS: 700 EXP

OBJECTIVE: DEEP DIVE INTO THE JUNKYARDS OF THE SCRAPYARD TO FIND THE FEARSOME MEMBERS OF THE TERMINAL SLAYERS]

Ellianor looked back from where the scream came.