A dream within the past.

  It was in that ice dungeon called the Frost-fire Grotto, a dungeon that had not yet been tamed because of its notorious difficulty. On its deepest floors. ‘I was standing there again, lost in a dream of regret.’

  ‘I could still feel it, the sensation vivid as if it were just yesterday—power flooding through me, strength anchoring deep in my bones, my soul steady as stone. Yet this was a dream I never wished to relive, again and again.’

  “Hurry... I don't want him to see me like this... I don’t want him to cry!” Her voice trembled, half-human, half-monster, pleading for a merciful end.

  “I’ll make it painless,” I said, words I’d repeated countless times to those I’d felled.

  I raised my sword, prepared to strike.

  Just as my bde arced downward, the dream ended. ‘Ugh!’ The old man opened his eyes, torn from the scarred memories of his past.

  Back to reality.

  His shoulders throbbed with a dull ache, a reminder of age. His grey-streaked hair falling over his brow as he raised his head from the wooden table he was sleeping on. He moved his knees, feeling the floor on his feet, grounding him back to reality. “Damn,” he muttered as the hangover’s sting shot through his skull.

  He slept the whole night over, slumped over the table of the PUB.

  “Hey! Sir! It's already morning! You have to move! You can sleep on the couch if you want to!” The owner of the PUB urged him with a smile.

  The old man tilted his head, looking at the face of the owner. He noticed that there was a bnket over his shoulders. He stretched his back, curving up.

  “Thank you for the bnket, I will be going now, sorry,” at the least he could still remember that he had already paid the tab.

  The owner’s boy came from the back of the bar holding a bucket. “Your stories were crazy, old man!” and smiled at the old man.

  Each of them had a recollection of the drinking party st night.

  “Yeah, this vilge is full of crazy alcoholics!” the old man groaned, clutching his head. He nearly stumbled as a sharp pain stabbed through his skull. “But I enjoyed drinking with you guys!”

  The three of them burst out ughing.

  “THWACK!”

  A fist smmed down on the boy’s head.

  “You drank st night?” the tavern owner scolded, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

  Last night had been a blur of toasts, ughter, and long-forgotten tales. Alphecca had relived the glories of his youth—his battles, his victories, the stories that once defined him. His name might have faded from the heart of the continent, but here on the eastern frontier, it still held weight.

  His name was Alphecca Varus.

  Once, they called him the Sword of Light.

  “We still need to milk the cows! Get the bottles now!” the owner said.

  The boy rubbed his head. He wanted to hear more about the old man's stories, but he just gave up, clicked his tongue, and proceeded to collect bottles.

  Looking around, bottles were all around him. “Sorry for sleeping at the table, now you still have work to do,” the old man scratched his head naturally as he apologized.

  The owner smiled at him. “What are you saying? I was down for the count, too! I even vaguely remembered what happened st night!” They had become drinking buddies in just one night.

  Not only the owner though, but most of the men in the vilge too.

  The two ughed almost at the same time; their loose face showed the friendship they had built just after one drinking session.

  “I have some alcohol stashed underground years ago, it's almost time to harvest it, I will be bringing it back someday soon!” The old man then extended his hands for a shake.

  “Alcohol made by the Hero of the Era? I’d love to try it!” the pub owner excimed, grabbing his hands and shaking them eagerly. “You’ve got to tell me how it’s made—if I could sell it in my bar, this pce could become a must-visit spot!”

  “I would like to see that!” Alphecca replied.

  “But I said I’m turning this old pub into an inn, old man!” the boy chimed in, having listened to their conversation.

  The two older men exchanged a gnce and smiled, unsure which of them the boy had called ‘old man,’ but amused all the same.

  “You’ll have to inherit the pub from me first!” the owner shot back, already turning to get back to work.

  ‘A successor… that must be nice!’ Seeing the two’s exchange, the old hero decided to help around too.

  After a bit more stretching and helping in cleaning around the tables at the PUB, the old man walked outside. It was always a refresher to do menial things.

  He smiled as he felt the sun in his face. He had a good bounty after sying a goblin’s den south of the vilge. It was near a dungeon, and the goblins lived near it. They were preying on the Tugaks—rge frog monsters.

  The goblins migrated from the east as per his investigation. The good thing was, he annihited them before the goblin horde began raids. If a year passed, the den might have a rapid spurt. ‘That would be a disaster!’ he thought.

  Pulling his mind into his future pns, he had a destination in mind; he wanted to join the Explorers of the northeastern mountain range. He was at the st of his years, and he wanted to have a good fight before he went or died by it. ‘A good pn for a faded hero!’ A smile pstered on his face.

  This vilge of alcoholics, where he stayed for a while, was just a stopover. Ahas Vilge, located on the easternmost frontier, was a rugged settlement governed by an elderly woman, Lady Zhisata Ahas.

  The old man still had ties in the vilge, and he pnned a friendly visit to the old vilge chief. He had visited the settlement long before and was still familiar with it; the only prominent changes in the community were its size and the fact that it had more huts now.

  ‘One st visit!’