"Backpack, check. Goggles, double-check. Hat, jacket, boots… and this weird little duck thing? Check!"
Jiji's tiny legs darted across her room as she took final inventory. She paused in front of her mirror, adjusting her golden braids. In the cold northern lands, her bright hair made her stand out even more. But that didn't bother her one bit.
"You just have to show them who's boss, and everything falls into place," she said to herself, striking a pose.
Her eyes suddenly widened.
"Oh no! I forgot the fireworks!"
She dove toward her bed, missing and landing with a thud on the floor.
Undeterred, she slid an arm underneath, rummaging frantically.
"Come on, come on… Bingo!"
Out came five sticks of extra-powerful fireworks. She grinned.
"Let's see those dumb hunters try me now."
Next, she grabbed a roll of bandages from her bed and quickly wrapped them around her arms and waist, creating her own armour. She threw on her coat, shaking her braids free from underneath.
"Now I'm really ready."
Bursting out of her room, she dashed into the bustling hallway. The workers greeted her as usual, offering their morning pleasantries. Jiji fired back with her own quick-witted responses.
She wasn't royalty, but moments like these made her feel like it. And later, she'd be back in the kitchen, peeling potatoes with the staff. Who's to blame? The woman who decided to have her.
"Now, where's Mom and Dad?"
Up ahead, two men struggled with a massive wooden crate. Jiji didn't slow down. Instead, she slid under it, barely losing speed.
Her watch beeped. Time was running out.
Reaching the stairs, she launched herself over the last few steps, landing squarely on a futon with a soft fwump.
She took a moment to catch her breath before pushing open the dining room doors. The scent of pancakes wafted through the air, warm and inviting, but she refused to be distracted.
Today was too important.
Their family wasn't wealthy, but they were doing just fine. A sturdy wooden house built from the best northern timber? That was something to be proud of, especially in these times when wars loomed and hunters lurked at every corner.
The dining room was warm and inviting, its long wooden table adorned with a modest yet colourful spread. Fresh fruits, steaming cups of tea, and, of course, the rare and exotic delight—pancakes.
Jiji's mother, Henna, a scholar from the Second Realm, always spoiled them with dishes from across the lands. Her parents were getting older, working themselves to the bone every day, and any chance she had to help them made her heart soar. But today, she had to keep her cool.
"Jiji, you seem excited today."
Her father, John, smiled knowingly as he took his seat.
Jiji lifted her chin and sat down, feigning nonchalance. "Of course I am. It's my turn, after all."
Henna chuckled. "Our little girl takes everything so seriously."
"When isn't she serious?" John said with an amused shake of his head.
Jiji's eyes flickered down to the array of silverware before her. Three different forks, an assortment of spoons, and knives of varying sizes. She never saw the point of all these choices when they all served the same purpose: to eat. Yet, she understood the meaning behind them. Presentation, and refinement. People respected those who respected themselves and their table.
Even if she thought it was kind of unnecessary, she had to admit… she liked the variety. And, most of all, she loved the food.
A quiet giggle escaped her as she picked up a napkin.
"What's so funny, dear?" Henna asked.
Jiji grinned, waving the napkin like a flag of surrender. "And I was this close"
Her parents exchanged puzzled looks.
With a smirk, Jiji placed the napkin on her lap, grabbed her utensils, and dug in. She ate fast, savouring every bite while trying not to look too rushed.
John and Henna exchanged knowing smiles. Jiji always carried herself with that self-important air, but in moments like these, she was still just a kid.
A soft belch slipped past her lips as she wiped away the crumbs. Then, just as quickly, her expression turned serious.
"Father. The scroll."
John raised a brow before handing her a neatly rolled parchment. "Here it is. All the details about the ceremony."
Jiji unrolled it, her dark eyes scanning the contents. "Location, special guests, sponsors… But something's missing."
John sighed. Here we go again.
"I know you've put a lot of effort into this, but do you really think it's necessary?"
Jiji closed the scroll with a snap. "Father, this isn't just about throwing another fireworks show. It's about evolution."
Her eyes gleamed. "Everyone loves fireworks. Some even try to make their own. But night after night, it's the same old thing. Year after year, the excitement fades. We need something new."
Henna's soft smile deepened. Yeah, that's Jiji.
John ran a hand through his greying hair. "Our fireworks have been the best for generations, my dear. There's no need to compete with others."
"I'm not competing, Father." Jiji leaned forward. "I don't have time for that. But sooner or later, a new fireworks industry will emerge. One with a completely different approach. They might even be out there right now. We need to innovate. And I have a brilliant idea."
John mumbled under his breath, "The ores…"
"Exactly! The ores." Jiji's voice quickened. "Dungeons are rare nowadays, ever since adventurers cleared most of them. But the Demir of Grandeur is still intact. And inside it? Fistal ore. If we can get our hands on even a small sample, I can study how it interacts with fireworks."
John opened his mouth to protest, but Jiji sprang onto the table, crawling toward him like a mischievous cat, her braids forming as long ears or so it seemed.
She locked eyes with her father. "And if I can figure out how it enhances the fireworks, we might not even need the ore itself in the future!"
She stood on the table, placing her hand on her waist. "This discovery would go down in our family archives. And we'd stay on top for a very, very, very long time!"
Henna let out a soft laugh. Jiji was back to her usual self.
With a sigh, John handed her another scroll. This one contains details about the dungeon. He knew there was no stopping her. She took after her mother way too much.
"So," he asked, crossing his arms, "how many adventurers are you planning on taking?"
Jiji tapped her chin, pretending to mull it over. "Twelve should do."
John raised a brow. "Twelve? The dungeon shouldn't be that dangerous. Why so many?"
A smirk tugged at Jiji's lips as she swiped a piece of fruit from her father's plate. "The dungeon has been standing for centuries, maybe even longer. No one is allowed to fully clear it because of some ancient law. And from what I've heard, the final boss is a dragon that resides on the fourth level, where the fistal ore is."
She popped the fruit into her mouth, savouring the sweetness before continuing.
"But, the ore can also be found on the third level. And since there are three entrances, I'll assign four adventurers to each. That way, we can maximise our haul."
Her father let out a tired sigh.
A glint of mischief flickered in Jiji's eyes. No one understood the true value of fistal ore. People thought it was useless, but her research told a different story. Deep within an ancient encyclopedia, she had uncovered its true potential. It enhanced flame-based abilities and possibly much more.
It was a gamble, sure. But if she was right? She'd secure her place among the greatest fireworkmakers in history.
Of course, her parents didn't need to know the full extent of her plan. A ten-year-old leading a dungeon expedition? That might raise a few concerns.
But as long as she stayed calm, nothing could go wrong… right?
"Good luck, Jiji."
Henna's voice was warm, but her knowing smile sent a shiver down Jiji's spine.
Jiji clutched her backpack a little tighter. Figures. Her mother saw right through her. She was a scholar, after all.
With a nervous grin, Jiji waved goodbye, grabbed her backpack tighter and bolted out the door.
It was time to go adventurer hunting.
#
Little Emilia twirled in her father's arms, her gaze fixed on the floor so she wouldn't step on his feet.
"Eyes up here, sweetie," he chuckled.
Morning sunlight spilt into the empty hall, casting long golden beams across the polished floor. The soft melody of the piano guided their movements, but Emilia? She was awful. Offbeat, stiff, and constantly mistaking her father's feet for solid ground.
But he didn't mind. She was still just a child.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps pounded through the hall, followed by a shrill, furious voice.
Emilia turned toward the open doors just in time to see him.
Pasta bolted past, shooting her a smug grin as he stuck out his tongue. His hands were covered in frosting, his clothes were rumpled, stained, and dripping with cake.
Behind him, their aunt stormed through, her entire body caked in… well, cake.
"PASTA! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT, YOU LITTLE RASCAL!"
Emilia giggled just as her foot landed squarely on her father's.
"You always get distracted."
He sighed, though there was no real scolding in his voice. "Eyes up, Emilia."
"Sorry, it was just Pasta," she said between giggles. "He's hilarious."
Her father's expression darkened as he glared toward the door. "Yes. Hilarious."
Emilia's smile faded. Something wasn't right.
A dense, inky mist slithered from the edges of the hall, curling like creeping vines.
"Father?" she whispered, gripping his sleeve. "What is that?"
He didn't answer. He just stared at the doorway, unmoving.
The darkness stretched closer. Closer.
Her breath hitched. She turned to run only to feel his grip tighten around her hand.
Then, the floor vanished.
She plunged into icy water, her scream swallowed by the abyss.
Nothingness. A void.
"You little bastard!" a voice roared. Then, a sickening crack. A sharp cry followed.
Emilia held her chest as she stared into the darkness.
"Brother?!"
She scrambled forward, splashing through the shallow pool, her pulse pounding. But before she could reach him, someone grabbed her.
She twisted only to see her father. Her mother stood beside him, her face darkened.
"Come, Emilia," her father murmured. "What are you doing here?"
Emilia hesitated. "I… I heard a voice…" She turned toward the distant cries. "It sounded like—"
"My little Emilia." Her father's voice was too soft. "You really shouldn't be here. Let's go have breakfast."
She blinked.
"…Okay, Father."
She reached for their hands, letting them guide her away. The cries still echoed behind her, fading into the darkness.
Emilia's eyes snapped open.
She was back in the wagon.
Mr. Swordsman sat at the far end, vigilant as always, while Pasta sat in a strange pose, fingers laced together.
"You woke up at the perfect time," Mr. Swordsman said. "We've just arrived."
Emilia scratched her eyes. "Been a while I had that dream," she whispered, turning to Pasta and beginning to shake his shoulders. "We're here, Pasta. The fourth realm capital."
He yawned, stretching. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Stop shaking me already."
Ignoring him, she darted to the front of the wagon, poking her head out for a better view or at least distract herself from the nightmare.
Unlike the Seventh Realm, there were no borders here. The capital was an entry point, bustling with life despite the frigid air.
Towering stone walls loomed ahead far taller than those of Pyrovile. At their centre stood a grand gate, adorned with a crimson banner. The emblem of the realm gleamed in the morning light—a stylized freezing star.
A symbol of resilience. Of enduring strength.
Just as the Adventurer's Guidebook had described.
"I don't smell any meat," Pasta said, scrunching his nose. "I already don't like this place. Nothing like Pyrovile. Why are we here again?"
"Would you please be quiet?" Emilia hissed.
"Both of you, shut it." Bhaa's voice rumbled through the wagon. "This queue is already testing my patience, don't add to it!"
Emilia hadn't noticed the long line before. She had been too busy staring at the towering stone walls, the well-armored guards standing at attention. But now she realised just how slow the process was. Every traveller being checked for licenses, contraband, and anything remotely suspicious before being allowed through the gates.
"So, how long will this take?" Mr. Swordsman asked lazily.
Bhaa groaned, tapping his boot against the wooden floor of the wagon. "How the hell should I know? You think I've got some magic spell to make them work faster—"
A thunderous explosion cut him off. The blast sent him toppling from his seat, his horse rearing back in fright.
Emilia's hand flew to her sword, unsheathing it in a flash. Her body tensed, ready for battle.
But beside her, Pasta just yawned. Mr. Swordsman didn't so much as blink.
Meanwhile, across the snowy plains—
"STOP! STOP! STOOOOOP!"
Jiji furiously cranked the lever of her contraption, her hands moving in a blur, but it was no use. She couldn't stop.
The girl rocketed across the snow at breakneck speed, the freezing wind forcing her cheeks back as if trying to turn her face inside out. But she kept her cool. Her father had drilled it into her since childhood: In chaos, a calm mind is your greatest weapon. She could even see his face appearing close to her, saying those very words.
Which would've been great advice if she wasn't about to be blown to bits.
The fireworks strapped to her back weren't supposed to go off anytime soon, but knowing her luck? That didn't mean anything. One wrong move, and she'd be reduced to ash.
Still, this was the only way to reach the gate in time.
Clutching the lit firework in her backpack, Jiji fought to steady her grip. Tossing the entire bag was not an option, her valuables inside were worth more than a million gold coins.
With one last shake, she caught it.
And then, She was launched into the sky.
Exactly as planned.
"TAKE THIS!" she yelled, hurling the firework high into the air.
The sky erupted in a breathtaking explosion of color, casting vivid hues of blue, red, and gold over the frozen capital. The crowd waiting at the gate gasped in awe.
She twisted midair, her body moving with grace, and skied straight toward the entrance, blazing past Mr. Swordsman like a streak of lightning.
The guard stationed there let out a long, suffering sigh. "Jiji. Would you stop with the noise?"
She removed her helmet, shaking out her hair. "A good morning would be nice."
He exhaled sharply. "Good morning, kiddo. I need to check your bag."
"Please, be my guest." She unfastened it and held it open.
"HEY!"
A furious voice shot out from the waiting crowd.
"We've been standing here all day! Why's the brat getting special treatment?" a traveller yelled.
"Yeah, get her outta there!"
Bhaa threw his fist in the air. "That's right! Who does she think she is?!"
The guard opened his mouth to respond, but Jiji stepped forward first.
"I'm not a fan of noise." Her tone was cool, unwavering. "Unless it's my fireworks, of course."
She placed a hand on her hip. "I wasn't the first one here, so what? I didn't ask to be checked first. He chose to do his job. That's on him."
The crowd erupted in angry muttering.
"Listen to her! No damn respect!" someone shouted.
"No respect for her elders," another voice growled.
"Yeah! Say it to her damn face!" Bhaa roared.
Pasta cracked one eye open. "That girl…"
"Yes, Pasta," Mr. Swordsman whispered, his gaze fixed ahead. "She's different."
"Different how?" Emilia asked, glancing between them. She didn't see what was so special about the reckless girl who had just blasted her way across the line.
"She has a gift," Pasta muttered, arms still crossed.
Emilia turned to him. "Wait, what?"
Mr. Swordsman narrowed his eyes, studying the girl more intently. Jiji… That was what they called her. Despite plummeting from such a ridiculous height, she had landed without a single scratch. And she was still just a kid.
What kind of gift does she possess?
"How can you tell she has one?" Emilia asked.
Pasta rose to his feet, resting a hand on his sword. "Lately… I've been able to sense the intensity and quality of someone's lifeforce. Hers is different. Yet, strangely, it's similar to Mr. Swordsman's."
Mr. Swordsman adjusted his hat. "Good observation, Pasta. The human body is surrounded by layers of energy. Regular warriors use the outer layers for things like aura coating, reinforcing their bodies against external force. But gifters," his gaze darkened, "lack that specific outer layer."
Emilia's eyes widened slightly. "Wait, then how—?"
"Our coating functions differently," he said. "Instead of strengthening our skin against external force, it protects from within, keeping our bodies from being torn apart by our own power or that of others like bursts. Yet, if a gifter learns to properly control the waves of energy surrounding them, their bodies can also be coated. So technically, coating becomes more difficult when you become a gifter."
Pasta's fingers tapped against his sword hilt. "Then that means…"
Mr. Swordsman nodded. "A normal life force is like a hollow sphere. Its surface is hot, but the inside remains cool or subtly warm. A gifter's, however, is the opposite. Their energy radiates inside-out, burning like a furnace at the core and spreading outward, making their coating far more efficient."
Pasta's expression darkened. He lowered his voice. "That girl… her aura is exactly like that of a gifter. But she's just a kid." He clenched his fists. "What kind of gift does she have?"
Emilia watched her brother closely. There was a new weight to his words, a sharpness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
She remembered the nightmare she had earlier and wondered just who was Pasta becoming.
--
Meanwhile, the riot near the gates was boiling over. Furious travellers shouted in outrage, demanding answers for why a mere child was being given priority.
But Jiji? She barely acknowledged them.
With an exasperated sigh, she adjusted her backpack and strode toward the city entrance. "I really don't have time for this," she said under her breath.
Before stepping through, she cast one last glance back at the newcomers. Adventurers looking for some fun in the land of the departed were as common as honey in hot steaming tea. But something caught her attention. Her dark eyes shimmered like a ray of golden light for only a moment. One of them was trying to mask his energy. Not a bad attempt, but not good enough to fool her.
Yes, definitely adventurers, she thought. Not from here. The way their coats are layered, Seventh travellers then. Probably with a merchant, given their supplies. Have a decent amount of funds. The wagon's back wheel… her eyes flickered to it briefly. Replaced recently, meaning they've been through rough terrain. And the horses?
She frowned.
They've seen trouble. Serious trouble. Whatever they ran into, it shook the beasts to their core. Hunters shouldn't cause such terror, only some that are capable of that. But if these adventurers did cross paths with them, they should be dead by now. So... The icy castle not too far from here. How interesting..."
Jiji rolled her shoulders and turned away.
"Another day, another hassle. Nothing new," she whispered, stepping into the city, wearing a smile on her face.
#
It had taken hours, but they finally made it through the gates.
Bhaa accepted his payment and vanished without a word, leaving them behind without so much as a backward glance.
Finally, he thought, cleaning his tears. Finally, I can leave these troublesome adventurers. I'm free! Free I say.
Emilia and the others blinked and walked deeper into the city.
The capital streets were quieter than expected. Towering buildings lined the pathways, their facades dusted with snow. Above them, a second level loomed in the distance, a domain reserved for nobles and the city's most extravagant attractions. Mechanisms of intricate design ferried people between levels, provided they paid the required fee.
Even the walls of the capital were infused with advanced technology. Strange mechanisms embedded within them regulated the snowstorms, weakening their intensity before they reached the heart of the city.
Emilia's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Alright, straight to the adventurer's guild!"
She flipped through her guidebook, soaking up every tidbit of information about the Fourth Realm. From its rich culture to its cuisine, fashion, and bustling trade, she wanted to know everything.
As they strolled through the streets, lanterns flickered softly at their sides, their glow casting a subtle warmth against the snowfall. The simple homes along the path stood steady beneath the realm's icy gaze.
Mr. Swordsman glanced at the sky. "A storm's coming."
Emilia closed her book, blinking up at him. "A storm?"
"It won't last long, but we should find shelter."
"Got it."
It was standard protocol for adventurers to check in at the guild upon entering a new realm. Records had to be kept, and Emilia was itching to browse the commissions in the Fourth Realm.
Pasta, meanwhile, had other priorities. His gaze swept the streets, scanning for a food stall—ideally, one that served meat.
Mr. Swordsman caught the look in his eyes. "Pasta."
"Yes?"
"There's a useful trick you should learn. It suits you perfectly."
"A trick? Do tell."
"You can release a miniature burst to scan an area. The smaller it is, the farther it can reach. It'll help you find whatever you're searching for." His eyes darkened slightly. "But be warned, this technique also reveals your location to anyone who knows how to sense energy."
Pasta chuckled. "That might be a problem, but I doubt it'll help me find food."
Mr. Swordsman ignored the remark. "Just pretend to release a normal burst, but instead of an outward explosion, let out only a fraction of energy. Think of it as an impromptu lesson"
Pasta nodded, shutting his eyes and focusing his energy. He swirled it within, then released a controlled pulse.
The effect was immediate.
A woman walking nearby staggered and collapsed.
Pasta's eyes widened in horror. He turned slowly to Mr. Swordsman. "Uh… sorry."
Mr. Swordsman sighed, walking away. "You shouldn't be saying that to me."
Emilia rushed to the woman's side. "Are you alright?"
The woman rubbed her head, disoriented. "Yes… just felt dizzy all of a sudden."
She walked off, shaking off the strange sensation.
Pasta cleared his throat. "Maybe I'll practice that later…"
They continued onward, finally arriving at the adventurer's guild. A large crowd had gathered outside, adventurers murmuring excitedly among themselves.
Emilia frowned, turning to the crew. "What's going on? Guilds aren't usually this filled"
The taskmaster, a burly man with a scar across his cheek noticed them and hurried over. "Ah, newcomers! A commission is being offered by a member of the Heart Family. You're welcome to join if interested."
Before he could say more, a familiar voice wove through the air.
"They're here already!"
The moment Mr. Swordsman and the others heard it, they knew.
Jiji.
She walked forward, her presence commanding immediate attention as the sea of adventurers instinctively parted for her.
Her dark eyes gleamed as she jabbed a finger at the adventurers.
"You three," she said, stepping onto a table to meet Mr. Swordsman's gaze.
"I got a job for you three"