Celestial Peaks was teeming with ferocious beasts, making it impossible for Chris to get a good night’s sleep.
When he finally arrived in Pinkshire, Chris decided to treat himself to some well-deserved rest. After a refreshing sleep, he washed up and left the inn, Stripes following close behind.
As he strolled through the streets, something caught his attention.
The Mission Hall?
Ahead stood a massive building-Pinkshire’s Mission Hall.
Mission Halls were scattered throughout Aethelgard, with branches in every major city. However, Pinkshire’s Mission Hall offered far more assignments than the one in Flameforge. Many of these were Fifth Grade tasks, and some even exceeded Sixth Grade in difficulty.
Chris gave it a brief glance before leaving the hall and wandering aimlessly through the city.
As he walked, his thoughts turned to Mara Wainwright.
He recalled the moment he had left Mara behind to venture into the Celestial Peaks with Billy. Now, he wondered what had become of them. At the time, Chris had only intended to seize a quick opportunity before returning. But unexpected events had derailed his plans, and he never made it back to check on Mara.
A pang of guilt surfaced in his heart.
Mara Wainwright was the daughter of the Wainwright family, a prominent household in Pinkshire. Curious, Chris asked around for directions and soon found himself standing before the Wainwright estate.
The grand entrance was guarded by several men.
“Halt! This is the Wainwright family estate. No unauthorized entry,” one of the guards barked as Chris approached.
Chris smiled warmly. “Hello, I’m here to see Mara Wainwright.”
The guard sneered. “Mara Wainwright? She’s no longer part of the Wainwright family. She was cast out.”
“What?” Chris froze, stunned by the revelation.
He pressed further. “Do you know where she went?”
The guard scowled impatiently. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Now get lost!”
The rudeness of the response irritated Chris, but he chose to walk away without another word.
Pinkshire was a massive city. Searching for Mara Wainwright here was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Left with no better options, Chris returned to the Mission Hall to post a task seeking her whereabouts.
Afterward, he went back to the inn to wait for news. Surely, it wouldn’t take long for someone to find her.
While killing time, Chris wandered the streets.
That’s when he saw it-a towering statue in the heart of the city.
The sight stopped him in his tracks.
Chris recognized the statue immediately.
It was none other than his mentor, Archer Wintersong.
Curiosity surged through him. Why was his mentor’s statue here? Could Archer Wintersong himself be in Pinkshire?
Chris’s heart raced with excitement.
One of his reasons for coming to Aethelgard was to search for his mentor. Though Archer Wintersong had only mentioned heading to a dangerous place, Chris was certain his mentor had come to Aethelgard.
Everything Chris had achieved-his skills, his strength-was thanks to Archer Wintersong. To Chris, his mentor was more than just a teacher; he was like a father.
Determined to find answers, Chris approached a passerby.
“Excuse me,” he asked. “Who is the person depicted in this statue?”
The man looked at Chris in surprise. “You don’t know? You must be new to Pinkshire. That’s the Imperial Sage, the protector of Amerosia. Years ago, when Great Lyria invaded from the north and threatened to conquer Pinkshire, Master Imperial Sage personally led the army that drove them back. The emperor later granted him the title of Protector Duke.”
Chris was stunned.
He never imagined that Archer Wintersong-his mentor-would be Amerosia’s Imperial Sage.
The coincidence was too great to ignore. Back on Earth, Archer Wintersong was also Amerosia’s Imperial Sage. Could there be a connection between the two worlds?
Two Amerosias. Two Imperial Sages.
It couldn’t be a mere coincidence.
Chris pressed on. “Do you know where I can find Master Imperial Sage?”
The man shook his head. “No one knows. He’s a mysterious figure who comes and goes as he pleases.”
Disappointed, Chris sighed. He had hoped to find his mentor, but it seemed his search would have to continue.
Just then, chaos erupted.
“Run!”
“Everyone, run for your lives!”
“Get out of here!”
Chris turned toward the commotion. People were fleeing in panic, their faces filled with terror.
This was Pinkshire, the capital of Amerosia. What could possibly cause such a disturbance here?
A deafening rumble filled the air.
Chris’s gaze snapped to the source of the noise.
A massive stone beast loomed in the distance.
“A Seventh-Grade beast… A Troll!” Chris muttered in shock.
Trolls were formidable creatures, their strength equivalent to the Solstice mid-stage. Though their attack power wasn’t extraordinary, their defense was nearly impenetrable-even Solstice late-stage warriors struggled to defeat them.
Chris couldn’t understand how a Troll had appeared in Pinkshire.
As he studied the beast, he noticed a young girl standing on its shoulder.
She wore a crimson dress and carried a sword at her waist.
For someone to ride a Troll so brazenly through the city, Chris could tell she was no ordinary individual.
The Troll rampaged through the streets, scattering terrified civilians and overturning countless stalls.
The girl laughed gleefully, clapping her hands.
“Hahaha! This is so much fun!”