Bab 10: relaxing days
After the grueling journey through the forest, Alexander, Ty, Kane, and Vincent finally approached the fortified city of Pingyao. The towering walls loomed ahead, casting long shadows over the broken landscape. It was a bastion of survival amidst the chaos, the last defense of the Frontier against the relentless onslaught of the Shadow Army.
The air was tense as they entered the gates. The city buzzed with activity—soldiers running drills, medics tending to the wounded, and civilians huddled in makeshift shelters. The sight was a grim reminder of the ongoing war, and the exhaustion on every face told a story of despair and endurance.
As they passed through the gates, Alexander's mind drifted back to the mission, the Nether Core secured in his pack. They had made it this far, but the weight of what they carried—and what was still ahead—seemed to grow heavier with each step.
Kane glanced at Alexander, breaking the heavy silence. "We made it back," he said, his voice thick with fatigue. "Now what?"
Alexander, his face grim, nodded towards the central stronghold where Commander Cooper and Dr. Jin would be waiting. "We hand over the Nether Core. It's what we came here for."
Ty, still nursing her own emotional wounds from their recent encounter, remained quiet. Her eyes betrayed the conflict within her—grateful for the cure, yet mourning the cost. Vincent walked beside her, his usual smirk absent, replaced with a somber focus.
As they reached the stronghold, they were greeted by a group of guards who escorted them to a private chamber where Commander Cooper and Dr. Jin waited. The room was dimly lit, the atmosphere oppressive as the weight of the war clung to the very air they breathed.
Alexander pulled the Nether Core from his pack, the artifact glowing faintly in the dim light. He placed it on the table before the commander and Dr. Jin.
Dr. Jin's eyes gleamed with curiosity and ambition as he examined the core. "You've done well, bringing this back," he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "The Core holds the key to turning the tide in this war, but we must act quickly."
Commander Cooper, standing tall but clearly fatigued, looked at the group with a solemn nod. "You've risked your lives for this. I won't pretend it was easy, and I won't sugarcoat what's to come." His voice carried the weight of countless battles. "We're preparing for the next phase of the war. Pingyao may be fortified, but it won't last forever."
Alexander nodded, his gaze hard and determined. "Whatever it takes," he said quietly, knowing full well the cost of their continued survival.
With their mission complete, they left the room, the weight of their next battle pressing down on them. Pingyao, though safe for now, was not a haven—they were merely waiting for the next storm to break.
As the group walked through the bustling city, Alexander cast one last glance toward the setting sun. The war wasn't over, and the shadows were gathering again. There would be no rest, not yet.
As the door to the briefing room closed behind them, Commander Cooper let out a rare sigh, shaking off the grim atmosphere that had gripped them all. He looked at the group—Alexander, Ty, Kane, and Vincent—with a hint of something lighter in his eyes. It was clear the war had worn down everyone, and even the toughest needed a reprieve now and then.
"You all did well," Cooper said, crossing his arms with a small nod of approval. "But before we think about the next battle, I'd suggest you take a break. We're not under immediate threat, and Pingyao has its distractions." He gestured out towards the city beyond the walls. "Go out, have a drink. Enjoy what's left of life while you can."
The group looked at one another, surprised by the suggestion. Alexander, who was always focused on the next mission, arched a brow. "A break?" he repeated, almost skeptical. The concept seemed foreign to him now.
Cooper gave a half-smile. "Yeah, a break. Believe it or not, soldiers need to rest too. I don't care how tough you are. And who knows, you might not get another chance once the fighting starts again." He looked at them with genuine concern. "War grinds you down. Go out there, get a drink, laugh, or at least try to remember what you're fighting for."
Vincent was the first to break the silence, his usual cocky grin returning. "Now that's something I can get behind," he said, already feeling the weight lifting off his shoulders. "I know a good spot just outside the barracks where the ale's strong enough to make you forget you're in a war."
Ty, still quiet from the events earlier, offered a small smile. "Could use a distraction."
Kane stretched, cracking his neck, and gave a nod. "I'm in. Can't hurt to enjoy some normalcy for a change."
Alexander, however, remained hesitant. The war had left a permanent mark on him, and letting his guard down even for a moment felt… dangerous. But as he glanced at his friends, the exhaustion in their eyes mirrored his own. Perhaps Cooper was right—just for one night, they could pretend they weren't surrounded by death and destruction.
"Alright," Alexander said finally, his voice low but resolved. "Let's take that break."
With that, the group made their way out into the city. Pingyao was still a fortress on edge, but there were pockets of life that reminded them of the world before the war. Taverns were open, soldiers mingled with civilians, and for a brief moment, the dark cloud of the Shadow Army seemed to fade.
They found the spot Vincent mentioned, a tavern tucked into one of the less guarded corners of the city. The warm glow of lanterns and the hum of conversation greeted them as they walked inside. The smell of strong ale and roasting meat filled the air, and for the first time in what felt like years, they allowed themselves to relax.
Drinks were poured, toasts were made, and laughter—genuine, unburdened laughter—filled the space between them. Vincent told exaggerated stories about their past missions, earning groans and eye rolls from Ty and Kane, but it was enough to break the tension. Even Alexander, though quieter than the rest, found himself leaning back in his chair, a faint smile on his lips as the noise of the tavern drowned out the war, if only for a little while.
"Here's to surviving the next day," Vincent said, raising his mug high. "And to killing more of those Shadow bastards."
Ty clinked her glass against his with a smirk. "I'll drink to that."
Kane chuckled, downing his drink. "And to keeping you all alive."
Alexander raised his own glass, meeting each of their eyes. "To fighting for something worth living for."
As they drank, the world outside seemed just a little less bleak. It wouldn't last, but for now, it was enough.
As the night progressed in the lively tavern, the drinks flowed freely, and the atmosphere grew even more rowdy. The sound of laughter and clinking mugs filled the air, and even the hardened soldiers of the Frontier allowed themselves to relax for a night.
Amid the crowd, two newcomers caught the attention of Alexander and his group—a massive Giant towering over everyone else and a tall, lean Elven warrior with sharp features and piercing eyes. Both were clearly seasoned warriors, and from their drunken sway and loud laughter, they had already been hitting the ale harder than most.
The Giant, whose name was Bors, hailed from a distant world, a realm where giants lived in warring tribes, and battle was a way of life. His massive frame was covered in scars, his wild red hair and beard giving him an almost savage appearance. He raised a tankard the size of a small barrel, laughing uproariously at something the Elf had said.
The Elf, named Theron, was a stark contrast to Bors. Slender and agile, with long silver hair tied back and a smirk that never seemed to leave his face, Theron was a master of the bow and blade, as sharp with his wit as he was with his weapons. His finely crafted elven armor, now a little worse for wear from the war, still had an elegant flair to it, though he seemed far less concerned with appearance as he slouched in his chair, laughing alongside his giant friend.
"They've been with the Frontier for a while now," Vincent whispered to Alexander, nodding towards the pair. "Bors is a brute, but damn if he isn't effective on the battlefield. And Theron... Well, let's just say you don't want to bet against him in anything, especially not in drinking games."
As if on cue, Bors slammed his tankard down on the table, shaking the entire tavern. "Another round! Ha! Keep 'em coming!" His voice boomed across the room, drawing everyone's attention. "The night's young, and I haven't seen a proper fight yet!"
Theron smirked, his sharp eyes scanning the room. "Careful what you wish for, Bors. You might get more than you can handle."
Bors let out a thunderous laugh, giving Theron a heavy pat on the back that nearly knocked him over. "Bah! Handle? I could take this whole tavern down if I wanted to!"
Theron grinned, looking at the crowd. "Anyone want to test this big oaf's claim?"
Before anyone could respond, a drunk soldier bumped into Bors, spilling ale across the giant's armor. The soldier, clearly inebriated, glared up at the massive warrior, either too drunk or too foolish to realize who he was dealing with.
"Watch it, you overgrown—" the soldier started, but he never finished.
Bors, eyes flashing with drunken rage, grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him clean off the ground. "What did you say, little man?" His voice was low and dangerous now, his playful demeanor fading. "Say it again. I dare you."
The tavern fell silent for a moment as everyone watched the exchange. Alexander, Ty, Kane, and Vincent exchanged knowing looks. They had seen this before—the inevitable bar fight that came when warriors got too drunk and their tempers too short.
The soldier, realizing his mistake, stammered, "I-I didn't mean—"
But it was too late. With a roar, Bors threw the man across the room, crashing him into a table, sending mugs and plates flying. The room erupted into chaos as soldiers jumped to their feet, ready for a fight.
Theron chuckled, casually getting to his feet. "Well, here we go. Told you to be careful, Bors."
Bors grinned, his fists already clenched, ready for a brawl. "Careful? This is exactly what I wanted!"
The fight quickly escalated, with Bors swinging wildly at anyone who got too close, his massive fists knocking soldiers left and right. Theron, meanwhile, moved with the grace of a dancer, ducking and weaving between punches, occasionally tripping someone up or throwing a perfectly placed elbow.
Amid the chaos, Vincent looked at Alexander and shrugged. "Well, this should be fun."
Alexander shook his head, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Try not to get killed."
With that, the group joined the fray, adding to the chaotic bar fight that had now consumed the entire tavern. Bors was laughing maniacally, taking on several soldiers at once, while Theron effortlessly dodged attacks, his grin never leaving his face. The tavern had devolved into a battlefield of its own, filled with drunken brawls, laughter, and the sound of crashing furniture.
It was a night none of them would forget, a brief respite from the horrors of war, filled with brutality, laughter, and camaraderie. Even in the darkest times, there were moments like these—chaotic, violent, and somehow, deeply human.
As the bar fight continued to rage on, the tavern was filled with raucous laughter and loud cheers, everyone caught up in the excitement of the night. Drinks flowed freely, and the atmosphere was electric, a welcome distraction from the weight of their lives as warriors in the Frontier.
Alexander, feeling the effects of the alcohol coursing through him, turned to Ty, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Ty," he said, slurring slightly, "how old are you, anyway? You look… ancient."
Ty raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. "Ancient? Really? What are you, five?"
Vincent, sitting nearby and overhearing the conversation, leaned in, grinning. "Come on, let's guess! I'm saying… twenty-five?"
Kane chuckled. "Nah, I think she's closer to thirty."
"Thirty? That's generous!" Alexander replied, still grinning. "I'm gonna guess… forty. At least."
Ty crossed her arms, a fiery glare aimed at Alexander. "You better watch it, or I'll show you just how young I can be."
The drunken banter continued, with everyone throwing out ridiculous guesses. "I bet she's fifty!" Vincent laughed, raising his mug in a mock toast to Ty's "old age."
"Fifty?! You're just trying to get on my nerves now!" Ty shot back, her patience wearing thin.
Finally, after several more rounds of teasing, Ty let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, okay! You want to know my age? I'm in my forties!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
"Forties?!" Alexander laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "That makes you an old lady, Ty!"
The room fell momentarily silent as the words hung in the air, the humor quickly turning to shock. Then, like a lightning bolt striking the tavern, Ty lunged forward, her fist connecting squarely with Alexander's jaw.
The impact echoed through the room, and Alexander stumbled back, his eyes wide in surprise. "Ow! What the hell was that for?" he shouted, rubbing his jaw.
"Old lady, huh? I'll show you 'old'!" Ty shot back, her face a mixture of anger and a hint of amusement despite herself.
The other patrons burst into laughter, and even Kane and Vincent couldn't contain their chuckles. "Nice one, Ty!" Vincent called, raising his mug in salute.
Alexander, recovering from the surprise punch, couldn't help but laugh too, despite the sting of her fist. "Alright, alright! I take it back! You're not old. Just… seasoned."
Ty smirked, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had flared up. "That's more like it," she said, settling back into her chair with a satisfied grin.
"Cheers to seasoned warriors then!" Kane chimed in, raising his mug again, and soon everyone was laughing and toasting to Ty, the "seasoned warrior" who could still throw a punch.
As the laughter resumed and the drinks continued to flow, the night felt lighter, filled with camaraderie and the simple joy of being alive, even amid the chaos of war. Moments like these, where laughter broke through the despair, were what they fought for—a reminder of their humanity in a world gone mad.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone