The first time Tristan attended a funeral, he was six. His grandmother on his mom’s side had passed away. He didn’t remember much about her, except that she would always sneak him a sugar cube to suck on when his mom wasn’t looking. The funeral he remembered even less of, only the vague impression of a dark, depressing room filled with people crying, and him sitting on a chair with his figurines, confused.

The second time Tristan attended a funeral, he was eighteen and in another world.

It was night, the same night they’d arrived in Sol. He’d been woken up by Duran, who’d thankfully given him some clothes to wear for the funeral; as cool as his current equipment was, he shuddered at the thought of attending a funeral with a snarling wolf cloak and dark hood.

Apparently it was a cardbearer’s tradition to wear the colors of the deceased’s primary element. For Aidas, who primarily used Water, Tristan wore a blue open robe sashed at the waist with darker blue loose pants underneath. Quite different from the usual black worn at Earth funerals, but there was something up-lifting about it. A celebration of their life, not a mourning of their death.

He stood close to Genn at the Water cemetery. They had to descend a set of switchbacks carved into the island’s cliff, down to a rocky shore where a small, rustic church sat near the water. A dock led out a bit into the water with a rowboat lashed to a post.

Interestingly, each element—and the god associated with them—had their own religion, and each religion had their own burial rites. All bodies were cremated into ash; something to do with Pyros, the god of Fire, reclaiming the spark of life that he bestowed upon all people.

Mosi had not been a follower of any god, but Aidas was a member of the Church of Water. His ashes would be sprinkled into the ocean. Mosi would have her own funeral later, Mosi’s son had said, with family only. Tristan of course had not been invited.

But he had been invited to attend Aidas’s on Eila’s request, so here he was.

He watched as the priest—or Voice, as they were called here—conducted the rites. The young man’s body sat atop a wooden pyre, arms crossed across his chest, his hands clutching his [Binder]. Cardbearers slain in battle were cremated wearing their equipment, but it had evidently been cleaned and the wound in his chest patched up. Four more Voices stood at each corner of the pyre, holding aloft a torch.

The Voice beckoned, and Eila and her family—her parents and other relatives—descended down to the water. They each scooped some water in their hands, and in an unspoken order, splashed it over Aidas’s body.

Eila went last. She was clothed head-to-toe in blue, a thin veil over her head, a dark blue dress over her body. She bent her head over the water, whispered something quietly into it, and gently splashed Aidas.

“And now,” the Voice said softly, “will the inheritor of his soul please come forward.”

The Voice lifted up the [Binder]. Eila stepped up, trembling, and took it from him.

With a sudden flash, it disappeared.

She broke then, sobbing. Her mother and father rushed over, hugging her. Beside Tristan, Varya and Marr were holding hands, and Genn had turned away. Duran stood a bit away, his shoulders hunched.

“Now,” the Voice said, “let us return this valiant cardbearer to the embrace of Aquos.” He gestured, and the other four Voices stepped forward with their torches.

“Wait,” Eila said suddenly. She rubbed her eyes and turned to the guild members. “You guys, too. Bless his body.”

Varya immediately walked over to the sea, and the others followed behind only a moment later. Tristan stood there awkwardly, now alone.

Eila turned to him. “You too,” she said.

“What?” Tristan shook his head. “No, I can’t. I—”

“You too,” she said again, firm. He met her tear-filled eyes. “You helped avenge him. He would want you to do it.”

Feeling awkward but unable to refuse, he walked down to the sea. He bent down and scooped up some of the cold water into his hands. Carefully, he walked back to the pyre.

When it was his turn, Tristan looked down at Aidas’s serene face.

I didn’t know you, he thought, but you were a Water and Dark user like me. In that way, we are connected.

He gently splashed the water over Aidas’s body. Rest well, brother.

He stepped back, and the four waiting Voices lit the pyre. It went up in flames, bright in the darkness.

Genn laid a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Come, lad,” the older man said gently. “We don’t stick around for this part.”

Tristan let the man guide him away. As he walked up the switchbacks back to town, he glanced over his shoulder, down at the coast, and saw Eila and her family gathered around the pyre.

Their heads were bent, arms around each other, as the fire burned.

—🃁—

A few slow but productive days passed by.

Tristan was waiting for Eila to be ready to forge and take him to sell his loot. Understandably, she needed some time to process and be with her family, and he was more than happy to oblige. He needed to gather some information about the Elemental Cup and this Divine Expedition anyway.

He got everything he could out of the other Straight Path Guild members. He saw them quite frequently, seeing as how Duran lived at the guildhall, Genn practically lived there, and Varya and Marr stopped by often.

Unfortunately, they didn’t know too much about either topic. Varya told him the Elemental Cup was different every iteration and that it wasn’t strictly a Dueling tournament, rather a grand celebration of all skills card related.

One important tidbit he learned was that in order to participate, he either needed to find a sponsor, earn enough qualification points through official Dueling, or find an [Elemental Cup Ticket].

Those two, plus the fact that the [Perk Reset Card] was the grand prize for winning the cardbearer’s bracket, was about it. They knew even less about the Divine Expedition, only that it probably-maybe-might exist. He spent some time out in the town alone, trying to get more information from the locals, but it wasn’t unfruitful.

Notably, he and the members of the Straight Path were also called in to speak to the mayor of Sol about the strange nature of the Dungeon. Apparently, a Guild that had gone to clear the newly regenerated Dungeon in Rushing Winds, [Blustering Peaks], found nothing out of the ordinary.

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After they told their story, the Mayor leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “This Corruption business worries me,” she said. “I’ve heard similar reports from the Continent. Certain Terrors, old and new, are spawning as Corrupted versions of themselves. Though it sounds like [Withering Roots] was largely the same outside of the boss, that does not seem to be the case elsewhere.”

Tristan and the others had spoken about this Corruption oddity on their way back from Sol. None of them knew what was going on, though Genn thought he might’ve heard the word before in some old book once in his youth. Maybe. Of course, Tristan didn’t say what he heard from the Great Oak, seeing as how he barely knew these people.

The Mayor questioned him on the specifics of the “message” that he’d gotten telling him the Dungeon would regenerate soon. Tristan had prepared for this, however, and after a quick conversation she relented. There was nothing they could do anyway except wait and see for themselves.

Afterwards, all that was left was to relax and wait for Eila. A part of him wanted to just leave, cut his ties with these people and move on, but he had the feeling that was a mistake. Though he badly wanted to leave Solossi, he believed it wasn’t a coincidence that he ran into Eila here.

So, he waited.

—🃁—

On the fourth day of Sol, Tristan awoke bright and early and dressed. Duran had been providing him with some more casual-going clothes.

“You can have your equipment altered to your liking at one of the tailors in town,” the Guildmaster had said on his second day here, thrusting some clothes at him. “For now, wear these.”

Tristan frowned, asking what was wrong with his current equipment.

Genn, sitting on the couch with a mug of wine, barked out a laugh.

Now wearing a proper—but lame—shirt and pants with simple boots, he opened the door.

And found Eila there, in similar traveler’s clothes like him, her arm raised as if to knock. She startled and stepped back.

“Hey,” Tristan said, feeling awkward.

“Hey,” Eila said, sounding awkward.

The two stood there, staring at each other for a moment, until it grew almost unbearable.

“I’m going to head out and explore,” Tristan finally said, right as Eila blurted, “Still want me to show you around town?”

They both laughed, and the tension suddenly fizzled away.

“Come on,” she said, heading for the stairs. “I’ll show you the best places to sell your loot.”

Tristan followed behind, wondering. Those dark bags under her eyes were still there, and she had an air of fragility about her. As if one wrong step and she would shatter apart. She likely wants a distraction, he thought, descending the steps.

They stopped for a quick bite at the kitchen. It turned out a fireplate was just as it sounded; a plate with some kind of [Fire Source] set at the center, capable of heating food. It was fascinating, and the kind of small detail that differentiated the real world from the game.

Afterwards, they exited outside.

“So,” Eila said, putting her hands on her hips, “what do you want to do first? Check out an emporium? Sell your items? Buy some equipment? You definitely need to visit a tailor if you want to keep wearing your old equipment.”

Emporiums were the names for card shops in the game and evidently in this world as well.

“Definitely sell my items first,” he said. “I have no money. Buy some cards after, then check out the airships.” He frowned. “Wait. What’s wrong with my equipment? I think it looks cool.”

“Yes,” Eila said drolly, “there’s nothing cooler than wearing a wolf’s head on your back.”

“Uh, yea?”

She rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered. “Well, I know the best place to sell and buy your items.” She winked at him. “They’ll give you a good deal ‘cause you’re with me.”

Tristan sketched a bow. “Lead the way.”

They set off, walking through the town. It was a cool day, the sun shining bright above, the sky free of clouds. When he breathed deep, he could smell the salt of the ocean. It was refreshing to be out in the open after over two weeks in the forest. No, just two weeks, he corrected himself mentally. Weeks here are 8 days long.

They chatted about random, idle topics as they went. Tristan quickly picked up that Eila was doing everything she could to avoid talking about Aidas and the funeral, so he obliged.

At some point, Tristan realized with amusement that Eila was trying to get him to slip up and reveal something about himself. She kept asking leading questions, like where he lived on the Continent, which class of airship he took to get to Sol, if he was a believer in the gods.

Each time, he would just shrug and say something non-committal, and he could see her suspicion grow, which in turn only made him more amused.

Soon, they arrived at a neighborhood officially named Crescent Way, but Eila said no one actually called it that; the locals called it Lootbox.

Lootbox was, as the official name suggested, a crescent strip of area that hosted a sprawling, rambunctious open-air marketplace. Vendors and stalls were packed elbow-to-elbow, each of them hollering about how they had the best prices and wares for sale or trade.

Strings had been strung up above the space with ropes attached to them, dangling above each stall. Some of the ropes were only one color, while others were multiple. They were tied with differing amounts of knots, and the tops of each rope had plain strips of fabric tied to them that fluttered in the wind.

Also there were people. A lot of people. It was overstimulating after the solitude of the forest.

Tristan pointed out the ropes to Eila as they plunged into the cacophony, asking what those were about.

A flash of triumph flitted across her face. Oh shit, he thought. Should I have known that already?

“Interesting,” Eila mused, ducking underneath a tall man hoisting a crate of cards. Tristan wondered why he didn’t just have them in his [Binder]. “I guess they don’t do that on the Continent, huh?”

He eyed her wryly, and she snorted. She pulled him in front of a stall, the vendor a man with a prominent bald spot looking at them greedily, and pointed up at the rope.

“The color indicates what type of items they’re selling,” she explained. “The eight primary elemental colors, plus brown for general monster loot and black-and-white stripes for equipment. The number of knots indicates what rank they sell and below. One knot for Novice, two knots for Apprentice, and so on.” She pointed higher at the strips of fabric. “One flag says they’re only selling, two means they’re selling and buying, three means they’re selling and trading, four means all of the above.

Tristan peered at the rope above this stall. It was red and green with two knots and only one flag at the top. So they sell Fire and Earth cards rated Apprentice? He studied the cards laid out on the top of the stall and saw that he was correct.

In the game, this sort of system didn't exist. There were no stalls at all, just shops you could enter and receive a menu for the different cards you could buy. But the shops were color coded to the elemental type, so that was similar enough.

“Two young cardbearers like yourself,” said the vendor, rubbing his hands, “why, you came to the right place.” He gestured grandly at his cards, a serious expression on his face. “Browse my wares. Look upon my treasures.”

Eila leaned forward at the cards, then snorted. “Two blues for a [Smoldering Flash]? Please. Let’s go,” she said to Tristan, walking off.

He shrugged at the reddening vendor and trailed after Eila. Thankfully, the currency system was the same as the game: there were eight tiers of currency, called chips, each associated with an element.

100 earth-chips were equivalent to 1 water-chip. 100 water-chips were equivalent to one air-chip, and so on, all the way up to the highest denomination, a chaos-chip. What was new to him, however, was the way Eila called the waterchips “blues.” Slang, he figured, that had risen naturally in this world.

He guessed two water-chips, or blues, was too much for an Apprentice-rank Fire Attack card? He had no idea. He hadn’t dealt with cards of this low rank in years.

“Where are we going?” he asked, as she led him through the marketplace. She navigated through the swirling eddies of the crowd with practiced ease.

“It’s a secret,” she said, winking at him over her shoulder. “I’ll have to kill you if you tell anyone.”

He rolled his eyes, and she laughed. They went deeper into the marketplace, close to the end, and stopped in front of a rickety wooden stall. Tristan looked up at the rope and saw the person only sold Novice item materials. The vendor was a bored-looking woman chewing on some sort of colored stick. She eyed them as they stopped.

“How may I help you?” she said coolly.

“Two [Ember Soots], please,” Eila said.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “That’ll be two greens.”

Eila opened her [Binder] and pulled out an [Item Card]; peering over her shoulder, he saw that the image on them were of small, green stones. She converted two of them and handed them over to the woman.

She held them up to the light, grunted, and converted them back into cards. The vendor reached under her stall and brought out a slip of paper.

“Thunderball,” the woman said.

Eila took the paper, nodded to the woman, who nodded back, and gestured for Tristan to follow.

“What was that?” Tristan asked, confused.

“You’ll see,” she said cryptically, leading him out of the marketplace.