An hour had passed, yet Krenz sat there, restless, his foot tapping against the wooden floor in an unsteady rhythm. It was like the beat of a war drum—uneven, urgent, growing faster with each moment.
Benco sighed, rubbing his temples. "For the gods' sake, kid, if you don't stop that blasted tapping, I'll tie your legs together myself."
Krenz stilled, glancing up at the hulking man beside him. Benco, for all his size, looked comically out of place on the too-small bench outside the Guildmaster's office.
"Mr. Benco?" Krenz ventured.
"What now?" Benco grumbled.
"That Atlas guy… what's with him?" Krenz hesitated before lowering his voice. "I don't see it. You, the Guildmaster—why do you all act like he's something more?"
He could still hear the words the Guildmaster had whispered before shutting the door.
"Looks like your help has arrived. Sit tight, kid. I'll make it work for you—hopefully."
Benco studied him for a moment, then asked, "Ever heard of a wildflower, kid?"
Krenz frowned. "You mean like… a flower in the woods?"
Benco let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "You kill me, lad."
"So what is it, then?" Krenz pressed.
The laughter faded. Benco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice turning heavy. "Wildflowers… that's what they call illegal Wanderers."
The words struck like a hammer. Krenz's breath hitched. "Illegal?"
"Aye." Benco's gaze darkened. "Wanderers need a license to operate. A team. A guild or a kingdom backing them. No one goes off into the Null Continent alone. Not unless they're desperate. Or foolish. Or both."
Krenz swallowed hard. "Then why… why is the Guildmaster just letting him walk free? Shouldn't he be—"
Benco cut him off with a slow shake of his head. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Aye. Technically, he should." A long pause. Then, finally, he looked Krenz in the eye. "But you'll understand soon enough, kid."
His tone was final. Ominous.
Krenz wanted to press further, but some instinct told him the answer wouldn't come tonight. Not yet.
The office door creaked open. Silence followed. Then, with the sluggish air of a man who had just endured an hour of nonsense, Atlas stepped out.
His eyes flicked over the dimly lit hall, then landed on Krenz, still stiff on the bench. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You're still here?" His voice was dry as old parchment. "What, hoping for a bedtime story?"
He stepped closer, peering down at Krenz like he was inspecting some stray cat.
"Hmm. So you're the kid Boss was talking about."
Krenz straightened. "What did the Guildmaster say?"
Atlas stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Boss can't help himself—he sticks his nose into every stray's problems." He yawned. "Anyway, I'll handle things now."
He paused, exhaling through his nose, as if debating whether this was worth the trouble. Then, with a shrug—
Before Krenz could react, Atlas hooked an arm around his waist and lifted him off the bench in one swift motion.
"Wha—?! Put me down!" Krenz flailed, caught completely off guard.
Atlas adjusted his grip lazily. "Nope. You're cargo now."
Benco let out a wheezing chuckle. "You could've just told him to follow you."
"This is more efficient."
Krenz twisted. "I can walk, you know!"
Atlas smirked and effortlessly hoisted him higher over his shoulder. "Yeah, but this is funnier."
From inside the office, muffled grumbling and the rustle of wrappers could be heard.
Then—
A loud bang. The door burst open with dramatic flair.
"At—Atlas, we're never—mmph—coming back here—" Maya mumbled through a mouthful of candy, arms overflowing with sweets. "Wh—what kind of Guildmaster—ugh—doesn't even—mmm—have a single—decent—thing to eat?"
Atlas blinked. "What the hell did you just say?"
Maya waved him off as she continued chewing.
Benco, dumbfounded, gestured at the pile of candy in her arms. "You just carried out everything from the—"
"Oh, shut up, old man." Maya rolled her eyes. "Always nagging. Let a growing girl eat."
Benco opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, the sharp sound of glass shattering rang out from inside the office.
He hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face, then exhaled sharply and strode toward the door.
Atlas turned, adjusting Krenz like a sack of grain. "We're done here."
Maya skipped ahead, humming, unbothered by the chaos.
Krenz, however, was not done. He thrashed harder, kicking and twisting in Atlas's grip. "Put me down! I swear, I—"
Atlas let out a long, tired sigh. "Alright, kid. You asked for it."
With a practiced ease, he gave Krenz a light chop to the back of the neck.
His vision blurred, sounds distorting like echoes underwater. He fought to stay awake, but the pull was relentless.
Then—darkness.
. . .
A dull ache throbbed at the back of Krenz's neck, dragging him from the depths of unconsciousness. His limbs felt heavy, weighed down as if he'd been swallowed by the earth itself. The air smelled of old wood, fabric, and something faintly metallic.
Soft sheets. A creaking structure. A dim, flickering glow.
His eyes cracked open.
Above him, curved wooden beams stretched like the ribs of some great beast. Shadows wavered, cast by a lone lantern swaying from a hook. Around him, the space was a cramped maze—bundled blankets, crates stacked haphazardly, shelves barely clinging to their burden of books, bottles, and strange trinkets. A thick patchwork curtain concealed whatever lay beyond.
For a moment, he lay still, the haze in his mind shifting like unsettled silt. Then—
Atlas.
His breath hitched. He shot upright, hands flying to the back of his neck where a dull soreness lingered. That bastard. He knocked him out.
Scowling, Krenz swung his legs off the narrow bed, the floor groaning beneath his weight. He shoved the curtain aside. The hallway beyond was just as cluttered—narrow, low, as if pieced together from mismatched scraps of different worlds. Doors of varying sizes lined the walls, some too small, others tilted at odd angles. Somewhere deeper in, the faint crackle of burning wood stirred the air with warmth.
He followed the light, ducking beneath a crooked doorway—
And stepped into the open.
A sharp gust met him, crisp with morning dew. The sky stretched vast and endless, painted in the deep blues and violets of lingering dawn. Mist clung to the rolling fields, silver-edged and shifting like spirits. Beyond the horizon, distant spires of a city slumbered beneath the early light.
But Krenz barely noticed.
His gaze was locked on it.
The beast loomed before him, towering and strange, slightly smaller than an elephant but so much heavier in presence. Its thick fur, a patchwork of earthy browns, ruffled against the wind. A long, bushy tail curled lazily over massive hooves. Small, bat-like wings twitched against its sides, their leathery surface lined with old scars. A broad, pig-like snout exhaled a slow, misty breath.
Krenz inhaled sharply. The world shrank. It was just him and the beast now.
What are you?
It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Massive. Strange. Oddly majestic. And somewhat idiotic looking.
His fingers twitched.
Before he could think better of it, he was moving, drawn towards that beast. He had to touch it—just once. Feel if the fur was as rough as it looked, if the breath was as warm as it seemed.
His hand stretched forward—
Then—
ACHOO!
A deafening sneeze erupted from the beast, an explosion of warmth and snot.
Krenz stood, stunned. A thick, glistening coat of disgust dripped from his face.
The beast huffed in satisfaction, smacking its lips.
Krenz exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. His hands trembled, fingers twitching—not from awe this time, but from the sheer effort of restraining himself.
Wiping the mess from his face, he finally turned. And at last, he saw where he had been brought.
It wasn't a house.
It was a carriage.
A hulking, ramshackle thing of clustered small rooms one on top of the other which almost gave off the feeling that it was just a horrible mish-mash of floors. A crooked chimney puffing faint trails of smoke from its top. Wooden beams curved like an exoskeleton, the whole thing creaking like an ancient ship adrift on land. Sturdy wheels dug into the damp earth, half-buried from the weight of it all. And at the front, tethered by thick leather straps, stood the beast.
The creature shook its head, flicking its ears, utterly unbothered.
Krenz, dripping in snot and realization, sighed.
"Damn kid, I let you stay the night, and you repay me by ruining my sleep with all this early morning drama ?"
A door creaked open behind him. Krenz turned just in time to see Atlas step out of the carriage, half-awake, dragging the edge of a crumpled bedsheet with his foot. He gave it a lazy shake, kicking it off as he blinked against the morning light. His hair was a mess, sticking up in odd directions.
Atlas let out a groggy sigh, rubbing the back of his head. His gaze landed on Krenz, still standing there, drenched in snot and disbelief.
Before Krenz could muster a response, cold water slammed into his face.
He gasped, arms flailing, as the shock of it knocked the breath from his lungs. Droplets clung to his clothes, soaking through in an instant. He stood there, shivering, utterly speechless.
Atlas tossed the now-empty wooden bucket aside with a dull thunk.
Krenz just stood there, at that moment, he just stood in silence.
Atlas ignored him, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn before turning to the beast. He lazily ran a hand through its thick fur, still half-asleep. "Well, looks like you already met Boink," he said, patting the creature's side. "He's got a runny nose. Sorry 'bout that."
Boink let out a heavy snort, nostrils flaring, then smacked his lips lazily.
"Anyways, kid. Go soak in the sun. We'll need to visit the Bazaar before setting out today. I'm going back to sleep."
Atlas gave a lazy wave, already turning toward the carriage, ready to retreat into his slumber.
Krenz, all this time, had just stood there. But something inside him finally snapped.
"The hell are you. I don't know you. You're not who I came looking for." His voice cracked, frustration boiling over. "You might have the easiest life imaginable, but I don't. I don't have time to waste. My parents could be suffering somewhere—hell, I don't even know if they're alive!
He took a shaky breath, fists clenched.
"I went to the guild to ask for help, not to get tangled up with some illegal ruffian like you. A complete mess—even a servant's kid like me can tell. And now look at me! Covered in cold water and snot! I'm done. I don't need anyone's help.
"I'll find them myself."
The air between them went still.
Atlas listened, his expression unreadable. Yet, for the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes. A moment of recognition. Then, he stepped closer.
"And how exactly do you plan on doing that, kid?" His voice was quiet, but firm. "You gonna march off to the Null Continent all on your own?"
Krenz glared at him, fury in his eyes—yet he was holding back tears. Because even he knew how absurd it sounded. He had no plan. No means. No real chance.
Atlas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The Null Continent is bigger than all the kingdoms combined. Bigger than you can even imagine. No one's ever traversed even half of it." He crouched slightly, eyeing Krenz levelly.
"Creatures bigger than mountains—nah, bigger than kingdoms—live there. Past the gods' and demons' realms, across an ocean of nothing but death, you really think you can just walk in and find your parents?"
With every word, Krenz's breath grew shakier. Reality settled in, and with it, a single tear trickled down his cheek.
Atlas sighed again, scooping up the fallen bedsheet. He tossed it over Krenz's head, covering his eyes. Then, with an uncharacteristic gentleness, he placed a hand atop the boy's head, pressing lightly.
Krenz couldn't hold it in anymore. The weight of everything—the fear, the helplessness, the frustration—came crashing down, and he sobbed, his small hands gripping the bedsheet over his face, soaking it through.
Krenz's breath hitched. His hands clenched into the sheet. He squeezed his eyes shut, the last of his pride breaking. "Please help me," he whispered.
Atlas let out a slow breath, watching him.
"…You weren't wrong about me, kid," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I am a mess. A lazy, no-good ruffian who doesn't follow rules and doesn't care much for responsibility." He crouched slightly, resting an elbow on Krenz's head. "And yeah, if you looked at me and thought, 'this guy's got nothing figured out,' you'd be right."
His voice had that usual, careless drawl, but somewhere underneath, there was something else. A quiet weight.
"But you know… life's got a way of taking things from you." His fingers curled slightly, but his expression didn't change. "No matter how much you hold on, no matter how hard you fight… some things slip right through."
Krenz sniffled, his breath shaky, but he was listening.
Atlas flicked his forehead, light but firm. "But me? I don't let go of what's in front of me. Not anymore. I'm done chasing ghosts, done looking back. I take what's in my hands and I move forward." He straightened, letting his hand rest on Krenz's head. "And right now, kid, that means you. So, yeah—you can hate me, call me a no-good drifter, say I've got it easy. But you asked for my help."
He pressed his palm down gently but firmly, like an unspoken promise.
"So leave the rest to me."