"WHAT?!" Hennah shouted, breaking the stillness of the morning blues."WHY NOW?!"

  "It's an important task, Hennah. I'll be gone for a while. Just get ready for the Geil Arena," Myke replied, tightening his gear.

  As Ying entered the tavern, he paused for a moment and looked at her."And Ming—teach Ying some basics, as usual," he added, then left without another word.

  "Myke? Where are you going?" Ying asked, confused.

  "Don't worry about him," Ming said gently. "He has his own mission. Come—let’s get started with the basics."Ying hesitated but followed her without more questions.

  Meanwhile, Hennah and Jug sat around a table, visibly bored.

  "Hey, Jug."

  "What?"

  "Wanna bet on something?" Hennah jingled her coin pouch.

  "I don’t gamble, pink hair. You always cheat."

  "I promise I won’t."

  "Still no. I’ve made my choice."

  "Oh come on, soft hands! Okay, how about this—whatever we win, we split fifty-fifty?"

  "Sixty."

  "Twenty!"

  "What?! No—"

  "DEAL!" Hennah shouted and dashed off.

  "OI, YOU CAN’T JUST—THAT’S NOT A DEAL!!" Jug bellowed, scrambling after her.

  "Twenty for you, ninety for me~!"

  "THAT'S ONE HUNDRED AND TEN, YOU LITTLE—!! NOT FAIR!!"

  While the town market of Jesh bustled, Ming and Ying walked through it on their way to Hosh’s training area.

  "So, your full name is Mingwara?" Ying asked.

  "Mingwara Jifu," Ming replied directly.

  "Oh... I'm Yingli Hesky."

  "Didn't ask... but nice name. Who gave it to you?"

  "Oh, my father. Chingli Hesky."

  "That's nice."

  "Yours?"

  "I don't have parents."

  Ying fell silent. She felt a pang of sympathy. Ming never had parents to name her. So she held back the next question on her tongue.

  Soon, they arrived at the training zone—a wide, open space tucked behind the crumbling outer wall of Hosh. It was perfect. Roomy enough to test all of Ying’s movements without restraint.

  "Alright, Ying," Ming said, stepping into the clearing."You already learned ‘Glitches’ from Myke. Now it’s time I teach you something else. I call it Dancing Cinders."

  "Dancing... Cinders?" Ying echoed, catching her breath."Never heard of that."

  "Exactly," Ming replied with a smirk, tossing a spear toward her. Ying caught it—barely.

  Without warning, Ming unsheathed a slim katana and lunged. Her strikes came fast—flawless, flowing like silk in a storm. Her body moved like a dancer, but her sword sang like a swarm of blades.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Ying could barely parry a single swing. Each motion felt like it carried the weight of twenty strikes at once. Cinders flew with every clash, sparking like fireflies in twilight. Ming’s steps were graceful, like a forgotten ritual. Her hair flickered in the air—almost glowing, almost burning.

  Despite the elegance, every blow grew heavier. Ying struggled to keep up.

  Then Ming began to chant:"Halha... Salgha... Yalgha... Shgulha... Nyalha..."

  The words were not of any known tongue—not hers, not Hennah’s. Something older. Ancient. Heavy with forgotten meaning.

  Ying fell. Ming stepped forward, blade resting near her face. Ying trembled.

  A nearby team, preparing for their match in Hosh, stood in awe of Ming’s performance. Some clapped. Others whispered her name in reverence.

  "T-This is not what I wanted to learn..." Ying cracked.

  "Of course," Ming said, sheathing her sword and offering her hand."And you still need to learn it anyway."

  After a while, Ying began to grasp the basics of her new weapon—blades and spear alike—under Ming’s guidance. They sparred again. This time, Ying improvised moves Ming didn’t expect. She could barely follow them.

  Eventually, Ming fell. Ying stood over her, spear pressed lightly against her neck.

  "Impressive. Quick learner, you are," Ming said with a small smile.

  Ying laid down her spear and joined her on the ground."You know how to use blades too," she said.

  "It’s better to learn more than just one weapon. That’s survival," Ming replied.

  Ying giggled suddenly."What’s wrong?" Ming asked, curious.

  "I just remembered something Jug once said. It fits so well with what just happened." She kept giggling.

  "Yeah," Ming said. No laughter. Just a soft smile.

  "49 coins?!" Myke was stunned, staring at the motorcycle rental price.

  "Take it or leave it," the gnome behind the counter shrugged."Or... sixteen coins for a small horse."

  Myke stood, jaw tight. After a moment, he pulled out his pouch, slapped it on the counter, and walked off toward the vehicles.

  The gnome peeked inside—sixteen coins. Exactly.

  Meanwhile, Myke hopped on the bike and revved it up.

  "OI! YOU STILL OWE ME THIRTY-THREE!!" the gnome screamed.

  "DEBT!!" Myke yelled back, already disappearing in a trail of dust.

  He tore through the wastelands—merciless winds, sandstorms, brutal heat. A place that dried lungs and cracked lips. He drank sparingly from the bottles he’d packed. The bike groaned under the sun. Eventually, it sputtered and died.

  Without a word, Myke dropped to his knees and brushed aside the sand. He dug out a small tube, connected it to the engine, popped open a capsule, and poured it in.

  A splash. A spark. A glowing, diluted fuel mixed from one gallon of water.

  The engine coughed, then roared.

  Myke spat to the side, climbed on, and gunned it forward again.

  As the town of Jesh quieted, Jug and Hennah stood at the bank’s front gate.

  "I hate this bet," Jug grumbled.

  "Oh, don’t be a soft hands, Juggy boy. We’re gonna do something special."

  They waited for a long while, killing time with rock-paper-scissors.Then suddenly—an alarm rang. A robber burst out of the bank.

  Hennah spotted him first.

  "Perfect!" she grinned."JUGGY BOY! LET’S GO!!"

  "HOLD UP, HENNAH!!"

  As they chased the robber, police arrived—only to start chasing Jug and Hennah instead.

  "HEY, STOP!!"

  "WE'RE NOT WITH HIM!!" Jug tried to explain.

  Suddenly, Hennah swiped the coin bag from the robber and sprinted ahead.

  "HENNAH!!!!"

  "YAHOO!! WE’RE RICH!!! EUREKA!!" she screamed.

  Jug ran faster, grabbing her leg. Hennah tripped, and the entire bag of coins spilled across the street.

  "NOOOOOO!!! MY RICHES!! ALL GONE!!!"

  Not long after, Ming arrived at the police station.

  She facepalmed as she saw them both behind bars.

  "Uh, Miss Mingwara, yes?" an officer asked.

  "Hmm," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  "Are you related to these two—Jugginal Orlath and Hennah Holfen?"

  "...Hmm."

  Ming bailed them out.

  Back outside, Ying ran up, ready to ask what happened—but Ming interrupted her.

  "Both of them are criminal hooligans."

  Ying sealed her lips shut.

  "I told you not to cause any trouble," Ming said coldly.

  "It was Hennah’s idea! I thought it was just a gamble!" Jug protested.

  "SHUT UP, SOFT HANDS! I WAS ABOUT TO GIVE THE COIN BAG BACK TO THE BANK!!"

  "THEN HOW DID YOU EVEN KNOW THERE WAS A ROBBERY, BITCH!?"

  "I SENSED IT, JUGGI-ANAL OR-LAPPY!!"

  "SHUT..." Ming’s voice suddenly shifted—sharp, low, deadly."...THE..."Both of them froze."...FUCK...UP."

  Jug and Hennah turned into guilty children instantly.

  Ming said nothing more, but Ying could feel the tension bleeding from her, even without a single change in Ming’s expression.