"A room, please. I'll be staying for two months."

"Ah, I'm sorry, sir. We're out of rooms."

"Tch."

Marcellus turned to leave. But even so, he still caught the murmurs from the corner of the inn.

"Hey, isn't that... Marcellus Ratra?"

"That's him. A nine-star bounty. The only person with nine stars on his head... is him."

Marcellus said nothing and silently walked away. More than anyone, he understood his current standing. A traitor. After Zi'eer's death, both Etrea and the Ministry turned their backs on him. Combined with old grudges, only the neutral territories remained as safe havens for Marcellus.

Still, that didn't mean bounty hunters wouldn't come sniffing. Just like the two who'd been tailing him for some time now.

The moment Marcellus turned into a quiet alley, the two acted. One of them drew a Dawnshot pistol from his side and fired at Marcellus.

"...I wonder if there's somewhere I can crash for the night..."

Marcellus swung his hand. A puppet string shot out from his palm. With a swift motion, he yanked it hard.

"Huh... Wha—?"

The next thing the gunman saw was the world turning upside down. Looking down, he realized—somehow, his legs were tightly bound by strings. What was terrifying was that the strings weren't attached to anything. They just... emerged from the air itself.

"Let me tell you something,"
Marcellus said.
"I'm in a bad mood."

He snapped his fingers. Instantly, hundreds of threads shot out, binding the second hunter and suspending him mid-air.

"Tell me the location of the nearest village."

The two bounty hunters shook with fear. One stammered:

"Th-there's a village... in Etrean territory, two days west of here..."

"No good. Try again."

"H-huh?"

Marcellus didn't bother repeating himself. Slowly, he raised his hand. The threads coiled tighter around the two hunters, pulling from all directions—like they were about to tear them into thousands of pieces.

"Another one."

The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed from their bodies. They spoke in broken, ragged voices:

"There's... another village... north... a day and a half away... please... spare us..."

Marcellus simply lowered his hand.
A slicing sound filled the air—followed by screams of agony.

"North, huh..."

After a day and a half of travel, Marcellus finally reached the village the bounty hunters had mentioned.
The first thing he did was head to the wanted board, typically found in every crowded location.
This one was at an inn on the village's eastern side.

"Anos Ytreshi, seven stars... Ian Ixatoke, seven stars... Marcellus Ratra..."

Marcellus yanked his own wanted poster off the board, folded it, and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Then, casually, he picked up another poster and walked to the front desk.

"Any rooms available?"

"Yes, sir. One night is 5 Notes."

Marcellus tossed a small pouch of coins onto the counter.

"I'll be staying for two months. This contains 3,000 Notes. Keep the change. Just get me a room."

The receptionist fumbled with the pouch, surprised.

"Y-yes, of course. Let me show you to your room."

Unbeknownst to Marcellus, everything he had just done had not escaped the eyes of one curious observer.

"Marcellus Ratra... he looks... more harmless than I imagined."

A soft voice spoke—just audible enough for herself to hear.
It belonged to a young girl with wide, curious eyes and an artist's cap resting on her head.

...

"Hey—wait, hold on—I don't even know you! What do you want from me?!"

The panicked voice belonged to a man lying flat on the ground, his body bloodied with wounds.

"Dash Ixatoki. Six stars."

Marcellus threw the bounty poster onto the ground.
The man—Dash Ixatoki—turned pale with fear.

"I've got money, alright? You want money, I'll give it to you, name your pri—"

Before he could finish, Dash Ixatoki's head flew into the air.
A geyser of blood erupted from his neck, splattering everywhere.

"A beautiful sight, isn't it? Don't you agree?"

A voice from behind startled Marcellus.
His body immediately melted into shadow and teleported away.

"Since when...? Was I being followed?"

"Relax. I don't mean any harm."

Marcellus felt an ominous pressure right in front of him.
The Crypt Blade—wrapped in cloth on his back—trembled lightly.

"Who are you? A bounty hunter?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

The girl slapped her forehead and clicked her tongue as if realizing something.

"Ah, right, how rude of me. Hello there. I'm Setareh. You must be Marcellus Ratra, right?"

"How do you know? I already took down my poster."

Setareh smiled.

"I'm a wanderer. I've seen your wanted poster at least thirty times. But seeing the real you... this is a first. That cloth on your back—is that a sword?"

Marcellus, now calm again, picked up Dash Ixatoki's head and stuffed it into a sack.
Then, turning his back on Setareh, he said:

"None of your business."