The week passed faster than Trafalgar expected. One moment he was standing on the rooftop with Cynthia, and the next he was back in his usual rhythm — classes, training, and a growing restlessness he couldn't quite shake.
He stopped by his local once, mostly out of habit. The place was quiet, the faint scent of oil and wood still lingering in the air. He leaned against the counter and glanced at the quest board on the wall.
Dozens of notices hung there — pest exterminations, escort jobs, simple monster hunts. Nothing that made his pulse quicken.
'Too weak, too boring,' he thought, scanning another flimsy paper. 'If I'm going to fight, at least let it be something worth.'
With a sigh, he left the shop and made his way to the city streets, his thoughts already elsewhere. The next stop was Mayla's house.
