Orion spent a few minutes wrapping the bandages. Now his head, right arm, and knee were all covered. The pressure from the wraps, combined with the numbing effect of the ointment, was oddly soothing. He climbed onto the bed and lay there for a while, just enjoying the moment—sprawled out, face up.
A clean bed was a luxury. Actually, having a bed at all was a luxury. So Orion wasn't about to waste the opportunity to enjoy it as much as possible.
'I've got nothing better to do anyway,' he thought, continuing to lounge around the room.
He could've stayed there for hours… if he was only trying to fool himself.
Half an hour later, Orion sprang up, visibly excited.
He couldn't hold it in anymore—he was really going to the Sanctuary!
"Hell yeah!!" he shouted, throwing both arms in the air like a victorious champion.
"I need to get ready. Right!"
He had a plan—well, sort of. But how exactly?
Orion didn't have any money, so buying gear was out of the question. Physical training wasn't likely to yield results in the short time he had before departure either.
"Actually… maybe I do have something," he said to himself, squeezing his right arm.
That move he pulled in the fight earlier… it had been strong.
Orion wasn't stupid—or well, he was, but not so much that he'd underestimate a Demonic Presence. If he really wanted to go out into the world, face dangers, and battle those things, he'd need an attack worthy of the challenge. And that one? That was worth investing in.
The problem was obvious: the damage it did to his own body.
Could it be perfected?
No—"Perfect" wasn't the right word. But maybe he could at least understand how it worked?
He pondered it for a while, but came to no real conclusion. Not that it was unexpected—Orion was not exactly a brainiac.
'Well, I won't know unless I try,' he thought.
He looked at the door, hesitated, then carefully tried to step out. It was his first time in a place this fancy—not that it was that fancy, really. But for a kid who grew up surrounded by filth and the stench of alleyways, this was top-tier luxury.
He opened the door slowly and peered into the hallway.
"Holy shit," he thought.
The corridor was just as beautiful as the damn room.
How the hell could these bastards waste resources making a hallway this fancy?
Orion grumbled internally.
He stepped out and looked around, wondering if he was even allowed to do this.
'Dina didn't say I had to stay put, sooo…'
He tiptoed through the halls, trying to find the staircase to the ground floor. After a few minutes of wandering—and getting a little lost—he finally found the spiral staircase and began his descent.
As he went down, he admired the hotel's design. It really was something to behold. The steps were made of a dark polished wood that shimmered under the soft lights. The walls were white and smooth, like they were carved from marble, and decorated with golden details—well, what looked like gold. Not that Orion would know. He'd never seen gold in his life.
He kept descending until he reached the ground floor, where he saw a lounge area with tables, benches, plush sofas, and a few waiters bustling about, taking orders and carrying trays of food and drinks.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't intimidated. He was completely out of his element in that elegant space.
While he stood frozen at the foot of the stairs, surveying the lounge, one of the waiters approached him.
"May I help you, sir?" the waiter asked.
Startled, Orion jumped and turned to him, eyes wide.
"Oh! No, no, I'm just… looking. Just checking things out."
The waiter gave him a skeptical look—it was an unusual situation for this hotel. But then, recalling the events of the day, realization struck him.
"Ah! You must be the guest of Mr. Ashka, then?"
Orion scowled.
"Guest? Of course not."
He jabbed his thumb at his own chest proudly, puffing himself up.
"I'm part of his crew," he declared arrogantly.
That wasn't exactly true. If anything, Orion was more like a squire. Maybe not even that—more of a tag-along troublemaker.
The waiter blinked a few times, visibly surprised. He didn't quite believe him, but remembering how Ashka had carried the boy in wounded yesterday, he hesitated to argue.
'What's the harm,' he thought.
He rubbed his hands together and gave Orion a polished, professional smile.
"I see! So you're a young master. Yes, yes, of course I recognize that now. And how may I assist you today, Sir…?"
"Orion!"
"Right away, Sr. Orion. How can I help you?"
Those words triggered something in Orion's pride. He gave a smug smile and replied:
"Haha! Well, I'm looking for a place to train. Got anything like that here?"
The waiter thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"I'm afraid not, Sr. Orion. We don't have facilities of that nature. I apologize for the inconvenience."
He gave Orion a fake-sad look.
Orion looked disappointed. He kicked at the floor, instinctively—as if there were a rock there.
"But don't be disheartened, Master Orion! You see, most Sparklings who visit prefer to go outside the colony boundaries to train. Perhaps you could invite one of your companions to join you for a little outdoor practice?"
The waiter said it with a cheerful tone—but in truth, he was testing Orion. If he really was part of Ashka's crew, the others would definitely back him up. That group was famously tight-knit.
Orion felt a chill run down his spine.
It wasn't like he'd never left Central before—he had. Twice.
But both times had been during Demonic Presence attacks. And both times, he'd nearly met death itself.
He shook his head.
'No. If I'm going to the Sanctuary, I have to get over this fear,' he told himself.
He looked at the waiter and nodded.
"Thanks for the suggestion, sir."
He started to walk away, but halfway across the room, he paused and turned back.
"Uhh… have you seen any of my companions around?"
The waiter smirked internally. 'This kid...' he thought.
With another polished smile, he pointed to a table in the corner of the room.
"Right over there, Sr. Orion."
"Ah, yeah. That's them. Thanks. I'll go say hi. Have a nice day!"
Orion waved, and the waiter gave a courteous bow in return as the boy made his way toward the table—where two strangers were sitting.
One was a tall, burly man with short hair in a strange blend of gold and brown. The other was a woman with a curvy figure and yellowish-brown hair—not quite blonde.
Orion approached slowly, awkwardly. When he was close enough, he called out:
"Good afternoon!"
The two had been deep in a lighthearted conversation. They turned to look at him.
The bulky man raised his eyebrows in recognition.
"Well, look who it is… you're that kid Ashka was talking about, aren't you?"
He spoke with a hint of respect.
Orion looked sheepish.
"You know who I am?" he asked, surprised.
The burly man laughed.
"Ha! Know you? Everyone in the Crew knows who you are! You wrecked that wannabe Sparkling, kid. Nicely done."
He stood up and walked over, holding out a hand—one that looked three times bigger than Orion's.
"Name's Auron. Good to meet you, Orion!"
Orion shook his hand.
"Likewise!"
The woman behind Auron rolled her eyes and let out an arrogant huff.
Auron and Orion glanced at her. Auron sighed.
"Don't mind her. That's Saika. She's been in a mood ever since Ashka mentioned you."
Saika slapped both palms on the table.
"In a mood? Please. That's not a mood, that's called having common sense! Stop acting like I'm the asshole because i don't want to see a kid go on a suicide mission!"
She pointed accusingly at Auron.
"But the captain already said—"
Auron tried to reason, a bit unsure. But Saika cut him off.
"Oh light, Auron! He's a captain, not a god. He doesn't know what's going to happen on this expedition!"
Auron didn't know how to respond. It's not like she was wrong.
Behind him, Orion… was clearly bothered by her words.