Just like my feet, my mind took to wandering. All sorts of thoughts came and went. There was a great deal of reflection—both on a personal level and on a higher, existential level. I dissected just about everything, scrutinizing my actions and mental well-being.

For the most part, I felt fine. I missed my friends and the way life was, but I found joy in progress, and I was no stranger to solitude. A part of me felt like I was made for seclusion—the perfect build to be alone. It didn't help that I had so much going on in my mindscape. The thought actually scared me… maybe scared wasn't the right word… but where would I be without Lana in my life? Living as a misguided mapper… and if I didn't have that? Probably living in the woods somewhere. I wouldn't be much different than Tom.

Life alone scared me. Not because I couldn't handle it—but because I could. Too well. I'd disappear into my own mind, wrapped in goals and peace, unaware the world kept spinning. I'd thrive in isolation. That was the danger.

Solitude had a way of dressing up. It wore ambition like armor, peace like a robe. Cal warned me once that the abyss of the mind doesn't shout—it whispers. And I was starting to hear it again. Offering its comforting walls of safety and silence as if it were a warm embrace.

On the other side of that coin? Without stepping into the world, there'd be no Lana. No Flint. No rocky paths or starlit campfires. The mission. The mess. The memories. Even the tiny things—the way a stranger waves back or the warmth of a smile—those moments kept the soul afloat. Solitude may protect, but it never fills.

There was so much more, too… small, meaningless interactions that somehow fill the soul with joy—a friendly wave, a kind act of service, witnessing good in the world. At times it was so hard to see, but there was good, and it was worth existing for… if nothing else, then at least to add to the ever-draining cup.

Connection was what I needed.

The last thought hit like a gut punch. It took a minimal amount of self-reflection to see how much of the world I neglected while pursuing my own goals. I had my excuses; I made a note to be better when I had the capacity to do so.

The merchants of Tom's Pond stuck in my mind the most. Even though I tried to ignore what happened to them in each loop, it still nipped at me.

At the same time, these loops were just an elaborate mindspace created by a gem of legendary origin. Were the events really happening?

It was a difficult challenge to balance the ebb and flow of my thoughts. I couldn't find the correct answer, no matter how many angles I looked at it—at least not an answer that provided complete comfort—and so my thoughts waned between doing more and doing less. That wasn't even including the conundrum that sometimes doing less was doing more. When I threw that into the mix, well, my aimless walking became much more frantic.

After an hour of indulging in self-induced inner turmoil, I reached the capital of the Empire. I took a good look at Alder's walls that stood as a monument of the Empire's power—walls that stretched a hundred feet high and circled the entire border of the city. So tall, strong, and daunting. Alder's iron gates were wide open, an invitation to all to visit, and could be seen a mile away.

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They didn't look inviting in the least. Certainly not for someone like me. Sogg's abyss, I didn't really want to go into the capital. Not until I could square things with the emperor. Or at least, without a target on my back.

I turned from the walls and kept walking.

At some point, the pace of my walking increased significantly. With the increased speed, I realized that there was a purpose behind my steps, figured out what that purpose was, and took a shortcut via transport ring to the Guild Society. From there, I used their teleport to reach the Frontier. Barely had enough credits to cover the fee.

If North Alder was the hub for crafting, then the Frontier was the hub for adventuring and hunting. The city stood at the boundary of the two Empires. There was no city north of the Frontier for hundreds of miles—only vast wilderness full of spirit beasts, dungeons, and raw mana. It was a place where cultivators lived in pursuit of power, or where businesses set up shop to take advantage of those who were desperate for an edge.

It didn't bring me any shame to be counted among the greedy businesses. My maps sold at a discount, and the details were generally correct. Sure, there were complaints about specifics, but in a world where mages could remove mountains, drain lakes, and burn down forests on a whim, what was the point of getting into the nitty-gritty?

Walking into town was a bit strange. For me, it felt like a decade or two had passed since I'd last set foot in town. In reality, I had only been gone for a week.

Everything was how I left it. At least, that seemed to be the case. I was never big on details, and now that I was losing details in my memories, I couldn't place specifics in their proper places. The town seemed to be unchanged, and that was good enough.

It was wild, imperfect, and had a campfire warmth to it. The town smelled of cedar, pine, dirt, smoke, and a subtle hint of sweat. I took in a deep breath. Home.

I passed through the entrance without having to show any ID. There were no guards or security detail. In fact, although the Frontier resided in Alderi's Empire, it wasn't an imperial city. Instead, the town was owned and operated by three guilds—the Hunters, Adventurers, and Trades guilds, to be more exact. Since it was a guild city, all problems were sorted out through the guilds—often by members trying to earn standing and credits.

If there was a theme around the Frontier, it was that minimal effort was optimal. Buildings were made out of wood stripped from the forest—even the walls were wooden. In fact, there were no stone structures in the town. It gave the city a delicate aura, as if it could vanish at a moment's notice.

Yet, the Frontier was the longest-standing city on the Agoria continent and one of the safest places to live. The structure might have been built with minimal effort, but the protective barriers were not, and they required daily maintenance. The roads were mostly unpaved, leaving a constant dust problem. On the other hand, it presented an accurate picture of what life as an adventurer would be like.

The streets were more packed than usual, kicking up enough dust to form a cloud. There were no signs of a spirit beast invasion, and I didn't get the sense that there was a tournament going on. The harvest festival was right around the corner, but that was never a big deal in the Frontier.

"Kip, what are you doing here?"

I heard the whispers of the witch before I saw her. The lingering cold within melted away.

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