"Ahhh! Happiness...what a wonderful feeling that is."

Gregor walked down the road with a big broad smile plastered on his face. His heart was calm and more importantly at peace.

As the late afternoon sun dipped low in the sky, its golden rays cast a warm glow over Greyvale City, wrapping it in a comforting embrace.

He walked along a quieter side street, the sturdy stone pavement beneath his boots both familiar and reassuring.

A cool breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the tempting aroma of freshly baked bread from local bakeries, the rhythmic clang of metal from distant workshops, and the distant laughter of children playing beyond the cobbled houses.

For the first time in ages, Gregor's shadow didn't reflect the haunted figure of a man on edge, it mirrored someone who stood a bit taller, someone at peace with himself.

The new gear he wore moved effortlessly with him. The Windforged Argent Set hugged his body like a second skin—sleek, polished silver plates that sat perfectly over layers of enchanted leather, every curve designed to align with his form.

Unlike traditional armor, it felt almost weightless, as if the gentle breeze itself helped to carry it.

When sunlight danced over its surface, the armor shimmered, drawing the glances of passersby, some intrigued, others visibly impressed.

The twin swords, Gale Edge, were strapped across his lower back, their slim, elegant sheaths housing blades that were both beautiful and lethal. The hilts gleamed softly, reminiscent of moonlight trapped in steel.

Gregor felt… content. Not in a brash or boastful way, but in a quiet realization that he hadn't experienced in years.

His hands were clasped behind him as he strolled leisurely, observing the life pulsating around him.

Shopkeepers were sweeping away dust, a mother was gently scolding her son for chasing after chickens in the street, and two young warriors were playfully sparring in an alley, laughter mingling with the clatter of their training.

For once, the cacophony surrounding him seemed less like noise and more like a vivid tapestry of life. As he absorbed the scene, a thought gently surfaced in his mind.

"Happiness…" Gregor pondered, glancing up at the sky, where clouds blushed a soft orange under the setting sun. "People seek it as if it's a treasure buried far and wide, convinced that their lives will transform once they grasp its fleeting essence."

He breathed in deeply, the cool metal against his skin contrasting with the fragrant air that filled his lungs.

"But this walk," he mused, the rhythmic thud of his boots against the pavement grounding him, "with just a handful of coins in my pocket… wearing armor I acquired through my own hard work… it seems I've finally grasped something profound."

A small, almost imperceptible smile crept onto his face, one that felt both unfamiliar yet oddly right.

"Happiness isn't about grand gestures or a picture-perfect life devoid of struggle. It lies in the quiet moments between trials—the warmth of knowing I'm evolving into a better version of myself… one step at a time."

Memories of his sister's peaceful face flooded back to him. Her fragile breaths. The way she always tried to smile for him, even when illness weighed heavily upon her.

He thought about the burden of responsibility he had carried since childhood, like a heavy chain around his heart. And now… now there was a flicker of hope.

The Moonwell Elixir have cured his sister's illness. His sister who hasn't smile in a very long time, finally smile and was able to walk on her two feets.

With each step, his heart grew heavier with emotion. "It's about doing something worthwhile for those I care about," Gregor muttered softly to himself, the wind carrying his words away. "Even if the world never sees it. Even if they never know the challenges I faced."

A carriage rolled by, its wheels clattering over the cobblestones, momentarily pulling Gregor from his thoughts. He shifted slightly to the side, avoiding a splash of muddy water, and kept walking along the pavement, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.

His hand rested on one of the sword hilts at his waist, the cool metal vibrating gently beneath his fingers, alive, sharp, ready for action. It was a blade meant for someone who dared to envision a brighter future.

"Happiness isn't just a prize waiting down the line," he mused. "It's these quiet moments I'm experiencing right now… steps that prove I haven't given up."

A soft breeze danced down the street, ruffling his hair and brushing against his armor. Children dashed past him, laughter echoing as they played tag, while a baker called out cheerful greetings to regular customers.

Gregor took a deep breath, allowing the simple sounds of life to fill him with warmth.

He didn't possess much. No grand fate written in the stars awaited him. He lacked a powerful clan, noble lineage, or remarkable skills. But he had the resilience to fight, to earn, to protect… and today, for once, he savored a rare moment of tranquility.

That alone was enough to make his heart swell.

As he walked on, the unlight glinted off his armor like shooting stars. Gregor felt a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time, something tender, bittersweet, and filled with hope.

He felt truly alive and...happy.

--------

Bang!

"Sons and daughters... your daddy is home!"

The door swung open with a force that made the tavern tremble slightly, sending dust cascading from the rusty wooden beams above. Everyone in the tavern turned their heads toward the entrance, and upon seeing who it was, they simply smiled and returned to their drinks.

"Yo... isn't that our great warrior Gregor?" a deep voice boomed from the back of the tavern as a massive man rose to his feet.

He towered nearly two meters tall, muscles bulging beneath his skin like coiled serpents. An aura of raw power radiated from him. His wild, untamed cyan hair framed his face, and he wore armored leather pants along with knee-high iron boots—his torso bare.

What set him apart were his vertical pupils, reminiscent of a wild beast rather than a human's. Just standing there made the atmosphere feel heavy and oppressive.

"Hahaha... Brutus! Long time no see!" Gregor called out as he strode over to the giant with a hearty laugh.

Boom!

They clasped hands in greeting, causing the floor to shake under their combined strength, generating a small shockwave.

"What do you mean 'long time no see'? It hasn't been long since we parted ways after exploring that dungeon," Brutus replied, rolling his eyes.

"I know," Gregor grinned. "But for me, it's felt like an eternity after everything I've been through."

"Oh? Did something happen?" Brutus raised his bushy eyebrows in intrigue.

As they spoke, their hands remained locked in an intense grip; both warriors were pushing against each other with increasing pressure.

The veins on Brutus's hand bulged like steel cables while Gregor began to sweat but maintained his smile, refusing to concede defeat.

"I'll tell you if you can beat me," Gregor chuckled softly despite the pain coursing through his hand.

Brutus flashed a wide grin and tightened his grip further. The patrons around them paused their activities, captivated by this display of strength. Their expressions suggested this wasn't their first encounter with such antics.

The tavern fell silent as only Gregor and Brutus stood locked in combat; wind began to stir around them as the floor trembled beneath their feet.

Gregor's face flushed red as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead while the wind tousled his hair.

"Alright... son, you win." Finally unable to hold on any longer, Gregor released his grip and shot Brutus an annoyed look.

"Hahaha! Come on! You know you'll never overpower me at this game!" Brutus laughed heartily and patted Gregor on the shoulder hard enough that he sank slightly into the floorboards with a creak.

Gregor twitched at the weight of Brutus's hand on him; thinking about Brutus's strength made him let out a bitter chuckle.

"Gregor! It's been ages! How have you been?"

A clear voice filled with seductive charm interrupted them.

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