Each Knight-ranked Purpose was assigned to three people. At least that's what Halo believed; there wasn't anything to confirm it. This made him wonder if he'd be able to contact the other two, just like he'd connected with Liam and Seraph on his previous Purpose.

Halo's journey to StoneHaven took days, despite being four in number and the Sinner pulling the wagon having limbs longer than a horse's. Just as Mill had told him, nothing on the road exceeded the strength of a Perverted Sinner. This barely slowed them down.

Now, after days of nothing but dry bread and water, he was looking forward to trying the delicacies Mill had spoken so highly of.

He needed to secure a room first and understand this safe zone, which made Chef Silas's inn, Never Again Inn, the best place to start. But he needed to know if Silas was still alive.

The entire zone was a fortress-like city built on multiple tiers, rising dramatically over a boiling river. Massive stone walls dominated the landscape. They were thick, towering, and almost monolithic, but ringed by even thicker, taller walls.

The citadel's structure reminded Halo of the mist and endless fall that had claimed his first Sinners in this world. High above the boiling river, an enormous stone bridge connected two galactic mountains on which the entire zone rested. This bridge was supported by gigantic stone pillars that plunged deep into the water below.

The citadel was densely packed. Unlike Mirror Steppe, layers of smaller buildings clustered tightly within the protective outer walls. The smiles and enthusiasm people carried made Halo wonder if there were any threats at all.

It was as though he'd been dropped into an actual fantasy world. The usual grimness and bloody scent this world carried were all lost calmly and reassuringly.

Everything spoke of how much these people trusted the guardians of this land. If that were the case, why was he needed? Couldn't the guardians get rid of the threat themselves?

He stood at the enormous gates for a moment, the wagon that brought them already heading elsewhere, as he observed countless others dressed in all different attire, from combat gear to everyday clothes, with some even wearing full armor.

After taking in the sight for a moment, he began asking around for the Never Again Inn. As it turned out, Chef Silas was indeed alive, and the inn was running. A single pointed finger directed him through the narrow streets to the Never Again Inn.

It was a two-story building, slightly taller than the neighboring ones but unremarkable otherwise.

The moment he pushed the wooden door open, he was welcomed by a tall, imposing chef with a refined yet intimidating presence.

The man appeared to be in his forties, muscular, with visible scars running along his arms and neck. He was dressed in a crisp white double-breasted shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his scarred forearms.

The man didn't have to say anything. Halo could tell immediately how feared and respected he was.

He welcomed him in with a present contradictory to his appearance, a smile, and a welcoming gesture.

The hall was filled with wooden tables and shelves cluttered with clay pots, jars, bowls, candles, and vials. Wooden balconies wrapped around the upper level, supported by beams and lined with rustic railings.

Yet Halo was surprised to see that despite the inn's popularity, not a single customer was present. Perhaps it was too late for Silas's meals.

"What can I get you?"

The man's voice was deep and daunting, yet carried a humorous tone that softened its edge.

"I'm looking for Silas… the chef."

"That will be me…"

Silas said and stood behind his counter.

According to Mill, decades had passed since they last saw each other, and though they got to know each other, they never spent enough time together to guarantee Silas would remember him. Halo had no intention of playing the familiarity card.

"Long road behind you, eh? Your hair's dirty, blood on you too, you've had a rough time. Need a room to rest?"

The moment Silas spoke, Halo brushed his hair in disbelief. His hair was dirty-white with red streaks, but what made it so unusual to others?

It's never been bad until he arrived in this world. People used to find it unique and cute, but over here all they cared about was how unusual it was.

He sighed.

"Yes, I'd need a room, and a meal too."

Silas nodded.

"How long are you staying?"

Halo considered for a moment. He couldn't tell, and since he had no idea what threatened this land, it was nearly impossible to estimate. Still, he needed to play it safe.

"One week, for now. I will extend it if I have to…"

Silas smiled.

"Are you here for a Purpose?"

"No… I'm just buying myself a little time away from my Purpose. I'll be on my way soon."

For all he knew, Silas might be the corporate behind this citadel's threat. He intended to play it safe.

"Oh? Is that so? Well, I've got everything you'd need for a perfect little holiday…"

Silas gestured, and Halo began following him upstairs.

The room was small and rustic, like a prison cell. This made him miss his life at the Galactic Castle instantly. On the right side was a bed with a simple wooden frame topped with a fluffy blanket.

Two small wooden stools sat near the center of the room, and the stone floor was scattered with straw. A tiny window at the far end let in a gentle breeze, and near it was a door to the washroom.

He took a few minutes to relax and think through how he'd get information on what was really happening in StoneHaven.

Silas didn't seem like the type to go spitting out secrets to strangers, but judging by his circumstances, Halo knew it was best to get smaller details from him and fish out the rest later.

At least that would give him a glimpse of his situation.

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