“Have you really been stuck in the mountains with Busca for the past three months?”

  “Yeah,” Martin replied, leaning against the doorframe, his expression a mix of exhaustion and relief. “I had to write thirty magic scrolls every day. The room was dark and musty. You can’t imagine how miserable it was.”

  “I should have followed you,” Debbie said, her voice filled with regret.

  “Even if you had, it wouldn’t have made a difference. They had numbers on their side. I don’t want you blaming yourself. Look at me now,” Martin reassured her, forcing a smile.

  “Martin,” she said softly.

  “Debbie?”

  “I promise I’ll protect you from now on.”

  “Okay, but let’s just wait until you’re married to me in two years before you start taking on that responsibility,” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “...”

  “Debbie?”

  “Fine.”

  “…What was that?”

  “I said I’d marry you. It was in the plan anyway,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly.

  The stars twinkled brightly above them as night enveloped the backyard of Anthony's Magic Shop. The door was tightly shut, and the sounds of rushing water echoed from inside. Martin was finally taking a shower after months of grueling captivity. The lack of proper hygiene had left him feeling filthy, and he relished the chance to wash away the grime.

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  A few moments later, he emerged from the room, dressed in fresh clothes.

  Debbie stood on the steps, beaming. “I did it! I defeated Busca and his son!” she exclaimed.

  “Wait, what?” Martin asked, bewildered.

  “No, no. I mean I learned how to use my giant sword properly. I can now spin it for half an hour without getting dizzy!” She twirled around, demonstrating her newfound skill.

  Martin raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face. “Is that what you call a surprise?”

  “Yes! Now I’ll never be afraid of Kerry again! I feel strong enough to take on a third-order swordsman!” she declared, her enthusiasm infectious.

  “That’s... impressive,” he replied, clapping slowly and trying to match her excitement.

  Debbie beamed at him, her face brightening even more. “I’ve been starving, though. Can you make me some noodles?”

  “Of course,” Martin replied, heading toward the kitchen.

  As he rummaged through the cupboards, Debbie’s voice came from the doorway. “Martin, that steel swordsman who saved you, is he a senior swordsman?”

  Martin paused, deliberating how much to reveal. “He’s not a senior swordsman, but he’s incredibly skilled. He wrapped himself in armor, and even though I didn’t see his face, he was undeniably impressive. He took down Kerry and Busca with ease. There’s a spell he used... I think it was called the ‘Power Generator.’ It was incredible.”

  Martin noticed Debbie’s eyes sparkling with admiration, but then he turned to find her resting against the doorframe, her eyelids drooping. She had fallen asleep, exhausted from her training.

  He chuckled softly, realizing how hard she had worked to show him her strength. She had been through so much herself, and yet here she was, trying to reassure him. He felt a warmth spread through him, appreciating their bond.

  After cooking two steaming bowls of noodles, Martin nudged Debbie gently. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to eat.”

  Later that evening, as Martin lay down on a soft, dry bed, a sense of comfort washed over him. For the first time in months, he was free from the dank wooden bed he had endured during his captivity. The memories of violence were still fresh, but the weight of his actions felt oddly balanced by the realization of survival in this unpredictable world.

  His thoughts drifted to the ring he had taken from Busca, a potential treasure hidden in its depths. He pulled it from his pocket, inspecting it carefully. As he focused his magical energy into it, he felt a faint tug, a doorway to something more.

  This ring held the promise of space magic, a tool for storage that only Busca could open. The excitement of what could lie within sent a thrill through him.

  He couldn’t help but lick his lips in anticipation. The adventure was far from over; it was only just beginning.