"Psh,” the rough man scoffed, staring at his scroll, “it’s as if [i]I’m[/i] the cursed one now.” The Vanisher continued walking along, calling his number time and time again, his keen eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who looked his way. To his dismay, he could not hear a single person yell even the word, “hundred” for an entire ten minutes. His search went on fruitlessly for another few minutes, then he stopped moving and stood on a bench. [i]That’s it[/i], he thought, [i]if no one reacts in the next five minutes, I’m going on my own[/i]. With this thought, Nestor held his scroll above his head and continued shouting, “one forty-three,” repetitively.

Right before giving up, Nestor noticed the crowd parting (with a noticeable displeasure at the source) and calls of apology. The Vanisher stared at the man responsible, but continued calling his stock phrase in case someone else from his group happened to pass by. He watched the dark-haired man shoot through the crowd with a curious expression, then stopped as the man approached him. Many people were annoyed at having gotten smacked in the face by the man’s bow, but no one seemed to be annoyed enough to pick a fight.

[i]He’s either notorious, weak, or efficient[/i] Nestor thought, a smirk forming over his face for a brief second before being engulfed by a questioning gaze. The man posed his question to the Vanisher with a hopeful tone, pulling at the broken heartstrings within his chest. The ragged traveler loosed a sigh of relief, then collapsed down onto the bench in a seated position, smiling at the other person with condescension. Without answering the question, Nestor asked, “how many others do you think are in my group? Just one? Maybe two besides me?”(Time-0 sec) With this rhetorical question proposed, the Vanisher stared over at a man in leather armor by a small fountain who he noticed was still watching him.(Time-.5)

The man in leather armor stared back at the Vanisher in surprise,(Time-1.5) then stood up and started to walk towards them, shouting, “Do you need something from me?”(Time–2) Nestor narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but waved his hand “negative,”(Time-2.5) and looked back at the person with dark brown hair. The man’s eyes were glowing with a pale gold color, an oddity even among sight-power users. Nestor paused a second, then commented, “Or do you think I’d be better off with just one,” with a skeptical look on his face, gesturing towards the man in leather armor as he seated himself on a bench once again, still staring at the pair. (Time-3.5)