Chapter 21: Hatred
With the upcoming assault looming, I knew I had to be ready. I needed to push my Eyes of Truth and every ounce of support I could muster into overdrive if I wanted to help my teammates stay one step ahead of whatever threats we might face. Training, planning, trial and error—that's all I could focus on.
The first step was securing the right equipment. I went to Smoosh, hoping he'd have some ideas. He nodded with a knowing grin and suggested we pay a visit to Bmixture. When we arrived, Bmixture was already working on something, but when he saw us, he immediately jumped to help. After a bit of brainstorming and explaining that I wanted a more supportive role, he offered a few options. For recon, he suggested a set of smoke grenades that would provide quick cover if things got heated. And since I still needed a way to defend myself, he handed me another hatchet, specifically for close-range combat.
I was grateful for the weapons, but my focus quickly shifted to fine-tuning the sensory capabilities of my Eyes. That's where the idea of "Bubble Cams" started taking shape. By pushing the Eyes' magic out from my body, I found I could create small, near-invisible bubbles on surfaces. Once in place, they acted like remote eyes, letting me keep track of areas without needing to be physically present. It was ideal for recon, especially in a place as vast and complicated as Sakura Square. In a crowded fight, knowing what's happening from a distance could be the difference between life and death.
To test out the Bubble Cams, I stuck them around a few places near where we'd launch the assault. Through them, I could see and sense everything within range—footsteps echoing, whispers from guards, the sway of nearby branches. I kept layering bubbles and expanding the area I could see. It felt good to know I could cover so much ground for my team, and each time I added another bubble, I felt the potential of my Eyes of Truth growing.
During these practice runs, I discovered something else—something I hadn't expected. When I focused on the magic flow inside people, I could actually manipulate it to speed up healing. Not in a flashy, miraculous way, but enough to close up gashes and stop bleeding by stitching together their magic over the wounds. It wasn't something I'd normally do, but if things went south in the battle, a skill like that could be priceless.
Later that evening, as I was getting ready to head back, I noticed a figure moving through the crowd. There was something off about him, something different. He wore a yellow bucket hat, his hair was stark white, and he had on a long, flowing yellow cloak that looked frayed and worn down. Around his neck hung a stopwatch that glinted faintly in the evening light.
He looked like he'd been dragged through a thousand battles, but there was no fear or fatigue in his eyes—just a strange, simmering anger. I approached him cautiously, wondering if he was one of the people we'd be facing, but his attention was fixed entirely on something far from here. When I got close enough, he turned toward me, and the intensity in his eyes hit me like a wave.
"Are... are you alright?" I asked.
The man lifted his gaze to meet mine, then slowly glanced down at his stopwatch, his face twisting with a hint of something I couldn't place. Spite, maybe, but directed at someone else, someone far away. He looked back up, and the weight of whatever resentment he carried practically oozed from him.
"They call me Laugh," he said finally, in a voice that sounded as if every word was forcing its way through clenched teeth.
"Laugh?" I echoed. There was no humor in his expression.
"Yes," he answered, his tone cold and deliberate. "I'm looking for someone."
The intensity in his gaze made it clear that this wasn't just a casual search. The guy looked like he'd rip apart mountains to find whoever it was he was after.
