'So, what's the plan?' 'Simple: we go into the bar, find our target, and make him tell us where the Originium powder stash is.' 'And the precise timing?' The young girl, having just finished cooking, leans against a pillar in the cellar, carefully wiping down her oversized greatsword. 'Just a powder dealer. Untrained. Don't worry. It'll be a cakewalk.' 'I told you, give me an exact time. That's how every mission should be handled. Or do you plan to come back hungry with no dinner ready?' 'Alright, fine. He'll be there at 7:00 p.m., to meet someone else.' Quartz finishes cleaning her greatsword and opens a toolkit she'd bought from the town's clockmaker, then starts repairing the pocket watch she'd left on the dining table. 'Thirteen seconds slow,' she says with a sigh. That evening. Carrying her greatsword, Quartz pushes open the bar's doors. In the only place in town worthy of being called entertainment, people were lost in wild revelry. Through the haze of alcohol vapors and clouds of smoke, she spots the target—crouched in the corner, clutching his glass tightly. She steps over the drunk patrons sprawled on the floor and sits across from him. 'Miss, can I get you a drink?' 'No, thank you. I'm here waiting for someone—7:00, right?' The target stares intently at her, this strange woman who had unexpectedly started talking to him. Swallowing hard, he suddenly pulls a remote from his bag and shouts: 'You vermin couldn't make it in a nomadic city! And now you're out here in the wasteland, to make my life as miserable as yours! The moment the clock hits 7:00, the Originium powder bomb under this table will blow you sky-high! This is what mercs like you deserve!' Seven... The music cuts off abruptly. The revelers freeze in their tracks, turning to look beneath the table where a blurred red countdown clock was flashing. Six... The bar's doors fly open, followed by the windows, as those who are still sober drag their unconscious companions out of the building. 'One!' The target shouts, jumping onto the bar and raising his arms as if welcoming a grand finale. 'Sir, your watch is ten seconds fast.' Quartz lets out a long sigh, raises her greatsword, and brings it down on him. People watch as a young woman carrying a greatsword hauls a man out of the now-empty bar. Five seconds later, the bar explodes, sending wood and glass shards soaring, and bursting into a dazzling firework against the night sky. 'Where are you going?' 'To find some cold water to wake him up. Then, to thank my watch repair toolkit.'