The moment they stepped into the bar, the atmosphere changed.
Antiqua's bars were not refined places like the performance halls of Concerto, where musicians exchanged carefully polished smiles and discussed technique over elegant wine. This place smelled of smoke, alcohol, rainwater, metal and heat. Discordant music echoed faintly from somewhere deeper inside. It was rougher than anything Alpha II had heard growing up.
The building itself was built with thick stone walls reinforced by dark wood beams that looked sturdy enough to survive a riot. Lanterns burned in iron cages hanging from the ceiling, casting orange light over tables crowded with Faltered of every kind. Some looked mostly humanoid, though harsher around the edges than the Musica of Concerto. Others looked visibly transformed even in casual settings with unnatural eyes, scales, strange limbs, elongated shadows or features that made Alpha II stare for slightly too long before quickly looking away.
Nobody attacked them. Nobody even spoke but they definitely looked.
Vastarael walked ahead like he either did not notice or simply did not care. His face was mostly hidden beneath a black hood and dark mask that covered everything except his lips, making him look more like a wandering philosopher than the absurdly powerful Divine he actually was. His black cape hid most of his frame, though his sheer size still made him impossible to miss. Even shrunk down, he was taller than most people. Alpha II followed close beside him, wearing the combat outfit he had custom-made for her.
She secretly loved the outfit.
The first time he had given it to her, she had expected something stiff or overly formal, but instead it had somehow been perfect. It was comfortable, breathable, durable and somehow warm without being heavy. She practically begged him to make more afterwards which he did without complaint, though he never acted like it was a big deal. Now she wore it constantly because it simply felt right. Even though she wore a hood to hide herself, she still looked noticeably out of place among the darker, harsher style of Antiqua.
They reached an empty table near the center. A waitress approached almost immediately.
Unlike the polished attendants of Concerto, she looked tougher and older with short dark hair and a visible scar crossing one side of her cheek. She glanced at them briefly before speaking.
"What'll it be?"
Vastarael leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Two mugs of Fireman's Beer."
Several nearby conversations stopped. A few heads turned. Someone at the far side of the room actually coughed into their drink. Even the waitress blinked twice.
"Two?"
"Yes."
Her expression became awkward for a moment.
"Sir, that's… expensive. Very expensive. Fireman's Beer isn't exactly casual drinking. It's one of the rarest in Antiqua."
Vastarael reached into his cloak. Without even trying to look dramatic about it, he casually placed a polished sapphire crystal onto the table. Murmurs spread almost instantly.
"Sapphire…"
"This is a real one?"
"No way…"
"Look at the density…"
"That thing's huge…"
The waitress stared harder. Her professional composure almost cracked before she carefully picked it up like it might explode.
"I-I'll bring them immediately."
She left fast. Alpha II looked around nervously before leaning closer to him.
"Why are they looking at us like that?"
Vastarael rested his elbow against the table.
"They're not looking at us. They're looking at the sapphire."
"The sapphire?"
"Decades ago, I introduced it to both Concerto and Antiqua. Turns out my sapphire crystals naturally contain dense concentrations of Soul Energy."
Alpha II frowned.
"And that matters because?"
He looked at her like she had asked why breathing mattered.
"Because Divines are greedy. Soul Energy can be used to improve Enlightenment percentages. For weaker Divines, even small improvements are valuable. For stronger ones, it becomes addictive. The realm eventually turned it into one of its most sought-after resources."
Alpha II looked at the crystal again.
"So… you accidentally created treasure?"
"More or less."
"And nobody knows it was you?"
"Not anymore. That was decades ago. Time erases details. People remember the sapphire but forget the man who brought it."
"That's weird."
Before she could say more, the waitress returned carrying two heavy mugs. The liquid inside looked terrifying. It was dark red and almost glowing. Steam rose from the surface even though it was alcohol. The waitress carefully placed them down.
"Your Fireman's Beer. Try not to die."
She immediately walked away.
"Why did she say that?"
Vastarael lifted his mug.
"You'll understand."
He drank casually. Alpha II stared at hers. The smell alone felt violent. It smelled smoky, spicy, bitter, metallic and somehow hot enough to hurt her nose.
"This looks dangerous."
"It is."
"You drink this willingly?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I like it."
That answer somehow made it worse. Reluctantly, she picked up the mug and took one sip. She instantly regretted everything.
Her throat burned. Her stomach flipped. It felt like swallowing molten fire mixed with stale poison. She nearly spat it back out.
"Oh gods— I think I'm dying—"
Vastarael calmly drank another mouthful.
"Drink it."
She looked at him in betrayal.
"Why would I drink this?!"
"Because you're a Concordant."
"That doesn't explain anything!"
He sighed quietly like he had expected this.
"Antiqua is a Discordant-type island. The Divine Energy here functions differently. Concordants don't adapt to it naturally."
She frowned while clutching her stomach.
"So?"
"So if you stay here too long without adjustment, your body will reject the environment. You'll get weaker. Nausea, energy instability and discomfort will hit you. You'll get body failure if you push it."
She froze.
"What?!"
"Fireman's Beer was designed for this. It's made by Discordants for Discordants. It forces the body to acclimate to harsher environmental energy."
She stared at the mug like it had personally offended her ancestors.
"You could've told me before I drank it!"
"You wouldn't have tried it."
"You're evil."
Alpha II groaned loudly. Then, against all logic and survival instinct, she forced herself to drink again. The second sip hurt less. It was still disgusting though. By the time she finished the entire mug, she slumped forward over the table.
"I feel horrible."
Vastarael looked at her for a moment.
"You'll feel better in an hour."
She groaned again.
"I hate Discordants."
A Faltered sitting nearby overheard. He laughed loudly into his own drink.
"Kid, if ya survived Fireman's Beer on your first try, Antiqua already likes ya more than half the tourists."
Alpha II looked like she might actually cry.
"I think Antiqua is trying to kill me."
Vastarael quietly took another drink.
"No. If Antiqua wanted to kill you, you would already know."