Another night, and off unto the breach, to face whatever demons were waiting out there. Hopefully nobody would stir up a small army of death birds outside while she and Leon were exploring, this time.

Her badly gouged stick was salvageable, but she lost some length off the end of it as she leaned on it, breaking it to a point. Maybe the edge would prove worth it, in the long run, and she didn't have to attach another knife or weapon and risk losing that or take the time to try and carve the stupid thing with a box cutter.

Tucking her box cutter into her waistband, donning the tennis shoes borrowed from her 'other self,' then carrying flashlight in one hand and sharpened stick in the other, Seiya left her room feeling vaguely like a primitive hunter. That would be our luck--mammoths on the balcony.