An inn! A blessed inn! Tyren's joy overwhelmed him at the sight of the plain, homely building. The monsters were much tougher than he'd expected, and he'd found himself running away whenever he could. Even so, all he wanted to do right now was collapse onto a bed and fall asleep.

He'd finally figured out how to use the enemy skill materia – some of Shinra's robots patrolled Midgar's surroundings, and they'd attacked him mercilessly by sending out a barrage of missiles. He barely managed to avoid them, a few exploding near his feet and showering him with huge chunks of earth. His materia had glowed bright yellow then, and he'd found that he now had that same ability, but instead of missiles, tendrils of magic flew from his hands to engulf the enemy. He'd distracted many creatures in this way to give him enough time to run.

That was not to say, however, that his cure materia hadn't seen good use. Between that and the enemy skill, he'd exhausted much of his power. Dragging his weary body into the inn, he asked for a bed for the night. The innkeeper gave him a strange look at the request, but provided him with a room nonetheless. Tyren found himself voicing a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that many of the monsters he'd defeated had had gil on them.

Things outside Midgar cost quite a lot more in comparison, and he realised money was going to be a big problem. The bed loomed before him then, interrupting his thoughts, as the pillow rushed up to meet his head.