By the time we finished Floor 13, I was starting to think maybe we’d overdone it a little.

  Okay, we leveled three vilges, collected enough enchanted junk to open a bck-market museum, and I'm pretty sure at some point I shouted “Burn it all!” like a deranged warlord while Ember literally set a tree god on fire.

  Rielle called it “strategic razing.” Gram called it “mild overkill.” Cassandra called it “grounds for court martial.”

  I call it productivity.

  Arrival at Floor 14 – The Calm Before... SomethingSo here we were, stepping onto Floor 14—the supposed heart of the Elven domain—carrying the full weight of our “Chaos Squad” reputation.

  And the looks we got? Oh, they knew. Word travels fast when someone turns ancient elven territories into barbeque pits.

  Guards with ornate spirit-silver armor lined the forest path. Archers tracked us from the trees, glowing green eyes hidden behind enchanted foliage. For once, no one attacked us outright.

  Smart.

  Instead, we were escorted to the Elven Hall, which sat like a living cathedral in the center of a clearing. Twisting roots and luminous bark formed the structure. It was beautiful in the way only ancient, smug architecture could be.

  At the far end sat the Floor 14 leader: a tall, silver-haired elf in regal robes, with spirit fmes dancing in his palm and disappointment burning in his eyes.

  A Duke-rank noble, apparently. As in, "please-don't-blow-up-my-floor" important.

  He eyed us like we were a traveling circus with a penchant for arson.

  “You are the… chaos group,” he said dryly.

  “I prefer the term ‘result-oriented overachievers,’” I replied.

  Cassandra elbowed me so hard I nearly bit my tongue in half.

  Before I could say anything dumber, Princess Sylvaria stepped forward, all royal grace and practiced diplomacy.

  “Duke Elros,” she said, offering a curtsy, “you must forgive the fmes. I sent Squad 7 ahead intentionally.”

  Wait, what.

  My brain hiccupped. Even Rielle blinked. Eli coughed. Gram whispered, “Did she just throw us under the royal carriage?”

  Sylvaria smiled like a queen at a chessboard. “You’ve avoided the negotiation table for decades. We had to bring you to it somehow. Chaos... was the bait.”

  “You used us as bait?” I hissed.

  “You were very convincing,” she said sweetly.

  I had so many sarcastic comments, but Cassandra had her hand over my mouth now. That’s how far we’d fallen. Lucien had to be gagged.

  The NegotiationThe elven Duke narrowed his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Then say your terms, humans.”

  Sylvaria stepped forward again. “We seek a permanent passage from Floor 12 to 15—one that is monitored and protected. This dungeon is vast and old. For peace to thrive between our kingdoms, we must be able to pass through your domain without bloodshed.”

  Elros tapped his staff once. The floor glowed faintly beneath us, roots shifting like veins. A sign he was thinking. Or stalling.

  “We could permit such a passage,” he finally said, “but I want something in return.”

  “Name it,” Seraphina replied, her voice calm and diplomatic.

  And then he dropped the bomb.

  “You kill the King of the Elves. Free his daughter. Crown her as Queen.”

  …

  Excuse me?

  You Want Us to WHAT?Even the student council gasped. Cassandra blinked. The guards outside tensed.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said, ripping Cassandra’s hand off my face. “You want us, the unstable circus troupe who turned your vilges into toasted marshmallows, to go murder your KING and cause a full-blown regime change?”

  “Correct,” Duke Elros said calmly.

  “And you want us to trust that if we do that, you won’t just stab us in the back once the throne’s all shiny and new again?”

  “I offer a magic contract. Ancient elven kind. If you kill the king, and crown the princess, we will give you permanent right-of-passage, access to our alchemical and herbal reserves, and recognition in our sacred records.”

  So... basically, bribe us with loot and legacy.

  I liked it.

  The others looked at Sylvaria. She looked at us. I looked at her, then the Duke, then the floor, and finally said, “Okay. Hear me out.”

  Everyone turned.

  “We kill the king, you get your chosen Queen, we get our passage and prizes. BUT, you seal the deal right now, with a contract that burns any betrayers into elven jerky if they fke out.”

  The Duke raised an eyebrow. “Harsh.”

  “I’m not here to cuddle with your politics, pointy-ears,” I said, stepping forward, “I want your king dead, your princess on the throne, and my breakthrough in Manifestation.”

  “...Is that your personal goal in all this?” Sylvaria asked slowly.

  “No, my personal goal is still your indecent promise,” I muttered.

  Rielle kicked my shin.

  “OW. I mean! Academia and diplomacy. Of course.”

  The room fell into stunned silence for a moment. Then, Elros chuckled. Like, actually chuckled.

  “You have the blood of chaos and the tongue of madness,” he said. “Fine. I will bind the contract. Let the spirits hear it.”

  The PactAn ornate ritual circle formed, etched by spirit vines. Each of us pced a hand on it. Elros spoke in Elvish. Sylvaria responded in fwless dialect.

  Then it was my turn.

  “Lucien Wyrhart, of Squad 7,” Elros said, “do you vow to strike down the corrupted king of Floor 15 in exchange for safe passage and alliance?”

  “I vow to set his ass on fire and make his throne cry,” I said.

  Cassandra facepalmed. Rielle sighed into her elbow. Elros nodded solemnly.

  “Then let the contract be sealed.”

  A bright light enveloped us. A pulse of mana surged through the air. The contract bound itself into our very mana signatures.

  The deal was done.

  Aftermath: The Calm Before the KillWe left the Elven Hall an hour ter. A formal procession was pnned to escort us toward Floor 15.

  “Congratutions,” Gram said. “We’re now legally obligated assassins.”

  “I’ve always wanted to be a royal hitman,” Eli muttered.

  Rielle walked beside me, arms crossed, clearly pouting.

  “Are you actually doing all this just to impress the Princess?” she asked.

  “…No.”

  Rielle stopped walking.

  I paused, grinned, and whispered, “Only 80%.”

  “You’re an idiot,” she hissed—but her cheeks were red.

  Yeah. I was still an idiot.

  But I had spirit contracts, motivation, chaos crew, and imminent regicide on my to-do list.

  And I was just getting started.