Seventeen years later…

  Pitter-patter… the rain came and went, but the clouds stayed and wept…

  The odor of human waste and the choking, sour stench of rotting garbage clouds the humid alleys. The narrow labyrinth between houses were silent, bar the drops of rainwater falling from the roofs.

  But then, a shrill cry pierced the skies.

  “Papa! Papa!” A girl’s distressed calls bounced off the walls, her voice stuffy with sobs. “I don't wanna go! I don’t wanna go!” She cried, sniffling as a man dragged her by her arm, whilst she tried in vain to stay rooted on the ground.

  The man, her father, wore a shirt that looked baggy on his body. His torso was more like a skeleton, as barely any meat clung to his bones.

  “Shut it!” He yelled, looking at his daughter, his face pale and sunken. “All you do is whine and whine and whine! You do nothing but eat and play! You’re useless!”

  Being yelled at, the girl cried louder. “Papaaa!”

  The man quickly grew annoyed by his daughter's incessant cries. He thought, if he hit her, she would stop, right?

  However, he had no time to contemplate. A round of applause reached their ears, urging the father and daughter to turn around.

  There, a man in a white and red suit stood, clapping slowly with a look of bewilderment.

  “My, my! My dearest customer!” The man in suit approached them, prompting the girl to hide behind her father.

  After all, even if her father was horrible… She didn’t know the man in the suit.

  “This week, just how many times will you come to me!” He laughed heartily, patting the girl’s father on his shoulder. “You already sold two beautiful women… but, who could this pretty little lady be?” He lowered his head, smiling at the girl.

  “She’s my daugh… my… I—I… don’t ask. Just take her and give me the money,” the girl’s father said.

  The girl froze, her eyes widening at her father’s words. At this moment, she realized what was going on. She finally knew why her mother and aunt disappeared so suddenly—and why her father said to not think of them anymore.

  She was being sold, like them.

  “Goodness,” the suited man gasped, feigning shock. But his curled eyes and the bag of money that he readily took out proved that he wasn’t at all. “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you,” he bowed, handing over the bag of money with both hands.

  The girl’s father grabbed the small bag, a smile gracing his face as the coins inside jingled pleasantly.

  “Heh-heh,” grinning, he turned and left, not even sparing one last glance at his own blood and flesh.

  The little girl stood dumbly, unable to respond. The man in the suit sighed, shaking his head as he patted the girl’s head.

  “Come, little one. You’re too young to do any… work… but you can do household chores,” he said, grabbing the girl’s arm and walking away.

  The sky darkened, and thunder roared. Amidst the heaven’s fury, heavy footsteps sounded in the alleyways. Water splashed, and all sorts of things were kicked.

  Cans… bottles…

  The man in the suit froze, his blood running cold. Likewise, the little girl halted, shivering as fear gripped her broken heart.

  The footsteps became louder and louder. Until the two of them saw a pair of glowing red orbs at the end of the dark, foggy alley. Followed by a deep voice, sounding as though it was whispering in their ears.

  “Where did that man go?” The voice asked, a metallic object scraping agaisnt the ground as the footsteps neared, mimicking shrill shrieks.

  “You won’t answer?” The voice asked again, though it seemed more like a statement.

  The man in the suit gulped, opening his mouth to speak. But then he felt the taste of rust on his tongue—followed swiftly by a sharp pain spreading to the rest of his mouth.

  “AHHH!!!”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  He reached out to block his mouth, blood oozing through the gaps in his fingers. When he pulled back his hands to look, he saw half of his tongue lying limp on his palm.

  {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}

  At this time, a rumor was spreading in the mercenary union like a freshly baked potato. Everyone wanted a bite, even if it didn’t concern them.

  “Hey, have you heard about that guy?” A mercenary whispered to his friend. He was a tall but lean man, wearing a leather tunic on his torso.

  Next to him, a topless mercenary was lost in his thoughts, his eyes staring blankly at the dirty wall. He was taller than the lean mercenary, but he was far thinner. He looked more like skin on bones.

  Hearing his companion speak, the shirtless man faced the other.

  “What guy? There’s tons of guys here,” the topless mercenary said, scratching his arms.

  The lean mercenary tutted, watching him scratch his skin until they turned red. “You know, that guy who watched his teammates die?”

  “...did you just describe us?” The topless mercenary narrowed his eyes.

  The lean mercenary choked. “Ahem! I mean, that was an accident…” He scratched his forehead. “But I’m talking about another dude! Kinda tall, pale like a corpse, black hair, and creepy red eyes. So? Does it ring any bells?”

  The topless mercenary cupped his chin, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Nope. What did he do, anyway?”

  The armored mercenary smirked, picking his nose. “Rumor has it, if you team up with him, you better watch your back. Because if he has a holy potion and you’re dying, he won’t even think twice to abandon you.”

  He patted the topless mercenary’s shoulder, wiping his fingers on the other's skin. The topless mercenary furrowed his brows, his eyes going wide.

  “He has a holy potion?!”

  The lean mercenary smacked him in the back. “Idiot! It was an example, a fucking example! You goddamn drug addict.”

  “Hey man, you need to make it clear!” The topless mercenary tried defending himself.

  “Whatever,” the lean mercenary rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s take on a mission. I need some quick cash.”

  “What for?” The topless mercenary frowned. “Girls?”

  “You got it,” the lean mercenary winked. This time, it was the topless mercenary who rolled his eyes.

  “Pei! Girls this, girls that. You’re hopeless. Drugs is where it’s at! I’ll show you.”

  The lean mercenary waved his hands in dismissal. “No thanks…”

  While they walked, the wooden entrance door swung open, flooding the lobby with hot, afternoon air. The mercenaries frowned, and even more so after they saw just who came inside.

  On the other hand, the odd pair ignored the ruckus, opting to look at the mission board. There, dozens of mercenary hires were plastered on the wooden board, its difficulty varying.

  “Hey, bro, look. It gives a thousand mitos,” the topless mercenary said, pointing at a paper no longer nor wider than a hand.

  The lean mercenary squinted, yanking the paper off the wall and bringing it close to his face. Only then could he read it.

  “You're right, the reward's a thousand mitos. Let's take it,” he said.

  After approaching the clerk, they filled up an application and signed their names and ranks. But, when the clerk saw their papers, her polite smile turned into a frown.

  The clerk looked at the lean mercenary, her frown easing a bit when she saw his leather tunic. “Augustin, a magician. Rank 1, correct?”

  The lean mercenary, Augustin, nodded.

  “Hm… Gerardo, er, brute?” The clerk’s expression darkened, looking at the topless mercenary's emaciated body. “Um, rank 1?”

  Gerardo, the topless mercenary, nodded.

  “...and you both wish to take on the mission, [Kill a Noble, Viscountess Erri]?” She showed the mission paper to the two.

  Like before, they nodded.

  The clerk licked her lips for two seconds.

  “...sirs, with all due respect… you cannot accept this mission. This mission is for rank 6 and above only, noobs—erm, beginners should stay clear from it,” she bowed slightly, refusing to accept their applications.

  “Eh? But it pays a thousand mitos,” Gerardo said, not paying mind to Augustin, who was choking from his own spit.

  “Rank 5?! ‘m very sorry miss, but we'll—”

  “I'll join them.”

  Suddenly, a deep voice echoed behind them. Turning around, they saw a tall man wearing a dark-brown cloak, its hood covering the person's face.

  “Oh, sir! My apologies, but I really can't let you…” The clerk tried to refuse, when the cloaked figure placed a paper on the desk.

  It was the man's application form, and it was already filled up and signed.

  “Ha… swordsman… wait, rank 6?” The clerk tilted her head. “...alright, you may take this mission. Please be careful and succeed,” she smiled.

  On the other hand, Augustin was staring at the cloaked figure with bloodshot eyes.

  “Hey, you good?” Gerardo nudged him from the side.

  “Dude! That's an elite mercenary!” Augustin said, dragging Gerardo by the shoulder to follow the cloaked figure.

  “Mister, mister! I mean, master!” Augustin cleared his throat. “Can we follow you in the mission? We promise we won't make any trouble!”

  The cloaked figure didn't answer. He exited the building, followed by two birdlings by the name of Augustin and Gerardo.

  {=|=}{=|=}{=|=}

  “Master, what's the plan?” Augustin chirped, lying on the ground beside Gerardo and the elite swordsman.

  Hearing this, Gerardo whispered into his ear. “Why do you call him ‘master’?”

  Augustin whispered back, “Because I know how to bootlick.”

  “There,” suddenly, the elite swordsman spoke up. “Stay here,” he said.

  Augustin blinked, watching as the rank 6 swordsman stood up and ran. In his path, a carriage was rushing forward at full speed!

  “What the…”

  Augustin shut his mouth.

  The elite swordsman leapt, and then buried his sword on the roof as he landed atop it. A miserable wail sounded out, followed by the carriage door slamming open.

  The coachman, startled, tried to calm the horses, but the stallions rampaged away. At the same time, a woman dressed in a deep blue and white gown stumbled out, tripping and landing face first on the ground.

  “Wow, she's pretty,” Gerardo commented from the side.

  Augustin nodded, wetting his dry throat.

  Before anyone could react, the elite swordsman hopped off the roof, swingin his sword at the woman in a blue gown.

  However, his sword met another, and he crossed eyes with a gold-haired swordsman.

  “Th-there you are! Quick, kill him!” The woman in the blue gown pointed at the elite swordsman.

  On the other hand, the gold-haired swordsman pushed with his sword, his hair swaying with the motion. The elite swordsman stepped back, and then stepped in to cut the other swordsman's arm!

  “Urg!” The gold-haired swordsman stumbled back, holding his bleeding arm—it was now a stump.

  The elite swordsman ignored him, walking slowly toward the woman.

  The woman shrieked, crawling back as the elite swordsman approached her. Then, the the elite swordsman raised his sword—

  “STOP!” The gold-haired swordsman yelled, attracting the elite swordsman’s attention.

  “Let the viscountess go, or I'll kill your man!” He yelled, pushing a dagger at Gerardo's neck as he held him in a chokehold.

  The elite swordsman looked at him, and then at the viscountess. Wordlessly, he swung his sword, cutting the viscountess’ throat.

  “Fuck! You bastard!” Enraged, the gold-haired swordsman sliced Gerardo's throat, before running away without turning back.

  “Gera!” Augustin yelled, crawling toward Gerardo's spasming body. His chest hurt, having been kicked by the viscountess' gold-haired swordsman earlier, but he gritted his teeth and endured.

  “Sir! Can you… carry him back? There's a priest back in the city!” Augustin pleaded, kowtowing to the elite swordsman.

  The elite swordsman stood still, carefully wiping off the blood from his sword. Then, as he sheathed his sword, he took off the hood of his cloak, revealing his blood red eyes, and his messy, short black hair.

  “You're…” Augustin’s words got stuck in his throat.

  “Let him die,” the elite swordsman said, walking toward them.

  “He sold his wife. When his money ran out, he sold his daughter too, and then kidnapped several women, either selling them or turning them to dinner. He's better off dead,” he said, turning around and walking away.

  Augustin, pale faced and dumbfounded, shuddered in fury. Sure, he didn't know any of those crimes his “best brother* committed, but…

  “So he committed crimes, does it mean you can judge them yourself? Let the temple judge their sins!” He gasped out, his heart thumping as adrenaline pumped in his veins.

  The elite swordsman paused his steps, glancing back.

  “...the rules are run by both corrupt and just. Those sinful and those innocent can be deemed guilty all the same. Rather than letting the temples pardon the criminal, I'd rather just kill them.”

  He turned around, his steps quiet as he walked away.

  “As for who I am…”

  He scoffed.

  “I am Zethir.”