The next few rounds flew by In a blur of clashing steel and mana bursts, the colosseum's sandy floor scarred from duels under the Solva's sun. Liam sat in the stands, his quill scratching like a death sentence, while students and grizzled adventurers cheered, their guild crests glinting . I slouched on the sidelines, my Sword at my hip, its sapphire dull, my F-rank heart dreading my turn. Then it hit me like a critical hit.
"Is Kozuki here!?" the assistant bellowed, his scar twitching as he paced the arena's edge.
"Yes, sir!" I scrambled up, nearly tripping over my own boots, and jogged into the colosseum, sand crunching underfoot. I took my spot at one end, the crowd's eyes boring into me like I was a tutorial boss.
"Syuli!?" the assistant called.
"Yes, sir," came a smug drawl. A lanky guy strode to the opposite end, his silver tunic shimmering, his sword's hilt studded with gaudy gems. Who's this guy? I'd never met him—hardly a shock since I'd barely high-fived half the students here. His smirk screamed "jerk," and I gripped my sword tighter.
"Just gave up," Syuli said even before the competition begin, flicking his hair like some anime rival.What?! This bitch. My blood boiled, my F-rank pride stung. You done it buddy, You're going down, pretty boy.
"Ready!?" the assistant shouted. We drew our swords, mine singing from its sheath, Syuli's flashing with a cocky flourish. I funneled mana into my blade the second I drew, the sapphire igniting with a crimson glow, brighter than my usual sputter. Showtime, goddess gift.
"Go!"I charged, my body feeling weirdly light, like I'd chugged a speed potion. My sword slashed at Syuli, a red arc screaming for his chest. He blocked with a lazy parry, his blade sparking against mine, but the impact barely fazed me. What's this? F-rank glow-up?
"Why do I have to fight you?" Syuli whined, his strike so weak it was practically a love tap. This guy's getting on my nerves. I focused mana into my legs, picturing Aazroth's teaching, and a faint glow pulsed around my boots, making me swift as a rogue. I poured more mana into my sword, the sapphire blazing like a low-budget supernova, and struck again. My blade grazed his left arm, tearing his fancy tunic, a trickle of blood staining the silver. What now, you insolent brat? I smirked, channeling my inner shonen hero. The crowd gasped, a few students chuckling at Syuli's scowl.
"You!" Syuli snapped, his face twisting. He swung back, his sword flaring with a green aura, the strike heavier than his whining suggested. I barely blocked, the clash knocking me back, sand spraying my face. Okay, maybe he's not that weak. I wasted no time, lunging with a feint—a fake thrust that made him flinch—then slashed, grazing his chest, another tear in his precious tunic. The crowd roared, and I caught Aazroth's nod from the sidelines. Eat that, Jerk.
"You, I am going to kill you!" Syuli shouted, his voice cracking with rage. He channeled mana, unleashing a magic slash, a jagged green crescent that tore through the air. I slid under it like Aazroth in his duel, the slash sizzling an inch above my head, singeing my hair. Close call! Sand stung my eyes, but we were nose-to-nose now. I swung from below, a sloppy riposte that clipped his knee, making him stumble like a drunk NPC.
This is my chance! I sprang up, my sword aimed at his neck, the sapphire pulsing wildly.
"Your overconfident make you lose" I said, grinning like a villain who'd just flipped the plot .Syuli's eyes widened, his disbelief practically a status effect.
"You got lucky," he spat, his sword limp at his side. Yep, I got really, really lucky. Thank the Goddess this guy played me like a tutorial mob. If he'd gone all-out, I'd be F-rank toast ten times over. The crowd held its breath, the adventurers murmuring, Liam's quill paused.
"Winner, Kozuki!!" the assistant yelled. The colosseum erupted, cheers and jeers mixing, some students clapping, others muttering about my fluke. I strutted back to the sidelines, riding the high—until my stomach churned. I doubled over, vomiting blood onto the sand, my mana-drained body screaming.
"Wow, using almost all of my Mana really took a heavy toll on me, it is a miracle that I even beat him," I gasped, wiping my mouth. I shuffled to my seat, collapsing next to Aazroth, who gave me a grudging nod. F-rank miracle, reporting for duty.
"Do you seek medical attention?" Aazroth asked, his navy tunic pristine despite the colosseum's chaos, his coolness unshaken.
"No thanks," I said, wiping blood from my chin, my mana-drained body screaming after my fluke win over Syuli .
"Ok then," he shrugged, turning back to the duels. After what felt like an eternity, the second test finally ended, the colosseum's roars fading under the Solva dusk.
Can't wait to crash, I thought, dreaming of my bed. Back in my room, night had cloaked Solva, the guild's lanterns casting rune-lit shadows. I tossed my Sword of Absolute Death onto the table, its sapphire glinting faintly, and flopped onto my bed, staring at the cedar ceiling. Time flies, huh? It felt like yesterday I'd arrived in this isekai hellhole or learned of Masamato's death. Damn it I want to avenge him. But If I want to kill Fovos, I couldn't do it alone—F-rank scrubs like me needed backup. Then it hit me: Jame! He had a grudge against Fovos too.
Maybe we could team up. But how to contact him? I'll figure it out after school ends, I decided, drifting off.
The next day, the first Venarith , marked the last month of school. In the colosseum, Liam announced the test scores, his crimson cloak stark against the sandy arena. Aazroth and Belzub tied for first again with 316 points, their dominance unchallenged. Syuli scored 176, and—get this—I hit 197!
When Syuli hear my score, his face twisted like he'd bitten a sour potion. Lol, that's what you get for underestimating me, jerk.
"You all did well, much better than the first test" Liam said, his icy gaze softening a fraction.
"Anyway this month is the last month of school so the training will be more intense be prepared, for the first and second week I will teach Signature Move Creation and Sword Styles Specializations, in this field I will teach you various sword styles and teach you how to create your own sword styles and even creating your own signature move, for the third week it will be battle simulation, in this case you have to fight real monsters don't worry they are quite weak, and for the last week we'll it will be just going over everything we have taught over the school course, does anyone has any questions?"
My brain short-circuited from the info dump. Signature moves? Monster fights? For real, I was really going to die. I wanted to beg out of the monster hunting, but Liam cut me off: "Ok then let's start."
For two grueling weeks, Liam drilled us in sword styles—flowing Myrrheign cuts, aggressive Solva thrusts, and precise Kazrundak parries—and guided us to craft signature moves. Mine? Hit and Run, a dodge-and-strike combo that screamed "F-rank coward" but worked for me, my sword's sapphire flaring with each practice swing. After two weeks, the dreaded day arrived: battle simulation in the colosseum, with all students and a few adventurers watching, their guild crests glinting. Thank the Goddess, it in the colosseum and not in the middle of nowhere, I thought, slouched on the sidelines, the crowd's murmurs buzzing like a raid chat.
"Ok first up is Kozuki!" the assistant shouted, his scar twitching. What?! First?! Panic spiked, but I forced a deep breath.
"Yes, sir," I said, jogging to the arena's center, sand crunching under my boots, my sword drawn, sapphire dull.
"Before we begin, you all have to go through random rounds of monsters," the assistant bellowed, then turned to me.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," I croaked, my voice trembling. Random? What's that mean?
"The one Kozuki have to fight is ten goblins!" The steel gate at the arena's far end rumbled open, revealing a swarm of goblins, their beady eyes glinting, jagged blades and clubs raised. Goddess, save me. The goblins charged, a screeching tide of green, their stench—like rotting meat—hitting me first. I parried a rusty dagger, the clang jarring my arms, and swung back, my blade slicing a goblin's arm, dark blood spraying. Thank the Goddess, they're brainless! But their numbers overwhelmed me, clubs grazing my ribs, daggers nicking my legs, pain flaring with each hit. I danced through my Hit and Run, dodging a club and striking a goblin's chest, its squeal echoing as it fell. The crowd roared, some cheering, others jeering my sloppy form. My sword's sapphire glowed vividly with each kill—first one, then two, three—though I didn't notice, too busy not dying. I slid under a goblin's swing and stabbed another's leg, toppling it. Mana surged through my legs, making me swifter, my blade a red blur as I cut down four, five, six. The remaining goblins circled, smarter now, but I feinted, tricking one into lunging, and slashed its throat. Seven, eight, nine down. The last goblin, bigger and uglier, roared, swinging a spiked club. I parried, my arms screaming, and drove my sword through its chest, its body crumpling in a pool of ichor.
The crowd erupted, their cheers shaking the colosseum's statues. "Kozuki the winner!" the assistant yelled. I staggered, panting, blood and sweat stinging my eyes, my wounds throbbing but my heart soaring. I didn't notice the sapphire's persistent glow, too caught up in my improbable survival.I shuffled back to the sidelines, collapsing next to Aazroth. My body feels… lighter. My mana pool seemed a smidge bigger, too. Nah, just my imagination. Oh right I killed goblins so if my memory served me correct I should be an E rank?, I will get rank re evaluated.
Then the goblin cuts started burning. Fuck, why now?! I excused myself to Liam, who nodded, and limped to the guild hall. The healer, a stern woman with glowing hands, patched me up, my wounds fading under her mana. Next, I hit up Jessie at the rank desk, ready to claim my E-rank glory.
"To get your rank re evaluated, that will cost 1 gold coins," she said, her tone all business.What?! One gold coin? I had eight left, but that was highway robbery. "But I kill 10 goblins, so I should be E rank right?" I asked, leaning in.
"Yes sir, but if you want to be go from lower rank to higher without re evaluating, you have to bring proves of the monsters death," she said, unshaken.
"But I killed 10 goblins in the Colosseum back there! You can asked Liam," I protested, gesturing wildly.
"I sorry sir but rules are rules," she replied, her eyes firm.
Rules are meant to be broken, I thought, but sighed, "Oh ok thanks." I trudged back to the colosseum, deflated. Use a gold coin? Nah, I might need those for gear. Asking Liam to vouch felt too desperate. Oh, right! I'd nearly forgotten—I had to return Masamato's book to the guild library.
Back at the colosseum, I caught perfect timing: Aazroth's turn. The gate rumbled, unleashing a hobgoblin, twice a goblin's size, its muscled frame clad in crude armor, a massive cleaver gleaming. Aazroth strode forward, his sword flaring with green mana, his fanboy smirk replaced by a predator's focus. The hobgoblin roared, charging with earth-shaking steps, its cleaver swinging in a brutal arc. Aazroth sidestepped, his blade a blur, slicing the beast's arm, blood spraying like a fountain. The crowd gasped as the hobgoblin swung again, its cleaver carving a trench in the sand. Aazroth vaulted over it, his sword igniting with a fire slash, a blazing crescent that seared the hobgoblin's chest, armor melting under the heat. The beast howled, lunging with a backhand that grazed Aazroth's cloak, but he spun, his riposte piercing the hobgoblin's thigh, toppling it. With a final swing, his blade flared green, decapitating the monster in a spray of ichor, its head rolling to a stop. The crowd roared, adventurers scribbling notes, and Aazroth walked off, barely winded. B-rank cheat codes, I thought, awestruck.After the simulation, I swung by the guild library to re"urn Masamato's book, its worn cover heavy with memories, then grabbed dinner.
The rest of the week, students who hadn't fought on day one faced monsters—slimes, direwolves, more goblins. Thank the Goddess it's not daily monster fights, I thought, relieved.
By the end of the third week, we gathered for the fourth week's review in a classroom in the dormitory, a place I'd never seen despite thinking I'd mastered the maze-like halls. The assistant led us through rune-lit corridors to a heavy oak door, revealing a spacious room with polished cedar desks carved with guild crests, their surfaces gleaming under mana-charged chandeliers that flickered like starlight. Tall windows framed Solva's skyline, the city's lanterns twinkling beyond, while shelves lined with dusty tomes and weapon diagrams loomed at the back. A massive blackboard, etched with sword stances, dominated the front, the assistant's chalk poised to recap our hellish course. This place screams 'final exam,' I thought, settling into a creaky chair, my F-rank nerves buzzing.
I slouched next to Aazroth in the dormitory's classroom, its cedar desks gleaming under mana-charged chandeliers, Solva's skyline twinkling through tall windows.
The blackboard's sword stances loomed like a final boss, and I fidgeted, my F-rank nerves buzzing. Liam strode in, his crimson cloak billowing, and I braced for torture.
"Don't worry guys, you won't get written test," he said, his icy gaze softening.
Why's that reassuring? I wondered, my brain already fried from my grades from earth lol.
"This week is the last week of school, so it is a pleasure to be teaching all of you for the last months," Liam continued.
"Ok so for this week we are going to review the things we learn and maybe teach you some history. I am going to ask you what we have learned so please stand up when I called your name."
What?! My memory was a blank loot crate. I was doomed. I leaned toward Aazroth to beg for a hint in case if he asked me, but Liam got to me off: "Kozuki! Please stand up."
Well, fuck. I shot up, my chair creaking. "Yes, sir."
"Kozuki, can you tell me what we learned in the first month of school?"
"Ummm." I glanced at Aazroth, who was doodling a rune, ignoring me. Damn it, as a friend, can't you whisper an answer?!
"Umm, well, it, it, umm… Cut, stances, and parries!" I blurted, praying I wasn't wrong.
"Correct, now can you please come out and demonstrate them," Liam said.
"Yes, sir." I shuffled to the front, my Sword of Absolute Death bouncing at my hip, and showed off a shaky cut, a wobbly stance, and a half-decent parry, the sapphire glinting faintly. The class snickered, but I survived, slinking back to my seat.
"You should have tell me something," I hissed at Aazroth.
"Tell you what?" he said, his disinterested eyes practically a debuff.
"Ugh, nevermind," I grumbled, sinking lower.Liam called students one by one, making them demo moves—Belzub's precise riposte, Syuli's flashy feint—while I zoned out, dreading my next flub. The next four days dragged with sword history (yawn), tales of legendary swordsmen like Vaelor the Blade-Saint, Alex One of the five heroes, etc and lectures on sword ethics that felt like a sleep spell. Finally, the last day of the last month arrived. We gathered in the classroom, Liam at the front, his presence heavy as a raid boss.
"As you know today will be the last day of school but not literally the last day because you still have the last test, the last test is going up against me, try to land a single hit on me, and I will mark your scores based on your performance if you hit me instant maximum scores points, got it!?" he said.
"Sir, yes, sir," we chorused, my voice cracking. Instant max points for one hit? Sounded easy, but Liam was a walking S-rank fortress. How do I even do that?
"Good, the test will start tomorrow, class dismissed!" Liam barked.We shuffled out, and as I headed to my room, Aazroth called, "Kozuki, come to my room." His room? He'd never invited me first before.
"Wow, you really invite me to your room, without me coming over randomly," I teased, expecting a glare.
"Do you want to get kill Fovos?" he asked, his tone dead serious. My grin vanished."Yes, I want to avenge him," I said, Masamato's death flashing in my mind.
"How about we team up, I want to kill him too," Aazroth said, his eyes burning.I skipped the "why" question—Fovos was a universal asshole—but asked,
"What can I even do, I am just a F rank? And how are you going to fight him too?" Yeah, F-rank, though I should be E-rank by now.
"Who said I am going to fight him, I am gathering adventures who wants to kill him, I also recruits Jame," he said. Jame? The S-rank? My jaw dropped.
"How about me?"
"Hmmm," Aazroth paused, eyeing me like a low-level quest.
"You can just sit back and support us?" he said. Back in my room, I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Support, huh? Better than nothing, but it stung. How many adventurers has Aazroth recruited? I wanted to be strong enough to face Fovos alone. Aren't I the God of Death or whatever the Goddess blabbed? Gods were supposed to be OP, right? And the Sword of Absolute Death? Pfft, more like Sword of Absolute Disappointment. I sighed, dreading tomorrow's test.
The next day, the colosseum thrummed under the sun, its sandy floor scarred, warrior statues glaring. Liam stood in the center, an unshakable monolith, while students and adventurers watched, their crests glinting. The assistant called students one by one, and most couldn't even graze Liam's cloak, his dodges a blur of crimson. Aazroth and Belzub put up fierce fights, Aazroth's fire slashes scorching the sand, Belzub's lightning arcs crackling, but Liam sidestepped every blow, his smirk unshaken. Then it was my turn.I faced Liam across the arena, my boots sinking into the sand, PTSD from our first spar flooding back—he'd nearly killed me.
"Don't worry, I won't fight back," he said, like he'd read my mind, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"Ready! Go!" the assistant yelled. I surged forward, channeling mana into my legs for speed, a faint glow pulsing around my boots, my steps light as a rogue's. I funneled mana into my arms for a stronger grip and sharper cuts, my muscles tingling with power. My sword blazed with imbued magic, the sapphire glowing crimson, though it flickered like a buggy spell. I slashed at Liam, a red arc screaming for his chest, but he sidestepped, the air whooshing as my blade missed by inches. I struck again, a l cut, sand spraying, but he blocked with his sheathed sword, the clang rattling my bones. He's not even drawing his blade?! I swung a thrust, then a riposte, each move faster, more desperate, but Liam deflected with flicks of his wrist, his cloak swirling like a taunt. The crowd murmured, adventurers leaning forward, Aazroth's eyes narrowing from the sidelines. Even Aazroth and Belzub couldn't hit him—how can I? I thought, my mana draining fast, sweat stinging my eyes. Then a memory sparked—my lucky graze in our first fight. Pure luck, right? Five minutes in, my body screamed, mana pool sputtering like a dead battery.
One last shot. And I poured every drop of mana into my sword, the sapphire flaring like a blood-red star, heat radiating from the blade.
"Flame!" I roared, slashing with all my F-rank soul, a flaming crescent erupting from my sword, its edges crackling with embers, scorching the sand to glass as it tore toward Liam. The crowd gasped, the air shimmering with heat, but my vision blurred, mana exhaustion hitting like a debuff. I collapsed, vomiting blood, the coppery taste choking me as I hit the sand, darkness swallowing me.
That evening, I woke on the leather couch in Liam's office, the rune-lit walls hazy, my body aching like I'd been run over by a direwolf. Liam stood at the window, silhouetted against Solva's twinkling lights. Damn, too much mana's gonna kill me before old age does.
"Oh you are awake," he said, turning.
"Yeah, so has the competition ended?" I croaked, sitting up.
"Yes it ended a few hours ago," he replied, his tone neutral. I'm not asking who dragged my sorry ass here. "So how my scores?"
"You will out the day after tomorrow," he said, smirking. "If you got better, you can leave now."
"Yeah yeah, bye," I muttered, limping out, his gaze burning into my back as he stared out the window again.
The next day, the remaining students challenged Liam, their strikes as futile as mine felt, no one landing a hit. The day after, we gathered in the colosseum, the air thick with anticipation. Liam stood before the crowd, his presence commanding.
He announced the scores, and my jaw dropped: I got 400 points—maximum! Everyone's faces froze, Aazroth's included, his cool cracking. What?! I couldn't believe it, the crowd's stares drilling into me like I'd cheated a boss fight. Aazroth scored 347, Belzub 342—still elite, but I'd topped them. Me, F-rank Kozuki?
"So today will be the last day of Xyuli Academy, It has been a honor to teach talented people like you, I hope you turn out well in life, here take this as a mark of completing Xyuli Academy," Liam said. The assistant rolled out a box, handing each of us a crest etched with Xyuli's sword-and-rune symbol, its bronze weight heavy in my hand.
"Class dismissed!" Liam roared.
The Eighth Opening of Xyuli Academy closed, and I trudged out with my gear, muttering, "Damn, back to the inn life." But first, I needed answers. I climbed to the Guild Master's office and found Liam.
"How'd I get a perfect score?" I asked, bracing for a brush-off.
"You remember that flame slash you threw at me before collapsing right? Well it grazes me a little bit," he said, a rare grin breaking through. I stumbled out, mind reeling. My weak-ass slash grazed him? How?! Downstairs, I spotted Aazroth at a guild hall table with a crew of adventurers, including Jame, his S-rank aura unmistakable, his cloak scarred from bounties. Are they Aazroth's Fovos hit squad? I wondered.
I strode across the guild hall, its cavernous interior alive with Solva's pulse, toward Aazroth's table where he sat with Jame and a crew of rough-edged adventurers. The air hummed with the din of clinking tankards, raucous laughter, and the scrape of boots on worn oak floors, polished to a sheen by years of guild traffic. Massive iron chandeliers, studded with mana-orbs, cast a golden glow over trophy-laden walls—mounted direwolf skulls, shattered blades, and tattered banners from forgotten quests loomed like a warrior's shrine.
A towering hearth roared at the hall's heart, its flames crackling, sending shadows dancing across rune-etched beams. Notice boards plastered with bounty posters fluttered as adventurers jostled past, their armor clanking, while a bard's lute strummed faintly from a corner, drowned by a heated dice game nearby. The scent of ale, roasted boar, and oiled leather hung thick, grounding the chaos in gritty warmth.
"Hey, Aazroth, is this the squad?" I asked, eyeing the group—about fifteen grizzled fighters, their cloaks scarred with battle, weapons glinting at their sides.
Aazroth glanced up, his navy tunic crisp despite the hall's clamor. "Perfect timing, come sit," he said, gesturing to a chair. "And yes, this is the squad."
"This is Kozuki, he is a F rank," he added, his tone matter-of-fact.
Damn it, did you have to broadcast my rank? My cheeks burned, expecting snickers, but the adventurers just nodded, their weathered faces free of judgment, murmuring, "Ok."
Wow, no shade? I slid into a creaky chair next to Aazroth, the table's surface scarred with knife marks and stained with ale, surprised they didn't roast my F-rank status.
"So since the school is over let's begin," Aazroth said, his voice cutting through the guild's din like a blade.
"Yeah about that we have been searching clues about his whereabouts for two years but we couldn't find a single thing related to him," said an adventurer, his beard flecked with foam from his tankard.
"And also he strike random people, so we are not going to know who will he strike next," added another, her eyepatch twitching as she leaned forward.
"True but I believe that he is not killing them for fun, I think he is some kind of mercenary," Aazroth said, his calm voice steady as the hearth's glow.
"So, how will that help?" asked a lanky adventurer, his dagger spinning idly on the table.
"Well I got an anonymous tip, that Fovos will target Jame next and he said he is the one who hire Fovos," Aazroth said, pulling a letter with a blood-red seal from his cloak.
"A few days ago at my dorm, I got this letter, I don't know who give this to me," he continued, placing it on the table, the seal glinting under the mana-orbs.
"Anonymous, can we even trust that?" Jame spoke, his voice low and calm, his S-rank presence heavy despite his battered cloak, scars visible on his knuckles.
"No but it worth a shot," Aazroth replied, unfazed.
"Hey, can I take a look at that paper?" I whispered, curiosity itching like a quest prompt. He nodded, and I grabbed the letter, its parchment rough, the seal's wax flaking under my fingers.
"But why you?" said a burly adventurer, his axe leaning against his chair.
"Whoever give me that letter knew, I have a squad to take down Fovos," Aazroth said, his eyes scanning the group.
"But how did he know!? Aren't this squad supposed to be a secret?" another adventurer snapped, slamming his tankard down, ale sloshing.
"It can be a trap," a wiry woman warned, her dual daggers glinting as she shifted.
"It can't be a trap, because the letter only have a date of when will Fovos kill him" Aazroth countered, pointing to the letter in my hands.
"But still," the burly adventurer grumbled, crossing his arms.
"Let's trust him," Jame said, his calm cutting through the tension like a blade. A protesting adventurer opened his mouth but sat back, silenced by Jame's stare.
"So what the plan?" asked the eyepatched woman, leaning in.
"Well the letter said Fovos will come after Jame on Second Elyndar of this month, I believe he will come after Jame no matter where he is if he is within Solva surroundings of course, so the plan is there is a forest on the south of Solva call Thistlegrove, it has giant trees, and we will make Jame walk in that forest path and we will set up an ambush from the surrounding trees, so anyone has any questions?" Aazroth explained, his voice steady as the guild's hearth. Damn, how can he say that much sentences without stuttering I thought.
"Umm yes so how are we going to hide ourselves, and I believe Fovos had to has some detection skills," a young adventurer asked, his bow propped nearby.
"About that I order some top tier invisibility potions, they said it can make you like the wind," Aazroth said, a faint smirk breaking through.
"So we have to follow Jame until Fovos attack right?" another asked, scratching his stubble.
"Yes, we will follow form beside the trees," Aazroth confirmed. Silence fell, the guild's background clamor—shouted bets, clattering plates, and the bard's lute—filling the void.
"Ok so anymore questions?" Aazroth asked.
"Umm how about me," I said, setting the letter back on the table, its cryptic words nagging me.
"What do I have to do?"
"Well you can just support us, don't worry you won't be alone after all I will support too" Aazroth said, his tone reassuring but vague.
"Oh ok," I muttered, my F-rank pride stinging but relieved I wouldn't be solo.
"So anymore questions?" Aazroth pressed.
"When the time comes can I kill Fovos wilth my own hand?" Jame asked, his voice steady, eyes burning with a quiet vendetta.
"Yes," Aazroth answered, nodding.
The guild hall's fire crackled, mana-orbs flickering as the squad leaned in, the weight of their plan settling like the dust on the trophy walls.
A few days ago, in a dimly lit chamber in the Kingdom Xipen, where shadows clung to stone walls etched with forbidden runes, a woman and a man sat across a obsidian table, its surface scarred from countless clandestine deals. The air was thick with the scent of wax and intrigue, a single candle flickering between them.
"He is getting dangerous," the man said, his voice low, fingers tracing the hilt of a concealed dagger.
"If someone gives him the money, he will sure come after us too."
The woman leaned back, her black cloak pooling like blood, her eyes glinting with defiance.
"So what, aren't we strong enough to kill him?"
"Yes, but that will cost our time, and you know time is precious in the underworld, right?" the man replied, his tone sharp, a silver ring on his finger catching the candlelight.
She sighed, her gauntleted hand tapping the table. "Fine, what do you want me to do?"
"I heard there is a squad trying to take Fovos down," the man said, leaning forward, his face half-hidden in shadow. "Use that to your advantage and kill him."
"Can't I kill him myself?" the woman asked, her voice edged with impatience, a lock of dark hair falling across her brow.
"No, because it will hurt our reputation," the man countered.
"There are many allies of ours that use him. If they found out we kill him, well, you know what happen."
"Fine," she relented, her jaw tight. With that, the man rose, his cloak whispering against the stone floor, and vanished into the darkness, leaving the woman alone. She stood, her silhouette sharp against the candle's glow, and muttered, "Time to get working."
Later that night, under a moon that hung like a scythe over Solva, a bar buzzed with raucous laughter and clinking tankards.
In a shadowed corner, Fovos lounged, his black leather armor scuffed from countless kills, a half-empty mug of ale in hand. His eyes, cold as a viper's, scanned the room until a figure slipped through the crowd and settled beside him—a woman in a cloak, her movements fluid, a faint shimmer of mana trailing her steps.
"You are not at your usual seat" said the woman.
"What do you want this time, Zarnkxild?" Fovos asked, his voice a gravelly drawl, not bothering to look at her as he sipped his ale.
"Straight to business huh"
Zarnkxild lowered her hood, revealing sharp cheekbones and eyes that burned with cunning, her dark braid coiled like a serpent.
"Can I hire you?" she said, her tone smooth, a predator's smile playing on her lips.
"Are you trying to recruit me to your group again?" Fovos said, setting his mug down with a thud, his scarred hand resting near a dagger at his belt. "If so answer is no as always"
"Not recruiting," Zarnkxild clarified, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"A job. Clean, simple, your specialty." Fovos raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.
"Who's the mark?"
"Jame," she said, her smile sharpening. "Five stellar coins to kill him."
"Make that seven," Fovos countered.
Zarnkxild didn't flinch. "Ok."
"So when do you want me to kill him?" Fovos asked, draining his ale, the deal sealed in his mind.
"On the Second Elyndar of this month," Zarnkxild replied.
"As for the payment, you will get it after the kill"
"Ok" Said Fovos before turning to leave after finishing his drink.
"Leaving already?"
"I have work to do" with that he left the bar without looking back.
Zarnkxild sipped her own drink, a amber liquor that caught the lantern's glow, and spoke without turning. "Lorex, I know you are here."
"Even I can't hide from you, huh," came a low chuckle from the shadows.
Lorex emerged, his presence chilling the air. He was clad in a fitted black tunic, its fabric woven with shadowthread that seemed to drink the light, adorned with subtle silver runes that pulsed faintly with concealment magic. A hooded cloak, tattered at the edges from countless assassinations, draped his shoulders, its inner lining embroidered with six-pointed star. His mask, a sleek obsidian plate with slits for eyes, revealed nothing but a glint of menace, while twin daggers, their hilts wrapped in nightshade leather, hung at his hips, their blades rumored to sever souls. Leather gloves, etched with arcane sigils, flexed as he adjusted his mask, and boots of silent wyrmhide left no trace on the wooden floor. Every inch of his attire screamed precision, power, and dread, befitting a master assassin who commanded the underworld's fear.
"What are you doing in my bar?" Zarnkxild asked, her tone teasing but wary, swirling her drink.
"*REDACTED* sent me here to help you," Lorex said, sliding onto the seat beside her, his voice muffled but sharp, like a blade through silk.
"Then can you deliver this letter for me?" Zarnkxild said, producing a parchment sealed with red wax, its coiled serpent emblem gleaming under the lantern.
"Where to?" Lorex asked, accepting a drink from the bartender, his gloved fingers brushing the glass as he sipped through a slit in his mask.
"Xyuli Academy," Zarnkxild replied, her eyes locking onto his, a silent command passing between them.
Lorex nodded, tucking the letter into his cloak, its runes flaring briefly. Without another word, he melted back into the shadows, leaving only the faintest ripple of mana in his wake.