As Kael, Thalindra, and Zaroth drew closer to the towering gates of Vardhelm, the air shifted in a way that was hard to ignore. The usual hum of city life buzzed beyond the walls, but it was faint now, swallowed up by an eerie silence that seemed to hang over the entrance to the city. The closer they got, the quieter it became. Something was off.


    The guards were no longer lounging in their usual, indifferent stances. Instead, a group of armored figures huddled around a wagon, their voices low and sharp, tension thick in the air.


    “What’s going on?” Kael muttered under his breath.


    “Trouble,” Thalindra replied, her eyes narrowing. Her hand drifted toward the dagger at her side.


    As they approached, one of the guards stepped forward, a hulking man with a patchy beard and a dented helmet. He scanned them quickly before his gaze locked onto Kael, a grim expression settling on his face. “Halt.”


    Kael raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”


    “The gate’s closed for now,” the guard grunted. “Murder this morning. Nasty stuff. Captain says no one goes in until they figure out who’s responsible.”


    Kael glanced at Thalindra, exchanging a wordless understanding.


    “Any idea who did it?” Thalindra asked, her voice calm but sharp.


    The guard hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s the strange part. The victim was a merchant, but the body…” He grimaced, struggling for words. “Veins black as pitch. Looked like they’d been burned from the inside out. Never seen anything like it.”


    “Sounds magical,” Zaroth’s voice slithered into Kael’s mind, smooth and cold. “If I had to guess, maybe a corruption-based rune weapon? Magic like that doesn’t go unnoticed. Though, I’d need to see it to be sure.”


    Before Kael could respond, a commanding voice broke through the tension.


    “You there!” A tall man in polished armor strode forward, his breastplate gleaming in the sunlight. Dark hair swept back in perfect waves, and his confident smirk sent an unsettling chill through Kael. His piercing green eyes locked onto Kael with unnerving precision. “You come through the eastern pass?”


    “Yeah…” Kael replied cautiously.


    The man’s smile faltered, his gaze narrowing. “Then we need to talk.” His eyes flicked to Thalindra, his expression unfazed. “You too.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and jogged back toward the gates, clearly expecting them to follow.


    “He’s handsome…for a human,” Thalindra muttered under her breath, her tone dry. “Too bad he’s the last person I wanted to see today.”


    Kael raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why’s that?”


    She sighed, adjusting the strap on her pack with a sense of annoyance. “Because he has this way of…making you do things. Talks like every move he makes is for the good of the city, and the next thing you know, you’re cleaning up after his messes.” Her eyes darkened, voice growing tight. “I spent three days chasing a rogue illusionist because of him.”


    Kael smirked. “Sounds like a good time.”


    Thalindra shot him a deadpan look. “Almost got turned into a frog. Not exactly my idea of fun.”


    <hr>


    The gates of Vardhelm groaned as they swung open, allowing the trio to step into the heart of the city. The streets immediately came alive with the pulse of the marketplace—merchants shouting to advertise their wares, children weaving between the crowds, and the warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread mingling with the sharp, metallic tang from nearby blacksmiths. Tall stone buildings lined the streets, their colorful banners fluttering in the breeze, adding to the city’s vibrant energy.


    Captain Lysander moved ahead with unyielding focus, cutting through the chaos like a blade through cloth. The noise of the city grew louder as they navigated narrow alleys and passed bustling market stalls, the air thick with the calls of vendors. Kael raised an eyebrow, impressed by the captain’s brisk pace.


    “Where are we headed?” Kael asked, raising his voice above the din.


    “The Adventurers’ Guild,” Lysander answered, his tone firm and purposeful. “If anyone knows what’s going on in this city, it’s them. Mercenaries, thieves, mages—they catch wind of everything.”


    Stolen story; please report.


    Ahead, the guild’s imposing structure came into view, its stone walls tall and foreboding, adorned with the emblem of a sword and shield. The sounds of the guild’s interior spilled out through cracked doors—laughter, loud conversation, and the occasional shout. But as they neared, something caught Kael’s eye.


    A group of rough-looking mercenaries lounged near the door, their laughter too loud and their mannerisms far too familiar. They circled a young adventurer, no older than eighteen, whose worn armor did little to mask the discomfort on her flushed face. The mercenaries made lewd remarks, their eyes glinting with malice. The girl shifted nervously, too intimidated to speak up.


    Kael’s chest tightened with disgust, but before he could step forward, Lysander acted.


    With surgical precision, Captain Lysander moved forward, boots striking the cobblestones with purpose. In a heartbeat, he closed the gap and delivered a brutal punch to the gut of the nearest mercenary. The sound was sickening, the man’s breath whooshing out as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.


    The remaining mercenaries froze, their eyes wide in shock. Lysander stood over the fallen man, his gaze as cold as stone.


    “Captain Lysander! The Corvan Lysander!” one of the mercenaries stammered, raising his hands in exaggerated surrender. “We were just—uh—leaving…to volunteer at the orphanage…or something like that.”


    The man on the ground groaned, clutching his stomach. “Oh…my stomach…It hurts…I didn’t even do anything.”


    “Yet,” Lysander muttered under his breath.


    The mercenary glared up at him, fury rising. “Fuck you! Ever tried using words? You psycho!”


    Lysander didn’t flinch. His eyes remained as hard as ever. “If you’ve got a problem with my methods, feel free to speak up.”


    The mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances, the bravado draining from them as quickly as it had appeared. Without another word, they retreated, muttering curses under their breath.


    The young adventurer, who had been frozen in place, finally let out a quiet sigh of relief. Her eyes were wide, still shaken, but Kael noticed something else—gratitude, mixed with a hint of embarrassment.


    “You alright?” Lysander asked, his voice softening, though his posture remained rigid.


    The girl nodded quickly, gripping the straps of her armor tightly. “Th-thank you, Captain. I…I didn’t know what to do.”


    Lysander gave her a curt nod. “Don’t let anyone push you around. If it happens again, let me know.”


    <hr>


    With the tension broken, Kael and Thalindra followed Lysander into the guild hall. The lively atmosphere was a stark contrast to the unease that had lingered outside. Kael glanced back at the young adventurer, now engaged in conversation with a clerk, her body language more relaxed.


    Inside, the clamor of voices, laughter, and the clinking of mugs filled the air. The scent of wood smoke mixed with the earthy aroma of adventurers exchanging tales or bartering jobs. Shields and swords adorned the walls, and a crackling hearth warmed the space, offering a welcome reprieve from the chill outside.


    Amid the bustle, Kael’s gaze was drawn to a figure standing in quiet elegance—too graceful to be just another adventurer. She wore a black blindfold, her short white hair framing a face that exuded serenity and strength. Her sleek black-and-white healer’s attire hugged her frame, and her posture radiated an authority that seemed to quiet the room for a moment. This was no ordinary adventurer.


    “Great,” Zaroth muttered under his breath. “I knew she’d be here eventually.”


    Kael raised an eyebrow. “You know her?”


    Zaroth scoffed. “Unfortunately. She’s one of the Goddess Ezirah’s dolls—Rhaize, I think. A human clone created with Chaos Magic. Think of her as an advanced golem, but with her own free will. Well, sort of. Ezirah can possess her whenever, but otherwise, she’s like a younger version of the Goddess. About 18-20 years old, if that helps.”


    Before Kael could ask more, Rhaize’s head snapped toward them, as if she had heard their conversation, though her eyes remained hidden behind the blindfold. The subtle shift in her focus made Kael pause, an unsettling feeling creeping over him. There was something otherworldly about her—something beyond mere magic. The faint hum of energy she radiated told him she was far from a typical adventurer.


    As they neared the bar, the noise of a commotion caught their attention. The Guild Master, a muscular woman with dark hair fading to green, stumbled toward Rhaize, clearly intoxicated. Her usually confident stride was off-kilter, and her flushed face was a dead giveaway of her state.


    “Oh, this can’t be good…” Kael muttered as the Guild Master reached out toward Rhaize with a sloppy grin.


    “Rhaize, my dear!” the Guild Master slurred, her voice filled with drunken affection. “You look divine tonight! Come, let me shower you with my love!” Her arms swayed wide, and her eyes were half-lidded as she lurched forward.


    Rhaize remained unbothered, tilting her head slightly. Her voice, cool and composed, cut through the air. “You are inebriated, Guild Master Sera.”


    Before Sera’s hands could land, Rhaize moved with uncanny fluidity, stepping aside with grace that seemed to defy the laws of movement. The Guild Master missed entirely, her momentum carrying her forward, and she stumbled completely off-balance.


    Kael stifled a grin at the sight of the Guild Master’s pride getting the better of her. “That…was a close call,” he murmured under his breath.


    Rhaize, without breaking a sweat, replied, “You should be more careful, Guild Master. Your actions, though well-intentioned, are not appropriate.”


    Sera, still wobbling, slurred, “It’s not my fault you said you were meeting a boy. You broke my heart, Rhaize. I had no choice but to drown my sorrows. Though, maybe beating him up would be more effective…” Her voice trailed off as she fumbled for the name. “Cale…Kiel…Kaelen?”


    Rhaize nodded, her blindfolded gaze locking onto Kael with unsettling accuracy. “You are Kael, correct?” she asked, her voice soft but unnervingly direct.


    “Huh?” Sera mumbled, turning toward him.


    “Shit,” Kael and Zaroth muttered in unison.