Dark Town
Inside a dim room lit by a few torches on the walls, the air was stuffy and smelled of stale beer and sweat. A dozen burly men sat around a large, scratched wooden table. At the head of the table sat Kail, their leader, a large man in a black robe.
He picked up an earthenware bottle and casually poured a dark liquid into two empty glasses in front of him. The sound of the liquid filling the glasses was clear in the quiet room. He then pushed one of the glasses across the table toward Fyar. "Drink," he said.
Fyar just took the glass and placed it to the side, without touching it further. He tilted his head slightly. "Are you fucking idiot offering a drink to someone wearing a mask?"
"ey Watch your mouth, you dog!"
"whoa you wana die litle shit?!!"
Several men behind the man immediately stood up, their hands ready on the hilts of their weapons to attack Fyar. However, the man calmly raised one hand, gesturing for them to back down. Instantly, they retreated to their original positions, but their sharp gazes remained fixed on Fyar.
The man then smiled. "I haven’t introduced myself, have I? How rude of me." He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head slightly. "My name is Kail. Consider me a kind person who keeps this area clean and peaceful."
"Keeps it peaceful... heh," Fyar laughed softly behind his mask.
"What’s so funny, you fool!" one of the guards snapped.
Kail ignored him, then picked up and drank his drink. After that, he clasped his hands together on the table. "Yesterday, you got into a fight with one of my friends. Why was that?"
Fyar was silent. He was looking for a plausible reason for his "James" persona: a desperate, blunt person who was ready to die at any moment. He glanced at Kail’s men, then leaned back slightly in his chair. "Their so ugly, arrogant mouthfucker, acted like asshole all the time, couldn’t shut up, just like dogs."
"You son of a bitch!!!!"
"Sir, let us kill this man!"
"Arrogant, stupid brat!"
Several angry voices began to sound out. Their eyes glared sharply as they started to rise from their seats and the guards in the back began to approach Fyar.
THWACK!
Kail slammed his fist on the table. His smile vanished, replaced by an angry expression. "I said shut up!" he shouted.
Kail then pointed toward the door. "all of you, get out."
All the guards there fell silent, looking at each other nervously.
"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!" Kail roared.
Instantly, all the guards hurried out of the room, leaving only Fyar and Kail. Kail sighed and sat back down. He looked at Fyar again. "Sorry for the disturbance."
Fyar didn’t respond.
Kail folded his hands again and asked Fyar, "Why did you come here?"
Fyar was silent for a moment before he finally answered, " I don’t know man. Maybe to find death?? Marry a girl here?? Or maybe start a business?? Or... or become a gang leader? I don’t know, man. I don’t know what I’m living for right now either."
Kail chuckled at Fyar’s answer and clapped his hands. "You’re perfect."
"Perfect? for what??" Fyar asked.
Kail ignored the question. He leaned forward, propping his chin on his intertwined fingers. "Do you like money? I heard yesterday you extorted the gambling winnings from the people who bet on your name."
Fyar sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Stupid ass question. Who doesn’t like money? I may be desperate, but that doesn’t mean I want to be poor."
Kail nodded. "What’s your class? Are you strong?"
"I’m a Hunter," Fyar answered, shrugging casually. "Strong enough to kill you, I guess."
Kail clapped his hands once more. "Good, good. You really are perfect." He let out a sigh of relief and said, "Join the tournament on Tuesday, . Win all the matches there."
Good... he took the bait. He really is an idiot. Fyar thought to himself. He then tilted his head slightly and said, "Why? What’s in it for me?"
"A lot, of course," Kail said. He added, "First, I’ll bet on your name and give you forty percent of the winnings. Second, you can also bet on your own name. If you keep winning, you’ll get rich instantly.... not bad right?,"
Yes, I want that, I want that, I WANT THAT! Fyar thought, but he kept a poker face behind his mask, not overreacting, in keeping with his James persona. Instead, he leaned back casually in his chair. "huh Is that it?? Money??"
Kail chuckled. "No, of course not. You know, kid, that event is also a recruitment ground for Martis’s members. If you manage to win, you might get recruited there."
"Eeeh... I see. What’s the benefit of working for Martis?" Fyar said in a bored tone, pretending to inspect his fingernails.
Kail wagged his index finger as if chiding him. "You’ll be paid one hundred gold coins a week, be given a decent house. Not only that, if you manage to climb the ranks and become his confidant, you might gain power and become his advisor."
Fyar placed a hand on his masked chin, feigning thought. "What’s the average level of the people who participate in that competition?"
"It varies... on average, seven to fifteen," Kail answered. He smiled widely. "I can register you today, kid! You can start fighting on Tuesday!"
Fyar was silent for a moment, staring at Kail from behind his mask.
"Kid? So how about it?" Kail asked.
Fyar nodded. "Not bad, I guess. Sign me up, old man."
Kail smiled widely and slammed the table again. "GOOD! YOU REALLY ARE PERFECT!"
At the Same Time. The Great Library of Tyelven.
In contrast to the hustle and bustle of Dark Town, a total silence enveloped the interior of the Great Library of Tyelven. The building was magnificent, with high ceilings and sturdy stone pillars. The air inside smelled of old paper and dust. Afternoon light entered through the arched windows high above, creating lanes of light between the towering dark wood bookshelves.
Zaefal, still in his black guard uniform, was walking alone in one of the most secluded aisles. His finger moved slowly along the spines of the thick books, as if searching for a title. He stopped at the end of the aisle, took a book, and began to open it.
A few seconds later, the sound of quiet footsteps was heard approaching from behind. A middle-aged man with white hair and a black eyepatch stopped at the opposite shelf, his back to Zaefal. He wore a neat, all-red military uniform with a neat blue cape. He was Xavier.
"You’re late," Xavier said in a low voice, his eyes pretending to scan the book titles before him.
"I had to make sure no one was following," Zaefal replied, his eyes never leaving the page of the book he was holding. "How have you been?"
"As bad as your mission," Xavier answered with a small laugh. His expression turned serious again. "Your report."
Zaefal didn’t answer immediately. He turned the page of his book. "Illya has successfully entered their social circle. She has already met Martis. She will be conducting some business negotiations with Martis’s rivals at the banquet today. As for Fyar, he has infiltrated the lower district, he plans to participate in a tournament in Dark Town to get recruited by Martis."
"Not bad... not bad..." Xavier murmured. "I have new orders from the Prince for you all."
Zaefal raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"
"Attack him. Provoke him into violence. Do whatever is necessary to make him try to kill you."
Zaefal closed his book slowly. "WHAT??? What do you mean?? Does he realize how dangerous our mission is for a low-level party? With all due respect to the Prince, Xavier... what is he actually planning, does he want us to die???"
Xavier was silent for a moment. "His Highness has his own plans, even we Guardians don’t know what they are. Don’t worry, the moment he attacks, we will appear immediately. I’ve already sent several Guardians to this city. Leave the fighting to us, Zaefal."
Xavier paused for a moment before saying, "Continue your report."
"I saw several strong and suspicious people talking to Martis at the banquet yesterday. They wore white clothes and some wore robes. I couldn’t see them clearly because one of them noticed my presence," Zaefal reported. He placed his book back on the shelf. "Now it’s your turn. What information do you have for me?"
Xavier took a thin book from a nearby shelf. "Our intelligence has detected movement from the Whitening Organization in this city."
Zaefal turned slightly, his brows furrowed. "Whitening? Why would professional assassins come here?"
"It’s possible... he was hired by Martis, but we don’t know the motive yet," Xavier answered, his voice growing more serious. "But their presence always means one thing: someone very important is about to die. Or perhaps something big is about to happen in this city, I haven’t found the exact motive yet."
Xavier turned his head, his single eye staring sharply at Zaefal. "Your mission hasn’t changed, there are just a few small additions. Gather evidence. Attack them no matter what."
Zaefal nodded. "I don’t have another choice, do I."
"One more thing," Xavier added. "Do you know the power of your comrade Fyar? Do you know where he comes from?"
"He wouldn’t answer when I asked about his power. From my observation, he can neutralize magic," Zaefal answered. "As for his origins, I have no idea at all. Even if I knew, I would rather die than tell you."
Zaefal deliberately didn’t mention Fyar’s memory loss; he himself wasn’t sure if Fyar had really lost his memory. The reason Zaefal revealed his power was because he felt that if he wasn’t honest, he feared Fyar would be attacked directly by the Guardians to force him to use his power.
Xavier flinched slightly at that, his pupil dilating a little. He murmured softly, "So that’s what you’re planning, Your Highness...".
"Did you say something?" Zaefal asked.
"No, continue your mission," Xavier replied curtly. Without another word, Xavier put back the book he was holding and walked away, disappearing between the dark aisles of bookshelves. Zaefal stood alone in the silence for a few moments, then let out a long sigh. The burden on his shoulders felt heavier.