---
Chapter Seven – Crossroads
The clang of dishes echoed through the kitchen as Elisha stacked the last washed plate on the shelf. His hands smelled faintly of soap and grease, his damp sleeves sticking uncomfortably to his arms. He dried them with the edge of his apron just in time for the madam of the restaurant to storm in, her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a sharp line.
"Elisha!" she snapped, tossing a napkin onto the counter. "How many times do I have to tell you not to cause trouble? Those guards earlier—do you even realize what you've done?"
Elisha leaned lazily against the wooden counter, crossing his arms, his white hair falling across his forehead. His tone was dry, mocking. "If you act nice toward the Black Raiders, will you be rewarded with gold? Or maybe crowned as the emperor's dowager for your loyalty?"
The madam glared at him, her voice low and biting. "This isn't a joke. Why do you hate the Raiders so much, boy? And how did you even handle trained guards like they were straw dummies?"
Elisha's smirk faltered, just for a second. He shrugged, eyes flicking away. "I don't hate Raiders. I hate hypocrites. And fools who sell their souls for scraps of power." He didn't answer the question about the guards, though inwardly his mind stirred. Patrol guards… all of them should've been at least yellow-ranked. Yet they fell easily. Because I'm still a green raider. Or… I was.
He shoved the thought away. Out loud, he said with mock sincerity, "Do I give you trouble, Madam? If I do, why keep me here?"
The woman scoffed, turning toward the door. But she paused when Elisha's voice softened, almost sincere. "Thank you… for letting me stay. Even after I stole from you once."
Her shoulders tensed, but she only muttered, "Just tidy up. Then go help the girls serve customers. Don't test my patience again."
Elisha grinned faintly, pushing himself off the counter. "Yes, Madam."
---
Meanwhile, in Xavier's group academy, the atmosphere was tense. Word had spread: in three days' time, the king wanted to see the chosen raiders for the journey into the Tomb.
Xavier sat cross-legged in the dimly lit study hall, a parchment half-unrolled in front of him, though his eyes were far from the inked words. His senior, Lucas, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his jaw, had just returned from the council chambers.
"The king has sent letters to other academies," Lucas explained, voice grim. "But most declined. Too many of their members died last time. Four hundred sent. None returned."
Xavier swallowed, his fingers tightening on the parchment.
Lucas added, almost bitterly, "One academy even expelled a low-ranked green raider for refusing to join the scouts. The scouts never came back. Seems the boy was lucky. Coward or not, he saved his neck."
Xavier exhaled slowly, half-admiring, half-jealous. Lucky indeed.
But he pushed away the thought, trying instead to focus on gathering information. He'd heard whispers—clans hiding in the shadows, monstrous beasts lurking in the Tomb, voices that drove men to madness. Nothing concrete. Just rumors that twisted in the back of his mind until his head ached.
Later that evening, restless, Xavier approached Lucas. "Senior, may I step out? Just for a short while."
Lucas gave him a hard look. "If the group leader finds out, I won't be able to save you. Be back in two hours."
Xavier grinned, unfazed. "I'll be quick."
He slipped out.
---
The streets of the capital were alive. Lanterns swung gently in the evening breeze, casting warm glows over stalls still buzzing with activity. Merchants called out their wares, children darted through the alleys, and the smell of roasted meat mingled with the sharp tang of wine.
To Xavier, it was mesmerizing. He'd never truly wandered outside the academy before, not like this. Everything was new—sweet pastries, glimmering trinkets, laughter ringing in the air.
To Elisha, inside the crowded restaurant, it was suffocating. Every laugh meant more orders. Every coin tossed on a table meant more work. While Xavier wished the night's bustle would last forever, Elisha silently prayed the sky would crack open and pour rain, driving customers away.
Xavier bought sweets and bread, chewing thoughtfully as he asked passersby where to find good wine. A man pointed him five stores past a pawn shop. Xavier smiled brightly, pressing five coins into the man's hand.
The man blinked, stunned. "Thank you… sir."
Xavier simply nodded. To him, generosity was natural.
He entered the restaurant. A middle-aged woman hurried out from the kitchen, pushing a boy about his age forward. The boy dragged his feet with the air of someone who couldn't care less.
Xavier's eyes lit up. "Hi, I'm Xavier. Nice meeting you. I was told you had good wine here—"
Elisha cut him off flatly. "First, you don't need to tell me your name before you order. Second, we have three types of wine. Which do you want?"
Xavier hesitated. "Uh… I don't drink often. Just… sell me the best one." He placed six silver coins on the counter. "This is for the wine."
Elisha raised an eyebrow. "That's not enough. A good wine here costs twenty silver coins. Ten gold for the rarest."
Xavier quickly added more coins, pushing twenty forward. "And… this extra is your tip. Thank you."
Elisha froze. His eyes narrowed. "Are you crazy? You don't just throw coins at people like that."
Xavier blinked. "Why not? People like being appreciated."
"You," Elisha said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "definitely don't leave home often."
Xavier gave a sheepish laugh. "Actually, you're right. I don't."
As Elisha turned away with the wine, Xavier called out, "Hey—what's your name?"
Elisha paused, smirked faintly, and tossed over his shoulder, "Elisha."
Xavier grinned at the name, filing it away like a secret treasure. Elisha scoffed and muttered under his breath, "Is he normal?"
---
Back at the academy, Xavier returned to Lucas, proudly presenting the wine and bread. "Senior, let's drink. I heard wine and bread go together."
Lucas chuckled, producing a pouch of peanuts. "Then let's add peanuts. Why stop there?"
Xavier's laughter filled the room, light and genuine.
---
Meanwhile, at the restaurant, the madam leaned against the counter, watching Elisha. "You know," she said, "that was the first customer you weren't rude to."
Elisha snorted. "Respect is given to those who deserve it."
He untied his apron, tossing it onto a chair, and retreated to the small room at the back. The wooden door shut with a soft click.
The silence pressed in. Elisha sat on the bed, eyes drifting to the corner where his clothes lay folded. From beneath them, he pulled out a small token, worn and weathered. The metal glinted faintly in the lamplight—engraved with two words: Green Raider.
His throat tightened. Back then, they'd told him once he reached mid-level, he would receive a new token, a new identity. But he never got there. Never perfected his skills. Cast out. Forgotten.
He clenched the token in his fist. "I wonder if the ones I was supposed to go with are still alive," he muttered to the empty room. He turned toward the east wall, his voice colder. "Probably not."
Lying back, he stared at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling at him. "I need money. But the king? He'd never grant favor to a thief. To an ex-raider. To someone who beats guards like they're goats."
The token slipped from his fingers, clattering softly against the floor. He shut his eyes.
Outside, the city still pulsed with life. But within the quiet room, Elisha's world narrowed to shadows, regrets, and the faint whisper of hunger—his own, and the Temple's, waiting.
---