That night, Geist's team gathered around a long oak table, mugs raised high in celebration.
"Cheers to victory!" Geist called, his grin is infectious.
Albert clutched his mug with both hands, managing a shaky sip before nearly spilling it down his chin, Colt and Fran bellowed a tune together, mugs clashing as they slung arms around each other's shoulders, laughing off-key.
Geist slid a pint across the table to Cael, who accepted it with a nod. Beside them, their prize rested against the wall, its polished blade catching the tavern firelight.
Geist leaned back with a dramatic sigh, raising his mug. "Yes, we did it! From this day forward, I dub our prize… the Raging Sword of Unrivaled Power and Endless-"
"Hold on, squad leader," Annisa cut in, stifling a laugh. "Don't you think that's… a little much?"
Geist blinked, then chuckled, scratching his cheek. "Fair enough. Hmm. Then why don't we let Cael name it instead?"
All eyes turned to him. Cael froze, setting his mug down with a sigh. "But… I didn't even do anything. Not really."
The table went quiet for half a heartbeat before everyone broke into laughter.
"You did," Geist said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, smile wide and unshakable. "You were there, cheering us on, you kept us together, that's what matters. So, name it. You deserve it."
Cael let out a soft sigh, his gaze drifted upward to the lantern swaying gently from the ceiling. In the flicker of its light, old memories stirred, moments with Aina, warmth and laughter long buried in his heart. He searched for words to capture that feeling, something that carried both grace and memory, like a melody only he could hear.
"Verdant Aria," he said at last.
The table went still, Geist nodded with approval, his smile wide, while the others exchanged knowing glances, a quiet respect in their eyes.
Then, as one, they lifted their mugs. "It's settled then cheers to Cael! Woohoo!"
Laughter filled the tavern once more, the clinking of glasses ringing like music as their celebration carried deep into the night.
The tavern buzzed with laughter and music, the air thick with the warmth of victory. But by the window, four robed figures sat apart from the revelry, silent, their hooded faces turned toward Geist's team, though they seemed no more than shadows, they listened, watched, and plotted.
As the night wore on and the ale flowed freely, Rebecca clambered onto the table, her cheeks flushed red. "Behold!" she declared, wobbling slightly as she struck a fighting stance. the others roared with laughter and egged her on.
Only Albert fretted, clutching at her leg in alarm. "Rebecca, please! Calm down… you'll fall!"
Fran and Colt howled encouragement, mugs raised, Geist pounded the table in cheer.
Cael, meanwhile, leaned back with a weary sigh, his gaze drifting past the chaos of his friends, his eyes flicked toward the window.
The four robed figures were gone.
Cael's eyes shifted back to the wall where their prize rested, the sword was still there, but the presence he had felt earlier had vanished. A chill prickled at his neck.
"Thieves," he muttered under his breath.
He needed to move quickly, but without drawing suspicion. rising from his seat, he forced a casual tone. "I'll just… go take a leak."
Geist, already halfway through another pint, looked up with a grin and threw him a thumbs-up. "You do you, buddy!"
Slipping outside, Cael vaulted effortlessly onto the tavern roof, then dropped silently down the chimney stack to the empty alley beyond.
Closing his eyes, he steadied his breath and expanded his senses outward. A pulse of energy rippled from him like sonar, spreading through the night air.
"There."
Four figures lit up on his inner map, their outlines draw sharp against the darkness. They moved quickly, carrying something… their prize.
Cael's chest tightened with unease, that sword wasn't just a prize, it was dangerous, because of its Veyrith nature, he couldn't allow it to fall into anyone else's hands.
He vaulted across the rooftops with predator's grace, closing the distance in seconds. Back in the tavern, Geist paused mid-swig and glanced up at the ceiling, brows furrowing as if sensing something stir above.
Cael landed hard in front of the fleeing thieves, blocking their path, the four cloaked figures staggered to a halt, startled by his sudden appearance.
One panicked and lunged, dagger flashing, Cael's left arm twisted, chitinous plates sliding into place as his hand transformed into its insectoid form, with a single punch, he sent the assailant sprawling, the thief crashing unconscious into the cobblestones.
The remaining three froze, their cloaks trembling as they braced themselves, Cael's crimson eyes burned in the dark.
"You don't need to bother," he said flatly.
Their unified screams tore through the night.
Back at the tavern, the warmth of lantern light flickered across the room, his squad had slumped over the table, lost to drink and exhaustion, save for Albert who groggily tried to stir them awake.
Cael moved silently, slipping behind the bench and placing the stolen sword back in its place. Just as he turned to withdraw, a firm grip clamped around his wrist.
His chest tightened, Geist.
For a heartbeat, Cael panicked, Geist only cracked one eye open, raising a pint in his free hand. "For you," he slurred with a grin.
Cael exhaled slowly, accepting the drink, he took a swing, then slammed the mug onto the table with a thud. The sound jolted the others upright, blinking and laughing as the celebration reignited.
Soon the tavern was alive with song, clattering mugs, and half-drunken boasts. The night dissolved into glorious chaos, and for now, the shadow of Veyrith was forgotten.
The next morning, the streets were filled with the sluggish shuffle of Geist and his squad. They swayed like zombies, clutching their stomachs and groaning with every step.
"Oooaaah…" Albert sighed dramatically, dragging his feet along the cobblestones.
Annisa was nowhere to be seen, she hadn't left her room, her voice muffled behind the door. "Ugh… my head!" she groaned, unable to move after drinking far more than she could handle.
In Geist and Cael's shared quarters, the sword lay slumped against the wall, forgotten and unattended in the haze of the morning.
As the squad turned down a busy lane, they came face to face with Murdoc's team. For a tense moment, the street seemed to freeze, Murdoc's gaze locked on Geist, his jaw flexing before he clicked his tongue.
"…Let's go," he muttered, leading his men away.
Colt, ever the instigator, smirked and gave a sharp sneer in Sentry's direction. The assassin startled, bristling under the look, but quickly averted his gaze with clenched teeth, pretending it hadn't shaken him.
Steam curled lazily above the bathhouse pools as Geist's squad sank into the warmth, their fatigue melting into the water. For the first time since the tournament, their worries felt far away, lost in the rippling comfort.
Cael's sharp eyes lingered on each of them. Subtle details stood out.
Albert bore a four-cornered rune, Fran's rune shone brighter, etched with five corners, Colt, too, carried a five-cornered rune, but Geist… Geist's was different. His rune gleamed with six distinct corners it pulsed rhythmically.
He opened his mouth, ready to ask, but he chose to close his lips, his curiosity buried, for now.
Geist leaned back with a satisfied sigh, but his eyes caught something unusual, dark markings etched faintly across Cael's chest and strange lines trailing over his skin.
Geist leaned forward.
"What's that?" he asked, leaning closer.
Cael stiffened, but with practiced calm he muttered, "Scars from… torture."
Geist blinked, then nodded without pressing further, he placed a hand firmly on Cael's shoulder, his expression softens. "You've been through a lot…"
But after a moment of quiet, Geist's grin returned, he suddenly stood, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright boys… hold him!"
"Huh, wait, what?" Cael stammered, but Colt and Fran were already on their feet, each grabbing an arm with wicked grins.
"One… two… THREE!" they shouted in unison, heaving him high into the steamy air before letting him crash back into the pool with a tremendous splash.
Cael surfaced with a gasp only to be shoved playfully back under, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls. Albert, ever the voice of reason, splashed helplessly at the chaos. "S-stop! You'll drown him!"
Their cackles carried through the walls into the women's section. Rebecca sat with a towel on her head, staring at the ceiling with a pout as the echoes of their fun reached her.
"Seems fun…" she muttered bitterly, sinking deeper into the water.
Refreshed and glowing from the bath, the squad stood together in the dressing room, chugging warm milk. In perfect unison they exhaled, "Aaahhh…" a chorus of contentment.
Colt, never one to let peace last, crept up behind Albert with a sly grin. In one swift tug, Albert's towel was yanked loose.
"Wha.?! Colt!!" Albert yelped, fumbling to cover himself.
At that exact cursed moment, the door slid open. Rebecca, fully dressed and on her way out, stepped in front of them. "Hey, you guys are taking forever," She froze mid-sentence.
Her eyes widened, blood trickled from her nose.
Silence.
Rebecca's face went flushed red before she bolted out of the bathhouse faster than her summoned wraith.
"Wait! This is a HUGE misunderstanding!" Albert shouted desperately, his voice cracking as the others dissolved into hysterics. His dignity shattered beyond repair.
Later, out on the narrow halls of the bathhouse, Geist and Colt were still cackling, clutching their stomachs. Albert trudged behind, pale as a ghost, muttering curses at the universe, his very soul seemed to wilt with each step.
Geist slung an arm around him, grinning ear to ear. "From this day forward… Albert the Bold One!"
"Pfft…" Colt snorted before bursting into laughter again.
Their laughter echoed down the alleys, while Albert hung his head, his spirit thoroughly broken.
Back at the inn, Rebecca leaned against the doorframe, still flushed and trying to catch her breath. Annisa, fresh from the bath and towel-drying her hair, stopped when she noticed her.
"You alright, Rebecca?" she asked gently.
Rebecca turned her face away, avoiding eye contact. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just… going back to the room." Her voice wavered, the slightest attempt at sounding casual.
Annisa tilted her head, puzzled, but let it go, as she passed by Geist's room, something caught her eye, their prized sword lying unattended on the floor.
"Strange… who would leave this here?" she murmured.
She reached down and lifted it by the hilt.
In that instant, a sharp jolt surged through her body, her breath hitched, and her muscles seized. A cold numbness spread rapidly across her skin, rooting her in place.
Her eyes widened. She tried to let go, but her fingers wouldn't obey.
Geist was still teasing Albert as they strolled through the bustling streets, Albert dragging his feet like a man who had lost all dignity. Their laughter carried over the noise of merchants and townsfolk until a sudden explosion shattered not too far.
A plume of smoke and flame rose in the distance.
Albert's face paled. "That's… our inn."
"Let's go!" Geist barked.
The squad broke into a sprint, weaving through the panicked crowd, hearts pounding. As they turned the final corner, their worst fears materialized.
Rebecca stood in front of the ruined inn, the prized sword gripped tightly in her hand. But her eyes… they weren't her own.
"Rebecca…?" Fran whispered, with trembling voice.
Meanwhile, far away in the depths of the forest, a body stirred within a circle of pulsing runes. The ashen-haired Veyrith lay slumped against the ground, his chest rising shallowly, around him, dark red magic circles crackled with malicious energy.
His lips curled into a wicked grin and his eyes flashes with hunger.
Through the sword, he had seized control.
Anissa tried her best to hold Rebecca, erecting folds of invisible barrier to hold her off but her strength is just too much for her to handle, all she can do is defend herself until the help arrive.
Rebecca lunged, the possessed sword whistling through the air as she swung for Annisa's head. Annisa froze, her eyes squeezed shut.
But at the last instant, Geist's blade intercepted the strike, steel sparking against cursed steel.
"Rebecca!" he shouted, his voice desperate.
Fran rushed in, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Hold still!"
The moment his skin touched hers, a surge of red electricity crackled across his body. His scream tore through the inn entrance as smoke rose from his clothes, both he and Rebecca collapsed to the floor in a heap.
The squad staggered back until Fran twitched, slowly, with a grin that wasn't his own, he rose to his feet, seizing the sword in his hand.
His eyes burned with red lightning.
Cael's gaze sharpened, "it's not just possession… he's switching bodies."
Fran no, the Veyrith inside him, let out a distorted chuckle and lunged at Geist. Sparks hissed as their blades collided, the force rattling the walls.
"Damn it, Fran!" Geist gritted his teeth, pushing back.
Suddenly, a blur cut across the battlefield, Colt's boot connected with Fran's side.
"Snap out of it, pal!" Colt yelled.
The possessed Fran tumbled, crashing hard into the inn's wall. Wood splintered as the impact left a gaping hole, dust and debris raining down.
The squad stared at the rubble, dust still settling. From within, Fran staggered out with an unrelenting fury, he charged again.
"Don't hurt him!" Geist command, holding his ground. "Stand back, I'll handle this."
The others hesitated, torn between fear and loyalty. On the sidelines, Albert scrambled to pull Rebecca clear of the danger zone, dragging her limp body behind cover.
Fran raised his blade, awaiting any openings to attack.
Meanwhile, far away in the forest, the ashen-haired Veyrith bled freely into the magic circle beneath him. His blood spread like roots, staining the runes red. The cursed sword pulsed in response, exhaling a thick red mist that seeped across the street.
The onlookers, the inn manager, townsfolk caught nearby, breathed it in. One by one their eyes flickered red, their faces twists in silent horror.
Cael's eyes widened. "The mist, it's a contagion! Cover your mouths!"
Geist yanked up his sleeve and pressed it to his face.
But Colt, unwilling to just watch, lunged forward. "Hang on, Fran!"
He froze mid-stride, the red mist coiled around him, his movements faltered, and then his head snapped toward Geist. His grin was all wrong.
"Colt… no…" Geist muttered, his grip tightening on his sword.
The squad now stood against many, against an unseen force.