Evandale was a city forged by the hands of great men, the use of iron and stone, smelted into one, bringing the use of a durable material known as 'Silver Stone' which would be used to forge weapons, swords, shields, and so many greater objects of mass destruction.
"What do you mean you can only give me twelve gold coins for this wyvern tail, we agreed on twenty now you choose to change your mind?!" said Nori, a seventeen-year-old lady who stood at a height of at least five feet was angered by the local, monster parts dealer who was a man with the build of an ogre, towering over her with a stiff expression on his face but the young lady didn't falter, standing up to him as she argued.
The man nodded before responding, "Apologies, madam, but we did agree on twenty gold coins. I was specific on which wyvern tail to bring, and an ice wyvern was required," he said with a deep tone.
Nori, who was not compliant with the conditions, gazed into the man's soul, though he was not shaken. "An ice wyvern is still a wyvern, do you know how difficult it is for a brawler like myself to break that icy shell?!" she retorted, hoping to win the argument, but things weren't working in her favour.
With the townsfolk gathering around to see the cause of the commotion, the situation had already reached a dire climax, the gasps of men and the whispers of women filling the stuffy space.
After hearing that sentence, the parts dealer had lost control over his emotions, responding. "An ice wyvern isn't difficult, you just lack the skills that are necessary to enable your victory," he said, suggesting that Nori wasn't as strong as she said she was, the first time they met.
"What did you just say?" Nori inquired with a menacing tone, her fists clenched tightly.
The moment was tensed, the townsfolk of Evandale adding in numbers, then the tragedy began. Balling her fist, she struck the parts dealer on the face, but this did not faze him.
A brawler's attack was supposed to be devastating, but Nori's attack didn't even do any bit of damage. Looking around with sweat dripping from her cropped, brown hair, she could see the look of indifference, forcing her to throw another fist attack.
With the attack just being inches away from the part dealer's face, it turned out to be unsuccessful, with Nori's wrist being caught by his tight grip.
Using all her strength, she struggled to pull her hand away, but it was like it was lodged between two tight spaces. "Get your hands off me," she screamed.
"You're a woman, which is why I do not plan on striking you down, leave my shop and never return," he warned, letting go of the lady's hand.
Nori gasped, angered but too powerless to do anything, which led her to swallow her arrogance; she had no choice, and with the whispers from the people of Evandale, she was left to oblige with the conditions of the sale, "Please... wait..." she muttered, causing the parts dealer to halt. "Please, you can buy my wyvern tail for twelve gold coins"
The parts dealer sighed, seeing the look of shame on the young woman's face. He couldn't help but feel pity for her. Whatever he had said was true; Nori was, in fact, the weakest of all the brawlers in the world, while the bigger slayers were famous for their great feats, she was renowned for being weak.
With a low ranking of D and no sign of rank reawakening, she was bound to be weak, even being the weakest of the D ranks.
It was normal for a slayer to level up once, going through a rank change, which most would call 'Rank Awakening', and a multitude of D ranks had gone through that, breaking their limits and going further, making Nori the only thirty D ranks left, still weaker than the new slayers.
"Fine," the parts dealer muttered with a soft and reassuring tone, "I will buy this from you, but my decision on never letting you back here still stands"
Nori folded her hands, sighing as she gazed into the distance, "Fine, whatever you say stands," she muttered with a heavy voice.
The deal had been sealed, Nori had received her gold coins, walking away with a face that spelt 'trouble' for anybody who crossed her path, but no one was threatened by the way she looked. Her form wasn't really built for fighting, being soft and a body shape that was only attractive because of a resemblance to her mother, dragging her to a corner that led harassers coming her way.
Most people said she bore the arrogance of her father, the jet-black hair being a sign of his genes and the attitude as well. Most will say, "Imagine her mother with black hair," that was how she looked. The reason for them saying such things was not to share the resemblance but to compare them. Her mother was a great person, her father arrogant but pure-hearted, but Nori was a drunk and arrogant individual, who didn't have any good deeds to back her up.
After coping with the whispers and gasps on the streets, with the long stares, she emerged at her favourite spot. Evandale had many places to explore, small shops that sold wooden toys for children, food and vegetable restaurants, the blacksmiths and the parts dealers. But the best spot for Nori was very evident, and that was indeed, the bar, where she drank her troubles away.
Graced with her presence, the small chatters emanating from the interior of the bar stopped, with a few individuals still talking, but their eyes were still on Nori.
The lady, of course, shrugged this moment off, this being a daily occurrence for the young girl. She was quite underage to drink with the adults, but her high metabolism earned her a seat at the counter where a very good friend of hers always posted herself, Anastasia Creemore, a simple woman with a chubby and pompous build that repelled and attracted older men.
"Ana! Hello?!" Nori greeted loudly, waving.
The woman turned to face the girl, a faint smile spreading on her face, "Well, look what the ice wyvern dragged in", she mocked.
Nori halted for a few seconds, trying to get what the middle-aged woman was saying, then it hit her, "How humorous of you, Lady Anastasia," she said while getting comfortable next to the counter.
"Come on, I'm just tryna lighten up ya mood," said Anastasia with a soft chuckle at the beginning of her sentence.
Nori nodded in response, "Well, if you're not giving me a cup of beer, my mood is just going to rot even more," she declared.
"Okay, okay, my apologies for being a burden," Anastasia replied, taking out a big wooden cup and placing it under a barrel from which she extracted the liquid. "Two gold coins, please"
Nori exhaled, before letting out a long sigh, "Yes, I have it here," she muttered, reaching into her pocket where she took out a small pouch which the parts dealer had given her.
"Ah, seems you're loaded today," Anastasia muttered from the background of coins jingling inside Nori's pouch.
Nori, who was confident in buying at least five drinks today and buying a good meal today, reached into the pouch, taking out two coins, but she stopped as she looked at the object in her hand.
The two ladies gasped, with Anastasia ending it with wild laughter. Nori couldn't hold back the rage fueling up inside of her.
——
The streets of Evandale thrummed with life, a river of voices, clattering carts, and the sharp scent of spices carried on the wind. Merchants cried their wares—gleaming trinkets, fresh breads, salted meats—while barter and laughter filled the air. At the city's heart rose the citadel, towering in solemn grandeur, home to the Imperial Order of Slayers, one of the three most formidable guilds in the known lands.
Yet today, that proud fortress was not the centre of attention. Far beyond Evandale's walls stretched a barren expanse where trees stood lifeless, their branches skeletal, stripped of leaf and fruit alike. The air was stale, the silence broken only by the unsettling sight that lingered beneath those trees—slayers, or rather, the broken remnants of them, strewn across the ground, ranging from B to C ranks.
It was here that Nahz Bryndal, commander of the Imperial Order, trudged into the nightmare with measured steps. She was a woman carved from discipline itself, her posture unyielding, her piercing blue eyes as cold and sharp as an ice wyvern, the winged beasts unable to fathom. Sunlight caught the cropped edges of her blonde hair, glinting against the pale white of her garments, garments that seemed to drain colour from the air around her.
"Hm," she murmured, voice low, almost detached. "So the whole squad was wiped out…" Her tone carried no tremor of sorrow, no trace of fear—only a calmness that clashed against the carnage at her feet.
Bodies littered the earth in grotesque silence, comrades fallen to something brutal, something merciless. As Nahz's gaze swept across the ruin, her eyes fixed on the yawning mouth of a cave. The answer lay there—of that she was certain. Only creatures of filth and darkness made their homes in such pits. Goblins. Ogres. Things that killed without thought.
Her grip tightened on the weapon in her hand; a gleaming spear tipped with silver stones honed to a merciless edge. She stepped forward, and from the shadows within, a pair of golden eyes ignited like molten fire. The air trembled with guttural growls, thick slobber dripping onto the earth.
Nahz froze. Her breath stilled. Whatever lurked in that darkness did not belong to the familiar bestiary of goblins or ogres. Its presence was… different. Wrong.
What on earth is that? she wondered, her mind whispering even as her body braced for battle.
"So," she said aloud, voice sharp as the blade she wielded, "you're the one responsible for this massacre."
Two scaled arms emerged first, its skin glinting like armour beneath the dim light of the sun. Then came its face—grotesque, inhuman, hardened by an unnatural strength—as it stepped into the open, claiming the massacre as its own.