The guild hall of Deerfell was always a place of noise. Mercenaries and adventurers packed the wide chamber shoulder to shoulder, the smell of sweat, steel, and stale ale lingering in the air. The long quest board dominated the back wall, plastered with notices that ranged from missing livestock to contracts that promised death for anyone below platinum rank.
But in the guildmaster's office, high above the hall, the air was different. Quieter. Heavy.
The guildmaster, a broad-shouldered man with a streak of white in his black beard, sat hunched over reports. His eyes were hard, the kind of eyes carved from decades of war. He didn't notice the young receptionist until she cleared her throat.
"Guildmaster," she said nervously, clutching a clipboard to her chest.
He glanced up, brow furrowed. "What is it? Make it quick."
"There's a… report. A new party has registered their arrival." She swallowed. "They've been approved as diamond rank."
The guildmaster's quill paused. "Diamond rank? Already? Who?"
The receptionist hesitated. "They just call themselves a mercenary group. Four members. Their first two records show extraordinary efficiency. One of them… the system verified her as rank six in Spirit."
That made the old man finally sit upright. His eyes sharpened. "…Rank six." He let the words hang in the air, weighing them.
The guildmaster drummed his fingers against the desk. His jaw tightened. "Elarion bleeds from all sides. Orcs to the east, human kingdoms prodding our borders. If even half this report is true…" He muttered low, almost to himself. "Maybe these mercenaries could be the answer. Or at least… the sword we need until the kingdom gets its act together."
The receptionist said nothing more, sensing the gravity in his tone.
---
While the guildmaster considered his move, Loid and his group moved through the corpse-stinking streets of the ruined town. The necromancer's tower loomed behind them, but they had no reason to return.
Every house they entered was the same, empty, looted, or just rotting with the foul remains of whoever the necromancers hadn't raised. Finally, in a large two-story hall, they found what must have been the heart of the plague.
Corpses.
Dozens, maybe hundreds, stacked like discarded wood. Most bore the hollow cavities of missing hearts, organs removed for rituals. The stench was unbearable. Even Angela, hardened by war, turned her face away with a grimace.
Loid stood at the threshold for a long time. "This is it. Their workshop. Where they made all those damned undead."
Isolde covered her mouth with the sleeve of her robe. "Savages. Desecrating bodies like this…"
Selvara said nothing. Her silver eyes swept the piles, calm and sharp as always, but she lingered longer than the others.
Loid stepped inside, gagging, and dug through for proof. Bones marked with carved glyphs, a half-shattered ritual circle on the floor, even a few black tomes that hadn't burned. He stacked them in a burlap sack, his gloves slick with dried gore.
When he returned, he tossed the sack down, exhaling hard. "That's it. Proof enough." He wiped his brow. "Nothing else left here."
"Then let's go," Angela rumbled.
Loid nodded. "Yeah. Let's fly."
---
Outside the town walls, under a pale afternoon sun, Isolde extended her hand. With molten cracks of light, the Ashwing Dracolisk rose into the world.
Its wings blotted out half the sky as it stretched, smoke trailing in long ribbons. The ground trembled under its talons, and every tree nearby bent from the furnace heat.
Loid couldn't help himself. He grinned like a lunatic. "Alright, everyone up."
Angela climbed first, settling onto the ridged spine. Selvara slipped up silently behind her. Isolde mounted with the practiced grace of one born for such seats, her hand pressed to the beast's scales.
Loid clambered on last, heart hammering. "Okay. Ready?"
The dracolisk crouched, then launched itself skyward with a single titanic flap. The world dropped away beneath them. Wind roared in Loid's ears. His stomach lurched, then steadied, then filled with a wild joy he hadn't felt in years.
"Fuck yeah!" he screamed into the sky, laughter torn away by the wind.
Below, forests shrank into green carpets. Rivers shone like silver veins. The ruined town dwindled to nothing more than a scar on the land.
Monsters stirred at the edges of their flight, but none dared approach. Lesser wyverns scattered. Harpies dove into the clouds. Even a flock of great carrion birds broke formation and fled, cawing in panic.
Loid leaned forward, eyes wide. "Nothing wants to even be near us. This thing's a king."
Angela shouted over the wind, grinning ferociously. "A flying fortress! This… this is power."
Loid's grin faded slightly as a thought struck him. "…How the hell do we even feed him?"
Isolde chuckled under her breath. "You don't."
Loid blinked. "What do you mean, you don't? Everything eats."
Her golden eyes gleamed. "Not this. He feeds on the flow of mana in the world itself. His body burns volcanic essence. I don't hear words, exactly… but I feel it. Like thoughts pressed against mine. Because he's bound to me."
Loid blinked again, then laughed, relief flooding him. "Well, that's… convenient."
The flight continued without challenge. Hours passed until Elarion's walls finally shimmered into view, a city spread wide along the riverbanks, banners rippling above its gates.
Loid leaned close to Isolde. "We can't just land this thing in the middle of town. Not yet."
"I know," she replied.
The dracolisk descended into the forest outside the city, landing with a quake that shook leaves loose from the branches. Once the others dismounted, Isolde raised her hand and unsummoned it. The beast vanished in a burst of cinders and light, leaving only the faint smell of smoke.
Loid exhaled. "Alright. We walk the rest."
---
The afternoon light was slanting low when they finally entered the guild hall. Dusty, tired, but alive.
Loid went straight to the counter, dropping the sack of proof on the polished wood. "Quest done. Necromancers wiped out. Here's your evidence."
The receptionist's eyes widened as she opened the sack, flipping through the grim trophies. "You… already finished? That was a week-long quest at minimum."
"Yeah," Loid said flatly. "We're... efficient."
After a long pause, the receptionist nodded and pulled out the ledger. "Very well. Completion confirmed. Reward is fifteen hundred gold." She placed the heavy pouch onto the counter with both hands.
Loid opened it, counted quickly, then turned to his group. "Alright. Three seventy-five each."
Angela shook her head immediately. "No."
Loid blinked. "What?"
Isolde waved a dismissive hand. "Keep it, Loid. You're the one who manages everything. Spend it where it matters."
Selvara simply shook her head, silent but firm.
Loid stared at the three of them. "Come on. I'm not going to just hog it. This is---"
Angela cut him off with a sharp snort. "Keep it. We're not children. We don't need coin in hand. You're our handler. Make the decisions."
Loid sighed, stuffing the pouch into his coat. "…Fine. But don't complain later when I spend it on something stupid."
Isolde smirked. "We already expect you to."
Before Loid could reply, a shadow loomed over them. The guildmaster himself stood at the base of the stairs, his gaze fixed on the four of them.
"You," he said simply. "My office. Now."
---
The office smelled of old parchment and ink. Maps lay spread across the table, pinned with markers of battle.
The guildmaster leaned forward, hands steepled. His voice was low and measured. "Your performance. It was… remarkable. And we need strength like yours."
Loid frowned. "Need?"
"To the east," the guildmaster said, pointing at the map. "A multiple realm breaks. Goblins. Orks. Maybe worse. They're spreading, digging into the land, building something like a kingdom. We've sent soldiers, adventurers, even mages. Too many don't return."
Angela leaned against the wall, arms folded. "And you want us to clean it up."
"Yes." The guildmaster's eyes hardened. "Destroy one realm break, and I'll authorize a reward of two thousand gold. More if you push deeper. We're desperate. Elarion bleeds. If this festers, we may not have a kingdom left."
Loid hesitated, glancing at his group. He saw Angela's steady nod. Isolde's smirk of intrigue. Selvara's quiet silver gaze.
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Alright. We'll do it."
The guildmaster exhaled, almost in relief. "Good. Report to the eastern camp tomorrow morning. Soldiers, adventurers, and even scholars from the academy will be mustering there. You'll be among them."
He pushed a form across the table. Loid signed without another word.
---
Back at the inn, the mood was quieter. The four of them sat around a small wooden table, the lamplight casting shadows on the walls.
Loid broke the silence. "We've got twenty-one hundred reputation points left. I'm buying a weapon and artifact. You two first." He nodded at Isolde and Angela.
Isolde arched an eyebrow. "Weapons?"
"Yeah." Loid tapped his UI. "For you, Isolde, I picked something risky but perfect."
He flicked the purchase, and a crystalline heart suspended in bronze roots shimmered into existence, levitating gently beside him.
Heart of the Leyline
Effect: Continuously restores a considerable amount of mana as if standing atop a leyline.
Isolde's golden eyes widened faintly. She stepped closer, placing a hand on the crystal. "I like it. Very much."
Loid nodded. "Good. Then it's yours."
The weapon pulsed once before floating obediently to her side.
He turned to Angela. "For you, I thought destruction. Something that suits your… whole thing." He swiped again, and a massive blade materialized with a crackle of storm-light.
Stormfang Blade
Effect: Shockwave slashes stagger multiple foes.
Agility Bonus: Dashing attacks double swing speed.
Stamina Bonus: Lightning charges restore stamina on each blow.
Angela's grin spread wide as she lifted the weapon with one hand, testing its weight. "Perfect." She swung once, the air crackling, the walls of the inn trembling faintly.
Loid raised a hand. "Careful! We're indoors!"
Angela laughed, resting the blade across her shoulder. "This will do nicely."
Loid smirked tiredly. "Good. Now both of you are somewhat properly equipped." He slumped back in his chair. "Tomorrow morning we head east. Big army, big camp, big trouble."
He exhaled, rubbing his eyes. "Let's get some damn sleep."
And for the first time since the necromancer's tower, the group felt the quiet weight of what was coming next.