All the adventurers were mobilised, vanished behind the gallant guild door as the frenetic rustle of their armor echoed. The guild erupted into a frenzy of shouted orders in an instant. They shared another glance, a silent agreement passing in an instant. Their war wasn't on the front line; their war was here, against paperwork and logistical nightmares that would be unleashed in an instant.
Natasha was already in motion, her heels striking straight as she marched toward the desk, "Where's the S-rank party?!" Natasha shouted, her voice was not a shout, it was a blade cut through the guild's anxious hum.
Kael was already in position, erasing the mundane quest at the massive logistic board, "Gone," he called back. His voice was low and stable across the guild hall. "Left for the Serpent's Depth, they were a week out at best."
A young, pale-faced clerk skidded to a halt in front of Natasha's desk, "Senpai! The-the town council is demanding immediate threat assessments and casualty projections!"
"Tell the council," Natasha said, her gaze still glued on the paper in front of her as she filled it out with violent precision, "That they will get the immediate assessment the moment they provide us with a certified Basilisk behavioural specialist and notarised damage."
"Kael!" A voice raised. "The adventure representative requesting priority access to the guild's Mandrake Root and Manticore Antidote."
Kael didn't pause from turning the warehouse entrance into a triage staging area, dragging a table into the place. "The ledger of the second shelf," he said, his tone left no room for question. "Log every gram taken, I will know if even a single leaf is missing. Priority by the severe injuries, not the party rank." His eyes darted into the colleague's eyes, "Understood?"
The colleague nodded and scrambled away.
"East gate has been breached!" Another voice came. His voice hoarse, his eyes clouded with a veil of fear.
"Notify the adventurers to create a squad for saving the citizens; the town knight surely will follow after," said Natasha. Her voice was cold, yet precise in the instruction she gave.
Her presence was a great help to the guild, a general at the front desk. Her voice cut through the panic as she directed messengers. Kael, on the other hand, transformed the warehouse into a triage resupply centre; his mind is a whirlwind of inventory and allocation, processing the requests for medical supplies and gear.
For hours, they were a perfect, silent machine, a dam holding back the flood of administrative ruin.
The ground shook as the dread of the roar echoed throughout the city. When the city's defender silenced the final roar of the basilisk, the silence that returned to the guild was weary and bruised. The immediate danger was cleared, yet the real ordeal was beginning to surface.
When they came out, the sun was falling, hiding itself beneath the horizon like a gilded coin. Stretching their shadow long and dissonant as the heavy steps they took echoed, gracing the cobblestone road with its pride. The air, once clear, was thick with a cloud of dust like a grim veil as the coppery tang of blood stung their sense. They walked through the streets littered with quiet debris aftermath of fear, a mutual, unspoken dread growing in every step they took.
Sigh escaped, contempt for the state they were in as they were separated and went to their streets.
Until he saw it, the sturdy two-story house was now gaping with wounds. A massive section of the roof had collapsed, the wall beneath it leaning at a grotesque angle. The front door splintered, wreckage. Dust still lingering like a fine snow on a winter night. It was a disaster, yet a contained one.
Seems I need to consult with the guild.
The thought lingered, like a wet, starry mark on the paper.
The thought was a cold, heavy stone in his gut. I'll also check on Natasha.
I wasn't born from sentiment, but necessity. A comrade in arms in this war of overtime, a fellow ghost of the adult world. He turned from the house—walking away, retraced the steps from that morning as his boots crunching on the debris-laden cobblestone.
His mind was already cataloguing the structural damage, the timelines and the materials cost. A shield he provided to cloud the throbbing reality in front of him.
Yet, that was all in nought.
Where Natasha's house was supposed to be, there is a gaping maw of nothingness. The jagged teeth of broken walls and the splintered support beams were all that remained, reaching the sky as if in a final, desperate plea. The air didn't just smell of dust; it smelled of shattered hope and memories.
Natasha's figure can slowly be seen as he walks with a deliberate step. Her head tilted up, her knees already gave up—stumbled on the ground. Staring into the emptiness where her home was, but beyond her gaze, it was....void.
Kael stopped. "What a catastrophe," he said, a whisper in the midst of her mourning moment.
The void in her eyes was more devastating than any ruined wall. It was a complete erosion of her future she had worked for. She wasn't just looking at the rubble. She's gazing into the abyss of her financial ruin, security, and her hard-won independence—all vaporised as the warm evening turned into a cold blanket.
It was later, when the two of them came back to the guild, as they were still operating because of the emergency. The harsh reality will fall like a punch to the gut for her.
The sound of Guild Master Borin's huffing breath broke the silence. He waddled up to them, his face a mask of sympathetic dismay.
"Right, nasty business," he clapped Kael on the shoulder. Slowly, he smiled, full of optimism as he talked, "Glad you're both in one piece! That's the main thing."
"Not to worry, lad. Guild's insurance will see you right. You will be back under your own roof in no time."
Then he turned to Natasha, his expression faltering into something pained and awkward, "Ah, lass. I'm... afraid it's not so straightforward for you," he said, and he cleared his throat miserably. "The policy... It's for structural damage to a primary residence, see? But, for full housing, temporary lodging, that sort of thing is... well, the coverage only extends to,... err, to family."
The words hung in the air.
Natasha's head turned slowly. The hollow look in her eyes became deeper, replaced by a dawning, glacial horror, "Huh?"
"Spouses. Dependents. That sort of thing," Borin elaborated helplessly. "Single occupants are only covered for the structure itself. Since your, ah… structure… is rather past repairing…" He trailed off, gesturing weakly at the devastation.
Her shoulders tightened, her hand shaking in tremor as she slowly came to stillness—forced. She wandered her eyes between Borin's apologetic smile to Erik's eyes.
Her gaze locked with his, still like stagnant water. Yet, a ripple can be seen inside, cold as a winter breath.
Slowly she smiled, her expression mellowed—warm, like the usual she does as a receptionist. Something shifted in an instant, a bead of cold sweat tracing down his spine. He feels something absurd will happen later as Natasha slowly directs her gaze to Borin's.
Her voice terrifyingly became clear.
"It's fine," she said. The words were too loud, a little too sharp. "It's not a problem." She took a step forward as her hands slowly coiled around Erik's arm.
"Kael and I,..." she paused. "....We were actually going to tell everyone after the festival. We didn't want it to be a distraction."
Kael felt a cool dread begin to pool inside his stomach.
Borin blinked, confusion could be seen on his old face, "About what?"
Natasha drew herself up to her full height, clutching the tattered remains of her dignity like an amulet. She forced the words out naturally, like a gilded poison.
"We're engaged. The house…" She swallowed, her voice gaining a shred of defiant strength. "It's a matrimonial asset."
She was smiling, too bright in the dim, post-attack twilight when the city's lamp was still dark and broken.
The silence that followed was absolute. Borin's jaw went slack, his eyes wide with bewildered surprise.
And Kael, the former Mercenary King who had faced down armies without a flinch, could only stare, utterly and completely horrified. A bead of sweat traced an icy path down his back, pooling under his shirt.