The "Gilded Rat" was the kind of tavern where the floor was sticky with ale and the air smelled of unwashed mercenaries and regret. It was the last place you would expect to find a man who looked like he had been sculpted by a Renaissance master.
Cain sat in the darkest corner booth. The wooden bench creaked in protest under his dense, muscle-packed frame. He had discarded his tactical vest, leaving him in a tight, black sleeveless undershirt that clung to his torso like a second skin.
The barmaid, a hardened woman who had seen everything, was currently staring at him with trembling hands as she placed a tankard of heavy stout on the table. She couldn't help it. His skin was too perfect, his jawline too sharp, and the aura of danger rolling off him was intoxicating.
"Keep them coming," Cain murmured, tossing a gold coin onto the table. "My metabolism burns this swill faster than I can drink it."
He took a sip, his crimson eyes scanning the room with bored indifference. To him, the other patrons were barely moving—statues made of meat and bad decisions.
The tavern door slammed open.
The noise silenced the room. Standing in the doorway was Princess Isolde. Her royal armor was scuffed, her white cape stained with the dust of the battlefield, but her violet eyes were burning with determination.
She spotted Cain instantly. It was impossible not to. In a room full of grey and brown, he was a void of charisma—a black hole that drew every eye.
She marched across the room, ignoring the drunken stares of the mercenaries, and slammed her hands down on Cain's table.
"You left," she accused, breathless.
Cain didn't look up from his drink. "I did. Walking is a hobby of mine."
"You killed a Seraph," Isolde hissed, lowering her voice. "You killed General Valerius. The High Church has already put a bounty on your head. They're calling you the Godless Calamity."
Cain swirled his drink, watching the foam spin. "Catchy. Better than 'Cain the Guy Who Just Wanted a Nap.'"
Isolde gritted her teeth. She pulled out a chair and sat opposite him. "I need you to do it again."
Cain finally looked at her. He leaned forward, the shadows in the corner of the booth seemingly leaning with him, darkening the space around them. His crimson eyes bore into hers, heavy with the weight of a predator inspecting prey.
"Do what, Princess? Kill another angel?" Cain smirked, a flash of white teeth. "You realize that's treason? Blasphemy? A one-way ticket to eternal damnation?"
"I don't care," Isolde said, though her voice shook slightly under his gaze. "The Divinities are tyrants. They burn our cities to 'purify' us. You are the only thing I have ever seen that can hurt them. I want to hire you."
Cain laughed. It was a dark, rich sound that made the glasses on the table vibrate.
"Hire me? With what?" He gestured around the dingy tavern. "Your kingdom is burning. Your gold is worthless if the banks are melted."
"I can offer you..." Isolde hesitated.
"Don't say 'power,'" Cain interrupted, his expression bored again. "I have enough. Don't say 'status.' I don't care what sheep think of the wolf."
"Then what do you want?" Isolde demanded.
Before Cain could answer, the tavern door exploded inward.
Splinters of wood showered the room. Six knights in gleaming silver armor strode in—the Inquisitors. The elite mage-killers of the Church.
"There he is!" the lead Inquisitor shouted, pointing a glowing sword at Cain. " The Heretic! By the order of the Second Divinity, surrender and face judgment!"
The tavern patrons scrambled for the exits. Isolde reached for her sword, but Cain's hand shot out and clamped over her wrist. His grip was gentle but immovable, like a steel shackle.
"Sit," Cain ordered softly.
"But—"
"I said, sit."
The pressure in the room dropped. The shadows under the tables stretched out like jagged claws.
Cain picked up his tankard and took a slow, deliberate sip. He didn't even look at the knights.
"You interrupted my business negotiation," Cain said to the Inquisitor. "Rude."
"Silence, monster!" The Inquisitor charged, his sword wreathed in blue flames. [Spell: Purging Blade].
He swung the sword at Cain's neck.
CLINK.
The sound was small, metallic.
Cain hadn't dodged. He hadn't blocked. He had caught the blade.
With two fingers.
The Inquisitor froze, his eyes bulging. The blue flames licked at Cain's skin, but they didn't burn. They simply flickered and died, suffocated by the sheer density of Cain's physical existence.
"Cute trick," Cain whispered.
He flicked his wrist.
CRACK.
The Inquisitor's sword shattered into a dozen pieces.
In the same motion, Cain stood up. The movement was a blur. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply backhanded the Inquisitor across the face.
The knight didn't just fall. He was launched. His body flew across the tavern, smashed through the wooden wall, and landed in the street outside.
The other five knights froze.
Cain sighed, stretching his neck. "I really didn't want to get up."
The remaining knights screamed a battle cry and rushed him together.
Cain's eyes glowed a vibrant red. "Kneel."
He didn't use gravity magic. He unleashed his Killing Intent. It was a psychological pressure so intense, so primal, that the knights' lizard brains overrode their training. Their legs gave out. They collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, their bodies paralyzed by the instinctual fear of a higher predator.
Cain walked over to the whimpering knights, stepping on a breastplate with a heavy boot. He looked back at Isolde, who was staring at him with a mix of horror and awe.
"You asked what I want, Princess," Cain said, his voice cutting through the silence.
He leaned down, grabbing a bottle of expensive wine from the terrified barmaid's shelf.
"I want the gods' Heads," Cain said, popping the cork with his thumb. "All of them. Solus, Luna, Terra. I want to hunt them. And I need a guide who knows where they sleep."
He took a long pull of the wine, wine dripping slightly down his chin, wiping it with a careless grace that was infuriatingly attractive.
"You be my GPS," Cain grinned, the expression sharp and devilish. "And I'll be the extinction event."
Isolde swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs. She looked at the broken knights, then at the man who treated divinity like a nuisance.
"Deal," she whispered.
Cain tossed a coin to the barmaid.
"Put the damage on my tab," he said. "We're leaving. This place bores me now."