Chapter 37 — Final Major Contract
(Shadeblade POV)
The morning air was sharp, carrying the faint scent of smoke, sweat, and questionable street food—Bran had somehow managed to fry three chickens in what could only be described as a minor explosion of grease. I adjusted my boney mask, crack on the left side glinting in the early sunlight, and muttered under my breath, "Step lightly, survive, and don't eat the frying oil…"
Selia perched on a nearby roof, legs swinging casually. "Skeleton," she called, grinning, "if you survive today without face-planting into someone important, I'll consider it a miracle. Maybe even take a mental note."
Bran laughed from behind a wagon, flexing as he checked the straps. "Mental notes? Selia, he's the Tier‑2 Clumsy Swordmaster Extraordinaire! Survival without drama? Impossible. I'll bet a week's rations he trips at least three times before lunch."
Vaelric Dorn, now learning the bitter lessons of humility, shifted uneasily. His crimson cloak, torn and dirtied from prior missions, looked absurdly pristine next to our general chaos. "How does he… move like that? And still manage to be effective?"
I gritted my teeth beneath the mask. Step lightly. Sword ready. Pivot. Fundamentals. And maybe… let them underestimate the chaos.
---
Today's target was straightforward on paper: a heavily guarded black-market syndicate warehouse on the outskirts of Portscab. Tier‑3 mercenaries, reinforced walls, the occasional fire trap—perfect for observation, improvisation, and, unintentionally, slapstick.
Mira's precise instructions echoed in my ears. "Selia flanks left. Bran covers the right. Lysara rear. Shadeblade… you and Vaelric, guide the front, distract, and don't trip into the fire."
I muttered beneath the mask. "Step lightly. Pivot. Observation… optional comedy guaranteed."
Selia tilted her head, smirking. "Optional? Skeleton, that word doesn't exist in your vocabulary. You're a walking disaster with style!"
Bran laughed so hard he nearly toppled over. "Seriously, if tripping were an art form, he'd have a gallery!"
Vaelric glared, red-faced. "I… I can't believe you all find this funny."
"Funny?" I hissed, adjusting my grip. "It's a tactical lesson. Chaos. Observation. Fundamentals. Comedy is… incidental."
---
Inside the warehouse courtyard, shadows stretched long and ominous. Guards patrolled with Tier‑3 precision, unaware of our approach—or maybe underestimating the chaotic skeleton in the mask. Step lightly. Pivot. Avoid crates. Don't step in oil.
And naturally… I tripped over a crate on my first step.
The resulting spin flung me backward into a pile of sacks. One landed on a guard. He yelped, stumbled into another, causing a domino effect of minor chaos. Selia whooped from above. "Bravo! That's exactly the kind of subtlety I was expecting!"
Bran chuckled. "Skeleton: Tier‑2 Clumsy… Tier‑2 Brilliant by accident!"
Vaelric's eyes widened. Pride wavered, humility nudged forward. "He… he planned that?"
"Absolutely," I muttered under the mask. "Step lightly, pivot… and pretend the world moves around you."
---
The fight escalated quickly. Swords clashed, arrows flew, daggers blinked, and my clumsy maneuvers somehow saved allies repeatedly. I tripped over a stray rope, spinning wildly—but landed perfectly behind a guard, sword sliding into his side.
Selia laughed, flipping into a roll. "I swear, Skeleton, your chaos is tactical comedy! Teach me your ways!"
Bran bellowed, swinging his shield. "If enemies can't beat you, they'll die laughing!"
Vaelric finally swung his sword with confidence, blocking attacks, striking with precision, and muttering under his breath, "Observation… fundamentals… don't panic." He was learning. Slowly, painfully, but effectively.
Lysara remained calm, arrows silent but lethal. Mira coordinated, whispering positions, guiding the chaos into a strangely effective strategy. Korran's cold, surgical strikes cut through enemies as if he were merely pruning weeds.
---
At one point, a Tier‑3 brute lunged at me. Step lightly. Pivot. Trip. Spin. Fall. Somehow, this maneuver catapulted him into another, ending the threat instantly.
Selia hooted. "I swear, if we survive, I'll write a song about the clumsy skeleton who kills by falling!"
Bran laughed so hard he nearly fell into a barrel. "Clumsy chaos! Tier‑2 disaster! But effective!"
Vaelric smirked faintly beneath his crimson cloak. "I… think I understand now. Chaos… can have purpose."
I groaned, tripping again over a crate, but slashing another enemy mid-spin. "Purpose optional. Fun mandatory."
---
By nightfall, the warehouse was ours. Guards neutralized, loot secured, chaos theory validated. Our crew gathered around a fire, sweating, dirty, exhausted… and laughing.
Bran devoured three chickens. Selia perched on a crate, tossing knives into nearby barrels for fun. Vaelric sat quietly, crimson cloak soiled but pride intact—humility solidifying. Lysara cleaned her arrows with precision, while Mira organized the loot. Korran leaned against a wall, silently observing, approving without words.
I adjusted the mask, a small smile beneath it. Step lightly. Sword ready. Humor inevitable. Mission complete.
"Skeleton," Selia said, grinning, "you turned a bloody battlefield into a comedy show and somehow survived. Teach me your ways… maybe."
Bran raised a mug, laughing. "Alive, victorious, and hilariously competent. I'll drink to that!"
Vaelric finally spoke, voice quiet but genuine: "Chaos… fundamentals… observation. I… learned today. I understand more than I thought possible."
I muttered under the mask. "Good. Now try not to trip next mission… too spectacularly."
---
The fire crackled, the night quiet but alive with the distant city sounds. Laughter, survival, and the first lessons in humility had been sewn tightly into the crew's fabric. Step lightly. Sword ready. Humor mandatory. Trust intact.
Shadeblade—Tier‑2, clumsy yet disciplined, sword-only, a walking disaster with surprisingly effective tactics—had completed the final major contract, solidified the crew, and ensured Vaelric's first real understanding of humility… all while tripping spectacularly, causing chaos, and teaching lessons in laughter.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, bigger enemies, and more surprises—but tonight, we feasted, laughed, and survived… together.