Edsoria—the City of Songs and Colors—sprawled like an enchanted mosaic in the heart of Dalmastia. Its white walls gleamed under the golden light of Solariis, guarding the continent’s shiniest jewel. The red and blue rooftops looked like expensive toys arranged by a whimsical god, painting a scene so picturesque even a dragon might stop to snap a selfie.

  Today, the city was buzzing more than usual. It was the tenth day of Altarad—the holy month dedicated to Henm, Lady of Abundance. And if there was one thing Henm loved, besides fat harvests and happy folks, it was noise.

  Bards from every corner of the kingdom flocked to the Festival of Abundance. Lutes strumming here, wonky poetry there, and the occasional tone-deaf “epic!” shouted between verses.

  The first aromas were already taking over the city—sweets, flowers, spices, and a mysterious whiff that smelled like… lavender mixed with onion? Best not to ask.

  Jay strolled leisurely, with the swagger of someone who had time and a reputation to match. Every greeting he got was met with a practiced smile and a charismatic wave—the kind that said, “Yes, I’m famous, but I’m still humble.”

  The city was a simmering cauldron of weirdos. Humans, lycanens, trentis, kitenis—all bustling with preparations that seemed riskier than a trek through Friedhor’s Desert. Acrobats dangled from rooftops, musicians teetered on scaffolds, and an old lady sold raw fish seasoned with “miracle scent.”

  After nearly an hour of morning meandering and philosophical musings about how many festival banners were really necessary, Jay reached the headquarters of the Emerald Fever Guild.

  The building was massive, white as a wedding dessert, with green banners fluttering from every tower. Known as the Guild of Guilds, it was the sort of place where even the entrance hall’s carpet had more honor than most knights.

  Jay sauntered through the half-open gates, snagging an apple from the counter with the nonchalance of someone who’d saved the world three times and now just wanted a coffee.

  “Hm… It’s early. Wonder if the guild master’s here yet?”

  “Derek Firandr never leaves the headquarters, pretty boy. Looking for him, or is this just an excuse to see me?”

  Jay didn’t even need to turn to recognize that voice.

  Julie Branfalco. The woman seemed to have struck a deal with some eternal-youth entity. Same long brown hair, same almond skin, same provocative outfit that looked like it was sewn straight onto her charisma.

  And, of course, the stylish eyepatch and strategically placed bangs. Because if you’re hiding a scar, you might as well do it with flair.

  He turned slowly, flashing his signature “look who showed up” grin.

  “Julie Branfalco… And here I thought waking up at dawn was just for grumpy old men, haha.”

  Julie sized him up from head to toe with a mischievous smirk. Then, she dragged a long, red nail along his arm—a gesture that was half-flirt, half-veiled threat.

  Jay, as usual, decided to be reckless. In one swift motion, he pulled her into a warm, sudden hug.

  Julie flushed. Not a cute blush—a full-on “I’ll stab you, but only after coffee” flush.

  “What’s that, Julie? Face all red? Something wrong? Haha.”

  “Ugh, Jay! You know I hate surprises!” she huffed, shoving him away with mock indignation.

  “Oh, come on, don’t pout, Captain. Have a coffee with me! Or a beer. Breakfast of champions, like old times, huh?”

  “Hmph. You missed your shot, paladin. I’m off to tell Derek you’re here.”

  “Alright! Thanks, Julie. Offer’s still open! And don’t take too long, or I’ll eat the whole sandwich myself!”

  As she walked away, Julie glanced over her shoulder, tossing a smile sharp as a dagger:

  “Go stuff yourself, paladin.”

  Jay laughed loudly, leaning against the mahogany counter that still smelled like freshly cut wood, even after years of use.

  The barkeep emerged from behind the counter, chuckling and arranging glasses.

  “You’re gonna catch a fist from the captain with all that cheek, Jay.”

  “Relax, Bob. Julie’s retired. These days, the only thing she kills is my shot at another date. Haha!”

  “Haha! That girl’s a handful, huh?”

  “Triple shot, no ice, no mercy. Speaking of which… hit me with a double black coffee and a wild boar sandwich on Thar’lahar bread. Oh, and a side of yellow slime sauce. I hate when it leaks.”

  “Order up, buddy. Twelve Auras.”

  ...

  Back at the hideout, Layla was practically submerged in the bathtub. Only the top of her head, her nose, and two twitching feline ears peeked out from the steaming water. She stared in absolute silence at the unconscious half-elf sprawled on Jay’s bed.

  “Hmm… If that warlock shows up to take her back, I… I’ll plant my axe right in his forehead before he can say ‘zombie’! Or maybe chop him in half. Yeah. With the axe, obviously. But… wait… why would he just leave her in the forest? Warlocks don’t do that… Did he forget some herb? Or his cauldron-stirring spoon? These warlocks are kinda nuts…”

  She sank deeper into the tub, letting out a long sigh, her eyes still glued to the sleeping girl.

  “This one sleeps like a pro… I’ve been soaking here forever, turning into a pickled passionfruit. And speaking of passionfruit… wonder if Jay’ll buy me one? With sugar… Hmmm. That’s it. I’m getting out before my paws get so wrinkly they start growing moss.”

  With newfound determination, Layla stood, drained the water, and grabbed a fluffy towel. Humming a tune that didn’t exist, she shuffled to the wardrobe, opened a drawer, and faced the day’s fashion dilemma: worn-out but clean, sweet-smelling cotton clothes.

  She grabbed an outfit, gave it a satisfied sniff, and grinned.

  “Jay’s a laundry artist. Seriously… doesn’t even seem like the same guy who slays demons. How does he wash stuff without tearing it? I destroy at least one shirt per load… Wait… is he weak? Yeah, that’s it! He’s so weak he’s gotta be delicate. That’s why I have to protect him with my super strength! Meow! Hehe!”

  Dressed in the bare essentials (by Layla’s feline-Amazon standards), she sauntered to the mirror. She ran her fingers over the scars on her shoulder and chuckled softly, proud as ever. Then, she plopped onto the bed beside the elf, tilting her head back and forth like a curious cat eyeing a sleeping bug.

  “What if I poke her real gently? Would she wake up? Hmm… or maybe tug her ear? Those ears are sooo long… so smooth… Kinda wanna bite them. I bit Jay’s ear once… it was weird, but not bad. Wonder if hers taste different? Like… flowers?”

  Layla jolted upright, as if her own thought was too spicy even for her.

  “Ugh, meow! What am I even thinking?! Where’s Jay, darn it?!”

  She sprang to her feet, annoyed and antsy, and stomped to the window. Flinging the curtains open to air out the room… she froze.

  Far off, on the dirt path leading to the city gates, a sinister figure rode slowly. He wore a dark, hooded cloak, and his mount looked like a horse… well, a bit too anatomically honest. Like a skeleton riding another skeleton.

  Layla’s eyes widened. Her ears drooped slowly.

  “Breathe, Layla… slow… slow… he’s still far off… real far… maybe he’s got bad eyesight. Or maybe he’s just… a gothic traveler? A dark paladin on vacation? Or… or a stylish undead?”

  She watched the man hand some papers to the guards and trot calmly into the city. When he finally vanished from sight, Layla let out a shaky breath and collapsed onto the floor.

  “Ughhh… Either way, this ain’t good, meow…”

  Heart still racing, she crawled back to the bed and stared at the elf. The girl’s serene expression now seemed to carry something more. Maybe… maybe Jay really needed to hurry back.

  And if he didn’t…

  Layla would have to bite the warlock before swinging her axe.

  Just to be safe.

  ...

  “So… the job was this: ‘Slay the Buer Demon terrorizing travelers in the Forest.’ And, by the looks of it, you guys nailed it. What’s the problem, Jay?”

  “Well, take a look at this crystal. Look closely.”

  Jay slid the crystal into the hands of Derek Firandr, the eccentric guild master. A hulking man with reddish skin and fiery red hair that flowed like a cascade of flames—on just one side of his head, like a wild mane. The other side was shaved clean, creating a contrast so striking you couldn’t look away for more than three seconds without feeling oddly intrigued.

  Derek grabbed the crystal and inspected it closely, adjusting a red-lensed, silver-rimmed monocle he wore purely to look smarter.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Hm… Definitely looks off. How big did you say that creature was again?”

  “Over six meters. Maybe a bit less. Didn’t exactly whip out a tape measure… but it sure as hell wasn’t the ‘roughly two meters of pure evil and spinning hooves’ the flyer promised.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Hang tight. Give me a few minutes—I’ll take this to the artificer.”

  “Cool. Buy me a coffee for the wait, Derek, and we’re good, heh.”

  “Sneaky bastard… haha. Bob, get another coffee for the ‘pala’ here!”

  Loud, loyal, and fair, Derek Firandr was an old friend of Jay’s. A former adventurer who ditched the sword to lead the Emerald Fever Guild after a whole mess of things went south at once, nearly sinking every guild in the kingdom.

  …

  Some time later, Derek returned, crystal in hand, his expression grim.

  “Alright, Jay. Talked to the artificer. That creature was way stronger than the intel we got… Fair’s fair. I’ll pay you an extra five hundred Auras. That work for you, buddy?”

  “Hm… Was hoping for a bit more, but it’s decent coin. Deal. So, five hundred extra Auras and free coffee at the guild tavern, yeah?”

  “Haha! Love that hustle, Jay. Fine, it’s a deal. Means I’ll see you around more often.”

  “Sweet, Derek, you got it! Julie’s gonna be thrilled with my frequent visits, heh.”

  “Not just Julie, Jay.”

  Jay shot him a serious look but cracked a laugh, downing the rest of his coffee.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, Derek?”

  They roared with laughter, the mood light… until the guild’s door slammed open with a dry thud.

  A man stepped in—cloaked in a heavy black robe, like a veil dusted with the grime of a tomb. Derek shot to his feet.

  “Good morning, friend. We’re still setting up, but take a seat. I’ll have them bring you a fresh coffee.”

  The man froze in the middle of the room, still as a gravestone. His voice sliced through the air like rusty metal scraping stone.

  “I don’t want it! I’m here for something stolen from me.”

  Derek’s brow furrowed, and with a subtle move, he slipped the crystal into his pocket. Jay, beside him, felt a shiver crawl up his spine—the kind that usually came before demonic explosions or run-ins with entities that spoke Elvish without moving their lips.

  “And what was stolen from you, dear warlock?”

  The man yanked his robe down, revealing the center of his chest… where there was nothing. Just a gaping, dry, pulsing black void.

  “Missing something, knight?”

  “Hm… Your heart, maybe? Or a rib? How would I know?”

  “Don’t play me for a fool. You know what we warlocks do to stay alive,” he spat, a chunk of his lip flaking off—ugh. “Where’s the girl? The crystal from my beast is in your pocket. Tell me where she is, and I’ll leave.”

  Jay swallowed hard. The warlock must’ve used some tracking magic… but he had no clue what really went down in the forest.

  The paladin stood, stepping between Derek and the intruder.

  “You know warlocks aren’t exactly welcome in the same room as a paladin, right? I suggest you take that hole in your chest and get lost.”

  “This doesn’t concern you, crusader.”

  The warlock’s gaze landed on Jay like a dead weight. His eyes were sunken, pitch-black, like twin bottomless pits carved from despair. No nose—just a hollow of dead flesh—and a pustule at the corner of his mouth burst as he spoke, oozing something Jay wished he hadn’t seen: a wriggling, living worm.

  Jay didn’t flinch.

  “How low have you warlocks sunk now? As a herald of justice, I can’t let you walk away if you’re tangled up in vile practices.”

  “Jay… chill, man. Let me handle this. Conflicts are banned in the city, remember? Keep it cool, or the guild’s in trouble.”

  The warlock turned toward the door but not before hissing a final, rancid threat:

  “I’ll be watching you… Now that I know your faces.”

  He glided out like a shadow with legs. Derek and Jay exchanged a glance. Derek pulled the crystal from his pocket, his expression sour.

  “I gotta get rid of this thing fast. That warlock’s not gonna let this slide…”

  “Yeah. Didn’t mean to drag you into this mess, Derek. With that peace treaty with the warlocks, there’s not much we can do…”

  Derek scratched his head.

  “Looks like that Buer demon was this guy’s eidolon. But… what the hell was he talking about a ‘girl’? Was he referring to Layla? She’s no kid, far as I know…”

  Jay froze.

  “Layla… Gods! I gotta get back home now… She might be in danger! Catch you later, Derek!”

  “Hey! Wai—”

  But it was too late. Jay had already bolted out of the guild, summoning Aethon with a sharp gesture. The battle steed materialized in a golden flash, and Jay was astride it before the dust settled. He yanked the reins hard, spun in a swift arc, and cast a Sacred Perception Blessing. Nothing nearby.

  Another tug. A steady gallop. And Jay vanished through the city streets, racing toward the hideout before it was too late.

  …

  Just before reaching the hideout, Jay leaped off his mount with the urgency of someone who’d left the oven on and sprinted to the shack’s door. Bursting inside, he was greeted by… a peculiar scene.

  “What the h—?”

  “M-Meowww! Y-You scared me! I-I can explain!”

  “No time for that… You can tell me about your weird ear fetish later. Right now, pack your stuff—we’ve gotta run from a devil in corpse form, got it?”

  “What?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

  “The warlock. That warlock. He found me. And he doesn’t seem like the type to accept a ‘my bad’ as an apology. Quick, grab everything you can and shove it in this bag! I’ll handle the weapons, potions, and anything that might explode. This warlock’s old—think stamp-collecting, grudge-hoarding old. He’s gonna be trouble.”

  “M-Meow! I… I don’t think we’ve got time anymore…”

  Jay didn’t need to ask. He felt it.

  He turned slowly, already sensing an aura that mixed the stench of a soggy graveyard with a mystical migraine. The air grew thick, time crawled… A black energy flooded the room, like the world had turned into a waking nightmare.

  Before he even faced it, he knew: the warlock was here.

  “You thought you could escape Eldreet’s gaze, insolent crusader? Now taste the punishment for daring to deceive one who’s transcended death! AARUMA LORANIR TORIS! [HALLUCINATORY DISTORTION!]”

  The shack convulsed like it was possessed by a demon.

  Purple flames erupted from the windows, the door melted into a pulsing, shapeless mass, and the walls… well, they moved. Like flesh.

  Layla dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach as if she’d eaten discount seafood.

  “MEOWGHHHH… I’m gonna die before I even fight…” she groaned, vomiting her soul out.

  Jay stepped between her, the still-sleeping elf, and the necromantic abomination now visible in all its rotting flesh (or what was left of it) and very prominent bones. Jay’s gaze was calm but carried the steel of a thousand battles.

  “What a noble stare. A heroic dog guarding lambs… What a waste. In here, no one will hear you scream. Enjoy it. Because I certainly will!”

  Jay smirked.

  “No one’ll hear anything? Perfect. Makes this easier.”

  He raised his arms, tracing eight sigils with the finesse of a sacred ceremony master.

  “Oh, earth that hears all… that purifies all… raise your face and bless this defiled ground!”

  A circle of golden light exploded beneath his feet, spreading across the floor like roots of hope in diseased soil. Eldreet’s hallucinatory magic wavered, resisting but weakened.

  Before the warlock could react, Jay traced twelve more sigils. Golden mandalas spun like divine gears around the warlock.

  “Rejoice, rotten spirit! For Gram’s light will shine even upon you, purging the worms from your soul! OSURII GRAM DASTARAERA ERIR SUR! [RADIANT BLESSING OF GRAM’S WHISPER!]”

  Eldreet staggered back, leaning against a pulsing wall, howling like a porcupine getting a wax job.

  “IMPRESSIVE…! You… purified my curses?! This… this isn’t the work of some low-level crusader, you… DAMNED FOOL!”

  The warlock writhed, opening his mouth to unleash another curse, and pulled out a scroll made of… human face. Its features frozen in pure terror.

  “ENOUGH GAMES! YOU WILL DIE! Your souls will fuel my soma for a millennium!”

  Jay barely had time to react. A red, thick, slimy wave crashed over him and Layla like a boiling bloodstorm. Their flesh burned. The pain was unbearable.

  The paladin scrambled through his mind for a silent dispersion spell. There had to be something, there had to be…

  But then—

  FOOSH!

  A violet light, fierce, divine, and raw as a thunderclap.

  The slime dissolved like butter in an oven.

  Jay collapsed to his knees, gasping, and looked up… only to see the tiny elf floating, eyes still closed, a violet sword forming at her back as if forged from light itself.

  Her presence was overwhelming.

  The blade pointed straight at Eldreet.

  “N-No… No, NO! She shouldn’t be active yet! SHE’S MINE! I’LL TAKE ETERNITY, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, CURSED WITCH!”

  The light exploded in all directions, sweeping away the putrid magic like a sacred tide.

  Jay and Layla were flung backward by the blast. Everything was clean. The shack, now silent, looked normal again. With walls. And windows. And a shred of dignity.

  Eldreet, realizing he’d lost this round, did what any cowardly warlock would: he severed his own left hand.

  With a final, furious roar, his body dissolved into black particles, leaving only the severed hand behind… which turned to ash in an instant.

  Jay struggled to his feet and glanced at the bed.

  The elf… was sleeping. Again. As if nothing had happened.

  Layla scrambled over, frantic but relieved.

  “She’s fine! Not a scratch!”

  But in the center of the room, a sword now hovered.

  Majestic. Silent. Violet.

  It glowed with the promise that this… was just the beginning.

  ?