Drake Ashborne sat at his desk, his fingers interlaced beneath his chin, his expression as unyielding as stone. The endless stream of private messages bombarding his notifications went unnoticed as he succumbed to the whirlpool of chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind.
Haxks Starfrost… just what exactly is he? At level 43, how did he manage to overpower dozens of players single-handedly? Jace never stood a chance. It's bad enough that our guild is now tied to this debacle, but the manner of Jace's death—so swift, so merciless—has only added insult to injury, deepening our shame even further.
"Don't worry," the Vice-Guildmaster reassured with a confident smile. "It's not as bad as it seems. We can still salvage this."
"What's the damage?" Drake asked, his tone calm and collected.
"Our members are more eager for revenge than feeling any real shame, but as you'd expect, the situation online is less stable."
"Of course," Drake muttered. "Those vultures are always waiting for an excuse to stir up trouble and spread negativity."
"We haven't received any word from our allies yet," the Vice-Guildmaster remarked, a frown flickering across her delicate face. "It's hard to tell whether that's a blessing or a curse, but before they make any moves, we've already taken action on our end.
We've got a specialized team working overtime to spread misinformation across social media, SO's community boards, and other key platforms. The narrative we're pushing is that Jace wasn't actually part of the guild—he just claimed to be in order to get close to Haxks without intervention from the other players. Lucky for us, he didn't have the guild's name or emblem visible during the raid, so this story shouldn't be too difficult to sell."
"And what about Jace himself?"
The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist, her voice cool and collected as she continued. "He was expelled from the guild shortly after the incident. Beyond the fact that his removal fits neatly into the narrative we're pushing, his actions were completely unacceptable.
The way he groveled for his life without even attempting to put up a real fight—it's a disgrace. Someone like him has no place in our ranks."
"Well done," Drake praised, which brought a smile to the woman's lips.
"As for your younger brother, Osten, he's been instructed to take down the post with those fabricated claims against Haxks—it could easily be perceived as a direct assault from our guild."
The man's expression hardened at the mention of his sibling. "Good," he said, his gaze intensifying. "The fewer people who know what he looks like, the less chance there is of him getting tracked and snatched up by a rival guild.
It's unfortunate that we stumbled here, but Haxks has made it quite clear that he won't be swayed or broken by anyone—not easily, at least. I've already made the arrangements. It's only a matter of time before the right person steps in to handle things for us."
***
On a moonless night, shadows blanketed the distant mountain, casting the grand manor atop its peak into a spectral silhouette. It loomed over the valley below, a silent predator surveying its domain. The town sprawled beneath, every street and rooftop aglow with warm, golden lights, a sea of brilliance that rivaled the stars scattered across the endless sky above.
A figure cloaked in darkness lingered on the manor's balcony, his gaze cast downward, tracing the patterns of life bustling far below. Yet, for all the town's beauty, it held no allure for him. Until he could claim all the world had to offer, this panorama—its flickering warmth and vibrancy—remained no more than a distant mirage, unworthy of admiration.
As his gaze swept across the distant horizon, his spirit swelled with the intoxicating allure of domination, visions of a world bent to his will filling his mind. But just as the fantasy began to take hold, a grating voice shattered the silence, slicing through his reverie like an icy wind.
"Sir," the owner of the voice called nervously, kneeling at the threshold of the balcony. "There's someone here who wishes to speak with you."
The man sighed, not bothering to turn around. "And who might that be?" He asked curtly, a frightening undercurrent hidden beneath a calm veneer.
"It's Sir Adrian."
"…Very well. Let him in."
Moments later, Adrian Lysander Percival approached with due humility, quickly bending the knee and lowering his gaze to the floor. But not before he caught a glimpse of the imposing figure standing by the arch leading onto the balcony. The demihuman honey badger, garbed in tight-fitting leather that accentuated his steely muscles, stood like a statue carved from stone beside his master.
Shrouded in the same darkness, the right hand's eyes gleamed with an eerie intensity, their unnatural glow cutting through the dimly lit chamber. An almost physical air of malice and danger clung to his stocky frame, making the space feel suddenly smaller. His face, partially visible, was marked with fierce, primal features. With arms folded across his bulging chest, the beast's index finger tapped against his elbow in a rhythmic, almost compulsive motion, as if caught in the grip of some unseen agitation.
Adrian swallowed.
"So?" the figure on the balcony urged, his tone somewhere between hostility and indifference. "What news do you bring?"
"…Regrettably," Adrian began, his head dipping lower, "I was unable to capture Haxks as intended."
The man let out a long, drawn-out sigh, his eyes narrowing. "So, you return empty-handed and still have the nerve to ask for an audience. You waste not just my time, but my air as well. Convince me—why should I not feed you to the Bullgators and be done with it?"
"…Because I didn't return empty-handed," Adrian replied calmly. With a snap of his fingers, an armored guard stepped forward, placing a stack of papers on a table with deliberate precision.
"What's this?"
"As you're aware," Adrian began coolly, "Casimir's recent encounter with Haxks led to the complete destruction of his operation. However, I did manage to salvage Tennyson MacKenzie's research on the Florians before the building was seized."
"Oh?" The man flexed his fingers, eyes briefly drifting to his nails, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And what, exactly, is the worth of this research?"
Adrian flashed a sly smile. "Perhaps it holds no value for you personally, but you could leverage it against one of the syndicates and have them indebted to you."
"Interesting," the man chuckled, his laughter echoing through the chamber. "So, you've taken it upon yourself to become my personal consultant? How bold of you."
For the first time since the conversation had begun, the menacing right hand shifted his gaze downward. His eyes were unreadable, as though silently awaiting the command to crush their guest's bones into dust. The tension in the air was thick, but Adrian didn't wait for the grim order to be given.
"I wouldn't even dare to dream of it," he said softly, lowering his gaze. "I beg your forgiveness for my impertinence."
The demihuman grunted, seemingly with disappointment.
"More importantly," the man continued, his voice steady. "It's crucial that we capture this child. My ambitions cannot take shape without the power he possesses."
"According to our informant," Adrian said, his tone measured, "the familiar he used to track Haxks was discovered and destroyed by none other than its target."
The man shot him a sidelong glance, his expression one of disbelief. "Impossible," he muttered. "The Nyssylis are an ancient breed, unparalleled in camouflage—so adept, in fact, that some claim they vanish into another realm entirely when they use their stealth abilities."
"Haxks should not be underestimated," Adrian cautioned, his voice low. "After all, he's the one Cedric chose to inherit his legacy. If we truly intend to take him by force, we'll need more than just a few men—we'll need a small army."
"No," the man replied, his fingers stroking his chin in thought. "Excessive violence would only fuel his power further. If we want him to submit entirely to our cause, we must first shatter his spirit—completely."
Adrian tilted his head slightly, a wicked smile curling at his lips. "And what do you propose?"
The man's hand clenched into a tight fist, his expression hardening. "We start by securing his home and his loved ones. We hold the village of Dusthaven hostage—only then will Haxks truly understand the stakes and submit. But before we can take Dusthaven, we first need to capture Lunarel."
"As you command," Adrian responded, his tone smooth and respectful.
But the response that followed was nothing like what he expected. "You can go ahead and kill him now," the man said flatly, dismissing him with a casual flick of his wrist.
Adrian's heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat trickling down his spine as panic surged within him. Before he could even raise his gaze to seek understanding—or make a desperate attempt to flee—a boisterous laugh, tinged with madness, echoed through the chamber. In the blink of an eye, a blur of motion darted past him, moving with such unnerving speed that it felt as if the very air had been torn apart.
BOOOOOOOM!
With a psychotic grin twisting his face, the demihuman seized the attendant by the head and barreled across the room like a charging Minotaur, smashing him into the sandstone wall. The sickening impact splattered blood and gore in a gruesome pattern across the stone.
Before the lifeless body could even slump to the floor, the beast's fists curled tight, and he began pounding it in a mindless frenzy, his face and knuckles soon smeared in crimson.
A flicker of frustration crossed the beast's face, unsatisfied by how quickly the carnage had ended. Yet the thrill of euphoria washed over him like a powerful orgasm, utterly outweighing it. A crazed laugh began to bubble up from his throat as he leaned back, eyes glazed and flickering wildly as he stared up at the ceiling. His powerful arms hung heavily at his sides, fingers twitching, as if still hungry for more destruction.
A bead of sweat slipped from Adrian's chin as he swallowed, his eyes quivering in silent dread.
"Fail me again," the leader warned, his gaze returning to the horizon, "and you'll be the one lying in that pool of blood instead of that miserable wretch with the nauseating voice. For now, focus on pinpointing Haxks's location."