Two n strode in; both tall, broad-shouldered, heavy swords slung across their backs. No city guard colors. Black leather armor, light but reinforced, padded with plates of sickly green tal that caught the morning light like tarnished bronze. The air in the room shifted instantly. Conversations faltered. People at tables shifted uncomfortably, eyes dropping to their mugs.
Kembeliona’s hand froze mid-wipe. He tapped my arm once, sharp, urgent, then pushed my plate toward and jerked his chin toward the stairs. No words. Just the gesture.
I didn’t argue. I took the plate along with his advice, slid off the stool, and headed right, up the stairs as quietly as I could.
At the top I stopped at the railing, half-hidden in shadow, and peeked down.
The two n claid the stools I’d just vacated. They set their swords on the counter with heavy thunks—blades long, edges notched from use.
"Give a beer," the taller one said, voice rough. "Another one for my friend as well."
I heard Kembeliona’s reply, careful, asured. "Should I put it on your tab as well?"
The tall one leaned forward, elbows on the bar. "If you think we’ll ever pay for it... sure." He laughed loudly, grating. "Can’t fucking believe it..."
Movent behind . I tensed, but it was just a tall gray-skinned man... sa ashen skin like that woman I saw through the keyhole, sa sweeping horns, sa tallic sheen. Mid-forties maybe, hard to tell with those features. He stepped up beside at the railing, arms crossed, eyes on the scene below.
"Them again, eh?" he muttered, voice low and rumbling. "Niku and his lackey, Darbi."
"Who are they?" I asked, trying to sound casual, like I hadn’t just discovered an entirely new race.
"They’re the troublemakers of The Circle." He kept his voice quiet. "Both blessed by Orenthis."
"Orenthis?"
"Yeah, God of Death. Don’t tell you didn’t hear that?" He glanced sideways at .
"Oh, yeah, yeah," I lied quickly. "I just thought you said sothing different."
He grunted, accepting it.
I rembered Kembeliona’s earlier curse, ’By the arm of Vaelor,’ Multiple gods, then. I needed to learn the pantheon fast.
The man pointed a thick finger toward the taller one at the bar. "Niku. He’s a real bastard if you ask ."
Niku had black hair, long-ish but cut short near the shoulders, streaked with silver at the temples. His beard was patchy—random cuts and gaps where it refused to grow right. Mid-thirties, maybe early forties. Broad-shouldered, strong. The kind of man who carried a sword like that because he used it often.
"And the other," the horned man continued, "Darbi. His bootlicker. I’d bet Niku’s fucking him. But can’t prove it."
Darbi was younger—late twenties at most. Short brown hair, clean-shaven face, no scars. Except his right hand: pinky finger missing, the stump clean and old. His armor was lighter than Niku’s, especially the boots—smaller, more agile. Niku’s were massive, heavy... huh. That sounded a bit awkward...
"Oi, be quick about it," Niku snapped at Kembeliona. "My throat’s all sand and gravel. I need a beer."
"I can’t sell you another drink, Niku," Kembeliona said carefully. "Boss lady won’t let . Pay your tab, then we can—"
Niku lunged forward, fast for his size, grabbed Kembeliona by the collar and slamd his face down onto the counter. Wood cracked. Kembeliona staggered back, hands flying to his nose as blood poured between his fingers. He groaned, low and pained, eyes wide with shock and fear.
The room went dead silent.
I gripped the railing tighter, knuckles white. The horned man beside let out a slow, angry breath.
Trouble. Right on schedule.
Breakfast suddenly tasted like ash in my mouth.
"We should go." He whispered. "Co on."
"Hmm..."
I walked back to my room in silence, the half-eaten plate in my hand feeling heavier than it should. I pushed the door open, sat on the edge of the bed with a long sigh, and stared out the grimy window. Those two downstairs... trouble. Big, armored, arrogant trouble. If I’d seen them back in my world, I’d have crossed the street. Here? In a land of magic and gods and literal fireballs? They could probably kill without breaking a sweat.
I set the plate on the floorboards and exhaled through my nose.
"Fuck... just my luck."
╔══════════════════════╗
★ NEW QUEST ★
────────────────────────
> Title: Back up
────────────────────────
> Objective:
• Stop Niku and Darbi
────────────────────────
> Reward:
25 EXP
22 Silver
────────────────────────
> Deadline: Ten minutes
╚══════════════════════╝
A new quest? To stop those two? I let out a dry, disbelieving chuckle.
"This thing’s crazy," I muttered, shaking my head. "Asking to do sothing like that..."
No way. They had armor, heavy swords, probably knew magic or at least how to use those blades. I had fists, a half-eaten plate of sausage, and two spells I’d never actually cast. Suicide. Hard pass.
I leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed, and tried to ignore the distant voices rising from downstairs. Soone was yelling now—sharp, angry. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone set my teeth on edge.
Curiosity won.
I arched an eyebrow, pushed off the bed, and crept to the door. Cracked it open just enough to hear.
Other doors along the hallway had opened too—three, four people doing the sa thing I was, heads poked out, eyes wide and curious. Whatever was happening below wasn’t good.
A loud thud echoed up the stairs—wood splintering, sothing heavy crashing. Then Kembeliona’s rough groan, thick with pain.
"Fuck..." I whispered.
I stepped out fully, moved to the railing, and peeked down.
Kembeliona lay sprawled across a broken table, shards of wood scattered around him. He clutched his back, blood streaming from his nose, hands sliced open by splinters. Niku, tall, silver-streaked, an, grabbed him by the collar and hurled him against the counter. The old man’s head cracked against the wood; air punched out of him in a pained wheeze. He slumped, eyes glazing.
"He passed out?" Darbi asked, kicking Kembeliona’s leg lazily. "Oi, idiot. Get up."
Then ca the footsteps behind , quick, determined.
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