Heavy rain poured down from above, the thick droplets splattering onto the muddy ground of a dark alleyway. Thunder and lightning resounded overhead, the brief moment illuminating a cloaked figure creeping through the mud.

Looking up, lightning flashed once more, making the features of the man's face much clearer. He seemed to be a young man barely past the age of adulthood, with bloodshot brown eyes and messy black hair that hinted at a very rough night. The young man spared a glance behind him before reaching up and tugging on the hood of his cloak, shielding his face once more from prying eyes.

"Damn it. It'll be too late once I get there at this rate," the frustrated man huffed under his breath as he trudged through the mucky alleyway. His goal wasn't too far away, but thanks to the heavy rain that only served to hinder his movements, he couldn't move as fast as he usually did.

Mud kept sticking to his worn boots, the brown muck clinging to the black leather and tarnishing the ornate buckles clasped onto it. For the umpteenth time since he was born, the man cursed his luck for being born without a magus core.

"If I could wield magus I could just enchant my boots to never get dirty. Hell, I could probably just cast a spell to not get wet either."

The man glared down at his soiled boots, then back up at the stormy night sky, flipping the bird at the ashen clouds as he did so. The grimace on his face slowly receded as he finally stepped out of the alley and back onto the stone roads that made up most of Ashiel City.

With a renewed sense of urgency, he made a beeline for a nearby building, the delicately painted sign hanging above the front door naming the establishment as, 'Rowena's Tavern'. A buff man stood guard outside the entrance, acting as a bouncer to make sure no unwelcome personas tried to sneak in. And judging by the small heap of unconscious bodies piled up next to the hulking brute, there had been quite a few attempts already.

He approached the gigantic guard, kicking out his feet every other step to try and rid his footwear of the nasty brown gunk that had stuck to it, yet to no avail. The guard noticed his presence, his stance momentarily shifting to one of caution, before relaxing as the cloaked man revealed his face.

"Evening, James. You look like absolute shit. Literally." The guard eyed James' muddy boots, a small hint of amusement visible on his normally serious face.

"What can I say? I had a... troublesome night." James sighed, his expression visibly drooping as he recalled the horrific events of the past few hours. He needed a drink or two, or perhaps even more, to calm his nerves and unwind.

James made a move to walk past the guard, but he bumped into a rigid arm blocking his way. The guard tutted as he pushed James back, acting as a giant wall between him and the jovial sounds echoing from within the tavern. "You know the rules, James. I can't let you in with your muddy shoes. You'll mess up the new floor the Madame installed this morning, and gods know what she'll do to you if you get even a speck of dirt on them."

James gave the man an exasperated expression, clenching his fists in barely controlled rage. The only thing holding him back was the fact that time was nearly up, and if he didn't get into the tavern soon then his plans would get messed up disastrously.

James tugged his boots off, tossing them behind him haphazardly. They made a disgusting squelch as they hit the ground, both him and the guard grimacing slightly at the sound as it did so.

"There. Happy?" James gestured at his bare feet, wiggling all his toes as his heels ached from the rough stone floor.

The guard's eyebrow raised as he spared a glance at James' wiggling lower digits before shaking his head and stepping aside. Giving the guard his thanks, James hurriedly stepped into the bustling tavern, scanning the crowded room to find his target.

A band of bards played music in the middle of the room, a group of lively people dancing to the melodious music. Others just sat at their respective tables, swaying their heads to the beat as they feasted on delectable meals of savory meats and sweet desserts.

A relieved grin broke out on his face as he spotted who he was looking for; a thin man wearing a sleeveless red tunic, his face covered by a curtain of long and frizzy black hair. He sat at the bar on a wooden stool, his hands not visible on the countertop, seemingly preoccupied with something he had tucked near his abdomen.

James strutted over with a smirk, ignoring the curious looks others were giving him as they noticed he was walking around barefoot. He sat down on the stool next to the man, waving his hand in the air as he whistled for the barkeep.

"I'll have two glasses of your finest booze. One for me, and one for him." James motioned at the man sitting next to him with his thumb as the barkeep nodded and jotted down his order. James felt a rustle beside him as the aforementioned man turned to face him, an apprehensive look plastered on his face.

James' grin widened even more upon seeing that, scooting his chair closer to the man, making loud squeaking noises as he did so. The man lifted his right hand to his face, parting the curtain of hair covering it and revealing his visage.

To James, only one word perfectly described what he was looking at right now. The epitome of macabre.

The man looked more dead than alive, with a ghastly face that rivaled most corpses James had seen in his various lifetimes. He had sunken cheeks and eyebags, with the bony parts of his skull etched onto the thin layer of skin he still had. Only the whites of his eyes could be seen, with no iris or sclera visible anywhere. Rotting teeth grinned back at him, and James swore a puff of putrid breath came out and tried to poison him.

Despite all of those features that would seem very important, James' focus was on something else entirely. His gaze was focused on a cubic object sitting and whirring in the ghoulish man's lap. It was coated in bronze and etched with various magus runes, the runes glowing one by one in what seemed to be some sort of pattern.

"Oh shit. He's got a bomb!"

At James' yell, everything went silent. No loud conversations, no merry music, just an eerie silence. Then all hell broke loose as everyone started screaming and stampeding to get out of the tavern. Meanwhile, James had the misfortune to get thrown out of his stool, over the countertop, and into a cabinet of alcohol.

Bottles shattered as his back crashed against them, shards of glass raining around him before falling to the floor. James looked up just in time to see the ghoul leaping at him, barely managing to dodge as he rolled away to the side.

He grunted and winced in pain as he stood up, glass shards crunching and digging into the underside of his feet. He would definitely need to get a foot spa tomorrow.

The ghoul hissed at him, writhing as it started to shift and transform into its true form. Pale and bony arms cracked and extended, the sagging skin stretching to make a pair of veiny wings. Its legs bent at an unnatural angle as its shoes burst open like a popped balloon, its feet growing to twice their original size as sharp talons replaced grimy nails.

James reached behind him and sighed in relief as his hand gripped the familiar cool metal of his prized possession. He whipped it out and aimed it at the ghoul, the barrel perfectly in line with the target.

"Say hello to my little friend."

With a twitch of his finger, the ghoul's head exploded in a shower of blood, grey matter, and all manner of disgusting bodily fluids. With him being the only one left in the tavern, James was the sole proprietor of receiving all the gunk on his person.

The dead ghoul sunk to the ground dramatically before flopping onto the previously pristine floor, blood gushing out and pooling around it.

"The Madame is gonna kill me."

Averting his eyes from the gruesome sight, James searched the bar to find the bomb. Luckily he didn't have to look for long, as he immediately found it discarded on the floor right next to where he was sitting earlier.

James picked it up and examined the glowing runes, biting his lip as he realized that this bomb was unlike the ones he had encountered a few lives back. And thus, he had no idea how to defuse it.

"Gods above does this thing not have an off button? I probably should have gotten that monster to deactivate this before blowing his brains apart..." James glanced sideways at the bloody corpse, mulling over his foolish mistake.

The runes started to glow more rapidly, and James gulped before placing the cube on the counter and placing a balled-up fist against his forehead, a sign of prayer used by the Church of Wisteria.

"If the Madame was gonna just be pissed with me before, she'll definitely murder me now."

With a prayer for his safety and his piece said James hightailed it out of the tavern, making hushed sounds of pain as the glass shards under his feet dug in deeper with each rushed step.

A half-second after he set a foot outside the tavern, a rush of heat exploded from behind him and for the third time that day, James got thrown off his feet and launched away.

He crashed into a crowd of people, previous customers of the tavern, resulting in all of them falling down and onto the ground. James' ears rang as he struggled to focus his shaky vision, using the last reserves of his strength to flip his body and face the tavern. Or at least... what remained of it.

The building that was previously a beacon of fun and weekends to all Ashiel citizens was reduced to a giant pile of rubble. What wasn't pulverized was currently aflame, the piles of alcohol inside the tavern only serving to fuel the heat of the fire.

Much of the crowd around him stared at the destruction in shock, their mouths hanging open so wide that a swarm of flies could fly in no problem. James spotted one figure who wasn't as surprised as everyone else though, and he was pretty sure that figure was burning with a rage much hotter than the fire lighting up the tavern's ruins.

That figure was none other than the Madame herself, owner of the fine and luxurious Rowena's Tavern, which was now just a fine and luxurious heap of rubble. She sported a frilly red dress that accentuated her figure, as well as a dainty black hat that rested on top of her flowing red hair. Her normally happy demeanor was twisted into one of utter fury, her green eyes boring holes into James as her lips pursed tightly.

James averted his gaze from the furious woman, doing his best to ignore the steady 'click-clack' rhythm of her heels that slowly started to get louder. His averted gaze ended up finding a bottle of wine that had miraculously escaped the explosion unharmed as it lay on its side a few meters away from him.

He groaned and stretched out his arm to grab it, beaming as he gripped the bottle's neck and brought it to his mouth, desperate to have at least one swig of alcohol before he got the scolding of a lifetime.

"Fuck."

The bottle was empty.

The sound of clacking heels was also no more, and James turned around slowly, knowing what he'd have to face as soon as he did.

"A lovely night for a bonfire. Don't you think, Madame?"