Finral had been stuck in his bar, alone, ever since the war began. With no one left to serve drinks to, he wandered behind the counter, the silence heavy around him. His thoughts drifted to Amir—the kid he'd taken under his wing. Amir had once told him his power was wasted, and deep down, Finral knew the boy was right.
"I couldn't protect anyone back then, so what's the point in being bothered by what he said?" Finral mused to himself.
He knew the war was brutal, but Marquis Aron was formidable, capable of keeping the minotaur in check. The other four noble families weren't weak either; they could hold the city until reinforcements arrived. Finral even managed a slight smile, thinking of Tabbatha. She probably already had a plan in motion to push the beasts back.
The five of them—his closest comrades—had stayed in the guild, even after he'd stopped fighting. The guild's strength had plummeted, turning into a ragtag group of big-bellied men who fancied themselves warriors. It was bittersweet; their talents were locked away in the same dark pit he'd fallen into. If they'd left, they could have been stars in the empire, making a fortune and living the high life. They were elite, even among the empire's best.
Suddenly, Finral sensed something. He bolted up the stairs to the fifth floor, heart pounding. As he reached the top, his eyes widened in horror—five of his comrades lay on the ground, bleeding out.
"What happened?" Finral gasped, rushing to Griff. He pulled out a flask with a green liquid, pouring it down Griff's throat, then administered other potions to him.
"The minotaur... it attacked us," Robby said, his voice dejected.
Finral hurried to Ryla, her arm severed and lying beside her. He placed it back where it had been cut off. "It's going to hurt, Ry," he warned, and Ryla nodded, bracing herself.
As Finral poured the healing potion onto her wound, Ryla screamed in agony as her arm began to sizzle, the potion reattaching it in an excruciating process.
"I know it's a King-class, but you guys aren't weak enough to be beaten this badly," Finral said, confusion lacing his tone.
Cathy clung to Griff's mangled body, tears streaming down her face as she watched his wounds begin to heal. She had been certain he was a goner. They hadn't had time to give him any potions; in her mind, they'd sacrificed him just to escape.
Robby, his arm dripping with blood, stood with a contorted expression. "It's not just a King-class. It's smarter than any I've met before, and damn, it's far stronger than your average King-class. It wasn't even supposed to be where we were. The Marquis isn't doing his damn job."
Finral's face twisted with anger. "If it's smarter and stronger, why didn't anyone tell us?" Tabbatha had kept him somewhat informed; the Minotaur had been avoiding a direct fight with the Marquis, only occasionally clashing with their armies to test each other's strength.
The Marquis had to have known it was stronger than a typical King-class. The whole reason this was a war against a beast horde, rather than just a beast tide, was because the monsters were using tactics, taking positions, and leveraging the terrain. The leader of the horde was avoiding direct combat. Everyone believed that if the Marquis went all out, he could at least keep it in check.
"The nobles left us out," Ryla said softly, her newly reattached arm still immobile.
Robby nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they didn't tell us because they think we're irrelevant or just don't give a damn about what happens to us," he spat, disdain dripping from his words.
Finral seethed at the thought. The nobles had put them in charge of the left wing, taking all the other guilds and mercenary groups for themselves. It was the least attacked spot, but they still withheld crucial information that nearly cost them their lives. It was a deliberate move to provoke Finral by screwing over his guild. In the past, he would have blown up their houses to keep them from pulling such stunts. But he'd given up that life, so Finral sighed deeply, letting go of his anger.
Robby noticed the sigh, recognizing it as a sign that Finral wasn't going to do anything. He'd watched his leader dig himself so deep into this pit of depression that he'd forgotten who he even was. It was better to say the man they knew was dead, leaving behind only a shell.
"You guys get healed up. I'm going to get more potions. I'll be right back," Finral said, turning to leave.
"Wait a damn second! What are we going to do about the nobles? If they screwed us over, we need to pay them back!" Amir shouted, his voice laced with fury.
Finral paused, glancing back at the boy, who stood there with a rage-filled expression. He wondered why Amir was with them but figured it was Tabbatha's doing.
"They're nobles, kid. We can't do anything to them without risking imprisonment or death by the imperial court," Finral said flatly.
Finral walked away, leaving Amir seething, his lip clenched between his teeth, eyes ablaze with fury.
The room fell into an exhausted silence, everyone too drained from their encounter with the minotaur to speak. The space was enormous, an entire floor unto itself, with a large, stylish table in the center. Scattered throughout the room were various items, creating the atmosphere of a war room. Weapons lined the walls, but the most striking feature was a pair of deep red gauntlets that resembled dragon claws.
Amir glanced around at the others, all slumped on the floor, silent. Griff's body was healing, and though battered, he would survive. Cathy hovered over him, gently wiping the blood from his skin with a cloth.
"So, they can just pull crap like this, and we have to take it? Isn't Finral supposed to be one of the strongest people here? Why the hell is he sitting on his ass while his guild members almost die?" Amir's voice cut through the silence, his frustration palpable.
Robby lifted his head, meeting Amir's eyes with a somber expression. "Finral gave up on the path of power a long time ago. He's alive, but inside… he's dead."
Amir struggled to comprehend how someone at Finral's level could just give up. To reach such heights, he had to have a willpower and fortitude beyond ordinary humans. If it were so easy, everyone would be a ranker. He could sense the difference in presence among the group—Robby was A-rank, Griff and Cathy were in the B-rank range, and Ryla was A-rank as well. But Finral… he was different. Amir was certain Finral was S-rank, the same level as Valerie. There was an otherworldly quality to him, something above mere humans.
S-rankers were the true superstars of this world, referred to as rankers, individuals who had ascended to a higher plane of existence. For someone to reach that level, they must have an indomitable spirit. "What could break someone at that level?" Amir asked, bewildered and confused.
The room grew even colder, faces paling at the question. Whatever had happened, it had clearly shaken them all.
"It was his…" Robby began, but Cathy cut him off, her voice sharp. "It's not our place to tell, Robby. Why would you even consider it?"
Ryla joined in, her tone firm. "Look at the kid, Cathy. If he doesn't learn to fear the nobles, he might do something reckless in the future."
She glanced at Amir, noticing the fire burning in his eyes. It reminded her of Finral and the rest of them in their youth, before reality had shattered their dreams. She looked down at Griff, no longer objecting to the story being told.
"In the past, Finral, Tabbatha, and the rest of us were a rogue party, rising stars who gained fame across parts of the empire. Finral was seen as a generational talent, breaking through to S-rank at just 32. He was courted by many powerful people, including one of the six great families who wanted him to join their ranks. At the time, we were caught up in the thrill of growing stronger and being free," Robby began, his face darkening as he continued.
"We turned down their offer and set up our guild in this city, eventually becoming the most powerful force around. We had all the hunting rights to the forest. But we underestimated just how petty the noble family we refused could be. They started putting restrictions on us, stripping away our power. Finral fought back, and we were making progress until one day, a member of that blasted family challenged Finral. Finral won, but the man lost his arm in the process."
"The family took it as a grave insult. They dragged Finral back to their estate, forcing him to kneel. They gave him an ultimatum—serve them or lose his arm. Finral spat at them, choosing to lose his arm. But they took far more than that. They took his wife and daughter, murdering them right in front of him. Then, they forced him to sign a contract, one imbued with Will, ensuring that he could never take his own life, or they would kill his daughter too."
"Finral signed it, but after he did, the patriarch of the family crushed his daughter's head right in front of him. Finral could only watch, powerless to stop it. They didn't even bother adding a clause in the contract to prevent him from retaliating—they knew he could never kill the patriarch."
Amir's eyes widened in pure shock. How could someone at S rank lose everything just like that? They didn't even fear him coming for revenge—he didn't matter. How could a ranker, with all that power, be treated like dirt? Amir sat there, stunned by the revelation.
'How powerful must the six great families be to pull something like that off?'
His face paled as he grasped the audacity required to act without fear of consequences.
'How could they possibly do something so heinous and not be held accountable by the imperial court?'
Amir bit his lip, anger boiling within him. He knew exactly why—they couldn't be punished. The laws only applied to the weak, and no one in the imperial court would dare challenge the patriarch of one of the six great families over a nobody like Finral.
It was the same for cripples. They were seen as less than human, so if someone powerful enough wronged them, it didn't matter. No one would care.
Amir was sick of it all. He was once again at the mercy of the powerful, forced to endure their whims while they did whatever they wanted.
"GOD DAMMIT!!!" Amir screamed, startling everyone in the room.
"This shit keeps happening! I'm so sick of this fucking bullshit! They screw us over and over, and we just have to take it? Why, god dammit?!"
Robby and the others felt his pain. It was heartbreaking to realize you were just a pawn, that your life was in someone else's hands. They had all felt it when they watched Finral, a man they had followed and respected, be reduced to nothing, and they were powerless to stop it.
"As long as you stay off their radar or become their servant, you can avoid that fate," Ryla said, her voice heavy with resignation.
Amir turned to her, seeing the same darkness in her expression. Everyone in the room shared that defeated look. They had already accepted their reality.
"No, no, no! Dammit! I will never kneel to anyone! Fuck the nobles and the six greats!"
Amir stood up, seething with rage, his anger almost tangible. His eyes began to glow gold, and a faint aura enveloped his body. Robby and the others watched in awe as he radiated with energy.
"It doesn't matter if it's the king or a god—I will never kneel, and there all going to die trying. All of them... ALL OF THEM will fear me to the point where they wouldn't dare screw with me. They want to be worshipped like gods, but I will be the demon that crushes them under my foot."
Listening to him, they thought he had gone mad. The idea of making a king or one of the six great families fear someone was absurd. How could anyone stand against such power? But there was something in Amir's voice, something beyond mere words. He meant every syllable.
"They will all go down fearing me! I will be the demon that tears down this world they've built for themselves. MARK MY WORDS, THEY WILL ALL KNOW MY NAME!"