Ye Shengtao wasn't sure which was worse—being stuck in a cursed lair of the Dark Sect or being stuck in said lair with Fergio, whose heroic delusions seemed to grow with every passing second. As they wandered deeper into the dark, winding corridors, Shengtao could feel the weight of poor decisions pressing on his shoulders. And, unfortunately, they were all Fergio's.
"We're getting closer," Fergio said with a grin, his voice echoing ominously down the narrow hallway. He was marching ahead like a man on a mission, his sword raised dramatically as if he expected a battalion of enemies to leap out at any moment.
Ye Shengtao, on the other hand, dragged his feet with a look of deep regret. "Closer to what? Our impending doom?"
"To justice, my friend," Fergio corrected with a gleam in his eye. "We're about to bring down the evil heart of this entire operation."
Orin, who was nervously tagging along at the back, leaned in and whispered to Shengtao, "Are we really? Because it kinda feels like we're just wandering aimlessly in a very creepy maze."
Shengtao sighed. "I've learned to accept that Fergio's definition of 'mission' is just... wandering around until something terrible happens."
Fergio glanced back, not even fazed by their skepticism. "You'll see. When we strike the final blow, when the Dark Sect is crumbling around us, you'll both be thanking me."
"I'll be thanking you if we survive," Shengtao muttered. "Also, if I manage to go at least one day without some part of me getting singed."
"Hey, you've got to admit the floor trap was pretty cool," Fergio said, obviously proud of himself.
"Yeah, if by 'cool' you mean 'almost fatal,'" Shengtao grumbled. "Besides, I'm still not convinced it won't decide to open back up and eat us for a midnight snack."
Orin nodded fervently. "I'm with Shengtao on this one. Less floor traps, more... you know, surviving."
Fergio waved them off. "You two are such pessimists. Think of it as an adventure!"
"A disaster is what I'm thinking," Shengtao shot back.
The conversation was cut short when they reached a heavy iron door at the end of the hall. It looked ancient, with strange runes carved into the surface that gave off a faint glow in the dim light. Fergio, as expected, approached it without a second thought.
"Well, here we are," he declared, reaching for the handle.
Shengtao immediately grabbed his wrist. "Hold on. We don't even know what's behind this door. Could be anything. Could be a whole room full of skeleton sorcerers for all we know."
Fergio laughed confidently. "Or it could be the treasure room! Or, you know, the control center for the whole evil operation. Either way, we're ready."
Shengtao pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not ready. We're never ready. That's the problem."
But it was too late. Fergio had already swung the door open with a loud creak. Inside, instead of a treasure room or a control center, they found... an old man. A very old man, sitting at a desk, scribbling furiously in a dusty book.
The trio stared at him in confusion.
"Uh... hello?" Fergio ventured, sword at the ready.
The old man didn't look up, continuing to write. "Yes, yes, hello. Welcome. Are you here for the accounting?"
Shengtao blinked. "The... what?"
The old man finally glanced up, squinting at them through thick, round spectacles. "The accounting. It's a bit late, but I've been expecting you."
Fergio stepped forward, clearly pleased with this turn of events. "Yes, indeed! We're here to... uh... take care of some... financial matters?"
Shengtao leaned over and whispered, "What are you doing? He's not going to buy that."
The old man narrowed his eyes. "Are you the ones from the Eastern Trade Route? The sect's been expecting you to deliver the quarterly profits. We're behind schedule, you know. It's chaos in here."
Fergio nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Exactly. That's why we're here. The... profits."
Orin raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Wait, are we seriously talking about finances now?"
Shengtao groaned. "Fergio, what exactly is the plan here?"
Fergio shot them a grin. "Just go with it. We can infiltrate their system from the inside. It's perfect."
The old man tapped his pen impatiently. "Well? Where are the numbers? I don't have all day, you know. The Dark Sect's bookkeeping is no joke."
Shengtao took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Uh... right. The numbers. We just... need to, um, double-check a few things before we hand them over. Wouldn't want to give you anything inaccurate."
The old man huffed. "Typical. Always late with the paperwork."
"Exactly," Shengtao said, nodding. "We're... working on it."
Orin, meanwhile, had sidled up to a nearby bookshelf, inspecting the rows of dusty ledgers. "You guys do a lot of paperwork for an evil organization," he noted.
The old man sighed dramatically. "You have no idea. The Dark Sect isn't what it used to be. All the young recruits these days are obsessed with world domination, and no one wants to handle the administrative side of things. It's a nightmare."
Shengtao exchanged a glance with Fergio. "I... see. That sounds... difficult."
"You're telling me," the old man grumbled, flipping through the pages of his book. "Back in my day, we used to focus on quality curses and hexes. Now it's all about efficiency. They want results, and they want them fast. Do you know how many forms I have to fill out just for a basic soul-stealing ritual?"
Fergio leaned in, intrigued. "How many?"
"Too many," the old man replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "There's a reason the Dark Sect is having trouble recruiting these days. No one wants to deal with the bureaucracy."
Shengtao glanced at Fergio, trying to gauge if they were actually going to get anything useful out of this conversation. "So... about those profits..."
The old man waved a hand dismissively. "Bah. It's all a mess. Just make sure it's accurate when you hand it in. I can't afford any more audits."
Orin stifled a laugh. "Audits? You guys get audited?"
The old man scowled. "Of course we do. The Dark Sect has standards, you know. We may be evil, but we're not disorganized."
Shengtao was beginning to regret every decision that had led them to this point. "Right. Well, we'll... get those numbers to you as soon as possible."
The old man nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish this requisition order for more cursed amulets. The supply chain's been a disaster lately."
As they slowly backed out of the room, Fergio whispered, "See? That went well."
Shengtao stared at him, incredulous. "We just talked about paperwork with an old cult accountant."
"And we didn't die!" Fergio pointed out cheerfully. "That's a win in my book."
"Your book has very low standards," Shengtao muttered.
Orin, still chuckling to himself, followed them down the hall. "I gotta admit, that was not what I expected from the evil Dark Sect."
"No kidding," Shengtao said. "But let's keep moving before we accidentally sign ourselves up for a job here."
As they turned the corner, they were met with the sight of two heavily armed guards blocking their path.
"Uh... Fergio?" Orin whispered nervously.
Fergio grinned, raising his sword. "Time for Plan B."
Shengtao groaned.