Chapter 36: Embers of Betrayal
Following the group, I found myself standing before a strange-looking building. Its walls twisted in odd, almost artistic ways, as if molded by a mind both brilliant and deranged. The structure stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city's worn-down aesthetic. The air around it felt different, thicker, humming with a presence unseen. Without hesitation, the tiefling captain strode forward, pushing open the heavy wooden doors with a forceful shove.
The interior was larger than I had expected, a cavernous hall shrouded in dim light, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and melted wax. Shadows clung to the corners, stretching unnaturally. At the far end, an old man sat draped in a tattered brown cloak, unmoving.
His face, withered and gaunt, bore the marks of age and a life steeped in knowledge. Eyes as dark as ink met ours, unreadable yet piercing. There was an unsettling stillness about him, as if he had become one with the chamber itself.
The captain walked up with his usual confidence. "We've dealt with the mission."
The old man regarded him for a long moment before rasping out his response. "Place your hand on the token."
The captain complied, pressing his palm onto what I assumed was some enchanted relic, though my vantage point made it difficult to see. A flicker of recognition passed through the old man's gaze, his pupils dilating slightly, as though peering into something unseen.
"Do you swear upon your oath that you have completed the mission?" His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried weight, filling the empty space between us like a tangible force.
"Yes."
A brief silence followed before the old man reached under the desk and produced a pouch. With a deliberate motion, he slammed it onto the table. A faint clinking of metal echoed through the hall, betraying its contents.
No further words were exchanged. The captain retrieved the pouch, and we departed. Outside, he loosened the drawstrings and retrieved a handful of metallic tokens. Without hesitation, he extended his hand to me.
"Take it. Your share."
For a moment, I merely stared at the offered payment. Price, huh? So they had been after me, but they were under the impression that the real threat had been dealt with. How amusing. I had them completely fooled. A smirk threatened to creep onto my lips, but I kept my expression carefully neutral. I accepted the tokens with a nod, tucking them away. They weren't what I truly sought, but playing along had its advantages.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, we found ourselves before a tavern. A wooden sign, gently swaying in the evening breeze, bore the name: The Drunken Giant.
The moment we stepped inside, we were engulfed by the chaotic warmth of merriment. Laughter boomed from all corners of the room, accompanied by the clatter of mugs slamming onto wooden tables. The scent of roasted meat and spilled ale mixed in the air, thick and heady. Every corner of the tavern was occupied, drunken elves sang off-key, burly orcs arm-wrestled while onlookers cheered, and at the bar, a dwarf attempted to outdrink a minotaur twice his size.
We settled at a table near the center, where a serving girl swiftly placed several tankards before us. The captain raised his drink. "To another job well done."
Dren, already looking a little flushed, grinned. "To not dying, again."
A chorus of agreement followed, and soon, the conversation shifted to war stories and past misadventures.
"Remember that time we were hired to rescue some noble's brat from goblins?" one of the mercenaries slurred, wiping foam from his beard. "Turns out the little shit didn't want to be saved, nearly gutted me when I tried to carry him out."
Dren burst out laughing. "Oh, that kid! We had to drag him kicking and screaming all the way back to his father. And then—gods, I'll never forget, the bastard tried to hire the goblins to kill us instead!"
The group erupted into laughter, banging fists on the table.
One of the older mercenaries, an orc with scars crisscrossing his arms, chuckled deeply. "Hah! That's nothing. You lot weren't there when we took a contract to hunt down 'a single rogue mage.'" He took a swig of ale. "Turned out the bastard had an entire cult backing him. We walked right into a trap."
"How'd you make it out?" I asked, more to fuel their indulgence than genuine curiosity.
The orc smirked. "Dren's dumb ass set the whole damn cave on fire. We barely made it out alive."
"Hey," Dren protested, "it worked, didn't it?"
Another round of laughter followed, but it was soon interrupted by the telltale sound of raised voices. A drunken dispute at a nearby table escalated as a burly human shoved a reptilian mercenary. The lizardman hissed, slamming his drink onto the table before lunging forward, tackling the human to the ground. The tavern exploded into chaos. Chairs scraped against the wooden floors, tankards shattered, and fists flew wildly.
I leaned back in my chair, watching the fight unfold with mild amusement. My companions, however, were far too drunk to remain mere spectators. With a roar, the orc from our group launched himself into the fray, toppling two men as he went. Dren, laughing like a madman, grabbed a chair and hurled it at an unsuspecting brawler.
I, on the other hand, remained seated, sipping at my drink. There was no need to waste energy on such meaningless displays. Let them have their fun.
By the end of the night, we had somehow managed to secure a room. Bodies were sprawled across the floor, snoring loudly. I sat up, my head barely aching from the minimal amount of alcohol I had consumed. It had been an amusing night, but it had also been dangerous in ways they couldn't understand.
These men… they were becoming too familiar. Too human.
A weakness.
Silently, I rose, stepping over their unconscious forms. I made my way down the creaking stairs, entering the dimly lit tavern hall. The bartender, a woman in her forties with tired eyes, was already cleaning up the wreckage from the previous night's brawl.
She glanced up as I approached, but before she could speak, my shadow servant materialized from the darkness.
A sharp, wet gurgle filled the air as its claws ripped through her throat. Her body slumped to the ground before she could even scream.
[Proficiency: 49.3%]
It was growing stronger.
I moved swiftly, grabbing bottles of dwarven ale from behind the counter. The liquid sloshed as I poured it across the floor, creating a glistening trail that led to the storage room. The scent of alcohol was pungent. Finally, I plucked a candle from the nearest table, its flame flickering ominously.
With a single motion, I let it drop.
Fire erupted, devouring the liquor-soaked wood in an instant. The flames spread, consuming tables, climbing the walls, licking at the beams above. The air filled with the acrid stench of burning alcohol and charred flesh as the first screams rang out.
Outside, I watched as the inferno swallowed The Drunken Giant, its glow illuminating the night.
[Betrayer of Allies! +25 points] [Arson! +10 points] [Pyromaniac! +50 points]
A laugh bubbled up from within me, dark and unrestrained.
[New Mission: Destroy the City of Mudborough] [Difficulty: F to E-Grade] [Details: Ensure its fall before the end of the Adjustment Period.] [Reward: 100 Points] [Progress: 0/1]
Let the mayhem begin.