Laughter and chatter filled the air of the bustling bar, drowning out the banging of wooden jugs of cheap beer and the soft strumming of a lute in the corner. Adventurers gathered to celebrate their flawless victory over a band of hunters who had terrorised the town for the past decade. This was no minor celebration.
Ragnar stood on the table, giving a toast. "I- I just want to say that without me. Me, no you all would have been dead by now. T- To me and the Lion's Claw, the greatest band o-of… adventurers? Yes, Adventurers in the freaking nine realms," he said, drinking and throwing away his sword before falling back to his seat.
"That's our man right here! The hunters had no chance against him!" an adventurer said, and others cheered in agreement. All intoxicating themselves in their favourite poison.
"Bring more drinks, dammit! The heroes need more drinks!" an adventurer screamed, shattering a bottle on the floor. "The night is still young, my brothers. Let's feast!".
The band screamed, paying no mind to the music.
The town council had promised to cover the bill, so it wasn't a normal night. Girls, drinks, and entertainment filled the air, like something out of a dream. Ragnar adjusted the sword strapped on his back, wondering where he had placed the freaking blade.
He hiccuped and invited a few girls to make him forget about it. He leaned into one of them, his lips parted as he went for a kiss. Matilda, the server, noticed and walked towards him with a refill. She leaned in, dropping a full mug on his table.
"Thanks, Matilda, you're a darling," he guzzled down his beer, and banged his head on the table.
"No, No we should thank you without your help. Kanto would be long gone," Matilda whispered, smiling at the girls who smiled back.
Ragnar woke and laughed, "Give me another round!!"
She sighed, stepping out to brink more drinks. Just how much can these men handle? She wondered.
The celebration went on for hours; the men danced to the rhythm of the lute and the vocals of the three girls. Matthew, a fellow member of Lion's Claw, finished his drink and walked towards his comrades, who were still busy with their drinks.
"Hey buddies, I believe we all have heard the news," he said, his eyes blurry. "W-We may have some fresh blood soon. Yes, soon; the guild won't leave this town to just a single band of adventurers since we. We beat those damn hunters! As the saviours of this town, how should we treat them? Huh? How should we, the heroes, treat those amateurs who come with their funny accents and outfits, huh? How should we treat them?"
"You've said treat them three times now, you should have some rest," an adventurer said, drinking more from his mug.
"Those new recruits are better off as our subordinates"
"They should be proud to work under us, legends," another said.
Matthew laughed, leaping onto the counter and crossing his legs. "Good answer, my comrades," he said. "Do you all believe in ghosts?"
"Seriously, man?" someone said.
"Matthew must be going nuts again."
"Just had to change the topic to some horror flick."
"Yeah, he always tries to spook us like we're kids"
"A few years ago, a man fell from the heavens, his clothes tattered and dyed red," Matthew said. "He wielded a strange blade emitting an ominous aura. People said he killed his victims in under three seconds, slicing through his victims' necks as if they were mere butter. A ghost, appearing at night, never uttering a word. However, if you listen closely, you'd hear a cry whenever he was close. Around here they call him the Weeping Swordsman-"
"I don't mean to interrupt, but we've all heard this before. The bards sing about it all the time"
Ragnar raised an eyebrow. "The W-Weeping Swordsman, you say, what do the bards sing about him?"
"He is a swordsman who single-handedly wiped out a clan right here in the seventh realm," an adventurer recounts.
"No, he subdued them to be his subordinates and commanded they kill themselves," another said.
"Same thing, bastard!"
"What did you just call me?"
They punched each other and fell to the floor. Laughing while they broke bottles on the other face.
"I heard he survived a coliseum filled with deadly creatures, hands and feet tied, blindfolded."
"I heard he slayed a dragon too, using his bare hands. His bare hands!"
Ragnar slams his mug on the table, shattering both with the impact. "Today is my day, not some swordsman!" He yelled, lifting a skewer as a sword and assuming a stance. "I am no mere adventurer but a three-time winner in the Colosseum of the Nine Realms. I am a legend, a prodigy loved and admired by thousands. No, millions. My strength far surpassed that swordsman."
"Yeah!!"
"N-Now let's enjoy the night, more booze for everyone, drink like your lives depend on it!" Ragnar screamed.
"Yeah, the boss is right. Today is our day not some swordsman," an adventurer said.
The adventurers roared, cheering their leader.
"Please, someone, help me. I think I'm dying," Matthew groaned, falling to the floor and releasing his dinner.
The adventurers drank all night, forgetting about all their worries. Life is better without one anyway.
#
The town was silent, a ghost of its usual chaotic self. A cool breeze swept through the empty streets, carrying with it the faint jingling of bells hanging above a few doorways—the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. Well, almost the only sound.
In the cellar of a modest shop, Hunks lifted a heavy crate of goods into position and locked it away. Leaning against the wall with a tired sigh, he said, "You have no idea how happy I am to close early today, Benet."
From outside, a sharp knock rattled the cellar's wooden walls. "Hurry it up already!" Benet said, his muffled voice echoing downstairs. "You're not the only one worn out—so is the whole blasted town!"
"True enough," Hunks said, dragging himself upright. "Back in the day, we'd spend whole nights breaking our backs just to scrape together enough for the Hunters' ridiculous taxes. Thank the stars for Lion's Claw."
"Yeah, yeah, they're the best," Benet grumbled. "Now can we go"
Hunks stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him. "You remember how wild it got back then? All those sleepless nights, all those strategies the adventurers brought up. And after everything, we finally pulled through. Tomorrow, I'm heading out first thing to deliver a personal gift to that Ragnar fellow."
Benet yawned, scratching his ear. "Yeah, okay"
A shiver ran down Hunks' spine as the cold wind bit through his jacket. He rubbed his arms for warmth, glancing at the sky. "Feels like a storm's brewing. Might hit before morning."
"Okay."
"I hope the adventurers would make it back home before it gets too rough"
"Okay."
Hunks turned to glare at him. "Would you stop saying that? Have a real conversation with me for once"
Benet met his gaze. "Okay. Are we done now?"
Hunks shook his head and trudged ahead, shoving his hands into his pockets.
A small smile crept onto Benet's face as he fell into step behind him. "Thank you"
#
Ragnar stood before the mirror, humming a tune as he dried himself off. His reflection stared back, and he couldn't help but admire it. Sharp features, a strong jawline, piercing eyes—it was everything he imagined a future chief should have.
He tousled his damp hair, a grin spreading across his face. "You're a daredevil, an adventurer, a coliseum champion," he mused aloud, grabbing a brush and running it through his hair. "And soon, the chief of Kanto. Matthew was right—while the kingdom's in chaos, carving out a little slice of power is as simple as breaking a few staged Hunters. I really should pay those guys extra for putting on such a good show."
Slipping into his bathrobe, Ragnar strapped a knife beneath the fabric before opening the door to his room. He at the three girls tied up on the bed.
Marian glared at him. "You're disgusting! Deceiving the entire town! Once we're free, you'll be put in place"
"Oh?" He chuckled, stepping closer. "And who's going to stop me? Your half-dead chief? Or is it the men in this town who can only sell wares and tend to their fields?" He crouched. "I brought you here because we didn't get enough quality time back at the bar."
"You kidnapped us!" Evelyn said, her dark eyes boring into him.
"Y-Yes," Janet added in a shaky voice, glancing at Evelyn. "You knocked us out and tied us up when Matilda wasn't looking."
"Ladies, I'm sorry. Truly. But don't worry—when I become chief, I'll grant you anything you want. This is just the beginning. Once I secure this town, I'll move to the next and the next. Of course, I'll steer clear of the guild's territory. The last thing we need is trouble with Bloodborne."
Evelyn kicked him away. Ragnar grinned as he lunged at her. His hand clamped around her neck. "You see," he said, "I'm already being merciful, playing the good guy here."
Marian's eyes flicked to the knife beneath his robe. She forced her voice into a softer, more placating tone. "If you're really the good guy, prove it."
Ragnar hesitated, his grip loosening. "Prove it? How?"
"Come closer," Marian whispered, her tone honeyed, drawing him in.
Intrigued, Ragnar crawled toward her, his eyes narrowing. "Alright, I'm here. Tell me—how can I be the good guy?"
"Let us go," Marian said sweetly, her lips curling into a faint smile.
He frowned. "And here I thought you understood your situation. You girls are not going anywhere."
Marian's smile vanished. "We'll see about that."
Evelyn screamed, swinging her arms as she aimed for Ragnar's eye. His smirk faltered as he tried to dodge, only to realise he couldn't move. Glancing down, he saw the other girls clutching his arms and legs, holding him in place. His muscles tensed, but before he could break free, Evelyn drove the knife into his eye.
The girls hurried and cut the rope loose.
A guttural roar echoed through the building as the girls bolted toward the exit. The storm outside had grown fierce, the wind howling through the streets and scattering the birds to the safety of the sky.
The girls giggled through their tears; they had escaped but were not out of the woods yet. The chief's domain lay at the heart of town, with multiple routes leading there. The fastest way was through the forest, with the highest risk of running into Ragnar's men, still at the bar.
"I'll take the forest route," Evelyn said, her voice firm.
Janet stepped forward, shaking her head. "No, Evelyn, that's madness! It's too dangerous. We should stay together—reach the chief's house as a group. Then he'll send his men out to inform the adventurer guild at Gildenspire "
Evelyn sighed. "You are aware of our current situation. One of us must head that path and I'm well suited to it. Also, we can better our chances if we split up. That way it'll be harder for them to catch us"
"She's right, it's better we split up than for us to be caught," Marian said, "We should also inform the others to better our chances"
Janet stayed silent, accepting their decision. They drew each other for a hug and went their separate ways.
*
Evelyn crept down the deserted street leading to the bar. It was quiet, too quiet.
"Could they be holding the workers hostage? Is Matilda alright?" she said to herself, shaking her head. "No... even if they were, those adventurers can't be this quiet."
Arriving at the bar, Evelyn's legs gave out. The once lively bar now lay in ruins, shards of glass littering the floor like a minefield, and the pungent scent of spilled ale hanging heavy in the air. The adventurers lay scattered, their throats slit, and the workers were slumped unconscious
She drew her knife, gripping it as her. "What in the—"
The doors behind her burst open. Ragnar strode in, his imposing figure silhouetted against the night. A fresh bandage covered one eye.
"Found you, you little—" His words died as his gaze swept over the scene of his fallen comrades. His jaw clenched, his fists trembling.
Evelyn levelled her blade at him.
"What the hell happened here?" Ragnar growled. "Are you responsible for this?"
"I found them like this," Evelyn said. "Looks like someone did the job without us."
Ragnar slapped her. She hit the floor, shards of glass biting into her skin.
"Get up," Ragnar snarled, grabbing her hair and yanking her upright.
Evelyn gritted her teeth and flung a handful of broken glass at him. He cursed, stumbling back, and she bolted out of the bar into the streets.
Ragnar caught up to her, grabbing her hair again and slamming her into a pile of overturned crates.
"How did you do it?" he said, glaring down at her. His eyes glowed in the dark as the wind grew fiercer. "Even if they were drunk, you wouldn't have had a chance."
"I told you, " Evelyn said, meeting his eyes. Her knife slipped off her fingers. She trembled, feeling like a little bunny in the presence of a mighty, daunting lion. "I- I didn't do it"
Ragnar sneered. "I believe you, but now how am I supposed to take over the town?" He asked, drawing his sword. "No matter. They're dead, so I'll have to finish the job myself. The plans will change, but their deaths will be honoured. Tonight, everyone in this town will die... I'll begin with you."
He raised his sword, the gleaming edge aimed at Evelyn. She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering to herself. "Please... "
His sword struck the wall behind her. A cold chill ran down Ragnar's spine, not from the coming storm but from the figure standing behind him.
"This town is a violent one," a voice said. "How sad it is"
Ragnar picked up his sword and glared at the shadowy figure wearing a straw hat. "Who are you?"
"I have no name," the figure said, his voice calm and even.
Ragnar laughed, resting his sword on his shoulder. "Strong one? Yes, I am strong," he said. "I like you. You see, I'm a bit short on men now." He pointed at the figure. "Join me, and together we can create a new, stronger Lion's Claw. Let's call this a… yes, a quick employment opportunity, considering you're a passing traveller and all."
Evelyn's skin crawled. He just lost his members, and now he's already recruiting new ones? How cruel can he be? She thought.
"I'm not interested in joining a group named after an animal," the figure responded, adjusting his hat.
"Shame," Ragnar said, his grin fading. "That makes you an obstacle."
With a single dash, Ragnar closed the distance. His sword aimed straight for the swordsman's neck. He turned, dodging the strike, his blue eyes reflecting off the adventurer's blade. The blade returned to the swordsman but missed its mark again and again.
"Why are we fighting?" the swordsman asked, his movements smooth.
Ragnar screamed, hurling his sword. The swordsman sidestepped the flying blade but was met with a kick to the gut, sending him skidding across the dirt. He rose, brushing himself off.
He glanced at Evelyn, who met his gaze. The swordsman said nothing and approached Ragnar.
I didn't sense his lifeforce until he appeared. Is he one of the new adventurers, or another threat? She wondered, trying to steady herself. Still, his energy—there's something strange about it. Something I don't like.
"I wasn't planning to use this on a traveller, but you leave me no choice, swordsman," Ragnar said, his blade igniting. "Witness the power of the Flame Sword. One passed down through generations. This blade has overcome countless trials. With it, I shall have your head"
"I see"
His burning sword twisted to create an encirclement of flames in the air. He jumped into it, launching himself towards the figure, using his life force to create a sea of flames behind him.
The figure stood unfazed, glaring at the flames, in awe of their beauty.
"DIE!!!!" Ragnar swung his sword at the figure, causing a massive explosion.
I made a hit. There's no way he survived that. Ragnar smiled, but at that moment while he was still in the air, he noticed the flames were not spreading. The explosion immediately piled up into a single spot in a few seconds and vanished.
Evelyn covered her mouth, seeing Ragnar's severed head on the floor, and in hand, the figure held a dark blade gleaming in the moonlight.
"I'm dead? How? Wait, how am I alive?" Ragnar looked up and saw the figure's face. His eyes widened; he couldn't find words to describe what he saw, a monster with an ominous, indomitable energy. His mind could only conjure a single word—a demon.
"Arrgh!! LET ME GO, LET ME GOO!!" he screamed, dying of sheer terror. The clouds wept, leading to a ferocious downpour.
The figure adjusted his hat. Without a word, he walked past Evelyn.
"T-Thank you. Pl-Please, who are you, mister?" she asked
"Me?" he swung the blood out of his sword, returning it to his sheath. "Just an ordinary swordsman passing by."