In the adventurer guild master's office, Emilia tried to shake off her boredom, scanning through a stack of documents. She came across statistics detailing the raw materials mined and sold in the last month, finding an unexpected thrill in it. Adjusting her brown curls out of her face, her glittering blue eyes stayed fixed on the parchment as her sword swayed gently at her waist.
Across the room, Pasta lay sprawled on the couch, snoring at the top of his lungs while hugging his blade like a pillow. His chestnut hair ruffled as he kept kicking the side of the couch.
The office was modest—a sturdy desk buried under a mountain of unstamped paperwork, an unfinished cup of tea cooling at its edge. Morning light filtered through velvet curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Trophies gleamed on the wall racks.
Emilia dropped the documents with a sigh, her gaze wandering to the accolades on the walls. Hearing about the guild master's accomplishments was one thing; seeing the proof was another.
The door creaked open, and a man built like a crusader strode in. His dark suit fit snugly over his towering frame, and his sharp brown eyes glinted behind pristine glasses. This was Duke RK Bloodborne, the famed guild master of the Nine Realms.
"Emilia, I presume? Please, have a seat," he said
She complied, nudging her brother awake as she settled into a chair.
"Is it time for breakfast already?" Pasta yawned, noticing the old man. He stiffened, attempting to look serious, though his dishevelled hair and rumpled clothes betrayed him.
"I'm afraid we have a problem," Bloodborne said, his voice laced with concern and disappointment. He hesitated, removing his glasses. "The adventurer I assigned to oversee your journey… he was injured in an unexpected incident."
"Injured? Will he be alright?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
"He's with the medical team now. He'll recover, but it leaves you without a guide
Bloodborne gaze dropped. The task of assigning a guardian to the siblings had seemed simple enough, especially with the surge of new adventurers. However, given the current state of unrest, adventurer injuries have become a daily occurrence. Lion's Claw was among those affected; nearly all of their members had been wiped out just nights ago. He placed a hand over his face, already suspecting who the culprit was.
"Why not just let us go alone?" Pasta mumbled, his loud snores filling the room. "We're not little kids, old man. We can handle it"
Emilia grabbed her sheathed sword, and sighed before thwacking Pasta's head with it.
"What was that for, sis?!"
"You always come up with the dumbest ideas," she said, turning back to the guild master. "I'm sorry for my big brother's behaviour"
"What dumb ideas? My ideas are not dumb—they are simply unique," he smirked, rubbing his head. "And It's not like I'm wrong"
Bloodborne sighed. "I am confident in both of your skills as swordsmen, but you lack experience. There are monsters out there far beyond your imagination. I still don't understand why your parents would permit such a dangerous task. This isn't some carefree outing."
Emilia rose to her feet, her voice trembling. "But this is our only chance to become adventurers!" She caught herself, lowering her gaze. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to yell."
Pasta struck a dramatic pose, unsheathing his blade. "If an adversary dares to cross paths with me, the Mighty Pasta, their life shall be forfeit to my sword!" He burst out laughing, and Emilia turned away, her cheeks tinged red with embarrassment.
The guild master shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Your enthusiasm is admirable, Pasta," Bloodborne said. "But this is no laughing matter. You must exercise caution."
Emilia sighed. He's not listening to a word of this, is he?
She clenched her fists, her eyes locking onto the guild master's. "Please, Duke Bloodborne. We promise to be careful out there. Just give us this chance."
"A promise won't suffice. If anything happens to you, your parents will have my head," he said, patting his chest to steady himself.
"Sir, you have a visitor," a girl said, opening the door. Before she could finish, a cloaked figure in a straw hat pushed past her into the office.
"Hey! You have no permission to enter!" her voice called after him, but the words went unheeded.
For a moment, it felt like the devil himself had entered; the air became heavy. Bloodborne's eyes narrowed towards the figure. With a commanding glance, the suffocating aura dissipated, leaving only silence in its wake.
Who is this guy? Pasta glared, meeting his eyes, slumping back into his seat.
Emilia remained still, her breath caught in her lungs, and her trembling hands gripped the edge of her chair as the swordsman strode past. When he brushed by, her legs gave out, and she sank back into her seat.
"Hey now, let's not scare the young ones, shall we?" Bloodborne said with a playful grin.
"I see. I never imagined an old rooster like you still had any crow left in him!" the figure said, taking a seat between the siblings, their faces paler than ghosts at midnight. Bloodborne flashed a strained grin, attempting to conceal his exasperation.
"They're not mine," he said, offering his cold tea to the swordsman, only to be met with a quick rejection.
"I've no time for that. It'll take months to reach my master, and I'm as penniless as a bard right now." He turned to Bloodborne, his voice almost cheerful. "Could you lend a comrade some coin? I vow not to repay you, of course." He removed his hat and leaned forward, resting clasped hands on his lap.
Bloodborne glowed red, his expression shifting as he closed his eyes and mustered up yet another fake smile. It was the same old routine — he'd embark on a mission, run out of coin, then come knocking on my door for more. An endless cycle that never seemed to end.
The young man's appearance was rugged, his dark cloak tattered from travel, with a long sword hanging at his side. His sharp features and commanding presence only added to the room's unease.
"So, what'll it be?" He asked.
"First off, could you calm the siblings? They were jittery before you arrived, and now they're shaking like you're the demon lord himself," Bloodborne said, turning away. "They can't be blamed for it, you did enter with your energy all over the place"
"Oh, is that so? Maybe if you pay me, I'll-"
"Settle them first, and then we'll discuss your empty coin purse."
The swordsman leaned in towards Emilia, his menacing presence making her heart race like a war drum as she tried the only move in her arsenal to avoid his cold stare: Looking away. "T-Those trophies a-are... quite impressive."
Realising how badly the situation was escalating, Bloodborne stepped in.
"Oh, pay no heed to him! He's just an old friend with a face only a mother could love. Come now, no need to be shy now," he said, smiling at Emilia. "How can you be an adventurer if you can't handle a simple ogre"
Emilia took a deep breath. "I-I am h-humbly—uh—my n-name is E-Emilia." She whispered.
Pasta sprang to his feet. "And I am Pasta!"
The swordsman quirked an eyebrow. "Pasta? What are you, some sort of quick snack?"
"What insolence! I'll repay that with the sharp kiss of my blade, you demon!" he said, unsheathing his sword and aiming it at the undaunted swordsman's gullet. "Well? Any last words?".
"Please stop!" Emilia waved her arms frantically behind the swordsman.
Pasta, meanwhile, scoffed. He may have a terrifying aura and be strangely composed even when met with a blade, but that does not change the fact that he's at my mercy.
"STOP!" Bloodborne's booming voice echoed through the room as he pulled a long staff from thin air. He moved with incredible speed to intercept the swordsman's lethal strike, aimed at Pasta's arm. The clash of steel rang out, leaving behind a stunned silence. Bloodborne sighed, turning to Pasta.
"Young one, while he may be entertaining, this man is dangerous." With a nod of apology to the swordsman, he added, "I apologise for his rudeness."
Pasta took his seat, offering his apology. Meanwhile, Emilia breathed a sigh of relief, "I'm just glad no one got hurt"
"So, you need money," Bloodborne began, his staff floating in the air before vanishing into thin air. "Your timing couldn't be more perfect."
The swordsman sheathed his blade with a metallic click. "And?"
"It's a humble request," Bloodborne replied, folding his hands. "I'd like you to escort these siblings to the second realm."
He gave him a puzzled stare. "Do I look like some sort of babysitter?"
"You definitely do not," he said with a sigh, "but you do need the money, and the second realm is on your path, is it not?"
"You're not wrong." The swordsman crossed his arms, his gaze shifting to the siblings for a moment before narrowing. "But them? Surely, you've got another job that doesn't involve playing chaperone?"
"Unfortunately, I don't"
The swordsman crossed his arms and glared, his eyes narrowing into slits. I really do need the money. Without it, I wouldn't last a week, let alone months. Taking them with me is another matter; even if I have food and other amenities, I would have to protect them as my own. Still, I need the money, it surely can't be that difficult.
"Fine," he whispered. "It's a deal."
Bloodborne returned to his seat. "Splendid. My attendant will see to your needs before you leave," he said, muttering to himself as he began to stamp his documents.
Pasta scowled. "Sir, isn't there a better option? Why him?"
"He is a trustworthy companion and a pretty excellent cook, too," Bloodborne chuckled.
"And what does that have to do with anything?" Pasta retorted.
The swordsman met Pasta's eyes. "You certainly like to talk, don't you?"
Bloodborne, ignoring the brewing tension, turned to Emilia. "What about you, young lady? Should we settle this with your decision?"
They all turned to her.
"I'll go with whatever you say, sis," Pasta said, his forced smile failing to mask his growing anxiety.
Emilia her fingers curling in her lap. I had been enjoying her time just listening in, still a little startled by the swordsman's presence. Now they were pinning the decision on me, she thought.
"Well, the guild master did say he is trustworthy. And we don't really have time to find someone else. Besides, Mister Bloodborne won't let us travel alone..."
"Forget about what I said," Pasta turned to the guild master. "Please, sir! I'm begging you, there has to be someone else!"
Bloodborne remained unmoved, "The matter is settled then"
Moments later, the group was ushered out of the office. Pasta grumbled under his breath, throwing glances of frustration at the swordsman, who remained silent and unfazed.
Bloodborne reclined in his chair, savouring the peace and quiet. "This is the perfect opportunity for all of them," he whispered having his cold tea. "He's going to meet his master huh? Still a strange guy he is" Chuckling to himself, he gazed out of the window, enjoying the view of the town below. A letter untouched on his table. One from the fourth realm.
#
Darius, naked strode across the desolate, snow-covered terrain of the fourth realm; The Realm of the Departed.
Around his shoulders lay a polar beast, its sheer size dwarfing even the largest of polar bears, blood staining the pristine white snow in its wake. As they reached a small cavern, Darius flung the beast's body onto the ground.
"Lunch is ready, boys," he said, grabbing an axe and severing the beast's head. He shook the snow from his body and wore some pants since he'd been out wearing nothing all this time. He tossed the decapitated head to his comrade Thorne, a figure more beast than man. His hair resembled fur, and his claws were longer than their lunch. His face was the only human aspect of him. Meanwhile, his other comrades were playing a game deep within, their raucous noise filling the cavern.
"Seems those guys are still at it, I presume." Darius sliced open the beast's belly and tore out its bones with his bare hands.
"For hours, I've been haunted by screams—screams of pests and false hopes," Thorne said, sinking his teeth into the flesh and fur of the beast's head, relishing the taste.
"I'll go have a look." Darius tossed the beast toward Thorne. "Help me finish up, and try not to eat it, or I'll kill you."
"Not if I kill you first," Thorne said, his face remaining stoic, betraying no emotion and brown eyes smouldering with tightly contained rage and a flicker of concern. Darius made his way deeper into the cavern, the screams getting louder with each step he took. Met by a pool of blood and bones, he saw his four other comrades. "I'll take it from here," he whispered, feeling the edges of his axe as he stepped closer.
"Please, have mercy, I beg of you!" the young man cried out. His eyes were gouged out, scars and cuts covering his body, while the other captives joined him from behind, pleading for their lives. Bastian laughed, smacking Ryder on the side, who ignored him.
"Please, let us go!" the young man pleaded, snot dripping from his nose.
"What a disgusting sight," Zephyr scowled, walking away.
"Ok then, let's begin," Darius said, chopping off the hand of the young man. The other captives fell silent as they watched their friend crawl on the earth in pain, on the verge of biting his tongue. Darius grabbed his hair, and pulled him from the floor. "Don't you die on me, got that?". The young man shivered, trying to hold in the unbearable pain of his lost hand. Meanwhile, Bastian continued laughing aloud, enjoying the show as if it were a comedy genre.
"What do you want?" the man said, his voice low. Darius lifted him by his hair and aimed his axe towards the man's face.
"Tell me where I can find the Weeping Swordsman."