The morning air was thick with mist as Alex followed Roderic through the quiet streets of Riverend. The city smelled of damp stone, freshly baked bread, and the ever-present scent of iron and sweat from the blacksmiths and mercenaries preparing for the day's work. Merchants were already setting up their stalls, their voices carrying through the winding alleys. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and the rhythmic clang of a hammer against steel echoed from the forge district.
For the first time, Alex wasn't walking into the unknown alone. He had a purpose, a group, whether he trusted them or not.
A mercenary band led by a man once called The Fallen Knight.
And now, he was one of them.
They arrived at a small stone building near the outskirts of the city. It wasn't a grand guild hall or a lavish estate—it was practical, discreet. The wooden door creaked open, and Alex was hit with the scent of oiled leather, steel, and the faint trace of old blood.
Inside, five mercenaries were gathered around a wooden table, studying a map. Their expressions ranged from serious to indifferent.
Roderic strode in, his presence demanding attention. "Alright, listen up. We've got new blood."
All eyes turned toward Alex.
A broad-shouldered man leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his thick iron-plated armor. His beard was trimmed short, his gaze sharp. He looked like a war veteran, someone who had seen more death than most.
"Gareth," he rumbled. "Frontline. If you're slow, you'll get cut down. If you're weak, you'll die. Simple as that."
Next to him, a wiry man with scarred knuckles and a cocky grin chuckled. He wore lighter gear, built for movement rather than protection.
"I'm Felix," he said, stretching. "I get into places I shouldn't."
A woman with a crossbow slung across her back nodded in greeting. Her brown hair was tied back, her eyes calm but unreadable.
"Rivka. Ranged support."
Beside her, a burly warrior with a battle-axe strapped across his back grinned. A deep scar ran down his left cheek, his teeth flashing in amusement.
"Dain. I break things."
Then, there was the last one. Unlike the others, she wore a dark cloak, her face obscured by a hood. Knives lined her belt, each one polished to perfection.
Her voice was soft but firm. "Selene."
That was all she said.
Alex glanced at Roderic, but the older man just smirked.
"You'll get used to her."
Roderic stepped forward, tapping a spot on the map spread across the table.
"Now that we're all acquainted, let's talk business."
The job was straightforward—on paper.
A merchant caravan traveling to Luthadel had been ambushed. The survivors made it to Graymarch, but the cargo was still missing.
Felix studied the map, raising an eyebrow. "Who's the client?"
Roderic smirked. "Duke Varian."
That got their attention.
Felix let out a low whistle. "Didn't think the Duke hired mercenaries."
"He doesn't," Roderic replied. "Officially. His forces are stretched too thin. He doesn't want people knowing he can't protect his own roads."
Felix chuckled. "Which he can't."
Roderic ignored him. "Our job is to track down the missing cargo, eliminate the ones who took it, and bring back what we can."
Gareth folded his arms. "And if we find out it's not just bandits?"
Roderic's gaze hardened. "Then we adapt."
The next morning, the Iron Fangs gathered at the eastern gates. Their horses were saddled, supplies packed. The air was crisp, carrying the distant scent of wet earth and pine as the city began to wake. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the calls of traders setting up their stalls rang through the streets.
Alex eyed the horse in front of him. He had never ridden before.
Felix, already mounted, smirked. "Need me to hold your hand?"
Alex shot him a glare. "I'll manage."
"Try not to fall off," Dain added, grinning.
The group set off, the steady thump of hooves against dirt filling the quiet. As they rode, Riverend faded behind them, replaced by open fields and scattered farmsteads. The land stretched endlessly, vast and untamed.
Beyond the farmlands, the terrain shifted. The road narrowed, weaving between hills and dense patches of trees. The Graymarch Forest loomed in the distance.
Roderic spoke as they rode.
"The kingdom is fracturing," he said. "The noble houses are divided. Some want war with Eldain. Some want peace. The Free Cities to the north are threatening to break away."
He glanced at Alex. "That means opportunities for people like us."
Alex said nothing.
A kingdom teetering on the edge of collapse. War approaching from all sides.
And cracks invited chaos.
By the time they reached the merchant caravan's remains, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the road.
The wreckage was brutal. Splintered wagons. Bodies torn apart. The stench of blood and decay thick in the air.
Gareth dismounted first, scanning the scene. "This wasn't just a raid. They wiped everyone out."
Felix crouched beside a corpse, his eyes narrowing. "These wounds… They're precise. This wasn't done by common bandits."
Roderic's jaw tightened. "That means someone wanted this cargo gone."
A rustle.
Rivka returned from scouting ahead, her movements careful. "Tracks lead into the trees."
Roderic nodded. "Then we follow."
The forest was dense, the light dim beneath the thick canopy. They moved in silence, their footsteps muffled by damp earth and fallen leaves.
Then, they saw it.
A camp, hidden among the foliage. Four men sat around a fire, dressed in dark leathers, their weapons within reach.
Roderic's voice was low. "We do this clean. No one gets the chance to call for reinforcements."
Gareth moved first, snapping a man's neck.
Selene vanished into the shadows—then reappeared behind another target, her blade sliding across his throat.
Felix struck next, driving his dagger into a man's ribs.
One left.
Alex lunged, spear in hand.
The man turned, eyes wide—
Alex drove the spear forward, piercing his chest.
He felt it.
The way the weapon slid through flesh.
The way the life drained from the man's eyes.
His breath caught. His grip tightened.
This wasn't like the pits.
This was real.
The abyss whispered.
You chose this.
The man collapsed.
And Alex knew—he had crossed a line he could never return from.
As they searched the camp, Alex felt the weight of what they had just done. The bodies lay motionless around them, their blood soaking into the forest floor, mixing with the scent of damp earth and smoke from the dying fire. The bandits had been too well-equipped for common thieves, their weapons well-maintained, their armor reinforced with more than just leather scraps. These men hadn't been desperate scavengers looking for coin—they had been soldiers of a different kind. And that made everything worse.
Felix knelt beside one of the fallen men, rifling through a satchel. He pulled out a small bundle of papers, bound tightly with twine. His fingers worked quickly to unravel it, his brow furrowing as he scanned the contents.
"Well, this is interesting," he murmured.
Gareth stepped over, looming beside him. "What is it?"
Felix flipped through the pages, his usual smirk absent. "Manifests. Delivery records." He turned the papers over, checking the insignia stamped onto them. His lips pressed into a thin line. "These weapons weren't just stolen—this shipment was meant for a specific destination."
Gareth took one of the documents from Felix, scanning it with a hardened expression. His grip on the parchment tightened. "These shipments weren't meant for Luthadel. They were headed to the Duke's forces."
Alex felt a shift in the air.
Roderic, who had been standing silently, reached for one of the papers. His fingers traced over the inked names, his face unreadable. But his eyes darkened.
"Which means someone is working against him," he said, his voice lower, heavier.
The weight of those words settled over the group.
Rivka frowned. "Could be anyone. Nobles are always looking for ways to weaken each other."
Felix shook his head. "This wasn't just some noble playing politics. Look at the amount of weapons listed. This isn't just a setback—someone wants to cripple the Duke's forces. This shipment alone could have armed a battalion."
Dain crossed his arms, his usual humor absent. "So either someone intercepted this before it reached the Duke's men…"
"Or someone on the inside deliberately rerouted it," Roderic finished.
The implication hung in the air like a blade poised to drop.
If someone inside the Duke's own ranks had orchestrated this, then it meant Riverend's rulers weren't just fighting external threats—they were tearing each other apart from the inside.
Alex clenched his jaw. This wasn't just about recovering stolen goods anymore. This was bigger.
Selene, who had been silent until now, stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "There's a name here."
Everyone turned to her.
She held up one of the documents, pointing to a signature at the bottom. It was hastily scrawled, as if the writer had been in a rush.
Felix leaned in, his eyes widening slightly as he read. "Well, well… Now this is interesting."
Alex looked closer, his stomach twisting as he saw the name.
Captain Valtor.
A name that, according to every mercenary in Riverend, belonged to a man deep within Duke Varian's military ranks.
A man who should have never been dealing with bandits.
Roderic's jaw tightened. He folded the paper carefully and slipped it into his coat. "We bring this to Mira first. If the Duke doesn't know yet, we need to decide how we use this information before handing it over."
Gareth's scowl deepened. "You think Mira already knows?"
Roderic met his gaze. "She always knows something. The question is—how much?"
A tension settled between them, heavy with unspoken warnings.
Alex shifted, glancing down at the bodies one more time. What had seemed like just another job was quickly turning into something else.
This wasn't just banditry.
This was a war waiting to happen.
Suddenly a voice cut through the silence.
"So, you're the ones causing trouble."
They turned.
A group of bandits emerged from the trees. Their leader stood at the front, his eyes glowing with unnatural energy.
Dain swore. "Shit. He's awakened his Essence."
His gaze flicked to Roderic. "He's all yours, boss."
The air grew heavier.
Alex barely had time to react before the forest exploded into battle.
Roderic met the bandit leader head-on, their weapons clashing with a force that sent shockwaves through the ground.
Their Essence flared—one side glowing crimson, the other a deep silver.
Alex watched, stunned.
This…
This was true power.