The sun dipped low over Vel Ryn as Malik, cloaked in his darkened attire, approached the mercenary guildhall. The weight of his recent battle with the Phantom Panther lingered in his muscles, a reminder of the relentless pursuit of strength and the hard-won victory.
Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, he was met with the familiar hum of mercenaries exchanging tales and negotiating contracts. The air was thick with the scent of ale and the crackle of a roaring hearth.
Approaching the mission counter, Malik presented the Panther's distinctive fang as proof of his conquest.
The receptionist, now a sharp-eyed woman with auburn hair, raised an eyebrow. "The Phantom Panther? Impressive. Many have tried; few succeeded."
She handed over a pouch heavy with gold coins. "Your reward, as promised."
Malik nodded, accepting the payment. As he did, the system's familiar interface flickered before his eyes.
[System Notification: 5,000 Gold Received]
[Total Gold: 12,000]
"I'm looking for more… substantial work," Malik said, his voice steady. "Missions suited for a Master- Ranked mercenary."
The receptionist's eyes widened slightly. "Master-Ranked? Here in Vel Ryn, such missions are scarce. You'd be better off in larger cities."
"Which cities?" He asked, unable to hide his curiosity.
"The capital, of course," she replied, "but if you're looking to avoid the capital's scrutiny, Eldarath is your best bet. It's the second-largest city in the empire and offers a plethora of high-ranking missions."
Malik considered this. The capital was too conspicuous for now. Eldarath seemed the wiser choice.
"Your mercenary rank is transferable within the empire," she added, as if reading his thoughts.
"That's good to know, thank you," Malik said, turning to leave and taking one last look at the Vel Ryn Mercenary Hall.
…
Malik moved swiftly along the winding road, leaving Vel Ryn behind him. The Phantom Panther's bounty reward sat comfortably in his system storage, now weighing heavier than before. With his new level and an evolving understanding of his abilities, it was time for a greater challenge.
Vel Ryn was already fading into the distance, its familiar streets and buildings becoming nothing more than silhouettes against the horizon. Malik walked alone, his black robes flowing lightly with every step, his glowing eyes reflecting the dull morning sun. He had chosen to walk at first, allowing himself time to think. The weight of recent battles still lingered in his mind—his confrontation with the Phantom Panther, the betrayal of the Shadowfang mercenaries, the bodies left in his wake. Every battle had brought him one step closer to what he sought, but he knew he was still far from his goal.
Kairo's voice hummed in his mind, breaking the silence. "You seem more focused than usual. Leaving behind some sentimental attachments?"
Malik scoffed, though he understood the meaning behind the dragon's words. He had shared fleeting moments of companionship in Vel Ryn, most notably his heated night with Marithia and the short period spent with her mercenaries, but attachments were a liability. He would not make the mistake of growing complacent.
"Sentimentality is a weakness I can't afford, Kairo. I'm not human anymore—I need to think like the creature that I am."
"And yet, you keep pretending."
Malik didn't answer, but the words lingered.
Pretending. His form, his voice, his demeanor—it was all carefully calculated. The human-like smirks, the casual conversations, even the teasing with Marithia—it was an illusion, a mask to keep others from seeing what lurked beneath. But he couldn't decide whether he was doing it for his goal, or if he still felt some lingering attachment to what he once was.
Malik pushed the thoughts aside.
When he was far enough from the city, he stopped walking. With a deep breath, he let his shifting ability take hold, his body altering as massive black wings sprouted from his back, edged with golden veins that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. With a single powerful push, he shot into the sky, leaving Vel Ryn behind.
...
After a two day's flight, Malik reached the outskirts of Eldarath, the second-largest city in the Solvarian Empire and an immediate contrast to Vel Ryn's modest size. The sheer scale of the city was breathtaking—even for him. From above, the massive stone walls that encircled Eldarath stretched endlessly, reinforced with intricate runic engravings designed to repel large-scale magic attacks.
Unlike Vel Ryn, which had been more of a fortified town, Eldarath was a sprawling metropolis, humming with life and activity. Malik adjusted his descent, shifting his wings away and letting himself drop into an alleyway to retract his invisibility before emerging into the streets.
The moment he stepped into the open, the atmosphere struck him—a place bursting with life, movement, and magic. The streets were lined with grand structures, marble columns supporting high-reaching towers, floating lanterns drifting lazily above cobblestone roads.
Hundreds-of-thousands of people walked the streets, from mercenaries clad in armor, to merchants and nobles adorned in extravagant robes, to mages cloaked in garments that radiated magical energy.
Kairo let out a low whistle of appreciation in his mind. "Now this... this is a real city. I have to admit, it's impressive."
Malik nodded subtly as he observed the towering buildings, the seamless blend of architecture and magic making Eldarath seem almost surreal. Vel Ryn had been a stepping stone—this was the true start of his journey.
His hood concealed his expression, but inside, his mind was racing. The city was far more advanced than his previous world, a testament to just how deeply magic had been integrated into society here.
Magic-infused golem constructs patrolled the streets, their metallic limbs moving with unnatural precision. Floating magical billboards displayed information—wanted bounties, upcoming tournaments, recruitment notices for mercenary guilds. Malik took note of everything, storing it away for later use.
But what intrigued him most was the presence of power.
In Vel Ryn, Master-ranked individuals had been rare—their presence noticeable but not overwhelming. Here, it was different. He could feel them. Their auras hummed subtly through the air—mercenaries, mages, warriors, assassins—all stronger than those he had encountered before.
Kairo picked up on it as well. "You feel it, don't you? The power difference."
Malik's lips curled into a small smirk beneath the darkness of his hood. "It just means I'm in the right place."
As he moved through the crowded streets, he took in the many districts that made up the vast city.
The Merchant District was packed with open-air markets and extravagant storefronts selling enchanted gear, exotic potions, and rare materials. The Arcane Quarter housed several towering spires, where mages gathered to trade knowledge and refine their craft. The Military Ward was home to the city's elite forces, where soldiers and knights trained rigorously under the banners of the Solvarian Empire. And finally, The Mercenary Guildhall, an imposing structure built from reinforced obsidian and adorned with banners of various guilds.
Malik's destination was clear.
The Mercenary Guildhall.
The moment he entered the guildhall, the energy in the air shifted. The guild in Vel Ryn had been functional, but this? This was a true center of power, filled with individuals whose strength could shake cities.
The hall was massive, designed like a grand war chamber. Several floors extended upward, each level dedicated to mercenaries of different ranks. The lower floors were packed with Advanced and Master-ranked mercenaries, some engaged in arm wrestling contests, others gathered in groups discussing contracts. The upper floors, reserved for Master+ and Grandmaster-ranked warriors, exuded an aura of silent dominance.
Malik kept his steps measured, his posture unreadable as he approached the mission board. As he scanned the available contracts, he heard murmurs of whispers behind him.
"Never seen him before."
"That black robe and hood... Who the hell is he?"
"His aura is strange. Feels... off."
Malik ignored them. He was used to drawing attention by now, though this time, it wasn't his face causing the intrigue—it was his presence. He had entered the city without a reputation, but that wouldn't last long.
Just as he reached for a Master-ranked contract, a voice cut through the noise.
"Well, well, a fresh face."
Malik turned his head slightly, his draped hood hiding most of his expression. A large man, covered in steel-plated armor painted with runic enchantments, stood nearby. His grizzled beard and scarred face marked him as a veteran, and from the aura he gave off, he was at least Master-Ranked, if not a full-fledged Master Rank.
"You're new, so let me give you some advice," the man continued, his tone condescending. "Don't go biting off more than you can chew. Advanced-ranked newcomers don't last long here."
Malik tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering beneath his eyes. "Appreciate the concern. But I don't take advice from those weaker than me."
Silence.
Then a low chuckle from Kairo. "Oh, you're really going to start fights already?"
The guildhall had gone deathly quiet, eyes shifting toward them. The armored mercenary's expression darkened as a few others nearby snickered.
"You've got a sharp tongue, rookie." The man cracked his knuckles. "Care to back it up?"
Malik exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. He had no interest in wasting time on fodder. "There's always one."
The tension in the air lingered, thick and expectant, but Malik paid it no mind. The gathered mercenaries had waited for a fight, a spectacle, but he had no interest in entertaining their foolishness.
The man who had challenged him, a seasoned mercenary of Master- rank, stood rigid, his pride visibly stung. Malik had merely dismissed him with one last glance, turning his attention elsewhere, making it clear that he didn't consider him worth the effort.
His cold indifference was more insulting than any words could have been.
And the rest of the guildhall felt it.
He strode away, his black robe shifting like liquid shadow, his hood pulled low to conceal the cosmic eyes pulsing with energy. Conversations resumed behind him, whispers of speculation rippling through the crowd.
He let them talk.
It didn't matter.
What mattered was the next step.
He approached the mission board, scanning the contracts with keen interest. His fingers ghosted over the parchment, reading them with quick precision.
Beast hunts. Guard details. Resource gathering.
Too slow. Too inefficient.
His goal was clear.
He needed to level up—and fast.
"Look for human targets," Kairo murmured in his mind. "Beasts are good, but they take too long. If what we discovered holds true, humans will give you far more experience."
Malik didn't need the reminder.
His fingers stopped on a particular contract.
A large group of rogue mercenaries, once affiliated with a noble house of Eldarath, had gone rogue after their employer's downfall. They had since resorted to banditry, raiding villages, ambushing trade caravans, and murdering innocents on the outskirts of the city's reach.
They were dangerous. Well-trained. Organized.
A perfect target.
[Mission: Eliminate the Crimson Vultures.
Threat Level: Advanced+(Recommended party or Master- Ranked)
Number of Targets: 20+
Reward: 7,500 gold]
Malik took the contract from the board, folding it neatly before making his way back to the receptionist.
The man behind the counter raised a brow as he glanced at the mission. "You're going after these bastards alone?"
Malik placed the parchment down. "Yes."
The receptionist hesitated, watching him for a moment before sighing. "You solo mercenaries really have a death wish."
Malik simply tilted his head slightly, his silence unsettling.
With a shrug, the receptionist stamped the contract, marking it as accepted. "Fine. Your funeral."
Malik took the signed parchment and turned without another word.
He could already feel the eyes on him.
Curiosity. Doubt. Some admiration.
It didn't matter.
He had work to do.