Risa led Lynn through the winding streets of the village, the night air cool against his skin. The Iron Vultures, she had said.
Mercenaries. Opportunists. Survivors. He had no particular attachment to groups like these, but for now, they were a means to an end.
They arrived at a large wooden hall near the village's edge. A worn banner, depicting a black vulture with its wings spread wide, hung above the entrance.
The sound of clinking mugs and hushed conversation spilled out as Risa pushed open the heavy door.
Inside, a group of rough-looking individuals lounged around a long wooden table. Some cleaned their weapons, others played dice, and a few simply drank in silence. All of them, however, radiated a presence that marked them as killers.
Risa clapped her hands together. "Listen up, boys. Got us a new recruit."
Several heads turned. A man sharpening a dagger near the fire snorted. "Another stray you picked up, Risa?"
She smirked. "You'll like this one, Flint. He's got some brains, which is more than I can say for most of you."
Lynn remained quiet, taking in the group. It was clear there was a hierarchy here—unspoken, but present. Risa held a strong position, and Flint, with his scarred hands and bored expression, seemed to be another high-ranking member.
A large man at the end of the table leaned forward, his heavy gauntlets resting on the wood. "Name?"
Lynn tilted his head. "Call me Ash."
Risa shot him a side glance but didn't press the alias. It was a smart move—no need to use his real name among mercenaries.
The man grunted. "Garrick. I run things when Risa's not around." His dark eyes studied Lynn. "You any good with a blade?"
Lynn smirked. "I get by."
Flint scoffed. "That right? We'll see soon enough."
Risa ignored the skepticism. "We've got a job to prepare for. Red Wolf and his bandits. We move at dawn, so gear up."
Garrick nodded. "Everyone, check supplies. Flint, go over the map again. Risa, you handle the new guy."
The group dispersed, each mercenary moving with practiced ease. Lynn followed Risa as she grabbed a leather satchel from a nearby chest.
"You're lucky," she said, tossing him a whetstone and a fresh set of armor straps. "If you prove useful, you might actually survive this job."
Lynn took the items with a smirk. "And if I don't?"
Risa shrugged. "Then I get to loot your corpse."
Lynn chuckled. He liked her already.
____
The Iron Vultures spent the night making final preparations. The large hall was filled with the sound of sharpening steel, low murmurs over maps, and the occasional burst of laughter from those too seasoned to let nerves get to them.
Lynn sat near the fire, methodically honing the edge of a borrowed short sword. The blade was decent nothing fancy, but it would do.
Across from him, Risa leaned against a table, cleaning her crossbow with practiced ease.
"Don't expect much sleep tonight," she said without looking up.
"Wasn't planning on it." Lynn turned the whetstone over in his hands. "What's the plan?"
Risa tossed a small roll of parchment onto the table. "Flint scouted earlier. Red Wolf's camp is deeper in the forest than we thought, but we've confirmed its location. It's heavily guarded, traps set along the perimeter, and he's got about two dozen men."
Lynn arched a brow. "And we're walking into that?"
She grinned. "Walking? No. Burning, maybe."
Lynn glanced at the map. Several entry points had been marked, along with a rough sketch of the bandit camp. "You plan to smoke them out?"
"Something like that. Garrick's taking the main force straight through the front. Classic brute force approach. I'll be leading a smaller team. Flint, you, and two other sneaking in from the east. Our job is to take out their sentries and kill Red Wolf before he can run."
"Simple enough," Lynn murmured.
"Simple doesn't mean easy," Risa corrected. "Red Wolf used to be a knight. He's not just some idiot in armor. He knows we're coming. That's why we hit at dawn."
Lynn set down his blade and leaned back. "And what happens after? We kill him, job's done, and we all go our separate ways?"
Risa gave him a knowing smirk. "You tell me, Ark. You planning to stick around?"
Lynn chuckled. "Haven't decided yet."
She pushed off the table. "Well, live through tomorrow, and you might just like being a Vulture."
With that, she walked off to finish her preparations, leaving Lynn alone with his thoughts.
Dawn came cold and gray, mist curling between the trees as the Iron Vultures moved into position.
Lynn crouched behind a fallen log, his breath steady, fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. Beside him, Flint checked his throwing knives, his usual smirk replaced by quiet focus. Risa knelt ahead, her crossbow loaded, scanning the treeline.
The other two mercenaries named Cole and Marren waited silently, bows in hand.
Through the trees, the distant glow of a campfire marked their target.
Lynn's pulse remained calm. Seven days until his body would regenerate. If he does die here , there was no chance of revival.. But he had to admit there was a certain thrill in the hunt.
The forest was deathly silent, save for the rustling of leaves as the Iron Vultures moved into position. From the west, Garrick and the main force crept toward the camp, waiting for the signal to charge. Meanwhile, Lynn, Risa, Flint, and the others stayed low, circling toward the eastern perimeter.
Lynn crouched behind a thick tree, eyes locked on the nearest sentry. The man stood idly, leaning against a post with a spear in hand, his gaze flickering toward the campfire where his comrades sat.
Risa signaled with two fingers. Silent kill.
Flint moved first, vanishing into the shadows like a wraith. A heartbeat later, the sentry stiffened, a knife embedded in his throat. Flint caught him before he could collapse, lowering him silently to the ground.
One down.
Lynn followed Risa deeper into the camp, weaving between the scattered wooden barricades and half-built shelters. The air smelled of sweat, damp earth, and the faint, acrid scent of old blood.
At the center of the camp, Red Wolf's tent loomed, larger than the others. A few men sat near the fire, laughing over drinks.
Risa leaned in, whispering, xFlint, take the left. Marren, Cole, cover us. Lynn, you're with me."
Lynn gave a slight nod. They advanced, slipping through the camp like ghosts.
Then-
A twig snapped.
Every head turned toward the noise.
Flint cursed under his breath. One of the bandits, half-drunk but not stupid, rose from his seat, hand reaching for his blade.
Lynn didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, slamming his sword through the man's gut before he could raise the alarm.
"INTRUDERS!", Another bandit shouted, staggering back and grabbing for his weapon.
So much for subtlety.
Risa fired her crossbow, the bolt sinking into the man's chest before he could scream again.
The camp erupted into chaos.
From the west, Garrick and the rest of the Iron Vultures stormed in, cutting through the bandits like a wave of steel. Shouts and clashing weapons filled the air.
Lynn moved fast, weaving between enemies, cutting down those who got too close. His movements were precise, calculated. He didn't fight with desperation, nor fear. He fought knowing death was temporary.
But for them?
It was permanent.
A roar split the air.
From the largest tent, a man emerged. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in worn but well-maintained armor. A massive greatsword rested on his shoulder. His eyes burned with fury beneath a wolf-shaped helm.
Red Wolf.
"You mercenary scum think you can take my head?" His voice was deep, filled with raw confidence. "Come and try."
The remaining bandits rallied to him, forming a tight defensive line. This was no ordinary gang leader. He was a warrior.
Risa clicked her tongue. "Lynn, with me. Flint, circle around. Garrick will keep the others busy."
Lynn rolled his shoulders, smirking. This just got interesting.
With his sword in hand, he charged.