On the far side of the kingdom, Fouad scaled the wall with practiced speed. He vaulted over the edge-only to land hard, headfirst.

  Blood spilled across the stone.

  "Damn... that's deep," he muttered, clutching his skull.

  Then-silence.

  The bleeding stopped.

  Fouad blinked, stunned. He touched his temple.

  "That's... strange.

  I feel something.

  A power."

  He examined his hand, then his wound.

  "Gone. Completely."

  He moved cautiously through the shadows, the old huts looming around him. Fog clung to the ground. The air was thick with rot and silence.

  Infected figures stood scattered across the alleys-motionless, twitching.

  Fouad whispered.

  "This is worse than I imagined.

  I thought Aurik was grim...

  But this?

  This is hell."

  Bodies littered the streets-soldiers of Leona, infected civilians. Some thrashed in nets, snarling like beasts.

  Fouad scanned the scene.

  "They're monsters.

  But the soldiers are still fighting.

  That's something.

  The storm makes it worse...

  But they haven't given up."

  He pressed forward toward the palace.

  A soldier spotted him.

  "You! Who are you? Thief!"

  Fouad vanished into the shadows.

  "Damn..."

  He watched from concealment as the guard paced.

  "Infected... and now thieves?

  Someone's behind this.

  I need to report to the commander."

  The guard rushed off.

  Fouad emerged again.

  "So they know.

  They suspect someone triggered this.

  And the commander's still active.

  That means Prince Lucas placed his trust in the right people.

  I need to reach him."

  He continued toward the palace, snow falling around him. The cold bit at his skin.

  Then-danger.

  A chill deeper than frost crept into his bones.

  He ducked into a narrow alley between crumbling huts.

  A massive gate creaked open.

  From within, a figure emerged-shrouded in darkness. The ground cracked beneath his feet. The ancient stone of Leona trembled.

  Fouad's eyes snapped open.

  He gripped his dagger-Mercury-tight.

  Its blade pulsed.

  Rejecting the presence.

  Warning him.

  The Black Accord — When Power Forgot to Wait

  Macferdin stood atop the shattered ridge, overlooking the ruins of Leona.

  "So this is the kingdom of the foolish prince...

  I can't believe he fell for Azalor's amateur trap."

  He laughed—loud, booming, cruel.

  Behind him, members of the Black Order emerged from the shadows.

  Macferdin raised a strange, circular gem in his hand—dark violet, pulsing with unstable energy.

  "Spread out.

  We'll claim this pathetic kingdom swiftly.

  I'll show Azalor what real invasion looks like.

  I'll do what Dais failed to do in Aurik."

  An infected figure stumbled toward him.

  Macferdin raised his weapon—a staff forged from obsidian and violet crystal, its blade lined with jagged runes and glowing gems.

  A dark blue aura flared around him, edged with sharp, spectral limbs.

  He whispered, smiling.

  "Disappear."

  The infected vanished—erased.

  Fouad, hidden nearby, watched in stunned silence.

  Macferdin turned to his soldiers.

  "We'll build a proper army from these creatures.

  I hate to praise Azalor...

  But these fools are useful.

  This planet will burn.

  And the boy with the Green Comet...

  I feel him.

  He's close."

  The troops scattered.

  "Gather as many as you can."

  Then—a massive gate creaked open.

  A figure stepped through.

  Macferdin grinned.

  "Azalor!

  You came to witness what I'll do here?"

  Azalor's voice was calm, but cold.

  "Great Macferdin...

  You're interfering with my plans for this kingdom."

  Macferdin scoffed.

  "Interfering?

  You're taking too long.

  I won't hear another failure like Dais."

  "That was—"

  Macferdin slammed his staff into the ground.

  A violet shockwave erupted, scattering snow and wind.

  Azalor countered, striking the earth with his own staff. A shield of dark magic rose around him, swirling with black mist.

  Macferdin smiled.

  "Whoever destroys this world first... earns the glory.

  I don't care about your plans.

  Or Dais's.

  I'll break everything—fast."

  Azalor's voice sharpened.

  "I want that too.

  But I won't repeat Daicer's mistake.

  We lost too many soldiers.

  We lost Daicer himself.

  Because of reckless war."

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Macferdin pointed his weapon.

  A massive, terrifying aura surged around him—his staff pulsing with raw, violet power.

  "We sent weaklings."

  Azalor's face darkened.

  "The people of this world are not ordinary, Macferdin.

  They're different.

  Not like the others we've conquered."

  Macferdin laughed.

  "Is that so?

  I came to see for myself."

  Azalor's voice dropped.

  "Then see.

  And beware...

  The Red Mist."

  Macferdin's eyes gleamed.

  "They've come?

  Hahaha!

  After I crushed them on Elpha?

  After I slaughtered three of their commanders?

  They dare return?"

  Another gate opened.

  A figure stepped out—massive, cloaked in black, wielding a weapon like a soul-harvester.

  Azalor's eyes widened.

  "Valon..."

  Macferdin's smile turned cold.

  Valon stepped forward.

  "Azalor...

  It's been a long time."

  Azalor's voice was quiet.

  "Dais and I were clear at the Black Mountain.

  This world is ours.

  You're violating the Accord."

  Valon smiled.

  "We came to help, Azalor."

  Azalor's expression shifted.

  Macferdin chuckled.

  "We're done with Elpha.

  We're here to finish what Dais couldn't.

  If you truly want this world destroyed...

  You'll have to remove me first."

  Azalor's aura exploded—dark magic surging from his body.

  Macferdin struck the ground again, his violet flame colliding with Azalor's shadow.

  Valon raised his left hand, weapon in his right, and vanished—reappearing between them.

  "Enough.

  Whoever destroys this world first... wins.

  Fighting here solves nothing.

  You know why we came.

  You know what we want."

  Azalor pointed his staff at Macferdin's gem.

  "That artifact...

  If used incorrectly...

  It could destroy everything we've built."

  Macferdin laughed as snow fell and wind howled. Pieces of the old huts crumbled around them.

  "I know."

  Azalor turned. A portal opened.

  He paused.

  "You won't take everything for yourself."

  Valon raised an eyebrow.

  "Is that a threat?"

  Azalor stepped through the portal.

  "Call it what you like."

  His voice faded. The gate closed.

  Macferdin turned to Valon.

  "Let's visit the foolish princess.

  You've done well."

  Valon nodded.

  "Yes...

  We've done exactly what we came to do."

  The Guild of Blades

  I stepped into the Mercenary Guild.

  The air was thick with tension and sweat. Warriors lounged at tables, sharpening blades, exchanging coin, or simply watching. Some stared at me with curiosity. Others smirked. Most didn't care.

  I walked toward the reception desk.

  A woman stood behind it, organizing scrolls with sharp, deliberate movements.

  "Ahem... Miss," I began.

  She didn't look up.

  "Miss?" she scoffed. "Are you mocking me? Trying to make me a joke? I'm Razan. You can call me that, stranger."

  "I'm honored to meet you, Razan," I said calmly. "I'm—"

  "Honored?" she interrupted. "What are you, a lost princess? Or just another delusional brat?"

  My voice dropped cold. "Will you shut up and listen, you idiot?"

  The room fell silent.

  Razan's eyes flared. "Did you just insult me, you lunatic?"

  Footsteps thundered from the upper floor.

  Someone whispered, "She's finished. He's coming."

  Another muttered, "She walked into her own funeral."

  Then he appeared.

  A mountain of a man.

  Armor dented, scarred. Face carved with old wounds. Eyes like stone.

  Razan pointed at me. "Jalmoud, she insulted me!"

  His voice was low, heavy. "You dare strike my sister, you little insect?"

  I raised an eyebrow. "Insect? Look at yourself. You resemble one of the city's pillars."

  Gasps echoed.

  Jalmoud's fist clenched.

  "She started it," I said. "I spoke with respect. She mocked me."

  Jalmoud roared and slammed his fist into the wooden floor, splintering it.

  I leapt back, heart pounding.

  "I'll call the guards!" I shouted.

  Razan laughed. "Guards? You think this is the royal palace, princess? You're in the dirt now."

  I raised my hands.

  Green energy swirled around my fingers, toxic and sharp.

  "Don't push me," I warned. "I don't control this power well. I might kill you."

  The crowd erupted.

  "Fight! Fight!"

  "Are you all insane?" I snapped.

  Jalmoud charged.

  I released a burst of venomous magic—direct to his chest.

  He collapsed.

  Razan screamed. "Brother! No!"

  Gasps filled the hall.

  She rushed to him, cradling his unconscious body.

  "You monster! Why are you even here? You're a sorceress—go to the Mage Guild!"

  "He's fine," I said. "It's a sleep spell. He'll wake up soon. Now will you listen?"

  Razan trembled. "What do you want, you lunatic?"

  "I want a mission."

  "A mission?" she blinked. "Why didn't you just pick one from the board? Why come to me? Is this some twisted prank?"

  "It's my first day in the city," I said. "I didn't know the rules."

  Jalmoud groaned, stirring.

  Razan sighed. "Fine. Come with me."

  I followed her past the reception, deeper into the guild.

  "There are standard missions," she explained. "Veteran contracts. Rare assignments. And group quests—dangerous ones. If you're going solo, stick to the basics."

  "I understand," I said. "I'll take this one."

  I pointed to a scroll.

  "Retrieve the teeth of giant frogs?"

  "Do frogs even have teeth?"

  Razan rolled her eyes. "Don't be na?ve. They're out near the outer walls—swamps and wild ponds. And yes, they bite."

  The Marsh and the Red Knight

  Rose nodded to herself, eyes scanning the mission scroll.

  "Well... this sounds exciting."

  Razan watched her leave, arms crossed.

  Jalmoud chuckled from his seat, voice like gravel. "She passed the test. She's strong."

  Razan smirked. "Strong? I saw a frail girl with bruises and torn robes. That's why I tested her."

  "She's a sorceress, then?"

  "She came here to earn coin. Wants a Flak Card."

  "Reasonable."

  The guild buzzed with activity—mercenaries negotiating contracts, forming teams, preparing for dangerous missions. Maps were spread across tables. Blades were sharpened. Magic pulsed in the air.

  Outside, Rose walked through the city's edge, holding the scroll.

  "Fourteen teeth from giant frogs... and the reward is... two coins?"

  She frowned.

  "That's absurd."

  She took a deep breath.

  "Uncle Mulham did warn me."

  She reached the marshes—far from the homes and towers of Aurik. The air was thick, damp. The ground squelched beneath her boots.

  "Where is this frog?"

  Then she saw it.

  A strange foam bubbling in the water.

  "Is someone drowning?"

  Suddenly, the surface exploded.

  A massive frog emerged, eyes glowing, limbs thick as tree trunks.

  Rose tilted her head slowly. "Hello... Mister Froggy."

  The frog croaked.

  Rose screamed and ran.

  The frog chased her, leaping with terrifying speed.

  She laughed as she dodged, adrenaline surging.

  Then—

  A knight in gleaming armor descended from the ridge.

  With a single strike, he slashed the frog's throat.

  Rose froze.

  "You?! Why did you kill it? That was mine!"

  "I thought you were in danger," the knight said. "I meant to help."

  "You underestimated me?"

  The knight knelt, placing his sword on the ground.

  "I apologize, miss. I offer my honor."

  Rose raised her hands. "Wait, wait—no need for all that. It's just a frog. And what's with the terrifying armor? You're not here to collect frog teeth, are you?"

  "I am the Red Knight! Slayer of evil! Defender of the innocent!"

  Rose stared at him.

  "...You wore that to hunt frogs?"

  "You insult my honor!"

  "You're a pampered boy."

  The knight flinched. "That's... disappointing. I thought I'd rescued a princess."

  "Can you stop being ridiculous?"

  She plucked the first tooth from the frog's corpse and walked toward another.

  "That tooth is mine!" he shouted. "Property of the Red Knight!"

  Rose didn't turn. "Shut up."

  She hunted through the marshes, collecting teeth and skins. The frogs were vicious, but her magic was precise. She skinned them carefully—perhaps the leather could be sold.

  She returned to the guild, arms full of loot.

  Everyone stared.

  Razan raised an eyebrow. "You came back? I didn't expect much from you, sorceress."

  Rose dropped the bag of teeth on the counter.

  "Here. Just give me the coin. I don't want to talk. You're annoying."

  Razan scoffed. "You're insane, girl."

  She handed Rose two coins.

  Rose took them without a word.

  Rose stepped out of the guild, clutching the coins in her hand.

  She grinned, then shouted into the street, voice echoing between the stone walls:

  "Finally! My first successful mission! My first coin earned with sweat and magic!"

  Her stomach growled.

  Drool slipped from the corner of her mouth.

  "I'm going to Uncle Mulham. I want food. And this time... I'm paying with my own money."

  She walked with pride through the winding streets of Aurik, her boots still damp from the marshes. The city was alive—vendors shouting, mages casting minor spells, children darting between carts.

  Then she saw it.

  A leatherworking shop.

  It was fully equipped—racks of hides, enchanted tools, and a forge glowing faintly with runes.

  She stepped inside, carrying the frog skins.

  The merchant blinked, startled. "Miss? What do you want? Don't tell me you're here to sell... those?"

  Rose paused. "Why not? They're skins. You work with skins, don't you?"

  Customers turned, whispering.

  The merchant sighed. "No, miss. We don't need those. Try the scrap shop down the lane. They'll take them."

  Rose nodded and left, searching for the shop.

  She spotted a guard standing near a fountain.

  "Excuse me," she asked. "Where's the scrap shop?"

  The guard raised an eyebrow. "End of the road, left side. You new here? Show me your Flak Card."

  Rose's face shifted.

  She remembered Uncle Mulham's warning.

  "I... left it at home."

  The guard exhaled. "Fine. Just don't cause trouble. And that skin? It's cheap. You sure you want to sell it?"

  "Absolutely."

  She walked on, determined.

  The scrap shop was dimly lit, cluttered with oddities—broken tools, faded scrolls, and jars filled with strange powders.

  She placed the frog skins on the counter.

  An old man emerged from the back, eyes twinkling.

  "Thank you, miss. Here you go."

  He handed her a single coin.

  Rose blinked. "One coin?"

  The old man chuckled. "You're new, aren't you? That leather's not rare. Can't make clothes from it. We sell it... some folks like to eat it."

  Rose recoiled. "Eat it? That's disgusting!"

  The old man laughed. "What can I say? If there's demand, we sell. That's trade."

  Rose sighed. "You're right."

  He leaned closer. "Bring me something rare next time. I'll pay you properly."

  Rose nodded. "Thanks."

  She turned and walked toward the Emerald Inn, the coin warm in her palm.

  Her first earnings.

  Her first step.