The next evening, under the amber glow of the inn's lanterns, the two beauties led Zairon to a quiet corner table where two new figures were waiting.
One was a woman in sleek black armor with sharp eyes and silver hair that cascaded over one shoulder. Her movements were silent, calculated—an assassin without doubt. Beside her sat a tall, ethereal woman with crackling blue energy dancing faintly along her fingers—her presence was like a brewing storm. She had striking violet eyes and a stare that could kill or enchant.
"Zairon, meet the rest of your harem—I mean, team," one of the original girls teased with a smirk.
Zairon chuckled, placing a hand to his chest dramatically.
"I'm honored. Four queens in my party? The world should prepare for a disaster of beauty and power."
The storm mage raised a brow, lips curling into a faint smile.
"Flirty, aren't you?"
"Always," Zairon grinned. "But sincere too. I admire strength—and you four? You make this city seem too small."
He pulled out the mission scroll and laid it on the table.
"Now, business. Crimson Fang Syndicate. Not just some street gang—this one's layered. Varn Drask is an S-rank monster, and he's protected by at least fifty A and B ranks. It'll be a war inside the city."
The silver-haired assassin leaned in, scanning the parchment.
"And you're giving up your share of the reward?"
"Gold?" Zairon shrugged. "I have enough. What I don't have…" he looked at each of them in turn, "is the thrill of fighting with companions I trust. Companionship, friendship, shared bloodshed and laughter—that's the treasure I'm looking for."
That earned a brief silence—followed by a small chuckle from the storm mage.
"You're insane," she said, "but I like it."
"Then let's go make history," Zairon said, raising his glass.
"To four powerful queens and one bold bastard—our first conquest together."
Glasses clinked. The bond was formed.
Now the Crimson Fang would feel the wrath of chaos and elegance entwined.