The trees were dying.
Their trunks splintered, roots uprooted, and leaves scattered across the ruined field like torn pages from a forgotten book. In the heart of the devastation stood a lone man, his black cloak fluttering gently in the wind, twin swords gleaming with fresh blood. The storm had passed, but the echoes of violence still lingered.
Baphomet lay dead.
Once a towering monster king that terrorized the outlying villages, the beast now sprawled across the charred earth. Its demonic horns were shattered, massive axe cleaved in two. The eyes that once glowed with bloodlust were now dark holes, pierced cleanly by black steel.
Red breathed steadily, his eyes closed, listening.
No footsteps. No survivors. Just silence.
He sheathed his swords.
The twin blades disappeared into the sheaths on his back, a movement fluid and practiced. They were tools to him, no more sacred than a farmer's plow or a blacksmith's hammer. He didn't name them. He didn't boast.
He simply killed when killing was needed.
By evening, Red had returned to Silverhaven, the capital city of Natharas, its stone towers rising like spears above a sea of flickering lanterns. Aromas of meat skewers and spice bread filled the air as street vendors competed for attention. Soldiers patrolled, nobles flaunted, New adventurers laughed loudly with ale mugs in hand. Swords gleamed under chandeliers.
Red ignored it all.
He made straight for the massive stone structure in the city center — the Adventurer's Guild Hall. A warm golden light poured from its tall windows, revealing crowded tables and chattering guild members within. As he entered, the noise dimmed for a heartbeat.
Red walked through them like a shadow. Eyes turned briefly, then looked away. Few knew him, fewer still dared to speak.
A few heads turned. Whispers followed.
"Is that him...?"
"The Black Sword...?"
He didn't look their way. He moved to the reception desk where a dark-haired woman stood, half-buried in papers.
"You're back early," said Sophia, not looking up. Her curled black hair framed a face carved with fatigue and sharpness in equal measure.
Sophia: "That means one of two things. You failed... or the bastard's dead."
Red: "Baphomet's dead,"
Sophia blinked. She glanced at him. "...Seriously?"
He nodded once.
She sighed, rubbing her temple. "You didn't even take a team, did you?"
Red: "No need."
Red placed a large, cracked horn on the desk. Baphomet's.
Sophia stared at it. Then at him. Then sighed.
Sophia: "God damn it, Red. You took that job solo? Again?"
He said nothing.
Sophia: "You were supposed to wait for a squad. A Mithril-level MVP extermination and you go in like it's a morning jog?"
Red: "Too slow," he replied simply.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Guildmaster's going to have a fit."
She pulled a sealed pouch from behind the counter and slid it across.
Sophia: "Fifteen silver coins. And a personal note that you're not allowed to die until the rookies get their act together."
Red took the pouch without comment and turned.
"Wait," Sophia said sharply.
Sophia: "You didn't take anyone with you, again. You keep this up, you'll run out of time before they can catch up."
He paused at the door.
Red: "Then I'll move faster."
And with that, he stepped back into the night.
The streets were brighter now. The Auction Quarter was alive with light and motion.
Outside, the night air was cooler. The streets buzzed with a different kind of excitement, the Auction Quarter was in full swing.
Carriages with gilded trim rolled past, carrying nobles in velvet cloaks and rich adventurers in glimmering armor. The scent of perfumes and spices filled the air. Curiosity tugged at Red. It wasn't often the upper class gathered in such numbers.
He followed the crowd quietly, until he reached a wide stone plaza lined with red banners and firelight. A slave auction.
His expression didn't change, but his steps slowed.
He hated this place.
Then he saw her.
On a raised wooden platform stood a line of slaves. Some were beaten. Others broken. Most stared at the ground. But one girl looked up.
She was young, perhaps sixteen. Draped in a plain white shift, her long silver hair flowed down her back like moonlight. But it was her eyes that held him.
Silver.
Clear, bright, unyielding. She didn't plead. She didn't beg. She simply stared straight at Red, her gaze steady. Not accusing. Not afraid. Just… expectant. As if she'd been waiting.
"Next," shouted the auctioneer. "Rare silver-haired beauty! Human, well-trained, unspoiled! A gem from the northern markets! Starting bid: one silver!"
"Two!" yelled a nobleman.
"Three silver!" another chimed.
Red stepped forward.
Red: "Ten silver."
The plaza fell into stunned silence.
The auctioneer blinked. "Ten silver going once… going twice—SOLD! To the man in black!"
The nobles muttered. Some cursed. But none challenged the bid.
Red walked to the platform, handed over the coins without ceremony, and placed his cloak gently over the girl's shoulders.
She flinched at first. Then looked up at him. No words. Just that gaze again.
He led her away.
The inn was a cheap one in the outer ring. The kind where rookies and broke mercenaries stayed. The walls were thin, the beds uneven. But it was warm, and it was safe.
Red placed a tray on the small table beside the bed: stew, bread, and water.
The girl sat there silently, still wrapped in his cloak.
Red: "Eat,"
She looked at the food, then at him.
"You… bought me."
"No," he said. "I bought your freedom."
She hesitated. "Is there a difference?"
Red shrugged. "There should be."
She didn't touch the food. "You don't even know me."
Red: "I don't need to."
"Then why?"
He pulled up a chair and sat across from her.
Red: "You looked me in the eye."
The room fell silent again. The only sound was the soft clinking of cutlery from the floor below.
Finally, she spoke. "Selena. My name is Selena."
Red nodded. "How long were you a slave?"
Selena: "Four years."
Red: "You're free now. Rest."
She frowned. "You're just going to leave?"
Red: "Tomorrow morning, I go back to work. Guild quests. Patrols. Same as always. If you're here when I return, we can talk more."
She studied him, searching for deception.
But there was none. Just quiet, grounded truth.
Selena: "You don't want anything from me?"
Red: "No."
He stood, heading toward the door.
Selena: "Wait... If I stay… what then?"
Red stood. "Rest. I'll be gone by morning. If you're still here, we'll talk then."
He didn't expect her to believe him. Not yet.
As he left the room, he glanced over his shoulder.
Selena hadn't moved, but the faintest hint of warmth flickered in her silver eyes.
With that, Red left the room.
Selena sat in silence for a long time, staring at the door.
Then, slowly, she picked up the spoon.
Far above, the stars shimmered over Silverhaven.
In that quiet moment, something subtle shifted.
The sword that had cut legends now sought to forge them.
And the girl with silver eyes had taken her first step into a world that never showed mercy.
A world that Red would teach her to survive.