As G6 waited for Edmund to finish the grisly task of collecting the goblin ears, her attention snapped back to the far more serious problem surrounding them: the unsettling void within the forest itself.
Hmm… What could cause a complete mana dampening? Edmund said before, that the plants, the trees—nature itself—produces mana. It's the foundation of this world's energy.
Based on his reaction, this isn't just unusual; it's supposed to be impossible.
Her analytical mind, so accustomed to solving complex problems, churned in frustration. She was a person who couldn't rest with missing data, and the gnawing mystery of the why and how was a relentless itch she needed to scratch.
Fuck this. Fuck that. Ever since I woke up here, it's been one mystery after another. A problem to solve, a secret to unfold. I've got enough on my plate already.
She mentally tried to shrug it off, to file it away as the kingdom's issue that didn't affect her directly. But the silence—the profound, unnatural lack of sensation where her new instincts screamed there should be energy—was a constant, nagging pull.
With a quiet sigh of irritation, she leaned against the large tree, arms crossed, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm on her bicep. Her gaze, sharp and calculating, scanned the deadened grove once more before landing on Edmund, who was still diligently working.
This would take a while.
"I'm going to scout ahead. I'll be back before you finish," G6 announced, pushing off from the tree.
Edmund paused and looked up at her, his expression lined with immediate concern. "Alright… but please, do not engage with anything you find. Wait for me, Lady Reise."
G6 just held his gaze for a moment, her own eyes unreadable behind their cool exterior. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her form quickly being swallowed by the eerie, silent gloom of the forest.
Leaving Edmund behind, G6 moved deeper into the oppressive silence of the woods. She pulled off her sunglasses, hooking them on her collar, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dappled, lifeless light. The colors were vivid—greens, browns, the flash of a vibrant flower—a perfect, beautiful lie.
Hmm… It looks like a typical forest. Lush, green. No one would ever guess it's empty. Her eyes, now unshielded, scanned the environment with a hunter's precision.
Her habit took over. She knelt, brushing her fingers through the soil. It was rich, damp, and smelled of earth and decay—Nothing unusual. No trace of chemicals or rot. The soil is healthy, but the world's heartbeat is gone.
The source is deeper.
Staying on the ground would get her nowhere. With a thought, she activated her affinity. "Reaper's Ascent." Her feet lifted from the forest floor, and she began to glide between the towering trees, a phantom weaving through the skeletal branches.
<< Perfect Assassin Form: Activated >>
< Perception: Zoom >
Her eyes glowed with that familiar faint, oblong white light. The world sharpened into hyper-focused detail—the grain on bark, the veins on a leaf, the minute movements of insects. She flew with impossible grace, a silent shadow darting through the canopy, her body tilting instinctively to avoid every obstacle without breaking momentum.
She pushed deeper into the heart of the dead zone, the silence growing heavier, more unnatural. And then, she saw it.
A jagged maw of rock and earth yawned open in a hillside. It wasn't a gentle slope or an eroded opening. It was a violent rupture.
Is that a cave? The structure was wrong. It didn't belong. Adjusting her trajectory, she pivoted and descended, landing silently a dozen paces from its entrance.
The darkness within was absolute, a solid wall of black that even her enhanced perception struggled to penetrate. She pushed her skill, the glow in her eyes intensifying, but the gloom seemed to swallow the light. A faint throb began behind her temples—a warning. The mana-restraint earring, combined with this dead forest, was a leash. Forcing her vision further without an external energy source would be draining and reckless. The ring that soothed her fatigue was left at her Utility's private room.
<< Perfect Assassin Form: Deactivated >>
The glow in her eyes faded, and the world returned to its normal, frustrating resolution.
"I must be deep in the woods now," she muttered, a tactical assessment. She glanced back the way she came, mentally tracing her path. "Maybe I wandered too far."
But her attention was pulled back to the anomaly. She approached cautiously, her boots making no sound on the forest floor. She ran a hand over the rock face at the entrance. The edges were sharp, the surfaces raw.
"This makes no sense," she whispered, her voice absorbed by the dense air. She'd seen hundreds of caves in her previous life—from natural sea caverns to man-made bunkers. This wasn't weathered by time or elements. It lacked the slow, patient touch of nature.
The thought had just crystallized when a sound echoed from the pitch-black maw of the cave. It wasn't a rustle. It was the deliberate, grating scrape of something massive and heavy being dragged over stone.
G6 didn't freeze. She flowed. Her body dropped into a low, coiled crouch in a single, fluid motion, hands instinctively finding the hilts of her twin blades. Every one of her senses sharpened to a razor's edge. Adrenaline, that old, familiar friend, flooded her system—not with fear, but with focused, cold anticipation.
The oppressive silence of the dead forest was shattered by the rhythmic, thunderous footsteps of something big emerging. G6 shifted her weight, planting her right foot back into a stable stance—ready to lunge, divert, or evade.
Then, she felt it: a sudden pressure drop, a vacuum pulling at the air inside the cave. Her instincts screamed. "Reaper's Ascent!" She launched herself vertically just as a monstrous, invisible scythe of compressed air—a Wind Blade on a colossal scale—erupted from the entrance. It sliced through the ancient trees where she had stood a heartbeat before, shearing them in half with a sound like a cannon shot. The massive trunks groaned and crashed to the forest floor.
What the fuck? G6 thought, hovering mid-air as sawdust and debris rained down below. That wasn't a spell. That was... artillery.
She descended lightly on the far side of the clearing, landing silently, her eyes locked on the dark entrance. She was no longer just curious; she was a professional assessing a high-value target.
Then, it emerged. A goblin, but warped and magnified into a nightmare. It stood twice her height, its muscles coiled like thick ropes under green skin. In its hands, it wielded a crude but devastatingly large axe, the head of which was nearly the size of G6's entire torso.
"A goblin?" she muttered, a clinical note in her voice. "An evolved variant. A mutation?"
The creature's beady red eyes scanned the clearing and locked onto her. There was no fear there, no simple-minded aggression. Its gaze was intelligent, calculating, and brimming with savage intent.
Shit. My intel is useless. Pisces's trashy light novels never mentioned anything like this. This is a boss-level threat.
Her mind, operating at lightning speed, began its lethal calculus: Size: disadvantage. Strength: obvious disadvantage. Speed: likely disadvantage. Intelligence: unknown. Weapon reach: significant disadvantage. Agility, creativity, and ruthlessness: my advantages.
Instead of fear, a slow, unnerving grin spread across her face. It was the smile of a predator who had just found a challenge worthy of its claws.
"I don't know what's happening," she whispered to herself, her voice laced with a terrifying delight. "But this is getting so much more fun."
The giant goblin—a Hobgoblin, her mind supplied the term from some forgotten briefing—let out a ground-shaking roar that echoed through the dead forest. It hefted its massive axe, the muscles in its arms coiling like pythons.
Instead of charging, G6 remained still, a smirk playing on her lips. Let's see what you've got.
It moved faster than anything that size had a right to. It didn't lumber; it lunged, closing the distance in two thunderous strides. The axe came down in a whistling arc meant to crush her into the dirt.
A normal person would have died. G6 simply wasn't there.
"Reaper's Ascent." She shot straight up, the wind from the axe ruffling her clothes. She landed lightly on the flat of the axe head as it slammed into the earth, using it as a springboard to launch herself at its face, blades aimed for its eyes.
The Hobgoblin's free hand snapped up, faster than she anticipated. It backhanded her through the air like a fly.
SHIT.
The impact was brutal. She crashed through a low-hanging branch, the wood snapping against her back, and landed hard on the ground, the air forced from her lungs in a painful gasp. Pain, sharp and real, flared across her ribs. Fuck. That's going to bruise.
She rolled to her feet, her smirk gone, replaced by a cold, focused glare. Okay. Not just big. Fast and smart too. This is a problem.
She couldn't just overpower it. In a dead zone, with the restraint earring on, her energy wasn't infinite. She couldn't afford to trade blows. Every movement, every spell had to count.
It charged again. This time, she didn't wait. She pushed wind magic into her legs not to fly, but to enhance her speed, blurring to the side. The axe missed her by inches, carving a deep furrow in the soil.
She saw an opening—the inside of its thigh, a major artery. She dashed in, one blade poised to strike.
A guttural chant rumbled from the Hobgoblin's throat. The air around its leg shimmered, and her blade scraped against what felt like solid rock instead of flesh. A defensive earth-shield.
It can use magic too?! No one told me about this! She disengaged instantly, leaping back as its fist hammered down where she'd been standing.
She was breathing heavier now. Not from exhaustion, but from frustration. This thing was a tank. Strong, surprisingly fast, and could cast defensive magic. Her usual tactics—overwhelm with speed and precision—were being neutralized.
She needed an advantage. She needed to get that axe out of its hands.
It swung again, a wide, horizontal sweep meant to cut her in half. An idea, reckless and dangerous, flashed in her mind.
Instead of dodging, she dropped onto her back, letting the axe whistle over her. As the follow-through pulled the Hobgoblin off-balance for a split second, she kicked off the ground, using a tiny burst of Reaper's Ascent to propel herself forward, between its legs.
She slashed both blades deep into the backs of its ankles as she passed through.
The monster roared in agony, stumbling forward. It wasn't a killing blow, but it was a good one. It was slowed. Angry.
She finally got her grin back, wiping a speck of its dark blood from her cheek. The fight was finally getting interesting.
The Hobgoblin, enraged, forced itself to find its balance, enduring the searing pain in its tendons. It put distance between them, hefting its axe high for another devastating overhead swing, its red eyes promising to separate her head from her shoulders.
This fucking monster is really a monster, huh? Time to stop playing.
<< Silent Reaper's Blade: Activated >>
A wide, predatory grin split G6's face, a stark contrast to the cold fury in her eyes. This was no longer a fight; it was an execution.
She raised her twin blades, not with speed, but with an eerie, perfect stillness. She focused every ounce of her will, channeling not just her strength, but all the wind affinity she could muster in the dead zone into her legs and arms. The air around her blades hummed, distorting the light with a deadly resonance.
She thrust the wind down, not to ascend, but to launch. The ground beneath her feet cratered.
In the space of a single, skipped heartbeat, the world seemed to freeze. There was no flash, no roar—only a silent, impossible shift.
One moment, G6 was there. The next, she was behind the Hobgoblin, her blades held low and dripping with thick, dark blood.
The massive axe, still gripped in a fist the size of a boulder, fell to the forest floor with a heavy, dull thud. A fraction of a second later, the Hobgoblin's entire arm followed, severed cleanly at the shoulder. For a moment, the stump was a pale, clean cross-section of muscle and bone before it was utterly obliterated by a violent, pulsing geyser of blood that erupted with enough force to paint the nearby trees crimson.
The Hobgoblin didn't scream. It could only manage a wet, gurgling groan of pure, utter shock, all its immense strength draining away with its lifeblood. Its legs buckled, and it crashed to its knees with a force that shook the earth, its massive frame now pathetic and broken.
G6 turned slowly, her movements languid and unhurried. Her eyes, cold and analytical, locked onto the exposed back of its neck—a wide, vulnerable target.
"It's really frustrating to lose," she said, her voice a soft, conversational monotone that was more terrifying than any shout. "But that's how life is."
She didn't even move. She simply flickered.
Silent Reaper's Blade.
There was no sound. No whistle of a blade, no final roar. The Hobgoblin's head simply… left its shoulders. It tumbled through the air in a macabre arc and landed with a soft, final thump on the moss, its eyes wide with frozen surprise.
For a heartbeat, the headless body remained kneeling, a grotesque statue. Then, the neck—a gaping, raw wound—erupted. It wasn't a spray; it was a torrent, a fountain of hot, coppery-smelling life that arced high into the air before raining down in a thick, warm shower, pattering against the leaves and soaking the soil.
G6 stood in the middle of the crimson rain, not flinching, not disgusted. A slow, deep sense of satisfaction settled over her. The warm blood on her skin wasn't a stain; it was a baptism. The grotesque sight of the twitching body and the vacant stare of the severed head wasn't horrifying; it was a masterpiece. It was a familiar, comforting sight—the only thing in this strange world that had ever made perfect, beautiful sense to her. This was her purpose. This was her art.
_____
Edmund finished the grim task of slicing the last goblin ear, his mind already moving to the next step: disposal. He began dragging the headless bodies into a large pile, a necessary chore to burn them and prevent the corrupted remains from festering and attracting worse things or birthing a new dungeon.
"I wonder what is taking Lady Reise so long to return," he mused aloud, the silence of the dead forest making his voice seem too loud. He sighed, looking at the countless severed heads before stooping to gather them like macabre melons. "How could she do this as if she'd done it a thousand times before?" he muttered to the vacant, green faces.
The scene was absurdly morbid—a royal butler casually conversing with a pile of decapitated heads as if they were a captive audience. "Had she sneaked out on missions back home? My intelligence said she was a reclusive noblewoman, homebound until her arrival at the palace." Nothing about her added up.
To speed the gruesome cleanup, he activated his speed skill, becoming a blur of motion. He was so engrossed in the physical labor and his swirling thoughts about his bizarre mistress that he almost missed the first sign.
The ground suddenly trembled. A deep, thunderous roar—not of an animal, but of a powerful, enraged beast—echoed through the forest, so forceful it shook the leaves and sent birds screeching into the sky. The sound was distant, but it rolled through the trees with palpable menace. It would have been heard clearly in Oak Village.
Edmund froze, the several heads in his arms tumbling to the forest floor with a series of soft, wet thuds. All the blood drained from his face.
Lady Reise!
The thought was a lightning strike of pure, undiluted fear. Decades of field experience screamed at him—that was no ordinary monster. It was something ancient and powerful.
He abandoned the cleanup without a second thought. Mana flared around him as he pushed his speed skill to its absolute limit, no longer conserving energy. He became a streak of motion, dodging trees and leaping over roots, a cold knot of worry tightening in his chest.
He didn't know exactly where she was, only the direction she'd gone. He launched himself into the trees, using the high branches to scout, his enhanced speed making the world a blur. Then he saw it. In a clearing not far ahead, a monstrous Hobgoblin, twice the size of any he'd ever seen, was charging, its massive axe raised high to crush a lone, rosegold-haired figure.
No! He pushed harder, his heart hammering against his ribs. He needed to reach her, to intervene—
But he was too far.
He watched, helpless, as the scene unfolded with brutal, horrifying speed. One moment the creature was whole; the next, its arm and axe were tumbling through the air, severed by a movement too fast for even his eyes to fully track. A violent geyser of blood erupted from the stump.
And then he saw her.
He landed on a branch just in time to see the final act. G6 stood before the kneeling, broken beast. She spoke words he couldn't hear, her tone chillingly calm. Then, in a motion that was less a strike and more an inevitability, the Hobgoblin's head left its shoulders.
The sight that followed was something that would be seared into his memory forever. The fountain of blood that arced into the air. The headless body swaying before collapsing. And her—standing perfectly still in the middle of the crimson rain. She didn't flinch. She didn't wipe the blood splattered across her cheek. She simply… observed. It was the serene, detached gaze of an artist stepping back to admire a finished painting. A masterpiece of absolute carnage.
Edmund felt his blood run cold, a sensation like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He took a sharp, involuntary gulp of air.
This… this is not the work of a noblewoman. This is even more gruesome than the work of a murder. This was the cold, calculated efficiency of a natural disaster given human form. The sheer lack of emotion, the utter embrace of the violence—it was more terrifying than the monster itself. He had pledged his loyalty to a woman he thought was sharp and misunderstood. Now, he understood he had sworn himself to a force of nature, a Reaper in truth, and the world suddenly felt far more dangerous and fragile than it had just moments before.
Edmund gathered his courage, forcing his legs to carry him toward the figure standing in the center of the slaughter. This was not the cold, rational noblewoman he served in the palace. This was something else entirely—a primal force wearing her skin.
He landed softly at the edge of the ravaged clearing.
"Lady Reise," he called. His voice was steady, not a yell or a whisper, but a deliberate, calm address.
G6 looked up at him. It was her usual glare, but framed by spatters of dark blood. Her grey eyes, usually like chips of ice, now seemed to glow with a faint, unsettling light against the crimson stains. The sight made the hairs on the back of Edmund's neck stand on end.
"I accidentally stumbled into their territory," she stated flatly, as if explaining a minor inconvenience.
Edmund's gaze shifted past her, toward the dark maw of the dungeon. But before he could form a question, the earth groaned. The jagged entrance of the cave began to shudder and collapse in on itself, rocks and soil sliding down as if the very structure had been a temporary illusion now losing its power. Within moments, it was gone, leaving only a raw scar on the hillside.
What just happened? G6's thoughts were a silent echo of the collapsing earth.
"It was a dungeon," Edmund said, finally stepping closer to her side, his eyes fixed on the freshly-turned earth.
"It wasn't a cave?"
"No. A true dungeon is a pocket of unstable, concentrated mana given form. They are usually ancient and deep. This one… was not. It was new. And it seems the sole beings sheltering within it, sustaining its existence, were the goblins." He gestured vaguely at the carnage around them. "Which are now… all dead."
G6 just watched him, her expression unreadable. Then, Edmund's attention was caught by a flicker of darkness where the dungeon mouth had been. A single object had been revealed by the collapse.
He moved toward it, his brow furrowed. It was a piece of paper, but it was black as pitch and seemed to absorb the light around it. On its surface, words were scrawled in a substance that glistened a dull, dried red.
"What is it?" G6 asked, coming to stand behind him.
"It… it reminds me of incantations from the oldest texts," Edmund murmured, his voice tight. "This isn't a human language. It's the language of monsters…" He leaned closer, his eyes widening as he deciphered a few chillingly familiar glyphs. "No," he corrected himself, a note of pure horror seeping into his tone. "This is the language of… demons."
G6, utterly unfazed by the distinction, simply said, "Grab it."
"Are you losing your mind, my lady?" Edmund hissed, aghast. "This could be the very source of the mana dampening! And only ranking demons can write and read this! To even touch it could—"
"Then how do you propose we deal with it?" G6 cut him off, her impatience clear.
Edmund looked uncharacteristically helpless. "I… I have lived a long life, but I have never encountered a true ranking demon. Only lesser monsters that have evolved into new, bestial types. The ones who cannot yet speak, let alone read and write this."
G6 clicked her tongue in disdain at his helplessness and reached out to grab the paper herself.
"Lady Reise! Do not be so hasty!" Edmund cried out, lunging to stop her.
But he was a second too late. As her fingers brushed the paper, a drop of blood—from a small, forgotten cut on her hand sustained in the fight—dripped from her finger and landed directly on the incantation.
The effect was instantaneous.
The black paper glowed with a violent, searing light—a mix of electric blue and deep, ominous violet. The force of it made both of them stumble back a step in shock. They watched as the bloody letters on the page seemed to sizzle and burn away, their power fading from a potent crimson to a faint, useless pink before vanishing entirely. The light died, leaving the paper inert.
They stared at each other, a shared confusion passing between them. Then, G6's body jolted slightly.
"It's back," she said simply.
"What is, my lady?"
"The mana. It's back." A slow, almost euphoric smile touched her lips as the tingling sensation flooded her system, erasing her fatigue. "As if a barrier was gone. My body's throwing a party right now."
Their eyes fell back to the now-harmless black paper, the truth dawning on them simultaneously.
The incantation hadn't been a trap; it had been a lock. And her blood, the blood of a Reaper from another world, had been the only key strange and powerful enough to break it. They hadn't just cleared a goblin nest; they had unknowingly dismantled something far more ancient and sinister. And in doing so, G6 had once again proven she was the most unpredictable and dangerous variable in any equation.
They walked out of the forest in a heavy, shared silence, the weight of the black paper in G6's pocket feeling heavier than any weapon. Neither spoke of what had transpired; some truths needed to be processed alone before they could be shared.
Their first stop was the grim cleanup. The boss goblin's massive corpse was set ablaze first, its one ear collected by Edmund as a unique trophy. Next, they turned to the field of smaller bodies. Edmund produced a small, ceramic orb from his dimensional vault—a Sanctum-made incendiary device sold to high-ranking adventurers for precisely this purpose. He activated it and tossed it onto the pile. The flames that erupted were unnaturally hot and efficient, reducing the remains to ash in minutes.
As they reached the forest's edge, the worried faces of the Oak villagers greeted them. A collective wave of relief washed over the crowd as they emerged.
"Thank goodness you're both alright!" Chief Johan exclaimed, rushing forward. His eyes scanned them for injuries. "We were so worried. You were gone for nearly two hours. We even saw smoke rising from the woods."
The concern was palpable. A woman added, "And that terrible roar! It shook the very ground! We feared the worst for you both!"
"We were moments from sending a rider to the guild for reinforcements!" another man cried out. "Thank the gods you're safe, Ms. G6, Sir Eddie!"
Edmund slipped back into his role with ease, offering a reassuring smile. "There is no need for concern. Thank you for your worry. Everything has been taken care of. Oak is safe once more."
His words were met with a burst of cheers and grateful cries. It was then that the villagers noticed the state of their saviors—the spatters of dark blood on Edmund's clothes, and most strikingly, G6's face, which was streaked with dried, flaking blood she hadn't bothered to properly wipe away.
A small boy, no older than six, weaved through the adults. "Big sister!" he chirped, holding out a clean, if slightly worn, towel towards G6. "Here."
G6, who had been standing silently with her arms crossed, looked down at the child. Her gaze was analytical, studying this small, fearless creature. His open smile and tiny stature were a mirror of Lilia's, and something in her chest gave a faint, unfamiliar twinge. She reached out and took the towel.
"Thank you. Though, it's useless now," she stated flatly, the blood long since dried.
"There's a well right there! Come on, let's wipe it!" another child said, and with the uncautious familiarity of youth, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the village well.
G6 allowed herself to be led, a strange sense of deja vu washing over her. Edmund made a move to intervene, but was immediately swept up by Chief Johan and others, dragged toward a bench to formally sign the task completion papers and discuss the details.
Left alone with the children, G6 drew a bucket of water from the well. She dampened the towel and began to clean her face with a soldier's efficient, precise movements—not rough, but not gentle either. It was a task to be completed.
he little boy, Yohan, watched her with wide, admiring eyes. "What's your name, big sister? My name is Yohan!" he said cheerfully.
Tch. Why is he talking to me? Children have a death wish with their trust, she thought, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on her cheek. "G6," she replied, her voice devoid of warmth.
"G6? Sister G6!" Yohan repeated, committing it to memory. "You know, big sister! My father is also an Adventurer. He's a C-Rank!" he announced proudly. "But he's rarely home. His party always goes on long trips. My little sister and I are staying with our grandfather." His proud expression faltered into a slight frown.
G6 finished cleaning her face and leaned back against the stone rim of the well, looking at him. The blood was gone, but the evidence of the fight remained in the form of a scratch on her hand and a darkening bruise on the corner of her lip. "Was your grandfather the Chief?" she asked.
"Yes! How did you know?" Yohan asked, amazed.
"Tch. It's your name," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "So, you hate your father?"
"No!" The boy's response was immediate and fierce. "He's doing it for us. And my father is strong! He's a frontliner, you know." He puffed out his small chest with pride.
G6's eyes flickered. The boy's defiant pride was a stark contrast to the complicated, heavy feelings she held for her own father—a man she respected, feared, and fought to impress, who only sees her as his finest product of tools to carry out the family's legacy.
The moment was broken by Edmund's call. "G6! We're leaving."
She pushed off from the well and began to walk away. After a few steps, she paused and half-turned back to Yohan. "Keep safe, kid. So your father won't worry while he's away." The words were delivered in her same flat, emotionless monotone, but to Yohan, they felt strangely, unexpectedly warm.
Edmund was already holding the reins of their horses. "We must hurry," he whispered urgently as she approached. "It's almost closing time." The unspoken threat of the palace gates being shut for the night hung between them.
They swung up into their saddles in unison, pulling on their long coats to conceal their bloodstained clothes.
"Thank you again, Ms. G6, Sir Eddie! You have our village's eternal gratitude!" Chief Johan called out.
"It was our duty, Chief!" Edmund replied with a final, diplomatic wave.
"Goodbye, big sister G6!" Yohan yelled, waving enthusiastically.
G6 didn't wave back. She merely threw a last, unreadable glance in his direction before snapping her reins. Her horse surged forward, leaving the grateful village and its cheers behind in a cloud of dust. Edmund followed close behind.
They rode hard away from Oak's quiet gratitude, the wind a sharp contrast to the village's warmth. The open road narrowed, soon giving way to the capital's bustling outskirts. The freedom of the wilds was once again exchanged for the crowded, stone-paved streets leading to the palace gates, the final leg of their secret journey home.
As they reached the Capital again, they stowed their horses in the same secluded alley and approached the Guild, a silent understanding passing between them.
"Let's keep the black paper a secret," they said in unison, the words hanging in the air between them. They shared a long, weighted look before turning to enter the building without another word.
The moment they stepped inside, the guild's atmosphere shifted. All eyes were drawn to the two figures who had not bothered to remove their long, dark coats or the hoods that shadowed their faces. In a hall full of armored warriors and leather-clad scouts, they looked less like adventurers and more like ominous specters of death.
They moved straight to the reception desk. Edmund was the first to lower his hood, revealing his face.
Liam let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "So it was just the two of you," he said, his voice laced with relief. "You give off a seriously dangerous aura when you're all covered up like that! What's with the—" His words died in his throat as his eyes landed on Edmund's shirt, now clearly visible. The pristine white fabric was spattered and smeared with dark, dried blood.
"Here," Edmund said, cutting off the unasked question. He handed over the task poster, now signed by Chief Johan. "And here." He then placed five heavy, lumpy bags onto the counter with a solid thump.
Liam's eyes widened. "What is this?" he asked, his voice a mixture of shock and dread as he peeked inside one bag, confirming his fears.
"It seems there was a significant irregularity," Edmund explained calmly. "We located a horde of nearly two hundred goblins in Oak, which should be impossible for a village so close to the capital. We also found a newly formed dungeon, likely sustained by their presence. It has been dealt with."
"Well... I figured something was wrong with the request," Liam stammered, "but not to this extent. It was the right call to send you two. But... I still find it hard to believe you finished this many without serious injury."
"Say that after seeing this," Edmund said. He carefully unfolded a separate cloth to reveal the Hobgoblin's massive, distinct ear.
Liam's jaw went slack. "This... this is from an evolved goblin! A newtype demon!" he exclaimed, his voice rising enough to draw more stares from the hall. "Who defeated this?"
"I did."
G6's voice was a flat, cold drone from the side of the counter where she leaned, her hood and sunglasses still firmly in place, her arms crossed. She was a silhouette of concealed danger.
"You... did?" Liam asked, incredulous. "How? Most of the time, only a member of a party of nobles or one of the veteran knights can take down a newtype demon alone..."
"Stop pressing. You're irritating me. Process it now; we're in a hurry," G6 cut him off, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Please, Liam," Edmund interjected smoothly.
Liam sighed, defeated, and gathered the bags and the evidence to take to the back for processing and payment.
"Are we getting money?" G6 asked, her pragmatic focus cutting through the tension.
"Yes, my—G6," Edmund confirmed, catching himself.
"Good. We can fund ourselves without dipping into our official allowance." G6 was already thinking three steps ahead, planning for future excursions.
Tch. This is like a secret operational fund. A burn account.
"Look who it is!" a familiar voice called out.
G6 turned her head slightly toward the sound. It was Sebastian, his party just returning from their own mission, filtering into the guild hall.
"G6!" Sebastian called, a warm smile on his face as he approached. His companions—Xena, Dante, and Nick—hung back, watching their captain's uncharacteristic eagerness with amused interest. "Where did you complete your task?" he asked.
"Fuck off," G6 stated coldly, not even bothering to face him fully.
"Captain, how did you even know it was G6? She's completely covered," Nick teased, unable to resist.
"Ohhh, could it be an instinct of someone in love?" Xena added, fanning the flames with a wide grin.
Sebastian's confident demeanor cracked into one of flustered embarrassment, a blush creeping up his neck. "D-don't say crazy stuff! You're embarrassing me!" he retorted, shooting a glare at his snickering team.
"Forgive them, G6. They're just—" he began, turning back to her.
"I said fuck off," G6 repeated, this time turning her head. Even through the dark tint of her sunglasses, Sebastian, a fellow A-rank, could feel the deadly, venomous glare aimed directly at him. It was a palpable pressure that wiped the smile from his face.
"It seems you are exhausted from your task," he said, his tone shifting to one of genuine, if awkward, concern. "Don't push yourself too hard. I heard you just got back." He offered a softer smile, his dark brown hair and deep black eyes making the expression seem tender to anyone else. To G6, it was just another layer of annoyance.
"Eddie," G6 called, her voice a clear dismissal.
"You're quite right, Sebastian," Edmund said, stepping in with his practiced, diplomatic charm. "Could you be so kind as to give her some space? She's rather tired, truly."
"Of course!" Sebastian agreed, not a hint of offense on his face, only understanding. "G6, I'll talk to you again when you're feeling better," he said with a final, persistent smile before leading his slightly disappointed team to a nearby table to wait their turn at the counter.
G6 didn't answer. Her silence was the final, impenetrable wall.
A short while later, Liam returned from the back room. He slid a small, heavy pouch across the counter to Edmund.
"Here is the reward for the completed task. Five gold and two silver pieces. The guild has taken its small percentage for processing, as per standard."
Edmund took the pouch, but G6's hand shot out, intercepting it. She hefted the pouch, the coins inside clinking together with a solid, satisfying weight. She pulled the drawstring open and peered inside.
For the first time since entering the guild, her cold, impassive facade cracked. Behind her sunglasses, her eyebrows lifted slightly.
Five gold? For a few minutes of work? In her old world, a high-profile hit might pay in millions, but the value was abstract, digital. This was different. This was tangible, heavy, real wealth. This single pouch could likely feed a common family for a year. A slow, calculating smirk touched her lips. The risks of this new profession were becoming increasingly... worthwhile.
G6 closed the drawstring on the pouch, the satisfying weight of five gold and two silver coins a tangible reward for the afternoon's carnage. She tucked it into an inner pocket of her coat without a word, a silent signal to Edmund that it was time to go.
They turned from the counter, two dark figures moving through the bustling guild hall toward the exit. As they passed the table where Sebastian's team was waiting, his voice cut through the noise, cheerful and undeterred.
"Take care, you two! See you around, G6!"
G6 didn't break her stride. She didn't turn her head. She didn't acknowledge him in any way. It was as if his words had simply evaporated into the air before they could reach her. She pushed through the guild's heavy doors and stepped out into the late afternoon light, leaving the sound and the sentiment behind.
Sebastian watched her go, the faint, good-natured smile still on his face even as his team erupted in quiet laughter behind him.
"Wow, Captain. She really, really doesn't like you," Xena chuckled, sipping her drink.
"Shut up," Sebastian muttered, though his tone held no real anger. He shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the door that had just closed. "She's just... focused."
His team exchanged another round of knowing glances. Their captain was many things—a skilled warrior, a good leader—but he was clearly a hopelessly captivated man. And the object of his fascination was an ice-cold fortress with no apparent drawbridge.
Outside, the cool air hit G6's face. The encounter was already forgotten, filed away as an irrelevant nuisance. Her mind was already on the next steps: getting back to the palace, laundering the bloodstained clothes, and figuring out what the hell a demonic incantation was doing in a forest just outside the capital.
Two figures melted back into the city's flow, their mission complete but their purpose newly complicated.
The gold was a pittance compared to the real treasure: the demonic incantation now burning a hole in her pocket, its power silenced by a single drop of her blood. A chilling question now haunted the shadows behind her cold eyes—was her blood a key that could lock away darkness, or was it the very catalyst of a catastrophe waiting to be born?
— To be continued… —