Chapter 2: Half-Assed Origins
The rain hadn't stopped.
Aza walked down the alley, soaking wet, muttering something about his unpaid bills and soggy burritos. Neon lights shimmered off puddles, and somewhere above, a dragon belched fire onto an unlucky billboard.
He sighed.
"I swear, if this 'fate of the city' thing doesn't involve food, I'm walking."
He turned a corner and stopped at a flickering sign that read "Guild of Professional Mercenaries — No Refunds."
The doors slid open with a groan. Inside, the air smelled like alcohol, gun oil, and bad decisions.
Mercenaries filled the hall — elves polishing sniper rifles, goblins playing cards with grenades, a dwarf arguing with a vending machine. And in the middle of all that chaos stood a counter, behind which sat Mira, the guild's receptionist. She was a half-angel, half-coffee-addict, and the only person who still tolerated Aza.
"You're late again," Mira said without looking up from her paperwork.
"Fashionably," Aza replied, dripping water all over the floor.
"You also blew up another alley."
"I call that environmental renovation."
She gave him the kind of look that could kill small animals.
"Your payment's been deducted for damages."
"Wait, what?! I saved the city from gangsters!"
"You also destroyed three rune lamps, one food stall, and a man's pet slime."
"Okay, first of all, that slime attacked me. And second, it was ugly."
She tossed him a small pouch of coins. It jingled pathetically.
"What is this, pocket change?"
"It's all that's left after we paid for your mess."
Aza pouted. "At this rate, I'll have to start robbing people for free."
He was halfway through counting his miserable earnings when Mira said,
"Oh, by the way — someone requested your personal file."
"Really? Finally, my fan club's growing."
"No. It's from them."
The word hung heavy.
Even Aza froze for a second.
"The High Guild?" he asked.
"Yup. They said they want to know how 'the most unpredictable mercenary in Velaris' came to be.'"
"Oh no…" he groaned. "They want my origin story, don't they?"
"Pretty much."
"Do I look like a tragic backstory kind of guy?!"
"No," she said flatly. "You look like an accident that learned kung fu."
---
Ten Years Earlier…
The desert town of Drifthaven was hot, poor, and full of idiots.
One of those idiots was teenage Aza — a janitor at the local assassin academy.
He wasn't a student, oh no. He just mopped the floors. But every time the real assassins trained, he watched. Studied. Pretended to sweep while mentally copying their moves.
Until one day, everything changed.
An instructor shouted,
"Where's today's trainee?!"
And before anyone could answer, someone — meaning Aza — slipped on a banana peel, crashed through a door, and landed in front of the entire class holding two practice blades.
The instructor blinked.
"You're late."
"...I am?"
"Yes! Now show me your form!"
"Wait, I think you've got the wrong guy—"
Too late. The fight began.
Aza panicked. Swung wildly. Accidentally kicked someone in the knee, ducked a punch, and headbutted another.
When the dust settled, the other trainees were on the ground groaning.
The instructor stared.
"Impressive improvisation. Brutal, messy, and confusing. You've passed."
"I… passed?"
"Welcome to the guild, rookie."
And that was how Aza — the janitor who slipped — accidentally became an assassin.
---
Back to Present
"So yeah," Aza said, leaning on Mira's counter. "One banana. One miracle. One lifelong mistake."
"That explains so much," Mira said, deadpan.
"Hey, I'm a success story! A symbol of hope for clumsy idiots everywhere."
Before she could reply, Aza's commlink buzzed again.
A new hologram appeared — the same hooded figure from before.
"Aza. Your mission briefing has been sent. Report to District 9 within the hour."
"Can it wait? I was about to eat."
"No. The others are already on the move."
"Wait— others?! You mean the 'professionals'? Oh, great. I hate team missions."
The hologram faded. Aza sighed dramatically.
"Mira, if I die out there, tell everyone I went heroically."
"You'll probably trip again."
"Exactly! That's my brand!"
He spun around, slipped on the wet floor, and crashed face-first into the door.
The entire guild turned to look.
"I'm fine!" he shouted, giving a thumbs-up.
"You broke the door again," Mira said.
"Add it to my tab!"
He limped out into the rain, muttering to himself.
"Team mission, huh? What could possibly go wrong?"
And somewhere in the distance, thunder cracked — as if the gods themselves answered, everything.