The hideout was a tomb of shadows, its wall slick with mildew and studded with rusted bladesThe ait hung heavy with stench of blood and burnt herbs..The damp wood beneath Cain’s boots groaned as he slumped into a chair, his jaw still throbbing where the brat had landed his punch.

  His fingers traced the old scars on his chest,a habit whenever he felt rage crawling up his spine. But tonight, his hands trembled. Not from pain. From sheer, boiling humiliation.

  With a sharp exhale, he slammed his fist against the table. “That brat.” His other hand found the hilt of his sword, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “The job was simple. Retrieve the old man. How the hell did it fail?”

  Vexis cackled in the corner, his bandages slithering over his burnt pale skin as he tended to his wounds. “HEHEHE, maybe he is a stray dog with sharp teeth.”

  “Shut your goddamn mouth,” Cain snarled, his voice sharp enough to cut steel. “His moves weren’t street trash. They were trained—precise in a way you don’t learn in alleys. Familiar, almost.”

  Bruce, a mountain of scarred muscle, gnawed on a hunk of roasted boar, grease dripping down his chin. His eyes, wide and childlike, flicked to Cain. “Boss… know him?”

  Cain scoffed. “Hell no. I don’t deal with kids.” Cain spat, his tone venomous. “And why the hell are you eating? You let that barkeep toss you like a sack of grain!”

  Bruce whimpered, clutching his meal to his chest like a scolded child. His massive frame seemed to shrink under Cain’s glare, a strange contrast to the destruction he could unleash.

  Vexis leaned forward, bandages hissing as they coiled around his arms. “Do we tell the boss?”

  Cain’s grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles whitening. “If he finds out we lost the messenger, he’ll skin us alive—”

  “Oh, but I already know.”

  The voice slithered from the walls, icy and distorted. The air thickened, the single overhead light dimming to a sickly glow. Bruce covered his face like a child hiding from a nightmare. Cain who had never once feared battle—felt his spine lock in place, his throat drying.. Vexis’s bandages stiffened, their ends curling like frightened worms. Cain’s scar burned crimson, a jagged line of fury etched into his skin.

  “Boss! HEHEHE—it’s not what you—”

  The air thickened.

  “You don’t need to lie, Cain, dear.” The voice was silk wrapped around a dagger. “I saw everything.”

  Cains stomach dropped.

  “Oh, it was quite entertaining. The infamous Hunter—tossed around like a ragdoll. A lowly tavern owner breaking your ribs. That boy disarmed you. Should I send a memory of it to our client? I imagine it would give them a good laugh.”

  Cain’s throat tightened, his pulse roaring in his ears. “I’ll burn that tavern to ash. Give me a day—”

  “Silence.” The word crushed the room, silencing even Vexis’s manic laughter. “A tavern keeper. A child. And you return empty-handed. How… amusing. The man’s already dead. We needed to question him. But oh, I suppose it’s good that he’s gone.”

  Cain clenched his fists strong enough for his veins to pop. His jaw tightened, brows frowned and clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

  “But my humiliation—”

  “Shut it.”

  The voice cut through him like a blade to the throat.

  Cain froze.

  “The mission for House Veyra isn’t finished,” the voice said, suddenly cold. “And funding your pathetic revenge isn’t part of it. Await for your next mission, I won’t accept any excuse this time, unless you prefer your head to be served as supper”

  The air snapped back to normal, like a storm passing in an instant. The voice was gone.

  Cain’s body loosened, but the tension remained, curling in his gut like a sickness.

  “Well, that could’ve been worse,” Vexis muttered.

  Cain ground his teeth. The floor cracked beneath his boot as he stomped down.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “GOD DAMN IT!”

  ********

  The Iron Oak Tavern still smelled of ale and roasted meat, but the usual rowdy energy was gone. Instead it carried an unusual unease in the air.

  Chairs were broken, tables shattered and the atmosphere was unbearable. Garrick closed the tavern for the day and told Edric to relax. Edric sat at the bar , his hand wrapped around the glass of water he hadn't touched.

  Was I always able to do that? Edric recalled the fight. Was he always able to fight like that? His body had a mind of its own?. All these thoughts surfaced in his mind.

  He had always been quick on his feet but this- he was almost on par with a trained fighter without going through any training from his past…

  So how the hell did I do that?.

  Across the room, Garrick dipped a mop and cleaned the blood stains. His expression was unreadable, he was a large man, who was always warm but his demeanour now was as cold as the Himalayas .

  Finally he spoke, his voice was gravely.

  “You should be dead”

  Edric looked up, startled.

  “You just fought three syndicate members and still breathe”. He dipped the mop in the bucket, watched the water turn red. “That doesn’t happen”

  “I- I” Edric swallowed, he had no answer.

  Garrick glared at Edric from across the room. Edric couldn’t look into his eyes.

  “You hesitated, even now you can barely look into my eyes” Garrick said “Yet your body moved like someone who learned for years”

  Garrick exhaled through his nose “What was in your hand, Only people I have that much power are next to the king”.

  “I.. don't know how i did it” Edric's voice lowered. “My body moved on it;s own”

  Garric eyes focus on the pistol held in Edric’s belt.

  “And this thing it just .. just”

  “Zip it,” Garrick commanded. “You don’t have to say it”

  “But I didn’t do it to hurt you” Edirc felt like he hurt Garrick’s trust.

  “You know kid you're too nice” Garrick put the mop in the bucket , approached Edric. “The world ain’t a fairytale. The more secrets you have the better chance you have to live”

  Garrick patted Edric on his shoulder, Edric looked up to see Garrick's reformed look. His expression felt like a father he never had.

  “So don’t blame yourself. In fact I should say thanks for saving me back there” Garrick said, going towards the kitchen. “I will make some lunch. If it makes you feel better through the broken stuff out”

  Garrick went inside, Edric let out a deep sigh. “He might be right,” Edric muttered. There was no point in worrying , about things he can’t control.

  Edric stood up , scanned the broken wood. “I guess working will take my mind off things”. He began gathering the parts, and piling them up in a bag.

  While Edric was cleaning up, he notices the burnt scorch marks on the wood. They weren't from fire, it was from aura or magic is what Edric concluded, examining the parts his gun fired and the place Garrick punched.

  After throwing out the trash, Edric took a breath of fresh air from the window. At that moment he recalled something.

  “How did that blade not kill me “ Edric remembered the moment Cain attacked him. It was odd he thought, “Oh right”

  Status

  [Abilities]

  [Ghost steps( level 1): Phase through objects for 3s]

  [Martial arts (level 5): Dictates your martial art prowess]

  [Marksmanship (level 5): Can focus on a target at long distance]

  “So that's what Ghost steps,” Edric thought “What is with the levels? Do my levels increase when I use it? Why is my martial arts high?”.

  Questions keep popping up one after the other but no answer came. So he decided to test it out.

  In his mind he shouted Ghost Steps. He looked at his hands and nothing really changed, so he punched the walls. “Woah” His hands phased through like it was thin air.

  He retracted his hands back before the time ran out. “So that's how it worked”

  “Hey kid come for dinner” Garrick yelled across the room , the aroma of fresh meat enticed Edric.

  “You look like you got answers.” Garrick's voice regained its warmth though only a little bit. “You cleaned the mess better than I expected”

  Edric sat down at the counter, and Garrick placed a plate with what looks to be fried rice and meat. He begins mowing down on his meal. Garrick sat beside him and starts eating too.

  “I need answers,” Edric muttered.

  “What was that kid?”

  “I need to find the source of my problems,” Edric said. Garrick nodded in agreement.

  “Maybe start by finding clues or something. Retrace you memories, I heard it usually works” Garrick said eating his meal

  Garric words make Edric’s mind wander in different directions. Then he remembered something. The dead man in the robe. Garrick placed the dead man in the back.

  Edric got up, made his way into the backroom with swift pace.

  He creaks the door open, “Eww”. The room reeked of blood and old sweat. Edric determined, clamped his nose, and forced himself to only look at the body's surface--the robes, the hand, anything to avoid digging furthur. He couldn’t find anything.

  “I really don't want to do this” Edric slid his hand in the robe to find something. Not something he enjoyed. While checking the dead man's robe he finds a pocket. He picks out a folded paper from it.

  He unfolded it, and there was a crest in the front. “Wait” , his dreams came to his mind. “I have seen this before”. This crest was a frequent occurrence in his dreams.

  “Edric Veyra from the Veyra house” He put two and two together. But it still didn’t lead him anywhere. He turns to the back. Nothing except strange ruins.

  [Begin translation]

  “Translation?” The screen flickers for a moment and then.

  [Translation detected]

  [Quest: Follow the path]

  “What path-” The screen gives a waypoint on a map, like a GPS. “Oh, that path”

  Edric still didn’t know what the symbols meant but it was something to look forward to.