Eagle Eye

“The Brothers Hata and Kenya are en route, currently crossing the Mountain of Val to retrieve Violet Lily,” reported one of the Raiders' vanguards, saluting stiffly.

“That’s good,” Jurgen growled. “But don’t forget the real problem—the little swordsman and the witch.”

“You mean Adam, the Reckless Swordsman, and Mira, sir?” asked the vanguard cautiously.

“Did I stutter?” Jurgen barked.

“S-sorry, sir! Just a dumb muscle-head, I am!” The vanguard dropped to one knee, bowing like he worshipped a war god.

“Next time, I won't give a warning. My axe will speak.”

The vanguard nodded quickly, his face pale.

“So, Mira... how’s life?” Adam asked, flashing a mischievous grin, eyes lingering just a bit too long on her face.

“I was sold to Jurgen by my parents when I was a baby,” Mira replied coldly, gaze fixed on the trees lining the dirt path up the Mountain of Ud. “I trained in magic under him. Not by choice. My parents died soon after selling me, and Jurgen reminded me of that every day.”

“Oof… That’s rough.” Adam’s smile faded, replaced by a somber softness. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Maybe Adam treated Mira differently… because he liked her.

Maybe someday, he hoped Mira would call him handsome... or babe.

But all he saw in her now was cold, suppressed rage—anger carved so deep into her soul, it had replaced joy. That made his heart ache.

“I’ll help you get your revenge,” Adam said gently, patting her head.

She flinched at first—no one had touched her with kindness before—but eventually, her posture relaxed.

“Thank you… for treating me like a person, not a possession,” she whispered.

Adam just smiled in reply.

Far away, in a dimly lit stone room, a cloaked figure tapped a table with gloved fingers.

“So… The Raiders are gathering to form an alliance with the Brothers?” the figure muttered.

“The Raiders are reckless enough, but to ally with them? This is worse than I expected.”

The tapping grew louder.

“And what of the Harbinger of Vices? Miragard is a powder keg. Maybe it’s time I stepped in... myself.”

Adam and Mira climbed the steep face of the mountain with no gear.

“Careful, Mira. One wrong step and death’ll swoop in for a kiss,” Adam quipped.

“I’ll cherish that little love note, thanks,” Mira shot back, sarcastic.

Then—her foot slipped.

A stone crumbled under her, falling fast.

Mira would’ve followed—if Adam hadn’t caught her hand, gripping tightly.

“Told you,” he said, face serious now. She only nodded.

As they kept climbing, Adam chuckled to himself.

Both hands. I’m lucky to still have both hands… thanks to that crusty old man from the slave house.

His grin widened. Mira caught it and raised a brow.

“…Weirdo,” she muttered.

At the peak, they looked down at the path below.

Iron-clad soldiers marched alongside a dragon-pulled convoy.

It was the Brothers.

Mira had only heard legends—how Hata once sacrificed his own testicles to save a village from flooding. How Kenya slayed Puck, the Beast of End, alone.

Heroes. Icons.

And yet… here they were, making deals with Jurgen the Brutal?

“Maybe Jurgen isn’t so bad?” Adam whispered.

Mira glared. “Or maybe there's a bigger threat... like the Harbinger of Vices in Miragard?”

“Could be,” Adam nodded. “But for now, we stop Jurgen from doing any more damage.”

They followed the convoy to Jurgen’s gothic, imposing castle—his vanguard stationed at the massive gates, heavily armed.

“I have a plan!” Adam declared, eyes gleaming.

“Uh-oh,” Mira groaned.

“We sneak in as part of the Brothers’ guard unit. With these!” He held up two black cloaks with hoods.

“That’s... straight-up suicide.”

“That’s also the name of my autobiography!”

Mira sighed. “Fine.”

They cloaked up and slipped down to blend into the convoy. Inside, Adam’s jaw dropped.

Jurgen’s army was enormous—well over two thousand, armed to the teeth.

“Where did he get the money?” Adam whispered.

“Raiding. Corruption. Selling illegal weapons. Drugs. Slavery,” Mira muttered.

“Nice résumé,” Adam muttered.

The courtyard was a battleground of steel and sweat. Jurgen’s fortress echoed with the clashing of blades and the grunts of bruised egos. Soldiers sparred in rotating duels, while others placed bets with gold and booze.

Adam and Mira, cloaked and anonymous, stuck to the shadows—until a towering man in jagged steel armor, with scars like lightning bolts across his face, pointed directly at Adam.

“You! String-bean with the smug face! Care for a match?”

Adam blinked. “Me?”

“No, the wall behind you,” the giant snorted. “Yes, you. What are you, a mascot?”

Mira grabbed Adam’s sleeve. “Ignore him. We’re trying to stay invisible, remember?”

Adam smirked. “If I run, we’ll draw even more attention. Let me handle this.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“You’re going to owe me dinner if I win.”

Mira scowled but said nothing.

The soldiers around them turned as word spread: “New blood’s about to get flattened.” “Hope he’s got life insurance.” “Nah, he’s got death insurance—it pays out instantly.”

A circle formed.

The giant cracked his knuckles and introduced himself with all the subtlety of a collapsing roof. “Name’s Ironjaw. Three-time winner of the Blood Brawl. I’ve snapped fifty swords and two spines. You’ll be next.”

Adam chuckled. “Cool. I’m Mahmud. First-time visitor. Love your weather.”

Ironjaw roared with laughter. “You’re cocky. I like that. Try not to scream too much.”

“No magic,” Adam said, pointing at Ironjaw’s glowing vambrace.

Ironjaw grunted and twisted a dial. The runes flickered and died. “No magic. Just fists, steel, and your tears.”

He raised his warhammer with a single hand, the head wide as a cartwheel. “You ready?”

Adam calmly drew his katana—Obliterator—and took a low stance.

The courtyard hushed. Even the Brothers’ elite, positioned on the balconies above, leaned over to watch.

“Begin!”

Ironjaw charged. The ground shook under his steps.

Adam didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just counted his heartbeat.

One. Two. Three—

“Shadow Leap: Wide Slash.”

Adam vanished.

A heartbeat later, Ironjaw’s head rolled across the stones, his body still standing for a moment before toppling with a deafening thud.

Blood sprayed in an arc, coating the circle.

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

Then—

Screams. Applause. Gasps.

Mira’s eyes were wide. Not just from the brutality—but from how clean the kill had been. No windup. No hesitation. No wasted movement.

That wasn’t the Adam she’d trained with. That was… something more.

Back in the courtyard, the crowd surged around Adam, cheering.

“That was amazing!”

“What’s your real name, warrior?”

“Where’d you learn to move like that?”

Adam panicked. “Uh… my name is… Mahmud! From… the Eastern Slopes! Goat-herder turned duelist!”

Mira facepalmed hard.

Before anyone could question him further, one of the Brothers’ commanders—a lean man with one eye and a golden pauldron—stepped forward.

“You fight well, Mahmud. The Brothers appreciate strength. Join us. We could use someone like you.”

Adam blinked. “You want me to… what?”

“Escort duty for a VIP delivery. Tomorrow at dawn.”

“Delivery of…?”

“You’ll see.”

The commander walked away.

Mira pulled Adam aside. “You absolute maniac. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

“Uh… secured us a ride deeper into Jurgen’s operation?”

She groaned. “No. You put us on the radar. Someone saw that slash. That wasn’t stealthy—that was flashy.”

“And awesome,” Adam added, trying to grin.

She didn’t laugh.

But the victory wasn’t without consequence.

High above, behind a velvet curtain, a pair of violet eyes narrowed, the Observer.

“Replay that, slowly,” a voice whispered.

A crystal orb rewound the battle in glowing detail. The katana. The movement. The technique.

“That sword style… That’s not Mahmud. That’s—”

A gloved hand snapped fingers.

“Find everything you can about that boy.”

Far above them, the violet-eyed figure smiled in the dark.