Dark Company

"Should we go check on Jurgen?" Mira asked, fidgeting with her staff.

"Nope, this is great!" Adam shouted, mouth full, tearing into roasted chicken and lamb from Jurgen’s royal feast hall.

"You've been eating all day! Don't forget why we're even here..." Mira whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Chomp... chomp... Uh, yeah. We’re here to kill Jurgen, right?"

Silence.

Every soldier in the dining hall froze. Spoons paused mid-air. Eyes locked on the duo like they'd just farted in church.

Weapons were slowly being drawn under the table.

Mira's face twitched.
"This is ridiculous. You are ridiculous. NOW RUN!"

She yanked Adam by the hand, bolting through the corridors with a roaring horde of angry warriors chasing them like bulls on a bad date.

They dove into a dusty old room—forgotten, quiet. A war strategy room, judging by the massive map pinned to the wall, big red Xs marked across key cities: The Holy Kingdom of Guestro, the Nararog City-States, and even the capital of Orion Dominion. But strangely... nothing on Miragard.

"What is this?" Mira muttered, squinting at a note. "It says... six Archbishops are in Miragard? Why isn’t Jurgen marking it?"

Adam shrugged, way too casual. “Maybe he’s scared of the Thorned Choir?”

But something else caught his eye.

On the bulletin board: a photo. A man with black, middle-parted hair. Black cloak. Cold, serious gaze. The image was stabbed into the board with a dagger.

Hafiz.

Adam’s voice dropped. "That's... Hafiz. It’s been almost a year…"

Mira yanked the note beside the photo, her eyes scanning fast. “It’s a message from Jurgen.”

"Give me the sacred book, Hafiz."

"Fuck off and rot in hell, you dumb backstabber. Always brawn, never brains." —Hafiz

Adam whistled. “Yikes. What's Hafiz’s beef with Jurgen?”

"Maybe they were once comrades. Maybe Jurgen betrayed him for that book,” Mira guessed. “But the real question is…”

“What’s in the book?”

Adam kept searching the room and spotted a dusty report on a shelf.

Failed attack on Hafiz’s mansion.
Casualties: 75 dead, 80 severely injured.

Adam's eyes widened.
“He fought them off? Alone? He’s way beyond what we thought…”

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the castle.

“INTRUDERS ALERT! FIND THEM!!”

Panic hit like a thunderbolt.

“We’re doomed!” Adam yelped.

“Remember the mission,” Mira hissed, trying to calm him—but Adam was already panicking like a squirrel on espresso.

So naturally, Mira did the only thing left.

WHACK!
She smashed a chair over his head.

“Sorry,” she muttered, dragging his unconscious body into a small storage space and hiding it beneath a pile of cloaks.

Throwing on a brown servant’s coat, she slipped into disguise and joined the castle’s bustle.

Jurgen’s Office — Evening

Jurgen stood tall, arms spread like a villain in an opera.

“Join me, and these realms will burn under our banners!”

Kenya and Hata nodded—until they mentioned Hafiz.

“What about that kid? The one who wiped your army like dust?”

Jurgen snapped, slamming the table.
“Don’t speak his name!”

“That book... it’s unnatural,” he hissed. “Without any crystal, he’s inhumanly strong... It’s that damn Tome of Wisdom!”

Kenya crossed his arms. “Then deal with him. Or no more support from the Muse Company. We want money, not his vengeance."

The door creaked open.

Mira entered, disguised as a castle maiden, tray in hand.

“Tea, good sirs?”

“Oh, thank you—"

“WAIT!” Jurgen growled, sniffing the cup.

His eyes narrowed.

“Poison. GUARDS, SEIZE HER!”

Ten armored guards charged. Mira didn’t flinch.

She raised her staff—Tempest God—wind magic surging.

“Cut my enemies! WIND SLASH!”

Furniture exploded. Bodies flew. The guards were instantly beheaded in a gust of slicing wind.

Jurgen shielded Hata and Kenya, fury in his glare.

“You should’ve died when I slapped you the first time!” he barked.

Mira readied again.

“WIND PENETRATE!”

A focused blast ripped through the room, tearing down walls. But Jurgen tanked it, his veins bulging like angry worms.

Then, he laughed. Dark and low.

“Magic’s good... but you’re wasting your mana, girl.”

Step by step, he closed in.

“I raised you. Fed you. Trained you. And you betray me?”

He slapped her like she was nothing. She flew across the room, crashing into the wall with a sickening crack.

“Is this all you are? A cockroach?”

Mira coughed blood, trembling.

“This... isn’t weak... this is human.”

Jurgen chuckled. “How quaint.”

He raised his foot, ready to stomp her into the dirt—

"HAAH!"

A familiar voice. A foot crashing into Jurgen’s side.

Adam.

Alive. Awake. And very pissed.

“You don’t hurt a lady, Jurgen the Brutal.”

“Oh, the Reckless Swordsman returns. You’ll die screaming—”

“God, you talk too much,” Adam cut in, casually spinning a glowing red crystal in his hand.

Jurgen froze.
“The crystal... How did you—?!”

“You’re strong... but it was never your strength,” Adam smirked. “It’s this.”

With a swish, he had sliced off Jurgen’s arm with the Obliterator Katana.

Jurgen fell, screaming, blood spraying.

“You haven’t felt pain in years,” Adam growled. “So now... feel it.”

Jurgen staggers backward, clutching the stump where his hand used to be. Blood spurts out like a broken fountain. His eyes tremble. His breath ragged.

Adam steps forward slowly, the Obliterator katana dragging along the cracked stone floor with a spine-chilling screech. “You're nothing without your fancy crystal, old man,” he says, his voice calm—too calm.

“You brat...” Jurgen growls, veins crawling across his face like spiders. “You think you've won?!”

Jurgen roars and slams his foot into the floor. The ground ruptures. Debris blasts upward. He reaches behind his belt, pulling out a black crystal shard—smaller, unrefined. He stabs it into his chest.

His muscles bulge grotesquely, skin turning a sickly grey. Eyes glowing red. “Let's see you handle this, Adam!” he howls.

Adam yawns. “Alright, Hulk smash, I’ll play along.”

Jurgen launches forward like a beast, faster now, stronger—but Adam sidesteps like he’s dancing. Jurgen swings, and Adam leans back just enough for it to graze his bangs. He grins.

“Missed.”

Adam counters with a brutal spinning kick to Jurgen’s ribs—crack. The giant man crashes into a pillar, reducing it to rubble. Dust fills the room, choking the air.

Jurgen coughs, spitting blood. “You...! You little—!”

Adam doesn't even wait. He vanishes in a burst of speed and appears behind him.

Slash.

Another gash. Jurgen screams.

“Stop running!” Jurgen howls, flailing with a brutal haymaker.

Adam blocks it barehanded. Jurgen’s knuckles crack on impact.

“I thought you trained Mira. You fight like a drunk dog,” Adam mocks, smirking as he twists Jurgen’s wrist and flips him over his shoulder. Jurgen slams into the stone with a deafening crash.

The once-feared warlord gasps. He’s shaking now.

“W-Why are you this strong?” he wheezes.

Adam steps on Jurgen's chest, katana pointed down. “Simple,” he says with a cocky grin. “Because I’ve got friends to protect. Because you pissed me off. Because—unlike you—I don’t need some cursed rock to feel powerful.”

Jurgen swings his last hidden dagger—clink. Adam catches his wrist mid-air.

“Oh... you're still trying? That’s cute.”

He twists, and Jurgen howls. Snap.

“You’re done.”

Adam spins his katana once, then—

Schwing—shhk.

Jurgen’s mouth opens in a silent scream. His head hits the cold floor seconds before the body slumps. A trail of steam rises from the blade.

“Rot in hell,” Adam mutters, spitting beside the corpse.

Mira crawls to him, her cheek swollen and bruised but her eyes warm. “Th... Thanks...” she whispers, rubbing her face—though her blush burns deeper than the injury.

“Don’t mention it,” Adam replies with a sultry voice, helping her up.

“But how do we get out?”

“Maybe through the window.”

“But what about them?” Adam gestures to where Hata and Kenya stood.

Gone. Not even footsteps remain.

“They vanished?”

The wind, it changes and a woman with violet eyes appeared from the fog of the room, her aura calm yet eerie. She stood before Adam, her voice smooth, almost flirty.
"Three monsters are coming... 003, 002, 001. You are not ready."

Adam's brows furrowed, hand instinctively drifting to his blade.
"And you are?"

But the woman had already vanished, leaving only a black feather drifting in the wind then silence, only Adam could see him.

“Uh hello? Are you okay?”

“Huh, oh yeah I’m fine…”

“Riiiiight… As I said, they won’t matter if we don’t get out now. Period,” Mira says, grabbing his hand.

Adam nods and lifts her in a princess carry. He sprints for the window, shatters through it, and Mira casts wind magic to break their fall. They land in the snow, wind howling, blizzard wild.

Adam sets her down gently.

Her cheek still blushing, she bites her lip. “Do you... like me? Like actually... love?”

Adam freezes, rubs the back of his head with that dumb smile. “Huh... well about that... Sure. Yeah. Why not?”

Elsewhere...

Inside a dark chamber, filled with a sinister presence, a black banner with a scorpion crest hangs high.

“The Raiders... gone. Jurgen... dead. They failed,” says one of the Councilmen, slamming the table.

“The Brothers Kenya and Hata are still alive,” says another voice. “We still have allies. Investors.”

“And those two kids... Mira and Adam,” a soft-voiced woman places their photos on the table. “Potential servants... or threats.”

The room goes silent.

Then the Frontman speaks, low and grave. “They’re like the boy from Orion Dominion... Hafiz, right?”

“Hafiz still lurks in the shadows. Alone. But if the Black Dragons ever find him... we will fall.”

Another man growls, “Let them try. We still have our trump card.”

A cruel smile flashes.

“Miel Vere Avera... Number 003.”

“And 002?”

“Handling the rebellions in the south.”

“And 001?”

A pause. A chill fills the room.

“We don’t speak of 001.”