Both groups had a party of five. One group wore a diverse range of outfits, including leather armor, metal plating, and magic robes. The kind that a traditional adventurer's guild would wear in Myein. The other group was distinct, as all of them wore the same attire: black leather armor.
They must be from separate guilds, Aven thought.
Disputes between guilds were quite common in Myein. Even Aven’s guild, Genesis, butted heads with some from time to time. Of course, her guild always won in the end, so getting into such conflicts never bothered her much.
It also helped that when you defeated a guild, you could take their spoils as the victor. Aven got a lot of good items from the guilds she defeated.
She stayed seated at her table, casually watching a fight that was about to go down.
“You mercenaries just can’t accept a loss, can you?” A male adventurer taunted, his hand hovering above his weapon, ready to draw it at any point.
The person he was talking to, a man in the matching black leather armor, scowled at him.
“It’s not a loss when you stole that relic from us, asshole,” he seethed, pointing at something at the opposite guild’s table.
Aven’s gaze followed, landing on a weapon placed on the wooden table of the adventurer group. It was a long, broadsword wrapped in a bloodied cloth. Bits of the blade could still be seen underneath, allowing her to see that the blade was rusted. Not only that, but it was radiating a malicious aura.
Her eyes widened upon realizing what the item was. It was a cursed weapon.
They were quite common in Myein. Aven had encountered plenty in the game. Cursed weapons were extremely powerful, but also incredibly dangerous due to them being, well, cursed.
The curse depends on the weapons. Some curses would make you a target for monsters, and others would make you slow or make your spells misfire. However, there was actually a purpose for the curse.
If a player were to find a cursed item or weapon, there was a way for them to lift it and turn it into a unique item as a result. Aven possessed several of these and was currently wearing one of them, which was Briar’s Embrace.
Originally, it was a cursed item that constantly harmed the user when worn. However, when she lifted the curse, it then became a powerful piece of equipment that reflects damage back at enemies who attack her.
That was how that blond brat got hurt, even though Aven didn’t lay a hand on him. It was [Briar’s Embrace] that did it.
While regular mythic-grade items were exceptional, the ones that used to be cursed were even better. Of course, the process of lifting the curse was always a hassle.
Aven took another spoonful of her meal, keeping her eyes glued to the disturbance out of mild curiosity.
“How could we steal a relic when we found it first?” The adventurer snapped. “You’re just angry that you’ll be going back to your client empty-handed. Then again, that should be expected from the Dreadnought Company.”
Aven tilted her head, confusion crossing her face.
The dreadnought company? That wasn’t a guild that she knew.
Then again, six hundred years have passed, so it shouldn’t be surprising that new guilds were formed while others most likely crumbled with time.
Her mind flashed to her guild. A wave of guilt and grief washed over her. Could Genesis have met a similar fate in her absence?
The thought of losing her guild, which she and her fellow guild members spent countless hours and sleepless nights building and perfecting in Myein, left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Her hand clenched tightly as her dark thoughts slowly clouded her mind. Then came the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath, immediately pulling her attention away from such thoughts.
Looking in the direction of the sound, Aven’s eyes widened when both supposed leaders of their respective guilds drew their swords and aimed them at one another.
A collective gasp from the other customers around them filled the restaurant. Even Conner and Chloe looked tense while witnessing it.
“You fools at the Ironhart Horizons are always thinking yourselves superior to the other Factions,” the leader from the so-called Dreadnought Company growled, gripping the handle of his weapon. “Just because you guys slay monsters and explore the world, you believe yourselves to be heroes and legends.”
Ironhart Horizons? That was another guild Aven didn’t know. And what did the Mercenary mean by Factions? Was that a new term for Guilds?
“You’re just jealous that our faction has more credibility than a band of mercenaries. You lot only accept requests from rich nobles and the like, while Ironhart does more for the people in general.”
“What was that?!” The mercenary snarled, slamming his sword against a table. Plates and cups shattered under the force of his strike as shards flew around, hitting nearby customers.
A few of the shards flew towards Aven’s table at a frightening speed. Conner and Chloe raised their arms to shield themselves. However, just before the shards got close, they suddenly froze in mid-air.
The siblings lowered their arms and stared wide-eyed at the scene. Their gaze then drifted over to Aven, whose hand was raised and aimed at the shards, signaling that she was the one who stopped them with a spell.
Aven’s brows knitted in anger as she glared at the culprits. To make matters worse, the mercenary who nearly harmed her newly acquired students didn’t seem to care or notice the damage he was causing.
Her blood started to boil. That bastard is so preoccupied that he’s not even aware that his actions are harming the bystanders. How brutish.
“Ms. Avelyn...?” Chloe said her name, her tone low and hesitant.
She froze for a moment, then looked at the pair and flashed a warm, reassuring smile.
“You and your brother wait here, okay? It seems that I need to de-escalate the situation before it gets worse.”
Her expression shifted back into an intense glare as she stood up from her seat and briskly walked over to the two guilds that were causing a scene. Her cloak brushed against the polished wood planks as she did.
Getting closer, the loud exchange between the two leaders slowly died. Their attentions were now drawn to the bold woman who was approaching them.
“Hello, there,” Aven greeted the two groups with a smile. “I apologize if I interrupted your intense conversation.”
“The hell do you want, lady?” The mercenary glared, turning to fully face her.
She felt a strong desire to smack the mercenary, but managed to push it down and stayed composed.
“While I can more or less understand the reason behind your little dispute, I think it would be best for you to take it somewhere else. Before you cause any more damage to the restaurant.”
Instead of being reasonable, the mercenary simply scoffed. “My group isn’t leaving.” He glared at the adventurer group. “It should be them that should go.”
“You really think you can kick us out like that?” The adventurer leader retorted. “You mercenaries really are vain.”
“Say that again and so help me-!”
Expelling a sharp huff, Aven raised her hand, snapping her fingers to cast a spell. Anchor Point.
Just then, both parties' weapons suddenly slipped from their grasps and crashed onto the floor. The sound of metal against wood and wood against wood carried through the restaurant.
Neither the adventurers nor the mercenaries said a word; their gaze now glued to Aven.
“I don’t believe I made myself clear enough,” she declared sharply, cutting through the silence like a knife. “If you wish to continue this dispute, then I would recommend that both of you leave the restaurant so that the rest of us could eat in peace.”
The two leaders remained silent; their eyes flicking between their weapons still stuck to the ground and Aven, who was the one who caused it.
Then, a member of the adventurer guild spoke up in a hushed tone. “T-that was a gravity spell, wasn’t it?”
“Y-yeah...” another whispered a reply. “Judging from the precision, she must be a Master or Legendary Rank. Could she be from the Academy? A professor, maybe?”
“Either that or she’s from the Tower...”
There were more terms that Aven didn’t recognize. There was some kind of Academy and Tower? They must have been developed after she went missing.
“Tch...” The mercenary clicked his tongue. “You didn’t tell us that you’re from the Mystic Faction. Why are you in Ridgeview?”
Aven blinked, briefly confused.
The mystic faction? She didn’t know what he meant.
Was that supposed to be a guild? But all she did was display a bit of magic. That shouldn’t have been enough to get her confused with a mage guild. Especially one called the Mystic Faction.
Was it because she used [Anchor Point]? Did this Mystic Faction focus on Gravity-based spells? But why would they call themselves the Mystic Faction then? Wouldn’t it have been better to be called the Gravitists or something?
This is so confusing...
“I’m not from this Mystic Faction you speak of,” she explained. “I am not affiliated with any group.”
Technically, that was a lie. However, if she were to say that she was affiliated with Genesis, the guild of the legendary archmage, then that could cause more problems for her in the long run. So, it was best to lie about her affiliation and leave it at that.
“That’s impossible...!” The adventurer leader blurted out. “There’s no way you could cast a spell like that without being from the Mystic Faction.”
“Sadly, I agree with the Ironhart fool.” The mercenary chimed in. “Which means that you’re either lying or possibly an exiled member.”
The adventurer leader nodded, agreeing with the mercenary.
Aven’s eyes flicked between the two leaders. Why the hell were these two suddenly agreeing with one another? Against her, even?
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Just as she opened her mouth to try and refute such claims, someone else beat her to it.
“She is correct, actually. There are no members of the Mystic Faction currently in Ridgeview.”
Aven and the others turned around to see who was speaking.
Walking toward them on the other end of the restaurant was a man wearing a high-collar military-style uniform. The uniform was detailed with gold buttons, silver chains, and epaulets. Resting on his short black hair was a polished black military-style cap with a symbol of a dove holding a branch in its mouth.
He looked like he belonged to some kind of army. Or at least, that was her impression of him.
Behind her, one of the adventurer members grumbled something.
“Great...it’s a Mediator.”
Another term that Aven was unfamiliar with. Ironhart, Dreadnought, Mystic Faction, and now, a Mediator? Should she write this stuff down or something?
“And what do you mean by that, Mediator?” The mercenary leader questioned, crossing his arms.
“I mean exactly that,” he replied, then turned to face Aven. “There have been no reports of any Members from the Mystic Faction traveling to Ridgeview.”
The adventurer leader shook his head. “There’s no way that’s possible. She just disarmed all of us with a simple spell.”
“A chantless spell, at that,” the mercenary leader added, his tone grave and insistent. “I may not be from the Mystic Society, but I at least know that chantless casting is used by mages at Legendary rank or above.”
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
“Yes,” the mediator nodded. “And from her level of control and precision by targeting your weapons instead of the rest of your bodies, her rank could very well be at Supreme,” he turned to Aven, his eyes eerily on her.
She kept her face calm, while her mind spiraled for answers. None of what they were saying made any sense. What was this Mystic Society? Was that a place for Mages? When did that become a thing?
Aven listened to their conversation, unsure of how to respond. She dodged a bullet in saying that she was from the Mystic Faction. This Mediator person clearly had extensive knowledge regarding the whereabouts of members from these so-called Factions.
If she had lied about being part of a group, that would’ve put her in an even bigger bind than before.
The mediator smiled. “So, I’m just as surprised as you. My initial thought was that this woman could have traveled to Ridgeview in secret, but knowing those reclusive mages, I doubt that would be the case.”
Aven frowned. Reclusive mages? But there was a mage in the Ironhart group. There was likely one among the Dreadnoughts as well. What separated them from the ones associated with the Mystic Faction?
He glanced at Aven before turning back to the adventurer and mercenary.
“Of course,” his tone hardened, yet his smile remained in place. “Since she’s not affiliated with the Mystic Faction or any of the other six factions, she isn’t my concern.”
Aven stared at the mediator.
That’s it? She thought incredulously. Just because she wasn’t part of some Faction like these people were, he was going to ignore her? That seemed a bit rude.
Then again, if it meant he wasn’t going to bother her anymore, she wasn’t going to complain.
“Now then,” the mediator continued. “I do believe that it would be best for both groups to leave this restaurant and go your separate ways. We agree on this, yes?” He said the last part in a lower, menacing tone.
Instead of talking back like they did with Aven, the two leaders grimly nodded, accepting the Mediator’s proposal.
“Fine,” the mercenary muttered with a grunt.
“Yeah, yeah,” The adventurer leader reluctantly replied.
Aven’s brows rose after hearing their answers. Just like that? She was met with so much resistance when she told them to leave the restaurant, but as soon as the mediator told them to get lost, they suddenly listened to him.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, staring at the mediator. Just who in the hell was this guy?
The mediator’s smile broadened. He clapped his hands, as if applauding their wise decision.
“Wonderful. Now run along,” he gestured for them to scurry off like a pack of rodents. "I believe the customers here wish to finish their meals without further interruptions.”
Following his advice, the two groups begrudgingly gathered their belongings. One of the adventurers reached for the cursed weapon to take it with them.
Aven used the opportunity to appraise the item before it was too late. She was curious as to what kind of cursed relic they were handling.
[Bloody Requiem]
Cursed Weapon (Growth Type)
Lvl: 867
Effects:
Description:
A rusted blade coated in the blood of its victims. It is said that the souls of those slain by this weapon reside in the blade, coaxing the next user to draw the blood of the innocent.
She grimaced at the information. Oh dear.
Not only was it a cursed weapon, but it was a Growth Type as well. Those curses were incredibly annoying to deal with since they got stronger as time passed.
There were several quests in Fantasia where players actually dealt with these types of cursed weapons. Thankfully, Growth Types were only reserved for Bosses or Sub-Bosses. A prime example would be the Scarlet Knight, a vampire knight Boss who wielded a weapon similar to this one.
But, despite the dangers and difficulty, the reward for completing them was always worth it.
However, Aven was concerned about one thing about this cursed relic. And that was
That was dangerous when handling cursed relics. One wrong move, and it was your life.
Aven’s eyes scanned the group, silently evaluating them.
None of them seems to be above the relic’s level, she thought, her expression turning grim. Not even the Mediator, whom the two leaders of their respective groups were clearly on guard towards.
Then, how were they able to carry the weapon without losing control? Could it have been the cloth wrapped around the blade?
Either way, because of their low levels, Aven doubted that any of them knew the true dangers that this weapon possessed. This concerned her deeply.
There was also the Purification Immunity effect. Considering that it was at Seventh Tier, low-ranking priests or priestesses were incapable of purifying the curse. If Aven had to guess, their rank needed to be Legendary or perhaps Supreme for a purification ritual to actually work.
What a dastardly weapon. I want it even more now.
As the saying went, the greater the risk, the greater the reward. Cursed relics embodied this saying.
The more dangerous the weapon was, the more powerful it would become once purified. That was why players were so adamant in searching for these items. It was because they knew their value.
Aven was especially obsessed with these cursed relics. Hell, she obtained a Priestess NPC for that exact reason. Normally, players could either find an NPC priest or priestess from a church to lift the curse. While it did cost a hefty sum, especially depending on the curse, it was worth it. There was also the option of players with the Priest or Priestess class to do the job. Of course, the third and final solution was having a person NPC in your guild.
Aven relied on the third option, possessing an Ascended Rank NPC Priestess that purified all of her cursed items.
A soft smile touched her lips before a pang of guilt and grief surged through her. Teresa was likely dead. It had been several centuries, after all. And unlike a select few, she was human.
Oblivious to her abrupt melancholy, the adventurer group started to leave the restaurant, the cursed weapon in their possession. However, because of what she saw, Aven couldn’t help herself.
“Hey.”
The adventurers stopped and turned to face Aven.
“What is it?” The leader scowled, his annoyance visible on her face.
“I suggest finding a priest or priestess as soon as possible for that cursed relic,” her eyes flicked to the item in their possession. “Just saying.”
After reading its true information, it would be wise for them to find someone to lift that curse as soon as possible. If not, then she feared that a blood massacre would happen.
The leader scoffed. “That was the plan, lady. We know what we’re doing, alright?”
Her brows knitted in annoyance. Something told her that wasn’t the case, which only made her worry more.
A part of her wanted to just grab the weapon and store it in her inventory. Because of her rank and level, she could easily resist the effects of the curse. Of course, doing that would make things worse for her if she did.
In the end, she let the adventurers leave the restaurant, with the cursed relic in their possession. All she could do was pray that they would follow her advice and find a good priest or priestess to lift that curse.
Otherwise, she feared that things would get very dire soon.
She slowly walked back to her students before getting stopped.
“I am curious about where you are affiliated,” the mediator stated, turning his gaze toward Aven. “Only members of the Mystic Faction are capable of such magic control. And in your case, only mages with Master rank and above. So that begs the question, how were you able to use such magic despite not being from the Mystic Faction?”
Aven faced the mediator, keeping her expression calm and neutral. “I’m self-taught,” she declared, allowing a slight smile to touch her lips.
The mediator actually laughed at this. “I highly doubt that. But it is not my place to press. After all, you aren’t affiliated with any of the Factions, so you aren’t my priority.”
“Duly noted,” she nodded. “Goodbye.”
She spun on her heel and walked away, not giving him a chance to speak any further. Despite that, she could still feel his gaze lingering on her from behind.
It didn’t feel all that comfortable, but she did her best to ignore it while going back to her students.
...
Sedrik followed the rest of his group as they reluctantly left the Restaurant. Before leaving, he spared one last look at the woman, her words still lingering in the back of his mind.
I suggest finding a priest or priestess as soon as possible for that cursed relic...
The way she said it. The urgency that was layered in her tone, like she knew something about that weapon that none of them didn’t. It bothered him.
“That woman,” Marcellin, their leader, grumbled as he led the group out of the restaurant. “Saying something that we don’t already know.”
“Well,” Another member of their party, Cecile, spoke up. “Even if we wanted to find a Priest or Priestess to lift the curse, the best ones would be located back in Mystmore. None of the churches here have priests proficient in purification spells.”
That much was true. Before setting out to do the quest assigned to their party, the group looked for a priest or priestess with sufficient skills to help aid them.
Sadly, not only were none of them unavailable in Mystmore, but there were hardly any capable priests in Ridgeview, making their quest much harder than it needed to be.
“Which is why we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Marcellin declared, his tone still laced with annoyance from earlier. “It’ll be a long trip back, so we need to deal with this as soon as possible. Is that clear?”
Sedrik and the others nodded, acknowledging their leader’s order. The sooner they were out of Ridgeview and back to Mystmore, the better.
“What about the Dreadnoughts?” Another member questioned. “I doubt those bastards will just let us leave with the item that their client wants.”
Marcellin scoffed. “Not with that Mediator bastard here. He knows we got that item fair and square, so if those dreadnought assholes try anything, he’ll interfere. That’s what those guys are for, after all.”
He was right. The whole point behind the Mediators was to keep the peace between the Factions. So, if the dreadnoughts tried anything against the Adventurer faction, the Mediator would step in and handle it.
Which meant there was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
Sedrik...
Sedrik’s head jerked up. He scanned his surroundings, trying to locate the person who called out to him. But he saw no one.
His eyes then trail over to the blade in the hands of one of his companions. His gaze lingered for a moment as he felt something indescribable take form in the pit of his stomach.
Was there...really nothing to worry about?
...
Nathan’s gaze lingered on the flickering flame from his candle. It barely illuminated the rather dark and ominous office he was in. It struggled to chase away the shadows that loomed around him.
Despite the dreary atmosphere, he wasn’t bothered by the encroaching darkness. If anything, he preferred it.
As an Assassin, the darkness was his ally. It was his companion who aided him throughout his career.
Concealing him from enemies, allowing him to lurk in the shadows and silently kill or stalk those he was hired to deal with. That was how he survived for so long.
That was how he made it into the Shrouded Syndicate, the organization that represented the shadow faction and whose influence spanned across the entire continent. That was how he managed to become the current leader of one of their sub-branches located at one of the most popular locations on the continent.
The very place where the legendary Dark Fey Sorceress, who was acquainted with their Faction Founder, was last seen before disappearing from the face of the world.
He was achieving this thanks to the darkness. And he wasn’t planning to stop relying on it now or ever. He planned to reach even greater heights.
It wasn’t enough to be a leader of a sub-branch. He wanted to be the next Guild Master of the Shrouded Syndicate. He wanted to be at the very top of the food chain. And nothing was going to stand in his way.
Or so he thought...
His quill scratched across a piece of yellowed parchment as he was writing down a report to send to the higher-ups in Mystmore City, where the Main Branch was located. Then, he heard a loud knock at the door.
He let his quill hover over the parchment for a moment before gently placing it down.
“Come in,” he said, lifting his gaze toward the door.
The door opened, and two individuals entered his office. One of them was his right-hand man, Levi Fendormore. Standing next to him was one of the side-branch guild’s young members, James Calloway.
Nathan knew from his dirty blond hair and somewhat tattered clothes that he was wearing. James was recently recruited by the Syndicate. He had only been here for nearly a month. But he did have potential that the Shrouded Syndicate desired. Even if he was a bit of a troublemaker.
“Considering that the boy is here, Levi, I suppose he did something rather unforgivable again?” Nathan surmised, his gaze lingering on the blond brat.
James nervously looked away, his eyes trembling with fear. Yet for some reason, it didn’t look like it was because he was in trouble for causing problems.
There had been reports from members that James regularly bullied commoners and beggars in the town. As for why Nathan or the rest of the guild hasn’t stopped him from doing this, it was rather simple; the syndicate wasn’t some righteous guild. They haven’t been for a long time.
In the beginning, the Shrouded Syndicate was formed to serve as a force that dirtied their hands so that the other main guilds that formed after the war didn’t have to. Whether it was spying, thievery, assassinations, or the like. They did it. And they did so because it was expected of them.
But after centuries of doing such dirty work, it should’ve been obvious that their actions and duty would dirty their souls as well.
“Sir,” Levi spoke up, his tone rather hesitant and forced. “We might have a problem.”
Nathan looked at his right-hand man, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, Levi shoved James forward, causing the young man to stumble before adjusting himself.
“Tell him what you told me, boy,” he demanded.
James hesitated, his eyes flicking between Levi and Nathan nervously.
Nathan sat there, curious to know what was wrong. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his desk, and stared at the recruit.
“What is the problem, James?”
James visibly gulped and looked at Nathan. Really looked at him before answering.
“S-someone posing as Aven Willows attacked us at the cave.”
Nathan froze, letting the silence eat away at everyone in the room with each passing second. Then he finally spoke.
“What did you say?” His tone was sharper. Colder even. It was as if the temperature suddenly went down a few degrees in response to his question.
James was visibly shaking now. Whether it was from fear, the sudden drop in temperature, or a combination of both, there was no telling.
“A-at the cave of A-ascension of the archmage’s grave...s-someone used magic to look like her and atta-?!”
His explanation was cut off when a dagger was pressed against his neck. Nathan, who was just behind the desk, suddenly materialized behind the blond recruit, blade in hand.
The young boy panicked, his breathing becoming more frantic as he looked down at the blade lightly caressing his throat.
“This better not be some kind of game, boy,” Nathan threatened, his voice low and menacing. “Or you will not like what happens next.”
“I-I’m telling the truth!” He hastily spouted out. “We saw these siblings who went to visit the cave and followed them. While in the cave, she suddenly appeared and attacked us! W-we didn’t think we would make it out alive if we hadn’t run away.”
Nathan said nothing, keeping his dagger just barely touching the recruit’s neck. He then pressed the blade a little harder, forcing a whimper out of the boy. It cut through his skin, letting blood slide down the blade and his neck.
“If I find out that what you said was a lie, then you will not like what happens next. Is that clear?”
James frantically nodded despite the blade threatening to sever throat from even the slightest movement.
His dagger smoothly retreated away from the boy with practiced ease. Nathan then grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him toward the door.
“Get the hell out of my sight.”
“Y-yes, sir...!”
James stumbled out of the room, not even daring to look behind him. Once he was gone, Nathan turned his gaze to Levi. His right-hand man straightened, his body appearing more tense than before.
“Find out if what that brat said was true,” he declared. “And if so, deal with it discreetly.”
Levi firmly nodded. “It will be done, sir.”
With nothing else to say, he stepped out of Nathan’s office, closing the door behind him. Nathan stood in place for a moment, letting himself process what he was just told.
His expression darkened. “It’s been a while since some fool attempted something like this. How bothersome.”