Date: January 9, 2018 | Time: 9:55 PM |
Location: The Gilded Chalice (Private Bar), Sylvaris
Perspective: Kaiser Everhart
The air in the Gilded Chalice was thick with the smell of roasted drake-meat, expensive perfume, and the kind of brazen confidence that only an S-rank guild could afford to exude the night before a Priority Zero raid.
Tomorrow, January 10th, Crimson Eclipse and Requiem were marching into the Scarred Crater to play pest control with the Mother of Despair—an S-rank nightmare that drained stamina with its heartbeat.
Tonight, however, they were draining kegs.
I sat in my usual plush velvet wingback chair, nursing a fresh glass of chilled apple juice. To the untrained eye, it looked like a fine vintage of Elvian cider. I preferred to keep my liver functioning and my mind sharp, especially when surrounded by heavily armed, heavily intoxicated super-soldiers.
"You're pacing yourself, kid," Pryce slurred slightly, dropping into the chair next to me with a heavy sigh. The silver coin he usually obsessed over was nowhere to be seen—probably lost in a bet or safely tucked away.
Instead, he was nursing a towering glass of something that was glowing a faint, radioactive blue.
"I'm preserving my mental acuity, Pryce," I said smoothly, offering a small salute with my juice glass.
"Someone has to remember where the exit is when the Guildmaster inevitably decides to set the bar on fire for a laugh. I've heard the insurance premiums on this place are higher than the Guild's annual budget."
Pryce barked a laugh, wiping a stray drop of blue liquor from his chin. "You joke, Kaiser, but Navina... she might actually do it. If the mood strikes her. Especially tonight. The tension is high."
I tilted my head, putting on my best 'eager-to-learn-rookie' expression. "Guildmaster Navina Caelwyn. I've only seen her from a distance. She seems... radiant. And ridiculously wealthy."
"Radiant is one word for it," Pryce muttered, leaning in closer, the alcohol loosening his normally guarded tongue.
"Terrifying is another. Look, you're officially rolling with us into the vanguard tomorrow. Which means Navina is going to be paying very close attention to you. She needs to know her investments are secure."
I glanced at the silver Aether-Vox clipped to his collar. It was standard Dwarven make. Sturdy, but fundamentally flawed.
They don't even realize they'll go deaf and blind the moment the Mother of Despair's heartbeat spikes.
"I am a very secure investment," I assured him, taking a sip of juice. "Low risk, high analytical yield."
And I need her Elysium-imported tech. That advanced gear she's hoarding is the missing catalyst for the 'Reverend End' rebuild. If I can prove they need my engineering over their own, getting in her good graces isn't just an option; it's a structural requirement for my long-term supply chain.
"Listen to me, Kaiser," Pryce said, his face getting uncharacteristically serious. He pointed a thick finger at my chest.
"Navina is a great leader, but she has a very specific set of triggers. If you want to survive her inner circle, there are three rules."
"I'm taking mental notes," I said, leaning forward.
"First: She hates perverts," Pryce stated flatly. "I'm serious. A guy from the 4th division stared too long at her legs last month. She didn't yell. She just smiled, 'Quickswitched' behind him, and tied his shoelaces together with razor-wire. He's still walking with a limp."
"Noted. Maintain respectful eye contact," I replied, internally rolling my eyes.
Awfully cute and loyal of her to do so…
"Second: She despises sycophants. If you agree with everything she says, she'll think you're useless. She respects pushback, as long as it's smart."
"I can be delightfully contrarian," I offered.
"Third, and most important," Pryce leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
"She despises liars. She has this... aura. It's part of her Sword Saint reflexes. She picks up on micro-expressions, heartbeat fluctuations, the whole package. She can literally feel deceit before the lie even leaves your mouth."
"If you try to manipulate Navina Caelwyn, she will gut you and use your spine as a coat rack."
I stared at Pryce for a long, quiet moment.
I was sitting here, operating under a false identity, feigning an "average" power level, hiding a dark history of weaponizing mass destruction, orchestrating the global economy from a rented room, and manipulating literally everyone in this room to further my own ascension.
I was not just a liar; I was the architect of an entire reality built on fiction.
Fancy words to clarify that I'm a deceiver.
"Wow," I said, injecting just the right amount of innocent awe into my voice. "That's intense."
"It is," Pryce agreed, sitting back with a satisfied nod. He slapped me on the back, nearly sending my apple juice flying. "But hey! You've got nothing to worry about, Kaiser!"
"I don't?" I asked, blinking innocently.
"Nah! You're the most genuine kid I've met in years!" Pryce laughed loudly, his guard completely down. "You don't care about the glory, you're constantly honest about your limits, and you don't chase the skirts. You're a straight innocent guy, Kaiser. Navina is going to love you."
"Well," I smiled, a perfectly crafted expression of modest gratitude. "I just try to be myself, Pryce. Honesty is the best policy, after all."
Idiots. I took another slow sip of apple juice to hide the absolutely wicked smirk pulling at the corners of my mouth.
I wonder how much more prettier she has gotten.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany doors at the far end of the hall swung open. A young scout, looking winded and frantic, rushed into the center of the lounge.
"Heads up! The Golden Sun is rising! Guildmaster on deck!"
The shift in the room was instantaneous. The rowdy veterans who had been arm-wrestling moments ago suddenly sat upright, smoothing out their silver-and-blue capes. The bards shifted from a raucous tavern tune to something regal and understated. Even the drunken 4th-division guys stopped trying to stack shot glasses.
"Speak of the devil," Pryce whispered, his posture snapping into a professional (if slightly wobbly) salute. "Prepare yourself, kid. The boss is here."
I stood up, adjusting my collar, my face settling into a look of genuine, wide-eyed awe. Perfect. Let's see what the 'Queen' of Guilds looks like when she's off the clock.
(Perspective: Navina Caelwyn)
The scent of cheap ale and unwashed armor hit me like a physical wall as I stepped into the Gilded Chalice. I let out a sharp, ionized sigh.
Idiots. Every single one of them.
Behind me, the 4 pillars of my vanguard—my 'Shield-Breakers'—followed in a tight formation that made the room feel even smaller.
"Lord, it smells so bad in here," Uri drawled, her voice a sharp, icy contrast to the humid warmth of the bar. She was a Frost-Weaver, her long white hair tied in a practical knot, her eyes constantly scanning for structural weaknesses in the architecture. "Can we just skip the socializing and go back to the strategy room? At least the maps don't smell like the sewers."
"Relax, Uri," Bram boomed, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. He was our primary Tank—built like a brick wall and twice as hard to move. He was already eyeing the buffet table. "The men need this. Tomorrow we're fighting a nightmare. Tonight, they deserve the dream."
"I just want a snack," Wren chimed in, the hyperactive Scout already twitching with restless energy. He was checking his throwing knives in a blur of motion. "Did someone say there were southern drakes? Are they spicy? I like spicy."
"Everything is spicy when you have no self-control, Wren," Aris muttered, the Healer looking like he hadn't slept since the last century. He was carrying a bag of medicinal herbs that smelled vaguely of mint and impending doom. "Try not to faint this time. I'm tired of stitching your skin back together because you 'forgot' how physics work."
I ignored their bickering and made a beeline for the private booth. Pryce was already there, looking unusually focused.
"Guildmaster," Pryce acknowledged, giving a crisp nod. "Everything is prepared for the morning. The logistics are solidified."
"They better be, Pryce," I said, my voice crackling with a hint of my Swift-Arc mana. I looked around, my gaze lingering on the rowdy crowds. "I don't like the looks of half these recruits. Too many mercenaries, not enough discipline. Our policy is clear: we only run with the best."
"Actually, Guildmaster," Pryce said, clearing his throat and taking a deliberate step forward. "I've found a recruit. A kid named Kaiser. He's unorthodox, but his analytical mind is... well, it's something else entirely. I think he could be the edge we need for the vanguard."
I narrowed my eyes. "A mercenary? In the vanguard? Pryce, you know how I feel about outsiders. They're unpredictable. They lie, they flee when the threat gets heated, and they're usually just here for the loot. We don't bring tourists into Priority Zero."
"He's not a tourist," Pryce insisted, his tone earnest. "He's sharp, humble, and perfectly honest about his limits. Just hear me out. If he proves himself in the Crater tomorrow, we can formally induct him into the guild after the raid. We need that kind of tactical brain backing us up when we face the Mother of Despair."
I stared him down, letting the static pop between my fingers. "You're risking your own reputation to vouch for a stranger?"
"I agree with Pryce on this one," Bram grunted, leaning his massive frame against a pillar. "The boy helped the logistics team earlier. He's sharp. Doesn't talk back, stays quiet."
"If Bram likes him, he's probably at least sturdy," Uri added with a shrug. "And if he's 'analytical', maybe he can help me calculate the mana-density of the Crater. It's a mess down there."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Fine. I'll meet him. Where is this 'prodigy' of yours?"
Pryce looked around, his brow furrowing. "He was just here... He said he was thirsty..."
Suddenly, a roar of approval erupted from the dance floor. The music flared—the drums taking on a heavy, rhythmic heartbeat that signaled the start of an 'Item Song.'
Then the lyrics started, sung by a familiar, velvety voice.
"I've got the keys to the kingdom, baby,
But I'm looking for a lock that bites..."
I turned, and my jaw nearly hit the floor.
There, in the center of the spotlight, was a young man with black hair and a crooked grin. He wasn't just dancing; he was dominating the floor. And he wasn't alone. He was locked in a provocative, high-energy tango with Riley, our most famous dancer.
His movements were... too good. Every spin was a display of peak-human coordination. Every dip of Riley's waist was perfectly timed to the beat. But it wasn't just the dancing that made my blood boil. It was the way he looked at her.
His eyes were completely devoid of any tactical awareness. Instead, his gaze was glued shamelessly to her chest, tracing the neckline of her dress with a brazen, perverted intensity.
When he spun her back around, his eyes flicked down to her lips, and he flashed her a smile so greasy and suggestive it could have lubricated a gear shaft. He was practically drooling, his hands lingering obscenely long on her hips, sliding uncomfortably low.
"Don't ask me for my heart tonight,
I've only got enough for two...
In the dark, we're all the same kind of liar,
So let me show you what the perverts do..."
The room went wild. My officers were staring in stunned silence.
"Pryce..." Uri whispered, her ice-blue eyes wide with horizontal horror. "Is... is that your 'good kid'? The 'quiet, analytical' one who doesn't talk back? Because he looks like he's trying to calculate the cup size of half the room."
"He's... he's doing a handstand on the bar," Wren noted, sounding genuinely impressed. "And he just winked at a waitress while mid-air. That's... technical. Disgusting, but technical."
"He looks like a damn Casanova who hasn't seen a woman in a decade," Aris deadpanned, glaring at the heavy Tank. "Nice judgment, Bram. 'He stays quiet.' Yeah, because he's too busy staring at cleavage to form a sentence. And Pryce... you said he was 'humble' and 'honest'. He looks like he's trying to seduce the entire room."
Pryce looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He was pale, sweating profusely as he watched Kaiser dip Riley lower than strictly necessary.
"I... I don't know that kid. Who is that? That's not the Kaiser I was drinking with five minutes ago! I swear on my life!"
I watched them, my blood beginning to boil.
A pervert. A total, unrepentant pervert. Pryce brought a low-class street performer into my vanguard.
I didn't wait for the song to end.
I raised my hand, and the air around me hummed with a low, menacing frequency. Ionic discharge began to coat my skin in a pale blue light. This was the foundation of the elemental magic system—Mana Ionization. By vibrating my mana at precise frequencies, I could turn the very air into a conductive medium.
Snap.
A sudden, sharp bolt of blue lightning arced from my fingertips, striking the center of the dance floor with a crack that sounded like a whip. It didn't hit anyone, but the sheer static pressure made every hair on the dancers' heads stand up.
The music died instantly. The dancers froze.
I stepped forward into the silence, the blue sparks still dancing in my hair.
"The show is over," I said, my voice cold as an Avalon winter. "Dancers, leave. Now."
Riley, looking surprisingly flushed and breathless, laughed softly. She leaned in, whispering something into the 'prodigy's' ear before slipping a small piece of parchment into his hand. She winked at him—a genuine, flattered look I'd never seen her give a recruit—before vanishing into the curtains.
I marched right up to the kid. He was standing there, looking perfectly calm, his breathing barely even elevated despite the frantic dance. He looked at me, completely unbothered by the crackling aura of ionized air surrounding me.
I stared at him, my eyes narrowed, my Sword Saint instincts probing him for any sign of intimidation or deceit.
I found neither. Just a hollow, relaxed confidence that irritated me even more.
"I expected a tactician," I said, my voice dripping with disdain. "Instead, I find a lounge lizard. What's your name, prodigy?"
The kid didn't even flinch. He just flashed me that same crooked, arrogant grin he'd given Riley, his eyes shamelessly scanning my face.
"The name is Kaiser Everhart, pretty girl," he said smoothly.
A heavy, deathly silence dropped over the Gilded Chalice. The collective gasp of the officers behind me was audible even over the crackling of my mana. Even Pryce looked like his soul had just left his body.
A pervert, a fool, and a dead man walking. I'd already decided.
"Excuse me?" Uri snapped, taking a threatening step forward, her frost mana beginning to chill the floorboards. "You do not speak to the Guildmaster with that tone, you filthy street rat."
Kaiser completely ignored her. His eyes remained locked on mine, traveling up and down my dress with an infuriatingly bold appraisal.
"Hey! Are you deaf?" Bram growled, his massive hand dropping to the hilt of his hammer. "Uri is talking to you."
Still nothing. Kaiser just smiled at me, tilting his head with an expression that belonged in a cheap romance novel, not a war council.
"So, Kaiser Everhart," I said, my voice dangerously soft. I let my Sword Saint aura expand, pressing against the corners of the room. It was a subtle pressure, a lie-detector that fed me micro-fluctuations in heart rate, respiratory rhythms, and muscle tension. "Pryce says you're a tactician. Is that your role?"
"Tactician? Nah," Kaiser chuckled, his voice dripping with casual charm. "I'm just a simple C-rank explorer looking for my big break. I don't really care about the raid; I just want to make some coin and maybe find a beautiful woman to settle down with."
Lie one. Lie two. Lie three. Lie four.
My aura flared. It was deafening. He wasn't a C-rank—his muscle density suggested otherwise. He didn't care about the coin. He definitely didn't want to settle down. And his 'role' was completely fabricated. The sheer volume of deceit rolling off this kid was staggering. Everything he said was a manufactured falsehood about his life, his rank, his situation, and his purpose.
I glanced at Pryce. The veteran tactics officer looked like he was witnessing his own assassination. His mouth was open, but no words came out.
He looked entirely dumbfounded that the 'quiet, honest' kid he'd brought was currently hitting on the city's most dangerous woman.
"You're a terrible liar, Kaiser," I stated coldly, dropping the temperature of my gaze to below freezing. "I have no use for a mercenary who brings nothing but bad jokes and wandering eyes to my vanguard. Get out of my sight before I physically remove you."
"Aw, don't be like that," Kaiser pouted, playfully putting a hand over his heart. Then, to the absolute horror of everyone in the room, his eyes flicked deliberately down to my chest.
"I mean, you've got to admit, you're really hot. What cup size is that, anyway? The dress makes it hard to tell but I'd bet 45 C is a safe guess——"
Schwing.
I didn't even think. My reflexes took over. Faster than the eye could follow, my ionized blade was drawn, the tip resting a millimeter from Kaiser's throat, humming with enough voltage to stop Achilles's heart.
"Eeeek!"
Kaiser let out a pathetic, high-pitched squeal. He tripped over his own feet, scrambling backward like a frightened rabbit, and fell hard onto his rear.
He threw his hands up over his face, shaking violently. "Please don't kill me! I was just joking! I'm sorry! Don't hurt the face!"
"Hah!" Wren barked out a laugh, the tension breaking as he pointed at the boy on the floor.
"Look at him squirm. Earned that one, didn't you, Casanova?"
"Disgusting," Aris sneered, crossing his arms. "That's what you get for disrespect. Next time, cut his tongue out, Guildmaster."
I looked down at the cowering boy. My blade was still pointed at him, but inside, my mind was racing.
Something was wrong.
Pryce is paranoid. He doesn't trust anyone, least of all strangers. Yet this 'kid' managed to bypass Pryce's defenses in a matter of days. Pryce guards my identity fiercely, but this kid pretended he didn't know who I was, completely playing Pryce for a fool. And now, he's here, acting like a suicidal pervert.
I narrowed my eyes, tuning closely into my Sword Saint aura. I focused past his frantic shaking, past his pathetic whining, and listened carefully to his chest.
Thump... thump... thump...
My breath hitched slightly.
He was shaking. He was screaming. He was curled up on the floor.
But his heart rate was a steady, entirely unbothered 70 beats per minute.
He wasn't scared. He wasn't even startled. Every movement, every high-pitched yelp, was a perfectly executed physical performance disconnected from his physiological state.
He was a walking, talking contradiction.
"Guildmaster Navina," Kaiser peeked through his fingers, his voice trembling violently. "I... I really need to talk to you p-privately. P-please."
"Privately?" Bram snorted loudly. "You just insulted the Guildmaster, you little rat. You talk here, or you don't talk at all."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the Gilded Chalice. The crowd, previously silent, began to mock him.
"Get lost, beggar!"
"Nobody speaks to our Guild Mistress like that!"
"Kick him out before someone steps on him!"
Kaiser flinched, curling into a tighter ball, his eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal.
"P-please! Just a minute! That's all I ask! It's important!"
Thump... thump... thump...
Exactly 70 beats per minute.
Who are you really?
I slowly lowered my sword. My officers immediately tensed, but I held up a hand, silencing the bar with a simple burst of static. The ambient noise died in an instant.
"One minute," I said softly, my voice carrying an electric edge. "You have exactly one minute of my time, Kaiser Everhart. And I suggest you don't waste it breathing."
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Granting a private audience to a disrespectful, low-class mercenary was unheard of.
Kaiser immediately stopped shaking. The terrified rabbit act vanished in an instant, replaced by a smooth, utterly relaxed smile.
It was like watching a completely different person step into the boy's skin.
"I appreciate your generosity, Guildmaster," he said, dusting off his borrowed pants as he stood up.
"Can we speak outside? The ambient mana in here is giving me a headache, and I don't think your officers like my face very much."
"Hold it right there, rat," Bram growled, stepping between us. His massive frame completely blocked Kaiser from moving forward. "You're not taking him anywhere, Guildmaster. This is a security risk. The boy is unstable."
"I agree with Bram," Uri added, her frost weaving into sharp icicles at her fingertips. "He insulted you. Let us throw him into the street where he belongs."
"It's fine," I said, waving a hand to dismiss their concerns. The static electricity around me crackled, a deadly warning.
"If he tries something, or if he wastes my minute, I'll turn his nervous system into ash before he can blink. Stand down."
Bram and Uri exchanged a hesitant look, clearly concerned for my safety, but they eventually stepped aside. Pryce just covered his face with his hands, looking like a man who had accepted his imminent execution.
I led Kaiser out the back exit of the Gilded Chalice into the cool, quiet alleyway of the Upper district. The heavy oak doors muffled the rowdy tavern noise, leaving only the distant hum of the city's mana grids.
I turned to face him, keeping a strict three-meter distance. My hand rested near the hilt of my sword.
"Maintain your distance," I ordered, my voice cold. "Your minute starts now. Talk."
"Always so serious," Kaiser sighed, leaning casually against the brick wall. He looked me up and down again, though this time the lecherous gaze was gone, replaced by a sharp, calculating stare that made me feel like I was being dissected under a microscope.
"Tell me, Guildmaster. How much do you value your Vanguard's communication lines?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me?"
"I said I was here for coin," he continued, holding up a finger. "And I am. But I'm not a mercenary. I'm an engineer. And I happen to know that Crimson Eclipse imports top-tier tactical gear directly from Elysium."
"An engineer?" I scoffed. "Dwarves are engineers. Old men with soot on their faces in the Industrial District are engineers. You are a kid who just tried to ask for my cup size."
"A calculated distraction," Kaiser replied with a dismissive wave. "You all use the Aether-Vox communication array. A fine piece of tech. A Dwarven mana-crystal set within a miniaturized resonance chamber."
He pointed a finger at the small silver device clipped to the collar of my dress.
"It uses ambient mana to transmit vocal frequencies," Kaiser said, his voice taking on a precise, academic tone that completely contradicted the lounge lizard I'd met two minutes ago.
"But there's a flaw. The Dwarves built the crystal housing, but they ignored the principles discovered by the Elvian physicist, Sylas Vane, 300 years ago. Vane's Theorem of Acoustic Mana-Modulation proves that if you alter the carrier wave amplitude by a factor of 1.4 using a polarized gold filament, you don't degrade the crystal's integrity."
I stared at him, genuinely stunned. He had just perfectly recited advanced magi-tech theory that even some of my senior Guild engineers struggled with.
"The maximum range of an Aether-Vox in a high-density mana field—like, say, the Scarred Crater where the Mother of Despair lives—is barely 75 meters," Kaiser said, his eyes locking onto mine fiercely. "Tomorrow, your raid is going to go sour. The beast's ambient heartbeat will scramble your frequencies. Your Vanguard will be cut off from your main forces, and you will lose people."
I felt a cold chill run down my spine. That was our biggest tactical concern for the raid, a closely guarded secret discussed only in the command tent.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice dropping its electric edge and adopting the tone of a negotiator.
"10 Gold coins," Kaiser said smoothly.
"10 Gold?!" I balked. "That's an exorbitant sum."
"For an exorbitant service. For 10 Gold, I will modify every single Aether-Vox in your vanguard and team tonight. I will extend the secure frequency range from 75 meters to 150 meters, entirely bypassing the monster's interference."
He pushed off the wall, offering a confident, infuriating smile.
"I can do it right now, at your armory. But I have one condition."
I crossed my arms. "I'm listening."
"You have to be the one to escort me," he said, pointing at me.
I blinked. "I have officers for that. Or Pryce. Why me?"
Kaiser shrugged, offering a thoroughly shameless grin.
"Because you're my type, Guildmaster. You're easily the most attractive woman in that bar, Riley included. And if I'm going to spend the next 3 hours soldering miniature mana-crystals, I at least want to look at a pretty face while we walk there."
My jaw clenched. Just when I thought he was a calculating genius, he reverted right back to being an insufferable flirt. I wanted to punch him.
I really wanted to punch him.
But my mind was already running the numbers. The Mother of Despair. The communications failure.
The tactical advantage of 150-meter clear comms. He knew the theory perfectly.
I let out another ionized sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
"Fine," I growled, turning on my heel to walk down the alleyway toward the guild headquarters. "Follow closely. Don't touch anything. And if you ruin my comms, I'll use your spine as a lightning rod."
"Lead the way, Pookie," Kaiser chimed cheerfully, his footsteps falling perfectly into rhythm behind me.
I didn't turn around to glare at the nickname, but I could feel his smirk burning a hole in the back of my dress.
Pryce, I am going to dock your pay for an entire year.