Krad shifted uncomfortably. He remembered the chilling sensation from when the mark first awakened. Like a primal force clawing at his soul. It had granted him strength, but it wasn't without consequence.
"That's why I'll figure it out," he said with conviction. "Whatever it takes."
Vice studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Because failure is not an option."
The weight of her words sank in. Three days. That was all the time he had to prepare.
He took a massive bite of the roasted boar, savoring the sweetness of the glaze.
He swallowed hard, setting down his fork. "Alright, alright. Do any of you actually know someone who can help me?"
Vice's lips curled into an amused smirk. "As a matter of fact, I do."
Krad perked up, his pointed ears twitching. "Really? Who?"
"His name is Mist," Vice replied. "A seasoned fighter. One of the strongest within the Tiger Squad."
"Tiger Squad?" His ears perked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Did you just say Tiger?"
Vice arched a brow, "Yes. Mist, from the Tiger Squad."
For a brief, ridiculous moment, he imagined standing on a grand esports stage, bathed in neon lights, his name plastered across screens as the crowd roared.
Back in the human world, he'd dreamed of joining Tiger Esports, one of the most legendary teams to ever dominate the gaming scene. They were untouchable, their players were practically gods in the competitive gaming world.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Krad practically slammed his fork down. "You mean to tell me there's a Tiger Squad in this realm? Like... an actual Tiger Squad? And Mist is part of it?"
"Obviously," Drugo grunted, unimpressed by his outburst. "They're well-known. You'd know that if you bothered to learn anything other than how to stuff your face."
"Shh, Tree Man, this is important!" Krad spun toward Vice. "Is Mist like... the squad leader? Or one of those insane rankers?"
"He's neither," Vice replied smoothly. "Mist is more of a free spirit. Not one for leadership, but his combat skills are undeniable. He's a tactical genius."
Krad's mind raced. He had to meet Mist. Not just because he needed to train, but because this felt like fate.
"Where is he now?" his voice practically trembled with anticipation. "When can I meet him?"
Suddenly, the temperature around them dropped drastically. A cold mist began to rise from the ground then, he heard it---a voice.
"I'm here."
He whipped his head around, trying to locate the source of the voice then, through the thickening mist, a figure emerged, the air itself twisting around him like a living shroud.
Mist was tall and lean, with an air of quiet confidence. His ash gray hair was slightly messy, with a few strands falling over his sharp pink eyes that gleamed with playful mischief. But beneath that, there was a clear sense of strength and determination.
He wore a sleek black suit that fit him perfectly. A dark charcoal shirt rested beneath the jacket, slightly unbuttoned. Around his neck hung a silver pendant with the Tiger Squad insignia.
Strapped to his back was a long silver sword. Even in his refined suit, Mist looked every bit like a skilled and dangerous fighter.
Before Krad could ask what he meant, Mist suddenly stepped forward. His face lit up, his sharp grin turning absurdly charming or at least, he probably thought it was.
"Miss Vice," Mist practically purred, his voice dripping with exaggerated admiration. "Still as radiant as ever. Truly, a goddess gracing this humble realm."
Vice remained utterly unimpressed, her eyes narrowing.
"And that figure." Mist let out a dramatic sigh, his hand resting over his heart. "The curves of divinity itself. One could only dream to be blessed by such---"
"Don't," Drugo warned, but Mist ignored him.
In one bold movement, Mist opened his arms wide. "Come here, my dearest Vice! Let this mere mortal embrace the very essence of beauty!"
He lunged forward, aiming to wrap her in what was probably intended to be a romantic hug.
KRAK!
A swift punch connected to the top of Mist's head with a satisfying crack. His body jolted, his hair flying in all directions as Vice's knuckles left a visible dent in his pride.
Mist stumbled, clutching his head.
"Agh! Wh-What was that for?"
"For being an idiot," Vice deadpanned, shaking out her hand like she hadn't just delivered a punch that could crumble stone.
"Ow…" Mist whimpered dramatically, rubbing the growing bump. "You didn't have to hit me that hard!"
"That was the light version," Vice said with a smirk.
Still rubbing his head, Mist let out an exaggerated sigh. "You know, Miss Vice, one day you'll see my charm for what it is."
"I see it clearly," Vice said dryly. "And I'm still not impressed."
Krad grinned. "I think I like this guy."
"Of course you do," Drugo muttered.
Despite the ridiculous introduction, Mist's presence brought a strange sense of reassurance. There was a dangerous energy beneath his playful facade. And if Vice trusted him enough to recommend him, then Krad knew this training was going to be anything but ordinary.
"Alright," Krad said, determination glowing in his eyes. "I need you to train me. Teach me everything you kno---"
Before Krad could even finish his sentence, Mist's fist connected with his face.
THWACK!
Krad stumbled backward, his vision spinning as pain exploded through his cheek. The impact was so sudden, so completely unexpected, that his brain barely registered it until he was already on the ground, clutching his face.
"What the hell?!" Krad sputtered, glaring up at Mist.
Mist stood over him, a satisfied grin curling his lips. He casually adjusted his suit, the glint of his silver sword visible behind him. "Too slow," he teased, his voice low and amused.
"You... you just punched me!" Krad growled, pushing himself up. His cheek throbbed, but his pride hurt more.
Mist tilted his head with mock innocence. "I thought you wanted me to train you. Lesson one: Never drop your guard." He gave a light chuckle, his pink eyes gleaming. "You never know when your opponent will strike."
Vice smirked from the sidelines, clearly entertained. "I told you he was the best."
Mist's grin lingered as Krad rubbed his sore cheek, his pointed ears twitching in annoyance. "Okay, okay, I get it. Training means pain. Lesson learned."
Mist's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Good. Because if you're serious about taking on Liyab and the Gods, you'll need to learn a lot faster than that."
"But that doesn't mean you have to break my face on day one!" Krad shot back, glaring.
Mist chuckled. "Consider it a warm-up. We leave at once."
"Wait, already?!" Krad yelped, still nursing his bruised face. "I haven't even digested!"
Mist smirked. "That's the spirit. Nothing like a little motion to aid digestion."
"And by 'motion,' you mean throwing me around like a ragdoll, don't you?" Krad muttered.
Vice snickered. "You catch on quickly."
Drugo gave Krad a solid pat on the back, nearly knocking the air from his lungs. "Try not to die, idiot. And if you do, don't haunt my restaurant."
"Noted," he wheezed.