The royals made a request to me."

  The curtains of the nearby window flapped as the wind travelled through. The sun peeked inside the room, shining warm light on the two men inside.

  Sitting across each other, Falco looked at the paper in Zethir's hands, as well as the feather.

  "They want to weaken the nobles in preparation for the godly war.”

  Zethir's eyes flickered, spewing out a thin, red mist. “The godly war of legends? It's happening so soon?”

  Falco nodded, his face devoid of playfulness. After a while, he spat out a sigh. “Of the fourteen kingdoms, seven will war. Four virtues against three sins… The royals want to unite our army before the war begins, that's why they want to kill as many nobles as they can.”

  Zethir nodded.

  Since old times, their kingdom's nobility and royalty had been at each other's throats. In the kingdom of Targia, the god of lust was the main religion. However, the nobles of Targia believed in the god of chastity, leading to the feud between the two factions.

  Legend has it, the god of lust and the god of chastity were once good friends. Though no one could prove it, this was how their kingdom came to be. However, for some unknown reason, the two gods ended their friendship.

  “But…” Falco lowered his head. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, silently taking out his eye contacts.

  As he raised his head to look at Zethir, his once ordinary brown eyes were no more. Instead, his left eye glowed in topaz orange, while his right eye glowed in sapphire blue.

  “...my request is different. Every time you kill a noble, I want you to make them bleed as much as you can.”

  Zethir nodded calmly. He wasn't averse to such requests, having done far stranger missions. Once, he was hired to torture a slave, prolonging their suffering for an entire day before their death.

  The client's reason was; the slave looked at his wife with "impure" thoughts.

  “I won't ask why. I trust you, Falco,” Zethir said, turning around and placing his hands on the iron door.

  Thinking about it now, Zethir couldn't help feeling anxious.

  ‘I should've asked him back then,’ he clicked his tongue. Sure enough, curiosity was the downfall of men.

  After an hour, the three of them went to reunite with Fernando. Neither of them had anything to pack, making their departure swift.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Be careful, the enemies might still be nearby,” he whispered, moving carefully from tree to tree.

  Although the trees in the mountain foot were sparse, there were many bushes to hide behind. The sun was setting, and the dimming light helped in concealment too.

  “Mn. Mister Zethir, if I may ask a question…” Marco looked at Zethir's back as he inched toward the man.

  Behind him, Augustin was almost crawling like a baby in fear. After nearly dying for who knew how many times, he hadn't spoken much.

  Not hearing Zethir say anything, Marco smiled. “Why do you insist on continuing the mission? We could leave now. It would be safer, and the union wouldn't punish you."

  Zethir glanced at Marco. “Two reasons. A favor, and a desire.”

  “That's… unexpected,” Marco cocked an eyebrow.

  Augustin nodded behind them, his trembling body easing up a bit. His ears even perked up like a radar, thirsting for gossip.

  “May I know what those are?” Marco asked, suddenly looking behind at Augustin and winking. Augustin froze like a mouse caught eating cheese.

  Zethir looked around, before moving behind another tree. Then, as Marco and Augustin moved after him, he spoke.

  “Do you know anything about Fernando?” His hand tapped the hilt of his sword.

  “Mister Fernando? I heard about him. He's a brave warrior, and he brought many victories to the kingdom before,” Marco nodded.

  Zethir blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that. He didn't even know the man before, he only knew of him from his dream.

  “...then, do you believe in clairvoyance?” Zethir's eyes glowed crimson red, clouding his eyes but not turning his vision red.

  “Oh!” Marco exclaimed, a little too loudly for Zethir's taste. Even Augustin tensed up, but Marco seemed to not notice.

  “I've heard of clairvoyance before. Does mister Zethir you know about the god of three eyes?” He asked in a cheerful tone.

  Zethir frowned, wanting to silence the other man.

  However, Marco spoke before he could do so.

  “In the past, when gods ran rampant, there was a powerful god who could see the past, present, and future. Legend has it, he knew what you're about to think before you thought about it. He'd know what you did, and what you would do,” he sighed. “Alas, he fell in battle many, many years ago.”

  “Eh?” Augustin cried out from behind. “If he could see the future, how could he have fallen?”

  Marco chuckled. “Gods are not omniscient. Their powers come at a great cost. In essence, gods are just extremely powerful individuals who gained unique abilities… that's the theory, anyway.”

  “Really? So, say we become rank 15, will we be considered a god?” Augustin chirped, his pale complexion gradually turning rosy.

  Ranks 1 to 5 were called “green.” For mercenaries, they were all dubbed green mercenaries for convenience.

  From rank 6 to 10, they'd be called an elite.

  “Silly child,” Marco smiled. “Rank 15 isn't the end. Even a thousand rank 15s can't hope to lick a god's toe.”

  “Tsk,” Zethir glared at the two parrots behind him, his patience running dry. “Could you be any louder? Lower your voice!”

  'Who the hell gossips loudly?!' Zethir concealed his thoughts.

  Marco grinned bashfully, averting his gaze. Augustin followed his example.

  Suddenly met with silence, Zethir sighed inwardly. In the end, he spoke up first.

  “We're about to reach our previous position. In a bit, we'll reach your mercenaries, Marco,” Zethir walked ahead, not bothering to hide behind tree anymore. Instead, he unsheathed his sword.

  “Be ready for battle,” he said.

  Marco let out a lengthy sigh. “Have you found anything?”

  Zethir nodded, gritting his teeth. “I sense extreme bloodlust. We may have been surrounded. It's better to act quick, than to be caught unprepared,” he said, giving Marco a meaningful glance a they half-ran forward.

  Marco took out a book. Opening it, a glass flask full of green liquid appeared on top of the yellowish pages.

  “I can fight,” he said, downing the potion. “But the only battle spell I do well is [Telekinesis]. Will that be—”

  “That's enough. Now, you,” Zethir motioned at Augustin.

  Augustin opened his mouth when they reached Marco's team. Seeing the pile of dead mercenaries, he couldn't help but gulp.

  “I—I know [Chain of Lightning]... but my arcane level isn't high,” he said, peeking at Zethir.

  Zethir nodded, not expecting anything more.

  ‘[Telekinesis] and [Chain of Lightning]... I can focus on the archers,’ he thought.

  “Use your spell at the best opportunity,” he told Augustin. “The bloodlust somehow thinned out. Let's hurry.”

  Marco nodded. Then, he tapped Zethir, as well as Augustin. Smiling, he said, “As a good luck token. [Lightness]!”

  Suddenly, Zethir felt like his bones and muscles were oiled. Twisting his limbs around, he nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you—”

  Marco's eyes widened, and he shoved Zethir aside. Then, raising his hands, he yelled. “[PROTECTION]!”

  An arrow cried out like an eagle, falling down on Marco's green energy shield like lightning.

  BANG!

  The green shield shattered, green dust fluttering in the air like butterflies, followed by blood splattering on the ground. Marco stumbled back, falling to his knees as he looked down at the arrow sticking out of his body.