The city of Garden didn’t just welcome them—it swallowed them whole. The air was thick with life, green and wet like a jungle after rain. Trees clawed at the sky, their branches heavy with leaves that shimmered in shades of emerald and gold under the sun. Houses clung to the hillsides like barnacles on a shipwreck, built not to conquer but to coexist. And somewhere in the distance, the palace loomed—not as a fortress or monument, but as a quiet guardian of the land it covered. It wasn’t tall, no spires kissing clouds here, but its sprawl was vast, greedy almost, claiming more than twenty percent of the kingdom’s soil.


    Aaron stepped out of the carriage first, his boots crunching against gravel softened by moss. He breathed deep—the scent hit him like a punch to the gut. Earthy, alive, suffocating. Like being buried neck-deep in fertile ground while roots wrapped around your lungs. For anyone else, it might have been refreshing. To Aaron, it felt like mockery. A reminder that this place thrived where others starved; grew when others died.


    Tanya stood beside him now, her crimson dress billowing slightly in the breeze. She looked… lighter. Happier. Her shoulders weren’t weighed down by invisible chains for once. People flocked to her—farmers mostly, dirt-streaked hands reaching out to touch her hem, faces lined with smiles instead of worry. They called her name, shouted blessings, laughed as if she were already queen.


    “Lady Tanya!” one man cried, gripping her hand tightly. His palms were rough, calloused from years of labor. “We’ve missed you so much! The crops are doing well this season, but they’d do better with you watching over us!”


    She smiled softly, patting his shoulder. “I’ll visit the fields soon,” she promised, her voice carrying warmth Aaron hadn’t heard before. “For now, rest easy knowing I’m home.”


    Elizabeth lingered near the back of the group, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. When Aaron caught her gaze, she scoffed loudly, deliberately turning away. Her disdain was a living thing, writhing between them like a snake. Aaron ignored her. Let her stew in whatever poison brewed inside her veins. He had bigger problems to deal with.


    Lucy, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement. Ten centurian gold per month. That number looped endlessly in her head, a mantra she whispered to herself every time fear tried to creep in. She could finally breathe. Finally stop hustling until her bones cracked under the weight of desperation. But then Aaron handed her the list.


    “Here.” His tone was flat, clinical. As if he were handing over a receipt rather than a death sentence.


    Lucy took the paper, her fingers trembling. One glance at the items listed made her stomach drop straight through her feet.


    “Master…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “These items can only be found—”


    “In the black market,” Aaron finished for her, cutting her off without missing a beat. “I know. Get to it now. And before you go, give Susi instructions on how to handle things while we’re here. Got it?”


    “But…” Lucy hesitated, clutching the sheet like it might burst into flames. “We still don’t have the money in hand. It’s still just a contract…”


    Aaron turned to face her fully, his golden eyes boring into hers like drills. There was no anger in his expression, no impatience. Just silence. A void waiting to swallow her whole.


    Figure shit out yourself, his stare said plainly.


    Lucy swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze despite the lump lodged in her throat. “Okay…” she managed, her voice wavering before steadying. “Consider it done, Boss. But….. I also want to…. ask for one thing.”


    Aaron raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “What?”


    Her bow was so low her forehead nearly touched the ground. “Please,” she begged, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I know you know more about blood magic. Please, please, PLEASE teach me even an ounce of your great wisdom.”


    For a moment, Aaron said nothing. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not cruel, exactly, but sharp enough to draw blood. “Huh…” he murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. “It seems you’re adapting, Most demons held their pride to death…. Fine. I’ll think about it… ‘after’ you bring me the items I need. Alright?”


    “YES MASTER!!!” Lucy shouted, loud enough to make birds scatter from nearby trees. Her enthusiasm was infectious, grating even, but Aaron let it slide. For now.


    The streets buzzed with activity. Farmers carted baskets overflowing with produce, children played tag between stalls, merchants shouted prices over the din. Everywhere Aaron looked, there was movement, sound, color. Life. Too much of it. It grated against his senses like nails on a chalkboard.


    He wandered away from the group, ignoring the protests of both Amelia and Henry. Neither followed him, though he could feel their eyes burning holes into his back. Good. Let them watch. Let them wonder what he was planning next.


    The marketplace stretched out before him, chaotic and sprawling. Stalls overflowed with goods: fresh fruits, cured meats, handcrafted tools, trinkets carved from bone. Vendors hawked their wares with practiced ease, voices rising and falling like waves crashing against rocks. Somewhere in the chaos, Aaron spotted a blacksmith hammering away at a glowing piece of metal. Sparks flew with each strike, illuminating the man’s sweat-streaked face.


    Aaron stopped in front of a stall selling herbs. Dried bundles hung from strings tied across the frame, swaying gently in the breeze. Lavender, rosemary, thyme—their scents mingled together, creating something almost pleasant. Almost.


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    “You lookin’ for somethin’, stranger?” the vendor asked, leaning forward with a grin missing several teeth. His hands were stained green from handling plants all day, his apron smeared with dirt and oil.


    Aaron shook his head. “No.”


    The vendor shrugged, unfazed. “Suit yerself. Lotsa folks come ‘round here lookin’ fer rare stuff. Yer loss.”


    Rare stuff. Aaron’s lips twitched into a faint smile. Rare was relative. What these peasants considered exotic, he viewed as scraps. Still, there was potential here. Potential for leverage, for power. All it took was finding the right pieces and putting them together.


    ---


    Back at the estate, Lucy paced frantically, muttering to herself. The list burned in her pocket like a brand. Each item was a puzzle piece she couldn’t quite fit together, a riddle she didn’t know how to solve. How was she supposed to find these things? Where would she even start?


    Susi watched her from the corner of the room, sharpening his blade methodically. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filled the silence, steady and unyielding.


    “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up,” he commented dryly, not looking up from his work.


    Lucy shot him a glare. “Shut up. You try figuring this out.”


    Susi shrugged, flipping the blade over to inspect the edge. “Not my problem. You’re the one who signed up for it.”


    “Yeah, thanks for the support,” Lucy snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Real helpful.”


    Susi grinned, showing teeth stained red from chewing leaves. “Anytime.”


    Aaron entered his room, which smelled like damp wood and dried herbs, a scent that clung to the walls like memories too stubborn to fade. Aaron stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the fading light. Outside, the city of Garden sprawled below him—trees taller than cathedrals swayed gently, their leaves whispering secrets only they understood. The ember-laced air filled his lungs with every breath, grounding him, reminding him he was alive. For now.


    But life had a way of clawing back at you when you least expected it.


    Celina''s voice sliced through the quiet, sharp as broken glass. “Aaron!” she called from the doorway, her tone laced with amusement but edged with something sharper—curiosity. Always curiosity. Mages were like that: insatiable, hungry for answers like starving dogs circling scraps.


    Aaron didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to see her face to know what she looked like—her lips pressed thin, eyes narrowed just enough to mask the storm brewing behind them. She wasn’t here to chat. She was here to pry.


    “You know your ruse as a guard will only fall apart if your client starts bowing down to you,” she said, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her arms crossed over her chest, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on her bicep. “And another client carries your luggage? What’s next? A red carpet?”


    Aaron snorted, low and bitter. “...... If I cared, yeah. But it seems I don’t give a fuck about people and their shit called …..what, opinions?”


    Celina giggled then, a sound both genuine and calculated. It grated against Aaron’s nerves like nails on slate. She stepped closer, boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. Each step deliberate, measured. Like a predator circling prey—or maybe just testing the boundaries of a cage.


    “So about the deal,” He continued, undeterred by the silence. “It’s all well and done, right? If so, tell Tanya to hand it over to Lucy. Not me.”


    “Ohhh... such trust. You know how much ten centurian gold is worth, right? If she ran away with that money, she could live an average wealthy life for the rest of her years.”


    He laughed then, a dark, hollow sound that echoed off the walls. It wasn’t joy—it was mockery. Mockery of himself, of her, of the absurdity of it all.


    “Hahahaha... Yeah, don’t worry. My trust towards her is already sealed in the deal. Our trust towards each other will never ever fade away. I made sure of that.”


    His gaze hardened, molten gold freezing into steel. “Just make sure Tanya holds onto her promise.”


    Celina tilted her head slightly, studying him like a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Don’t worry about her. She’s a woman of promises—but the payment might get delayed. She just ran toward the palace saying something about an emergency.”


    Aaron’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. Of course. Tanya wouldn’t waste time once she smelled blood in the water. Wars didn’t wait for anyone, especially not kingdoms nestled among gardens and trees.


    ‘It’ll spread across the whole kingdom soon,’ he thought, his mind racing ahead. ‘Before panic starts spreading, I need to beat that shitty dragon fast.’


    Celina’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft yet probing. “You’ve got quite the reputation, you know. People talk. They say you’re more than just some hired sword. That you’re... different.”


    Aaron smirked faintly, though there was no humor in it. “Different, huh? Funny thing about being ‘different’—it usually means you’re either worshipped or hunted.”


    She raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. “Which one are you?”


    “Neither,” he replied flatly. “I’m just trying to survive.”


    Celina chuckled dryly. “Survival doesn’t look like this, Aaron. This looks like preparation—preparation for….”


    He said nothing, letting the accusation hang between them like smoke after a firestorm. Celina leaned in slightly, her curiosity bubbling over into boldness. “What happened before? Before you came here?”


    Aaron’s hand twitched, fingers brushing absently against the hilt of his sword. Memories flickered in his mind like shadows cast by dying flames—the fertile lands scorched black, towering trees reduced to ash, a castle crumbling under the weight of his own fury. And Celina... Did she exist then? Or had he erased her without even realizing it?


    “I destroyed it,” he muttered finally, his voice barely audible. “All of it. Burned everything until there was nothing left.”


    Celina blinked, startled by the raw honesty in his words. “Why?”


    He shrugged, feigning indifference, but his knuckles whitened where they gripped the windowsill. “Because sometimes destruction is the only path forward.”


    For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched taut, heavy with unspoken questions and buried truths. Then Celina straightened, shaking off the tension like shedding a cloak. “Well,” she said brightly, forcing levity into her tone, “if you ever feel like sharing more, let me know. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, right?”


    Aaron shot her a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Careful, mage. Too much curiosity might kill you for real.”


    She grinned, unfazed. “Noted.”


    With that, she turned to leave, pausing only briefly at the threshold. “Oh, and one last thing—Amelia and Susi still need identity cards if you plan to keep them out of trouble while you’re gone.”


    Aaron frowned, irritation flaring briefly before settling into resignation. “Fine. Help them register at the Adventurer’s Guild while I’m out.”


    Celina perked up immediately, her interest piqued. “Where exactly are you going?”


    Aaron hesitated, weighing his options. Finally, he met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere unavoidable.”


    Celina nodded slowly, accepting his cryptic answer without pressing further. Somehow, she knew better than to push him too far.


    As she walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance, Aaron exhaled sharply, letting the tension drain from his body. He glanced out the window again, watching the city below bask in the twilight glow. Garden was beautiful, yes—but beauty was fragile, fleeting. It always burned first when chaos arrived.


    And burn it would.