Reincarnation of the magicless Pinoy!
From zero to hero
"No magic?, No Problem!"
Encounter 18 : Lacation
The Embermaw guardian stepped fully into view, its massive body forcing chunks of loose rock to tumble from the ceiling. Molten cracks lined its black-scaled hide, each breath exhaling gouts of shimmering heat. Its eyes, twin pits of molten gold, locked on Rowan.
"Level two," Rowan muttered under his breath.
The Hollowveilforce surged through him—his muscles tightening, veins pulsing with heightened strength and speed. His vision sharpened, every twitch of the drake's body mapping itself in his mind. The world seemed slower now, every heartbeat stretching into perfect clarity.
"Tessa, flank right! Bragg, left! Ren, you're my overwatch! Solis—keep that shield ready!" Rowan barked, already moving.
The guardian lunged first, a blur of black and molten orange. Rowan sidestepped at the last second, sliding along the scorched floor as the beast's claws ripped a trench where he had stood. His boots ground to a halt, and in the same motion, he pivoted and unleashed a Hammer Strike into the drake's exposed side. The blow landed like a thunderclap, the impact rippling through the beast's plated ribs.
It roared, tail whipping around like a living battering ram. Rowan ducked low, but the tail still clipped his shoulder, sending him staggering back.
A sharp whistle cut through the chaos—Ren's arrow, glowing faint blue from Solis's enchantment, shot past Rowan's cheek and buried itself in the drake's eye ridge. The beast reared back, screeching.
"Water shield—NOW!" Rowan yelled.
Solis slammed his staff into the ground. A shimmering wall of water burst into existence just as the drake's throat glowed and fire erupted. The flames hissed and split against the liquid barrier, steam blasting outward and cloaking the cave in white mist.
Rowan didn't waste it. He launched forward into the fog, feet silent on the stone. He used a jutting boulder to kick himself into a tight spin midair, his Hammer Roundhouse Kick smashing into the side of the drake's jaw. The beast's head snapped sideways, teeth clanging against rock.
"Now, Bragg!"
Bragg charged in, shield up, slamming into the drake's foreleg to stagger it. Tessa slid in low under the creature's body, twin blades slicing into softer scales along its underbelly before rolling clear.
The guardian swiped down with both claws—Rowan darted left, then right, weaving between the strikes like water slipping past stone. Every step was deliberate, guiding the beast's movements toward a narrow choke point in the cave where jagged stone teeth jutted inward.
"Force it here!" Rowan shouted.
They pressured it, each of the Hawks striking in perfect rhythm—Ren's arrows drawing its head, Bragg and Tessa attacking the limbs, Solis locking down moments of weakness with bursts of binding water. Rowan struck in the gaps, each blow precise and punishing, never overextending.
When the drake finally lunged, Rowan was ready. He sidestepped again, but this time, its horn slammed into the rock wall, snapping off a shard of molten stone that rained down on its own head. It staggered, dazed.
Rowan didn't hesitate—he vaulted up its neck, driving his boot into its eye with a final, echoing Hammer Strike that dropped the beast to the floor with a ground-shaking thud.
From the shadowed ledge above, two armored men watched silently. One leaned toward the other, voice low.
"…Head Knight, you sure these people are just mercenaries?"
The older man didn't answer right away, eyes fixed on the Hawks as they regrouped. "Mercenaries don't fight like that. That was discipline. Training. Like an elite strike unit from an enemy nation."
The first man swallowed hard, gaze narrowing on Rowan. "Then what the hell are they doing here?"
The Embermaw guardian's body twitched once, then stilled. The smell of scorched flesh and molten stone clung heavy in the air.
Rowan jumped down from its neck, boots crunching on loose gravel. His breathing was steady—controlled—despite the battle.
"Ren, eyes up. See if anything else is moving in the shadows."
"On it," Ren replied, already stringing another arrow and scanning the cavern's dark edges.
Tessa leaned on one knee, wiping the blood from her blades. "That thing hits like a siege ram. I thought it was going to take my head off twice."
Bragg chuckled, planting his shield into the ground. "Only twice? It nearly flattened me five times."
Solis knelt by the drake's body, running a careful hand over its cracked scales. "Found it. This is what Klaus wanted—molten heart-scale. Still warm." He pried it loose with a grunt, the chunk glowing faintly red. "This will fetch more than a few coins if we weren't already giving it away to that snake."
Rowan brushed soot from his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the shadows above. For a heartbeat, he swore he caught movement—a silhouette vanishing into the dark like it was never there.
"Pack it up. We're leaving," he said sharply.
Pete looked up from his bag. "What? No victory break? We earned a drink after that!"
"We don't have the luxury," Rowan replied. "We weren't alone in here."
Ren froze, scanning again. "You saw something?"
"Not something," Rowan said quietly. "Someone."
They moved quickly, keeping their formation tight as they made their way back out of the cavern. The air outside was cooler, but the silence was wrong—too still, like the forest was holding its breath.
Once they reached a safer clearing, Rowan finally let the tension ease slightly. "Alright. Bag the scale. We'll deliver it to Klaus and see if he keeps his word."
Pete muttered under his breath, "If he doesn't, I'm shoving it down his—"
"Don't," Solis cut in with a dry smile. "We're already one bad rumor away from being branded enemy agents."
Rowan said nothing, but his gaze lingered on the treeline behind them. He knew those men would report what they saw—and the less they revealed until they crossed the border again, the better.
The streets were busier than when they left. Merchants were calling out deals, hawkers waving goods, and the smell of spiced meat and fresh bread hung in the air. None of it softened the taut mood hanging over Rowan's group.
They spotted Klaus exactly where they expected him—lounging in the same terrace chair, mug in hand, looking like he hadn't moved since the day before. His half-lidded eyes lit up the moment he spotted them.
"Well, well, look who's still breathing," he drawled, lifting his drink in a lazy salute. "And here I thought the mighty mercenaries would end up as drake chow."
Pete scowled. "You could've at least wished us luck before sending us to get roasted alive."
Klaus grinned, unbothered. "Luck is for gamblers, my boy. I only deal with certainties." His gaze drifted to Solis, who was pulling the glowing molten heart-scale from a thick cloth wrap. "Ah… and there it is. Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the fact you didn't die getting it."
"Mission complete," Rowan said flatly, setting the scale on the table. "Now hold your end of the deal."
Klaus leaned forward, elbows on the table, and tapped a finger against the wood. "Mm, see… I am a man of my word. But I am also a man of opportunity."
Bragg groaned. "Here it comes."
Klaus smiled wider. "There's been… a development. The location you're so desperate to reach—the one with your oh-so-mysterious prize—just got a lot more complicated. The area is crawling with Velkarian scouts. I can still take you there… but we'll have to slip past a few 'minor inconveniences.'"
"Translation," Ren muttered, "he's going to milk us for another job before he actually does anything."
Rowan's tone stayed level, but his eyes were cold. "Fine. What's the next job?"
Klaus chuckled. "Straight to business. I like that. There's a caravan due to leave tomorrow at dawn. It's carrying a shipment of goods… and a very particular chest that doesn't belong to the man transporting it. I want that chest."
Pete threw up his hands. "You want us to rob someone now? That's the job?"
"Not rob," Klaus said innocently. "Retrieve. There's a difference. And trust me—you'll like what's inside."
Rowan studied him for a long, silent moment, then gave a short nod. "Tomorrow, we'll do it. But after that, you take us to the Dragon's Jaw. No more detours."
Klaus raised his mug in mock toast. "Of course. You have my word."
Behind Rowan, Tessa murmured low enough for only him to hear, "That's twice you've let him string us along."
Rowan's lips barely moved. "That's twice I've let him think he's in control."
Klaus didn't notice the exchange, humming to himself as he admired the molten heart-scale. "Sleep well, my friends. You've got an interesting morning ahead of you."
smell of roasted meat and stale ale. Their table sat in a shadowed corner, but the noise didn't stop Pete and Ren from griping over their half-finished plates.
"I'm telling you," Pete muttered, stabbing at his food, "one solid right hook to that fox's smug jaw and we'd have our guide for free."
Ren smirked. "I'd settle for tossing him headfirst into a pig trough. Same result, less blood."
Rowan didn't even look up from his stew. "We can't. We can't stir trouble here. We need to be patient. Remember—we're in enemy territory."
Tessa nodded, smirking. "Rowan's right. If this was our hometown, that sly fox would be bleeding out in an alley by now."
Before Pete could fire back, a shadow fell over their table. A huge bald man with a scar across his cheek grinned down at Tessa, one meaty hand dropping onto her shoulder.
"Well now… what's a fine young lady like you doing with a pack of roughnecks?" His grip tightened.
Ren, Bragg, and Solis shot up from their seats, hands already moving toward weapons, but Rowan's low voice stopped them cold.
"Sit down."
Rowan rose slowly, pushing his chair back without breaking eye contact with the man. His tone was calm, but his words carried steel.
"Big fella, we don't want any trouble. So if you'd kindly remove your hand from my friend's shoulder… or I'll remove it myself."
The man opened his mouth to sneer, but froze when Rowan's spirit aura slammed into him like a suffocating wave. His breath hitched, sweat beading on his temple.
Before the moment could tip into violence, the tavern door swung open and a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"My, my… you lot are a trouble magnet. Lucky for you, I'm here to save your asses."
Klaus strode in with that infuriating grin. Without breaking stride, he kicked the bald man square in the chest. The impact sent the brute flying backward, crashing through the tavern door and landing somewhere in the street with a groan.
Pete's fork froze mid-bite. Ren's jaw actually dropped.
"That sly fox… he's strong too," Solis muttered under his breath.
Tessa blinked, a little stunned. "Uh… thanks."
"No problemo, my dear lady," Klaus said with a mock bow.
Rowan narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here, fox?"
"Hey, hey, easy, kid." Klaus raised his hands, still grinning. "I'm here to talk. And believe it or not… I've got news for you. Good news."
Ren's glare could have cut steel. "What is it?"
Klaus tilted his head, scanning the tavern. "Easy, boy. You want to discuss this with a hundred pairs of ears listening? Or maybe somewhere a little more private?"
His gaze swept the room—at the staring customers, the ones clearly leaning closer to hear.
Rowan's jaw tightened. "Tch. Fine. Lead the way."
Klaus gave a satisfied little nod, gesturing toward the door. "Right this way, my friends. Let's keep all our heads attached tonight, yeah?"
Klaus led them out of the tavern and down a narrow side street, stopping in front of a small, dimly lit tea house. Inside, the air was warm and thick with the scent of spiced leaves. He took the farthest table from the door, waving for them to sit.
Rowan slid into his seat, eyes locked on the fox-faced man. "Alright, spill."
Klaus leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "My client is ready to have an audience with you."
The whole table tilted their heads in unison.
Tessa frowned. "Who? And why?"
Klaus smirked. "Well, while you were busy doing me a small favor, I was busting my ass to get you an appointment with my client—someone who can tell you exactly where to find what you're looking for."
Ren's hands slammed the table. "You little—! You said you knew where it was! Now you're passing us off to someone else?!"
He lunged, fist cocked back, but before he could throw a punch, Bragg reached out with one massive hand, grabbed Ren by the back of his collar, and lifted him a good foot off the ground like a squirming cat.
"Put me down, damn it!" Ren barked, legs kicking.
Rowan side-glanced at the scene, the corner of his mouth twitching. For a split second, he remembered a certain anime from Earth—a burly side character restraining an overzealous hothead the exact same way.
Turning back to Klaus, Rowan's voice was calm, but there was a dangerous weight in it. "Who is this person that knows the real location of the Mother of All Flames?"
Klaus' grin widened. He let the silence stretch, savoring the moment like he was holding the last card in a winning hand. The creak of the teahouse door, the faint whistle of the wind outside—every little sound seemed louder in the pause.
Finally, Klaus leaned forward, elbows on the table, and said in a low, deliberate voice:
"Grand Duke Vermont."
The name hung in the air like a blade about to drop.
To be continued..