Isaac's eyes narrowed as he studied the five figures stepping into the cavern. The flicker of their torches lit the walls just enough for him to see the emblem on their gear — a skull coiled in a serpent's grip.
He almost laughed. "Of course…" he muttered under his breath. "The Serpent's Fangs. Because nothing says 'we have issues' like naming your little club after something that bites its own tail."
Trish's gaze was locked on them, her posture tense. Isaac didn't need to ask; he already knew she recognized them.
The one in front, a wall of muscle with a shield big enough to hide behind, stopped first. His voice rumbled in the cavern. "Trish."
The way he said her name — like a curse — made Isaac glance at her. "Friend of yours?" he asked casually.
She didn't look at him. "Markus. Ex-captain of one of the Trader's branch squads."
The lanky man beside Markus leaned on his sword with a lazy grin. "Ex-captain because you killed half his team."
"Ohhh," Isaac drawled, "so this is a funeral afterparty. And here I didn't bring flowers."
The archer, a short-haired woman with a scar running down her jaw, spat on the ground. "Shut it. We're here for both of you. Trader may be untouchable, but his little pets aren't."
The older of the two mages, pale-skinned with sunken eyes, stepped forward. "You gave him their names," he said, his gaze fixed on Isaac. "And she… carried out the sentence."
Isaac tilted his head, feigning innocence. "You mean I told the truth? I should really stop doing that. It seems to upset people."
The younger mage, a tall man with ink-black hair, clenched his fists. "Gavril was one of us. We don't care what he did — you had no right."
"Right?" Isaac's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I wasn't aware betrayal had a loyalty clause. But sure, let's pretend he was a saint."
Markus raised his shield, the sound echoing in the cave. "Enough. We kill them both, here and now. Then we take the flowers."
Trish's expression didn't change, but Isaac caught the flicker in her eyes when Markus mentioned the flowers. They knew about the herb. Which meant… someone had been talking.
Isaac exhaled slowly, his smirk curling into something sharper. "Well, this just keeps getting better. Assassins, grave-robbers, and plagiarists… all in one package
Isaac took a slow step forward, the faint glow from the water catching the curve of his smirk.
"You know…" he began, his voice low and almost conversational, "there's a funny thing about hunting something you think is weaker than you. Sometimes, when it bites back, you don't live long enough to wonder where it learned how."
The five tensed, Markus's shield inching higher, the archer already drawing an arrow. The torchlight made their faces look carved in stone.
Isaac's gaze slid to Trish. The sarcasm bled from his tone, replaced by a rare seriousness.
"Trish… get ready."
Her eyes narrowed, and she gave the slightest nod. The subtle shift in her stance told him she was seconds from exploding into motion.
On cue, the five moved into formation — Markus front and center, the swordsman flanking him, the archer taking position behind, and the mages splitting to either side.
The air between them was tight, humming with that pre-fight stillness before steel meets steel.
Isaac let it hang for a moment… then straightened up and said, perfectly deadpan:
"Get ready… to run."
Markus blinked. "Run? From you?"
The swordsman, Kael, scoffed. "You've got a big mouth for a dead man."
Isaac just smiled, calm as ever.
"Oh, I'm not running from you."
Before any of them could react, he pulled out his dagger and dragged the blade across his own palm. A thin line of crimson welled up instantly.
"Trish," he said lightly, "don't blink."
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he sent the blood spraying in a wide arc toward the pool of water. The droplets scattered in the air before hitting the surface — and that's when it happened.
The water lit up like lightning under glass. A deep, wet rumble echoed from below.
Markus's eyes went wide. "What the—"
They didn't get time to finish.
From the glowing depths, the sleeping fish-faced creatures jerked awake, their heads snapping toward the scent. Their thin lips pulled back, revealing rows of needle teeth.
One. Two. Five. Ten.
The whole pit came alive, and in the next breath, the creatures launched themselves out of the water, screeching.
The shield bearer barely had time to raise his guard before one latched onto him, its claws raking at the steel. The mages shouted incantations, arrows flew, but there were too many.
And in that chaos — Isaac moved.
He slipped through the shadows like water through cracks, his sword flashing once, twice. The archer gasped, his bowstring snapping as a blade slid cleanly between his ribs.
Trish was already gone from sight, reappearing behind the swordsman in a blur, her daggers crossing at his throat. She didn't kill him outright — she pushed him forward, right into the snapping jaws of another creature.
Isaac stepped over Markus's fallen shield, locking eyes with him for just a second before burying his blade in the man's side. No words. Just cold precision.
One by one, the guild members fell — not to the monsters alone, but to two hunters who used the chaos like an artist uses a brush.
By the time the last scream faded, the water was calm again… and the cave smelled like blood and damp stone.
Isaac wiped his blade clean on the cloak of one of the corpses, glancing at Trish with a grin.
"See? I told you. Get ready to run.''
Trish stepped over a corpse, her boots leaving faint prints in the wet stone. She stopped right in front of Isaac, staring at him like she was trying to see through his skull.
"You," she said flatly, "are completely insane."
Isaac raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Insane? Me? That was strategy."
"Strategy?" she snapped, pointing at the blood still dripping from his hand. "You bled yourself to wake up a pit full of man-eating monsters just to fight in the middle of the chaos. That's not strategy, that's suicidal."
Isaac smirked, shrugging. "Worked, didn't it? Besides…" His eyes flicked to the scattered flowers she'd collected earlier. "We got what we came for. And we didn't even have to pay for entertainment."
Trish exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "One day, that ridiculous confidence is going to get you killed."
Isaac just smiled and sheathed his sword. "Maybe. But not today."
That's when the ground beneath them rumbled.
Both of them froze. A low, groaning sound echoed through the cave walls, and bits of rock tumbled from above.
Trish's expression shifted instantly. "What did you do now?"
Isaac's eyes darted toward the glowing water. The ripples were back — but this time, they weren't from anything swimming.
"Oh, for f—" he muttered under his breath, cursing his luck as the shaking grew stronger.
The sound deepened, something massive moving below, and Isaac's smirk finally faded.
"…We should probably run."