The fog clung to the city like a living thing, swirling through the crooked alleys and narrow streets of Valenport with a whisper of menace. Every step I took echoed softly against the cobblestones, swallowed almost immediately by the thick, damp air. My breath formed small clouds in the cold night as I moved cautiously, feeling the weight of my sword settle against my back like an old companion—one I wasn't ready to part with.
D rank.
A label meant to humiliate, to cage me. But it was nothing more than a reminder of how far I'd fallen—and how much further I was determined to climb. The system's judgment stung, but it wouldn't define me.
Not again.
The last conversation with Saria played over and over in my mind. The Silent Serpents weren't just shadows whispered in taverns or rumors told by frightened merchants. They were real. They were ruthless. And they were hunting me.
I needed information. I needed allies. I needed answers.
Merchant Loran's words echoed in my head, heavy with truth: "Strength alone won't save you. You need allies... and answers."
There was only one place to start—the Rusted Fang. A den of sin, secrets, and mercenaries, nestled deep in the bowels of the market district. It was where the desperate and the dangerous converged, where whispers cost more than gold, and where I could blend into the shadows without drawing attention.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I was immediately engulfed by the familiar stench of stale ale, sweat, and smoke. The tavern was dimly lit by flickering lanterns, casting long, jittery shadows across scarred wooden tables and walls plastered with faded wanted posters. The air vibrated with low murmurs, punctuated by occasional outbursts—laughter, curses, the clink of coin.
I slid into a shadowed booth near the back, letting my eyes adjust as I surveyed the crowd. Grizzled mercenaries, thieves, and smugglers nursed their drinks, eyes darting nervously or sizing up potential marks. I was one of them now, or at least close.
After a tense moment, two rough-looking men caught my gaze. One had a deep scar slicing through his left cheek, the other's hands were calloused and stained. I leaned forward, voice low but steady.
"Looking for work... and information on the Silent Serpents."
They exchanged a glance, weighing me up like prey. The scarred man chuckled, a harsh sound that grated against the tavern's murmur.
"Serpents, eh? They've been stirring trouble down by the Eastern Docks. If you want to stay breathing, start there."
I nodded, slipping a few coins across the table as a sign of goodwill—and urgency.
As I stepped back into the night, a cold prickle crawled up my spine. The city's fog thickened, shadows stretching like claws. I knew the feeling too well—the unmistakable sensation of being watched.
Faster footsteps behind me.
I turned sharply, drawing my sword in one fluid motion.
A cloaked figure stood there, eyes glinting from beneath a hood like twin shards of ice.
"You're searching for the Serpents," the figure said, voice low and edged with warning. "Dangerous business, Kael Draven."
He stepped forward, pulling back his hood to reveal a jagged scar that marred his cheek and a pair of sharp, calculating eyes.
"Name's Rylas. I've heard stories about you—about your fall, and the fire still burning beneath the ashes."
For a moment, the cold fog seemed to recede.
Maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought.
We moved deeper into the maze of docks, where crates piled high created perfect shadows for secrets and ambushes alike. The smell of saltwater mixed with tar and the faint coppery tang of blood. My pulse quickened—not from fear, but anticipation. This was the start of something. The chance to reclaim my name, to unmask the enemies who'd tried to bury me.
Rylas spoke softly but with authority, filling in pieces I'd been missing.
"The Serpents have eyes everywhere. You'll need more than a sword if you want to survive."
His words rang true. Strength alone wouldn't cut it—not when every move was watched, every ally could be a traitor.
As we approached a dimly lit warehouse, the unmistakable feeling of danger tightened around me like a noose.
I glanced at Rylas. "What now?"
He smiled, a grim curl of lips. "Now, we make them regret ever crossing your path."
To be continued...