The Black Crow leader was a very superstitious man, and why wouldn't he be. His whole life had been surrounded by omens.

When his palm itched, he gained money.

When a black cat passed by, someone died.

When a black bird appeared, his fortune doubled.

Many, many signs like these had guided him, leading him to become the most successful man in the Yari outskirts.

Three hundred years ago, when he had been cast into this world by a lesser god, he thought he was finished. Being sent to this particular world dungeon was a death sentence. Yet he had managed to work his way around it.

At least he wasn't sent to a truly terrible place like the imaginary prison, Eidolon.

Those trapped there were the worst of the worst, beings dangerous enough to disrupt the world order itself.

That said, his luck had taken a turn for the worse in recent months. He had nearly been killed, until he ran into a raven with pitch-black feathers and, of course, a very fast red squirrel.

He took the two as a great omen, and sure enough, his fortune not only recovered, it doubled.

With this newfound luck, he took initiative. Longtime rivals disappeared, deals were settled in blood, and his position in the Grinding Gate was solidified.

He smiled as the smell of good food filled the air. Bright lights reflected off polished stone, soft cushions cradling his weight as he leaned back comfortably. Around him, his subordinates drank heavily, laughed loudly, and danced with beautiful women.

At the center of the revelry lay the severed head of a massive desert monster they had hunted.

Its eyes had been gouged out and placed before a large black raven, which pecked at them leisurely. Beside it sat a red squirrel, clutching a fleshy blob that unmistakably resembled a testicle, gnawing at it with delight.

These two creatures were the source of the Black Crows' good fortune these past few months.

They had an uncanny sense for danger, able to predict disasters before they fell.

It was as if they had a history of orbiting a living trouble magnet.

"You two stick with me," the Black Crow leader said, lifting his cup slightly. "And you'll live a good life."

The raven raised its beak, feathers ruffling as it let out an arrogant caw, preening under the attention.

Yes, this was the life.

Sure, the city was shit, but it was still a hundred times better than hanging around that fiend, Damon Grey.

This was the life.

Still, Croft's intuition began to tingle.

The raven turned its head toward the squirrel.

"Caw caw."

Perhaps it was time to leave.

The squirrel glanced back, cheeks stuffed with meat, its small body stiffening in irritation. Its beady eyes narrowed as it stared at the raven.

Leave? Why would they leave?

This life was good. Servants, offerings, comfort.

Better than great.

"Squeal squeal squeal."

It fired back a string of sharp, indignant squeals, clearly insulting the wretched raven for even suggesting a return to street life.

While they argued, the leader of the Black Crows raised his hand. The music cut off abruptly, laughter dying down as the room went quiet.

"We have come very far," he began, his voice carrying easily. "We have achieved so much."

"Yeahhh!"

"Hail the boss!"

"Boss, you're so great!"

"Our Black Crow is unstoppable!"

Cheers erupted, and he smiled, basking in their devotion.

"However," he continued, his expression turning serious, "it seems a new force is moving beneath our shadows. I have received intel that their leader is looking for me and has given us, the great Black Crow, orders to join them."

The room fell silent.

"You know what I say?" He leaned forward slightly. "I say nay."

"Nay! Nay!" they shouted in agreement, raising their drinks.

"I have leaked our location to them," he declared. "If they dare come, let them face me."

The mood turned jubilant again, except for the raven and the squirrel. Their argument halted as they stared at each other.

A single thought surfaced in both their minds.

Wait… isn't this how that fiend, Damon Grey, operates?

Before either could act, a cold chill swept through the chamber. Fires flickered violently, then went out. Snow began to fall inside the large hall, settling on stone where it should not exist.

The walls fogged over. Breath turned visible.

Only the central flames remained, casting long shadows as weapons were drawn. Illumination magic flared, bathing the room in harsh light.

And in the very center of the hall—

Two figures stood motionless.

One was a man clad in dark armor, long black hair flowing down his back. A crown rested above his head like a twisted halo. A step behind him stood a knight in full plated armor made of dark metal, fractured with lines like shattered ice.

She was a woman.

Her wings were formed of frost, spreading biting cold through the room, an icy greatsword held loosely in her grasp.

The cold was so intense that every breath fogged.

The Black Crow boss felt his confidence waver.

They were powerful, but how powerful could they truly be?

They were still third class. He had several fighters of that rank. The only beings he truly feared were the King of Yari and those fourth-class monsters capable of shattering mountains.

He leaned back slightly, glancing at the raven and squirrel.

As long as he had them, he would be fine.

Before the thought fully formed, the raven and squirrel shot forward in a blur, landing on the armored man's shoulders. They cried out desperately, their sounds almost like accusations and grievances being poured into his ears.

The man glanced at them from the corner of his eye, lips curling into a sneer.

"You little wretches," he said coldly. "You seem to be living it up while I was trapped in the deepest layer of Eidolon."

The first words offended him.

The second shattered him.

Eidolon.

The Black Crow leader felt his legs go weak.

This wasn't some run-of-the-mill thug.

This was a great evil from the imaginary prison.

"I—I surrender!" he cried, collapsing to his knees. "Spare me!"

His subordinates stared in disbelief as their boss fell, trembling, before the intruders.

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