Jarek watched the hostess for a few moments without saying anything, discreetly scanning the Order's hall. "Do I have a deadline to complete this mission?"

The young woman returned his scroll without emotion, then seemed to think for a few seconds. "No, just do your mission and you'll get your reward. "

Jarek took a few moments to reread the contents of his mission.

Target: The Black Fang.

A gang based in the slums of Ceston. Known for arms trafficking and the murder of several members of the Order.

Objective: Extermination.

As Jarek turned to leave the Order, the hostess stopped him and gave him some additional information.

"You should be careful, this gang has several artifacts and sacred weapons."

Surprised, Jarek raised an eyebrow and looked at the hostess, who was staring at him. " Any details about their equipment?" he asked in a neutral tone.

"They have three artifacts and one sacred weapon," she replied without giving any further information.

Noticing that she didn't want to say any more, Jarek put his mission in his pocket, but just before he turned around a second time, the hostess added.

"They have two minor artifacts, the Teeth of Shadow, an artifact that slows down anyone who is struck by it, and the second, the Cloak of the Wandering Wolf, which increases the wearer's stealth. And they also have a major artifact, the Necklace of Night Howl. This allows its wearer to disorient those around them. As for the sacred weapon, we know nothing about it."

Jarek raised an eyebrow slightly. Since he had been coming here to pick up his missions, he had never heard the hostess string so many words together. Usually, she would explain the bare minimum to him with the coldness of a statue, as if she were addressing a shadow she deemed unworthy of interest. But this time, she was describing the artifacts with almost unusual precision, without losing her detached tone or expression of superiority.

He held her gaze for a few seconds, trying to discern the reason for this change. Nothing. Her face remained frozen, her lips motionless after her words, as if she had simply recited an unimportant list.

"Interesting..." he murmured, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I thought you liked to keep mercenaries in the dark."

The hostess did not respond immediately. She simply crossed her arms, her chin slightly raised, as if her posture alone was enough to remind Jarek that she was not of his world. Then, in a curt voice, she said:

"You seem to think you deserve more of an explanation. You are mistaken."

Jarek chuckled and bowed slightly, theatrical in his provocation.

"Fair enough. I'll take that as an... exceptional gift, then."

Silence fell for a moment. Their eyes locked, one cold and haughty, the other playful and inscrutable. Finally, Jarek asked her one last question. "And what about the artifacts and the sacred weapon? What do I do with them?"

Snorting slightly, the hostess stared at him with her piercing, expressionless gaze. "You give them back to us."

Jarek nodded, tucked the parchment into his cloak, and turned on his heel.

As he left the room, his mind immediately began to race. Three artifacts and a sacred weapon whose identity remained unknown. That changed everything. Even for him, rushing headlong into a nest of criminals armed with such objects was not going to be a simple task.

But it wasn't the prospect of danger that piqued his interest. It was this unexpected detail: why had the hostess decided to tell him more today? Was it an order from the Order, or simply a lapse on her part?

He stepped out onto the cold streets of Ceston, his boots clattering against the worn cobblestones.

"Hmm... This gang is starting to interest me. This promises to be entertaining," he muttered to himself, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

...

The slums of Ceston reeked of dampness and rusty iron. The cobblestones were cracked, the walls oozing, and rats scurried among the garbage. Jarek moved silently, his cape pulled tightly around his shoulders, his steps calculated so as not to echo.

Thanks to the map drawn on the back of his mission sheet, he recognized these alleys: they all led to a dead end, except for one. This one, narrower than the others, led to an old, half-collapsed black stone warehouse whose windows had been boarded up. Red lanterns hung at the entrance, casting an eerie light that painted the walls with bloody hues.

"Charming..." Jarek muttered to himself.

He stopped in the shadow of an archway, watching the two sentries posted in front of the main door. They were thick-set brutes, armed with axes, their eyes vacant but their attitude alert. The Black Fang may not have had the discipline of an army, but it knew how to protect its territory.

Jarek did not seek confrontation. Not yet. He moved quietly along the wall, circling the building until he reached a broken skylight at the rear. A pungent smell emanated from it, a mixture of smoke, strong alcohol, and dried blood.

He slipped inside like a shadow.

The interior of the hideout resembled a lair more than a warehouse. Flickering torches cast a dirty light on walls covered with graffiti, strange symbols, and hastily painted threats. Tables were littered with dice, cards, empty bottles, and poorly maintained blades. Loud laughter and shouting echoed from a nearby room.

Jarek crouched down, quickly inspecting the floor. Footprints, some fresh, some older. There were many gang members... more than he had hoped for.

Moving cautiously forward, he saw a hallway guarded by two figures, more imposing than the others. They didn't appear to be carrying any artifacts, but Jarek was certain they were much stronger than any of the other gang members he had seen.

Jarek crouched in the shadows, watching the two men. One was broad-shouldered, his massive hands gripping a studded mace. The other, more slender, with a scar snaking across his face and a sharp gaze that betrayed his experience, wielded a curved sword with a blade tarnished by dried blood. They did not speak, content to remain motionless, like two flesh-and-blood statues ready to pounce.

Jarek smiled wryly.

"This could be entertaining..." he thought.

He crouched down, his hand sliding over the hilt of his blade. He had two options: wait for a mistake, risking getting around them... or neutralize them immediately, before they could raise the alarm. His decision was quick.

In a second, he lunged forward, as silent as a gust of wind. His dagger shot out, tracing a line of steel toward the first guard's throat. But the man, as if he had anticipated the attack, raised his arm and blocked the assault with his mace in one brutal motion. The impact echoed like a dull thud in the hallway.

"Tch... quick, the rat," growled the colossus, a wicked smile on his lips.

The second guard didn't waste a second. His curved sword sliced through the air in a deadly arc. Jarek threw himself backward, his coat grazed by the blade, then rolled to the ground and sat up, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Not ordinary guards, then..." he murmured, amused.

The colossus with the mace charged, each step echoing like a drum. Jarek waited until the last moment, pivoted sideways, and plunged his dagger into the man's ribs. But the blade only sank in superficially: reinforced leather armor stopped the blow. The giant roared and swung his mace back.

Jarek dropped his weapon just in time to avoid being crushed, throwing himself aside in one fluid motion. His hand slipped under his cloak and pulled out a second, slimmer dagger, which he threw with a swift movement. The weapon flew into the shadows, grazing the swordsman's shoulder and leaving a slight cut. The swordsman paused momentarily, paying no attention to his shoulder.

The colossus charged again. This time, Jarek leaped forward, sliding under the arm wielding the mace, and in the same movement, slashed deeply behind the man's knee. The guard's guttural cry echoed throughout the lair, shattering the hushed silence of the infiltration.

"...Shit," Jarek whispered, realizing that discretion had just gone out the window.

The scarred man, mad with rage, lunged at him, his sword describing a deadly arc. Jarek parried with a backhand, steel screaming against steel, sparks flying in the darkness. A predatory smile spread across his face: the game had begun.

Suddenly, Jarek felt the air tense around him. He understood immediately what it meant: "They're going to use their Ushi..." he thought.

The confrontation was about to begin, and he knew these men were no mere brutes.

The scarred man made the first move. His curved blade sliced through the air, precise, fast, almost too fast. Jarek barely parried, surprised by the sharpness of the attack. It wasn't just technique... there was something else.

His eyes narrowed.

"Surely a perception Ushi..." he thought. His opponent's movements were perfectly accurate, as if he had anticipated his every move. Each strike seemed to aim for where he should have been.

Behind him, the colossus let out a hoarse growl and his body suddenly swelled, veins bulging beneath his skin, which turned scarlet red. The mass in his hands vibrated with excess force, and when he brought it down, the ground shook as if an anvil had crashed down. Dust rose, and Jarek had to leap aside to avoid the impact.

"As for him, muscle-building Ushi..." he realized. But the giant was already gritting his teeth, his injured knee trembling under the extra strain of his Ushi. "A violent power... but one that must tear his own body apart. "

The narrow corridor became a death trap. The scarred man pressed his advantage, his eyes burning with intensity. His Ushi allowed him to read the fight like an open book, to anticipate Jarek's every move. His blade ricocheted off the mercenary's, grazing his side and tearing his cape.

"You move well, stranger... but you are already dead," he spat, convinced he had the upper hand.

Jarek smiled ironically.

"If you could really see through me... you would understand that you sweat too quickly."

The scarred man pretended to retreat, as if yielding to pressure. Immediately, the colossus charged, flexing his muscles even further with a roar. His weapon whistled through the air, but Jarek threw himself against the wall. The weapon struck the stone and shattered it with a deafening crash.

The shock briefly disoriented the scarred man, his Ushi requiring mental effort to readjust to the cloud of dust.

Taking advantage of this moment of turmoil, Jarek slipped into the colossus's blind spot, his short sword striking with a thrust. The blade sank into his shoulder joint, causing a monstrous scream. But instead of yielding, the man flexed his muscles even more, lifting his mass with one arm, ready to crush Jarek despite the pain.

The mercenary dropped his sword, leaving it stuck in the flesh, and drew a dagger. The scarred man lunged forward, already anticipating this move thanks to his Ushi. But Jarek was waiting for him: he deflected the attack with a sharp blow, then threw his dagger like lightning. The blade grazed his opponent's face, cutting his cheek and disrupting his concentration.

The thread of his Ushi broke. His perceptions suddenly became human again. Too late.

Jarek slipped inside his guard. His free hand grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and his second blade sank under the scarred man's ribs. The man gasped, spat blood, his weapon slipping from his fingers.

The colossus, mad with rage, attempted one last attack. But his Ushi was tearing him apart from within: his arm trembled, his leg wandered, his breath was ragged. Jarek seized this opportunity, pulled his sword from his shoulder with a sharp movement, and thrust it directly under the collarbone, piercing the heart.

The giant collapsed, shaking the hallway with one last crash.

Silence fell, heavy, broken only by the groans of the scarred man clinging to life, his hand pressed against the wall. His bloodshot eyes stared at Jarek with hatred and incomprehension.

"You had a precious gift... but you used it up too quickly," Jarek whispered.

A clean blow ended his agony.

Jarek stood motionless for a few seconds, observing the bodies lying on the floor. The rest of the gang would soon react: his fight with these two had certainly alerted the others.

A cold smile stretched across his lips. "Perfect. Let's get down to business."

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