Halfgrip the dour was a… dour man.

Surprisingly.

A level 14 [Warrior], he had stepped onto the path of an adventurer, and never looked back. It had all started on that dark day when goblins had attacked and slaughtered his wife, kids, pet dogs, pet cats, goats, friends, extended family except the annoying mother-in-law, and so on.

They had also broken his childhood toys, laughed at him, and probably bullied him when he was a kid. Oh, and taken candy from him all those times.

Indeed, there was a reason he had not smiled once for 20 years.

His hulking body was all scar and muscle, covered by thick and worn iron plate mail. Rumors said that he never took it off, even to sleep. His toilet arrangements were thus a mystery.

The rest of his party, stone-faced [Geomancer] Kivi the stoic and grim [Archer] Halfric the unsmiling had similar bearings too. In fact—they were all from that same village, where the goblins had killed everyone, bullied them as kids, and so on.

Naturally, none of them were childhood friends. Those were all dead. Like the wives.

No—they were all people who couldn’t stand each other, old rivals in romance. The romanced party was of course dead too—that was why they had banded together. A grim party forged in tragedy.

And then there was Tim.

A [Healer] with a relaxed and gentle disposition who didn’t really know how he had ended up in this party. His parents were all happy—thank you very much. Though every now and then—he held doubts. Doubts that the grim backstories might eventually taint him too.

He coughed loudly. “Everyone—you’re all brooding darkly again. We have to get moving.”

Halfgrip unsheathed his two bastard swords, holding them in hands that only had three fingers each. Oh, right, forgot to mention that one. Part of the ‘and so on’ probably.

Anyways, Halfgrip looked over at Tim, and didn’t smile.

He didn’t say anything either.

Just looked.

Tim sighed. “Not again guys—we’ve been over this! Communication. That’s the key to success.”

Kivi the [Geomancer] grimaced, holding up a piece of paper.

Tim read it. I will not speak one word before I have had my vengeance. That is my vow.

Tim sighed. “I know. I know, Kivi. But just… give me something. Anything.”

Three silent shrugs answered him.

He looked over his party, once again wondering why he bothered—but something always kept him from leaving. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. The dungeon is literally on the other side of those trees—let’s just move.”

Halfgrip moved out, crouched low, dual bastard swords ready to leap in for the kill. He stepped through the trees and saw the dungeon’s entrance.

A dim spark of adventure tried to light up his soul, but his dark eyepatch snuffed it out. Right. He had one of those too. A goblin probably took the eye.

Halfgrip began moving forward with Halfric at his side, the two experienced frontline naturally taking their positions. Like Soldiers wading into an enemy camp, they slipped through the grass.

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Then… paused.

Near the dungeon’s entrance, there was a small mound in the ground—just tall enough to hide a figure crouched down behind. But not tall enough to hide the cat ears. Or tail. Both of which were twitching and moving, poking just a bit outside.

The sight struck an instinctive thought deep into Halfgrip’s soul, as one happy thought slipped through his veil of tragedy.

Cute, he thought.

Then he noticed the thought and clenched his fist, drawing blood. His teeth twisted into a sneer of rage. Such thoughts… I thought I had finally crushed them once and for all!

But alas, I merely adopted the darkness, I was not born in it. A failure like me has much to learn.

That I could be so weak! Oh—I can’t stand it… I can’t—

“Hey, grippier brother, you are doing the thing again,” Tim said, catching up with the frozen scouts.

Halfgrip tried to grimace, then remembered that his face was locked in a permanent grimace, and tried to double grimace. It didn’t really work. Damn. Is contrast the key to true darkness? Has my chase for perfection locked it out?

“Hey—talk to me—communication.”

Reluctantly, Halfgrip stopped grimacing and spoke. He pointed ahead with both his swords. “Cat.”

Tim looked forward, then nodded, spotting the tail and ears. “Cat.”

He stepped forward, cupping his hands in front of his mouth. “Hoy! Miss there, miss catgirl! We mean you no harm—we are here to inspect the dungeon!”

The tail straightened out, frozen, then a figure slowly rose up. Dressed in black and white, with some kind of black glasses on her front. Halfgrip appreciated the style. She also had a briefcase of sorts.

She laughed nervously. “Ah—dungeon inspectors. But I was here first!”

“Are you a dungeon inspector?” Tim shouted back.

“No! But I was still here first!”

“But someone has to inspect the dungeon!”

“Can’t you wait a bit—a few days at least? I don’t have everything ready!”

Halfgrip tensed, body ready for battle. A trap? What was she hiding?

Tim gave the figure a wary look. “What are you even doing here? Dungeons are dangerous, you know!”

The figure bent down, then rose back up, holding something in her hand. A cup? “I’m opening a café here! We´re not open yet!”

Tim stared. Halfgrip stared too—at the swishing tail and twitching ears. He felt an instinctive urge… No! Remember the darkness!

“A café? In front of a dungeon?”

The girl pointed, towards a set of stools that were placed at the forest’s edge. “Of course! But things aren’t quite done yet!”

She started walking forward, then opened a screen in front of her and turned it around, showing them. “See, I’m a [Café Manager]. Not anyone suspicious. You know… How about I make you all some tea?”

Halfgrip squinted, just barely managing to read the text. [Café Manager, level 1]. Huh, she really is not anyone suspicious.

“Sorry,” Tim said, shrugging. “I’m afraid my party isn’t really the type to appreciate things like that. Wouldn’t want it going to waste.”

“I’m not so sure about that… Why don’t you all just take seats over there? I’ll get the tea heated.”

She walked forward confidently, then began ushering them forward, towards the stool. Halfgrip hesitantly followed—weren’t they supposed to be clearing a dungeon? What was this pointless distraction?

Still, he sat down, following Tim’s unspoken advice. The girl obviously knew something about the dungeon, so this could be an opportunity to gather information. Reluctantly, Halfgrip waited.

But the catgirl did not rush out to make tea right away. She just looked over their group, unsatisfied. Three men were sitting like statues, while the fourth was smiling apologetically. She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! I know what this is missing?”

She turned around, then bellowed with a loud voice. “Soldiers! Get in here!”

Halfgrip tensed, every muscle in his body ready for a burst of strength, and every scar ready to cast him in the deepest pain. Soldiers? An Attack? AN ambush?

He heard rustling in the woods and turned to face the threat—swords ready. Then he heard a…

Mew.

Three tiny kittens burst out of the woods, mewing enthusiastically, and rushing right toward the three grim men. Halfgrip froze in place, stunned out of action.

The kitten jumped into his lap with natural grace, and turned two pleading eyes upward.

Hesitantly, and very carefully, he dropped his swords to the ground and extended an arm out for a pat.

This is… This is just training. Training to cultivate my darkness further. Right. Contrast. I think that was important.

The kitten snuggled up against his hand, and even those thoughts faded.

Only Tim was thinking, and he looked at the other three, seeming… disappointed?

He turned to the [Café Manager]. “Isn’t there one for me?”

The catgirl gave the three stone-faced men a look, and they all turned away from Tim, holding the kittens protectively.

Kivi channeled a brief spell with geomancy, and letters appeared on the ground in front of Tim.

No.

“Oh…” Tim said, deflating.

Then he looked back to the catgirl. “Anyways—we do really need to inspect that dungeon…”