“...But don’t you have any friends?”

“Sorry, they’re all too busy finding the ones you made. Oh, shoot, they might be gone forever, then.”

Glenn and Sahro were sitting at a table, eating in the Dining Hall. They kept on bickering, oblivious to the strange gazes of their neighboring tables. Generally, higher-ranked Fixers didn’t stay in the main Dining Hall, instead going to the private rooms to eat in peace. That made them a rare sight, usually.

Of course, the duo wasn’t like every high-ranking Fixers, choosing to rather stay in the noisy and active Dining Hall instead of the quiet and classy private rooms. Glenn cut a T-Bone steak with a silver knife gracefully, cutting small bites by small bites, as advised by the cook.

‘To think there would be specific ways to eat food… Being a Dark-Gold truly is different…’

The young man silently thought, savoring his food. Sahro ripped a chunk of his roasted chicken leg, swallowing loudly. He wiped his mouth with a paper towel before pointing a greasy finger at a piece of paper placed beside them on the table.

“Why the hell would there be such a precise condition? I can do the work for the whole team, anyway…” He grumbled, making Glenn shrug in similar incomprehension. The paper was the contract they previously took, but there was now a red circle on one specific part of it. The targeted words read:” Four people minimum, Gold-Rank or above,”.

Sadly, Glenn and Sahro were only two, and of course, as an entity hidden from all but Sahro, Diamanes didn’t count as a team member. So they were now busy annoying each other about their lack of social connection.

They both had some very serious excuses, though. One was a Black Heir, a true victim of the system and hated by everyone, which was completely true.

He had never been hired just because of his good looks, never whatsoever. Truly, a victim of his skin color…

On the other hand, one was reputed to be a madman who liked to eat children for breakfast and bathe in the blood of the monsters he slayed, while being the host for a true devil. A man who was supposedly coming from the depths of hell and who only liked to fight until he collapsed. Yeah… No excuses for that one… Who would spread those rumors anyway?

“Whatever all that, we need to find two people to do this request,” Glenn stated, struggling to separate the flesh from the thick bone with his small knife.

“And we need to do it quickly. We’re already lucky that I managed to reserve the contract with my status as a Black-Gold Fixer… Damn it!” The young man gave up and discarded the silver knife, grabbing the steak from the bone, and ripping the meat off with his teeth.

The juices flowed in his throat, a delicious taste that one would never tire of. ‘You know how to eat well, hmm?’ Diamanes commented with a disgusted tone, leaving Glenn undisturbed.

“Gulp, I want that gold, Sahro. And I need to make sure that you know it’s not because of my greed at all, only for the investigation, alright?” Glenn pointed at Sahro, trying to sound convincing. The Black Heir shook his head, using his knife to pick sliced potatoes dipped in a red sauce from his plate.

“There would be no issue finding a team, would you have not made such a terrible reputation for yourself. Eating children?” Sahro’s eyes widened with incredulity when he said those last words, clearly mocking his friend.

Glenn dismissed the provocation with a wave of his hand, focusing on finishing his meal. He devoured the steak, before snapping his fingers and making all the filth disappear from his mouth and fingers. Sahro frowned when he saw that, and he leaned forward with a curious expression.

“Can’t you teach me that trick of yours? It looks really practical.” Glenn nodded without hesitation, before smiling with pearly white teeth.

“Sure, you just need to become a True Initiate. Easy, right?” Sahro’s smile melted like snow under the sun, and he leaned back in his chair, eating a piece of bread while staring at the other people in the Dining Hall.

Glenn patted his belly, satisfied with his meal, and instinctively followed Sahro’s gaze, falling on a neighboring table. His eyebrows rose when he recognized its occupants. Suddenly, a genius idea flashed in his mind. He dusted off his hands, before standing up and heading for said table.

One of the occupants turned his head with unhappiness, his eyes widening when he saw the newcomer. He hurriedly stood up and left the Dining Hall, grumbling something about a “devil” or something. He had a tower shield strapped to his back with the head of a lion embossed on it.

Glenn smiled widely at the leaving person, his hands on his waist.

“Well if it isn’t the bravest of all knights, sir Wilbur? Found yourself another Rampart?” The young man’s mouth was smiling widely, but his eyes were filled with deep and cold fury. Wilbur froze in his steps and turned around with an awkward smile.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Hah, haha, Glenn… How nice to see you again…” The knight rubbed his waist, where a lackluster dagger was hanging with a copper tone. Glenn frowned, before understanding what happened.

“Oh, did your act of bravery reward you with this beautiful Copper dagger? I’m almost jealous,” Glenn said aloud, passing his arm around the knight’s shoulders, before whispering coldly in his ear, “...but I think I’d rather kill you, you fucking coward. How did you even get rid of the burns?” The knight shivered, not daring to raise his eyes toward Glenn. The young man sneered, before slapping the man’s back and turning away. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to meet this piece of shit again.

‘Man, at least he looks like he learned his lesson,’ Diamanes remarked. Glenn sighed and turned his head toward the two other people sitting at the table. One was a pale man with practically transparent skin with a strange wooden device strapped in place of his left hand. The other was a short girl with defiant eyes.

Glenn sat down and saluted both of them.

“Tarana, Javier,” He turned his head toward the hunter, his eyes inevitably falling on what replaced his hand, “...How you’re doing?”

The pale man looked down at his left hand, his expression unreadable.

“...I’m alive,” He softly muttered, rubbing the complex replacement with his other hand, his eyes filled with the horror he witnessed. Tarana suddenly slapped Glenn’s arm, startling him.

“Shut up! Why do you need to bring that up?” She promptly said disapprovingly, before turning a worried gaze at Javier. Glenn scowled, before shaking his head slightly. Sahro approached the table, leaning on the back of Glenn’s chair. He handed the contract to Glenn while evaluating the two people visually.

Glenn placed the contract in front of Javier and Tarana, turning it so they could read it.

“...What do you say?” He simply asked, waiting for their answers. Tarana hesitated, reading the contract over and over, and seemed unable to decide. Javier silently read it, barely sparing it a glance before nodding toward Glenn.

The young man suddenly shivered, feeling as if something was wrong. He looked into Javier’s eyes, not finding anything out of the ordinary. Well, the hunter’s gaze wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, now slightly muddier, but how could he blame him when the man practically died and came back?

‘I don’t see shit if that can help you,’ Diamanes muttered in Glenn’s mind, trying to help his host the best he could. The young man rubbed the side of his face, waiting for Tarana to make a decision. She looked at Javier, then back at the contract, and finally sighed.

“If this airhead is going, so am I!” She loudly proclaimed, making Sahro and Glenn smile happily. The latter even looked at the former with a “told you so” expression.

She then stopped, thinking longly, before smiling with all her teeth.

“Just…how do we split?”

Glenn’s smile grew wider, and he pointed at a specific part of the contract, slightly hidden from sight. The girl read it, before raising her eyes back to meet Glenn’s. He nodded slowly, and she read the text again.

Tarana rubbed her eyes, blinking as if trying to wake up from some dream, before muttering in shock.

“Holy Root… Is it really per person?” She couldn’t believe what she was reading and showed that part to Javier, who didn’t react, unfazed. The hunter probably read the contract better than she did, looking at her reaction.

Her eyes shone with greed for money, and she smiled widely as she stood up brusquely.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Money, boys, money!”

—

“Hahh…hahh…hahhh…” A man gasped for air, grunting as he pulled on a rope. He took a quick break, wiping the sweat off his eyebrows and drinking a bit of water from his leather flask. It was stale and had a taste of dirt, a bit warm from staying in the gourd for too long, but it did the job.

“Phew…” He looked behind him with tiredness, before tying his flask back on his belt and pulling on the rope again. The stone at the end of the rope made a rattling noise as it scraped against the ground, disturbing the rest of the night owls and other animals awake when men usually slept.

The mineral was the size of a small cart, made entirely out of an otherworldly, beautifully smooth red stone, making him think of a gigantic polished ruby. But the man knew that such rubies don't, couldn’t exist. Nonetheless, under the cover of the night, the man kept on dragging the stone, no, the jewel behind him.

His muscles strained as he pulled, and his bones creaked with the effort. A ray of moonlight coming from the twins hanging in the sky revealed the face of the man under the hood he was wearing.

He was an emaciated old man, with more skin than flesh, and more bones than skin. His eyes were clear and filled with an almost chilling determination.

"Mother..." He muttered in a hoarse voice, ignoring the pain in his hands. The blisters on his hand burst one after another, over and over again, slowly gorging the rope with blood.

After another hour of struggle, the man arrived in front of a small, wooden cabin by the edge of the woods. There were a few used shelves along its walls, hosting a rusty shovel and a similarly worn chopping ax, as well as other farming tools.

The door of the cabin was hanging off its hinges, swerving in the cold wind. Despite the freezing temperature, the old man couldn’t help but feel like he was burning with vitality, like in his young age. He couldn’t feel the usual chill that made his back shiver or would give him a running nose for a week.

He couldn’t feel anything, not the pain in his hands, nor in his feet, nor that damned cold. He could only feel the stone calling to him with an unknown will.

He placed a stone under the door, blocked it open, and pulled the stone inside. It took quite a bit of effort, and a lot of struggle, to force it in, but in the end, he managed to put it inside. Besides his bed, the stone took practically the whole space of his small hut. Not like there was much to start with…

The old man cracked his back, his face deformed by the pain, when he suddenly felt a warm liquid flow from his nose. He touched it, only to find blood again. He scowled and plugged his nose with a bit of tissue. He then sat on his bed, staring at the red jewel silently. And he stared some more and some more…

His eyes lost themselves in the priceless glint of the stone, trying to reveal the hidden secrets he knew the jewel contained.

The following morning, the old man was gone as if he had never existed. But the stone was still there, unmoving.

And no one would be able to tell, but it had grown slightly larger. Not by much, even its last owner wouldn’t have been able to notice without sizing it.

Nonetheless, that fact was undeniable.

The stone had grown.