Pag exhaled slowly, stepping out of the adventurer’s guild and into the crisp evening air. The city’s lanterns flickered to life, casting warm golden hues onto the cobbled streets. His fingers tightened around the rusted dagger at his side, a meager weapon but all he had for the task ahead.

The dire rats had infested a farm on the outskirts of town, growing bolder with each passing night. Farmers whispered of livestock dragged into the darkness, of red eyes gleaming from the barn lofts. The guild had deemed it a low-tier quest, perfect for new adventurers desperate for coin or, in Pag’s case, a chance to prove himself.

His companions were less than thrilled about the arrangement. Eryk, a burly dwarf with a thick auburn beard, marched ahead, his fingers idly tracing the inked runes on his forearms. An Inkslinger Monk, his abilities allowed him to summon weapons and defenses from the enchanted tattoos scrawled across his skin. He grumbled under his breath about the guild wasting his talents on vermin extermination. Darleyn, a slender elf with sharp features and piercing green eyes, moved with quiet grace beside Pag, the air around her humming faintly with latent energy. A geomancer, she could bend the earth to her will, and her hands occasionally flicked as if adjusting invisible threads in the ground beneath them.

“If we work together, we might just make it out of this,” Pag murmured, keeping his voice low as they approached the weathered wooden fence surrounding the farmstead.

Eryk snorted. “That’s rich, coming from a mage without magic.” His fingers flexed, and an inked gauntlet shimmered into existence over his fist. “Just don’t get in my way, lad.”

Pag bit back a retort. He couldn’t blame Eryk for his skepticism. He was as much a liability as he was an asset in his current state. But that would change. He would survive this, and he would find a way to break free of these shackles—both physical and metaphorical.

Darleyn eyed the barn warily, her expression unreadable. She knelt, pressing a palm to the ground. The earth responded, a subtle vibration running beneath them. “More than a dozen inside,” she muttered. “Big ones.”

They advanced in silence, the farmhouse looming ahead, its windows dark. The scent of decay clung to the air, a pungent mixture of rot, mildew, and the unmistakable acrid scent of rat urine. The wooden doors to the barn creaked as they pushed them open, revealing an interior of scattered hay and gnawed beams.

The attack came swiftly.

A blur of fur and glistening fangs lunged from the darkness, its beady red eyes glowing in the dim torchlight. Pag barely had time to react before the rat was on him, its weight knocking him backward. He hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs. Hot, rancid breath washed over his face as the creature snapped at his throat.

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He twisted, bringing up his dagger just in time to catch the beast in its shoulder. The rusted blade sank in with a sickening squelch, but it wasn’t enough. The rat shrieked in fury, its claws raking down Pag’s side, tearing through fabric and flesh alike. Pain flared, sharp and searing.

Eryk roared, slamming his ink-covered fist into the rat’s skull. The summoned gauntlet pulsed with energy, cracking bone with a brutal efficiency. The rat spasmed once before going limp, its body twitching as it lay sprawled across Pag’s chest.

“Get up,” Eryk grunted, yanking him to his feet. “That was just the first.”

As if on cue, more screeches filled the barn. Shadows moved at the edges of the torchlight, dozens of gleaming eyes watching, waiting. The rats were not just scavengers—they were hunters, and they had found their prey.

Pag wiped the blood from his side, gripping his dagger tighter. His breathing was ragged, but his resolve had never been sharper.

Darleyn stretched out a hand, and the ground trembled in response. Wooden planks cracked as jagged stone spikes jutted upward from beneath the barn floor. Her expression was calm and focused. “Then let’s give them a real fight.”

The first wave of rats lunged forward, their shrieks rising in a deafening cacophony. Darleyn swept her hands outward, the earth beneath the barn warping in response. Jagged rocks burst through the floor, impaling two of the creatures mid-leap, their bodies going limp as blood dripped onto the straw-littered ground.

Eryk let out a battle cry, his tattoos shifting as another gauntlet formed over his free hand. He moved like a force of nature, fists crashing into the oncoming swarm with devastating precision. Each strike sent a dire rat flying, bones crunching under the force of his enchanted fists.

Pag stayed low, darting between Eryk and Darleyn’s attacks, slashing at the exposed flanks of any rat that got too close. His blade found purchase in the soft underbelly of a lunging rat, spilling its guts in a wet heap at his feet. Another came at him from the side, and he barely managed to sidestep, feeling the creature’s claws graze his ribs.

“Keep moving!” Darleyn shouted, her voice laced with urgency. She stomped the ground, sending a ripple through the earth that unbalanced a cluster of rats. Eryk took the opening, dashing forward with a grunt and delivering a devastating blow that sent bodies sprawling.

The rats were relentless, but so were they. The barn was a whirlwind of movement—stone spikes jutting from the floor, inked fists crushing bone, and Pag’s dagger flashing in the dim light. They were outnumbered, but they fought like warriors, carving their way through the swarm with grit and determination.

As the last of the rats fell, silence settled over the barn, broken only by their ragged breathing. Pag wiped his bloodied dagger on his torn tunic, glancing around at the carnage.

Eryk cracked his knuckles, his gauntlets dissipating into swirling ink. “Well, that was a proper brawl.”

Darleyn exhaled, brushing dust from her cloak. “The infestation is cleared. Let’s get our reward.”

Pag nodded, exhaustion creeping in, but beneath it, a flicker of pride. They had survived. They had fought. And for the first time in a long while, he felt like he belonged.

Outside, the cold night air was a welcome relief. The three of them trudged back toward town, their steps slow but steady. The promise of a warm meal and a full purse spurred them forward. As they neared the adventurer’s guild, Pag glanced at his companions and smirked. “Drinks on me?”

Eryk chuckled. “Aye, if you’ve got the coin, lad.”

Darleyn merely nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips. The night had been long, the battle brutal—but they had won.