"Ugh!...this place smells like shit," standing in front of a two-meter diameter entrance, a fat man complained, pinching his nose with a napkin.

"Of course, boss," one of his companions replied dryly. "It's the sewers. All the city's shit ends up here—"

SLAP!

"Ow! Boss!"

"I know that asshole," The fat man roared, smacking the other man on the head again. "I was merely expressing my displeasure aloud."

"Sorry boss," the man mumbled, rubbing the sore spot on his head with a grimace.

"Ugh…let's get this over with," The fat man, Winston Chowblade grunted in annoyance, his eyes scanning the dark expanse of the sewer tunnel ahead. Despite the foul stench that permeated the air, he pressed forward.

Closely following from behind were five men, clad in identical long, dark blue coats that concealed their weapons and the city guard's distinctive armor.

Winston himself was wearing a similar custom-made coat. After all, he's a pig. And this was the sole reason why he chose to enter the sewers from this entrance. There are only two entrances that he can use and this was one of them.

Winston always preferred to do his little dirty businesses and meeting down here in the sewers, helps in covering up his tracks and well…closing the deals more efficiently.

Commoners rarely ventured down here, and Winston was willing to bet a year's salary that the nobility and higher-ups were completely oblivious to the sewers' existence.

Even if somehow they discovered his visits to the sewers, he could always claim to be hunting the pesky little sewer thieves that plagued the city, and tonight he was going to meet with one of those thieves.

As Winston and his men delved deeper into the murky labyrinth of the sewers, the dim torchlight flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced along the damp walls. The echoes of their footsteps reverberated through the narrow passages, blending with the distant drip of water.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached a crossroads. Leaning against the wall at the juncture of the two paths was a lone figure, a man wearing a straw hat that obscured his face in the dim light.

Winston passed, scanning the place first for any danger before approaching the man. He had a reputation for caution, earned through years of navigating the seedy underbelly of the city. As he drew closer, Winston's men fanned out behind him, their hands on the hilts of their concealed weapons.

The man in the straw hat straightened up as Winston approached, his face obscured in the dim light.

Winston stopped a few paces away, eyeing the man warily. "You're early," he said, not hiding the annoyance in his tone. The truth was that Winston planned to come down here early and set up a trap for the man, but sadly that delicious meat plate kept him busy.

'It was worth it,' he thought, licking his lips.

The man in the straw hat chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Can't blame a guy for wanting his reward," he replied, his tone relaxed.

Winston narrowed his eyes, studying the man before him. Despite his casual demeanor, there was something about him that set off alarm bells in Winston's mind. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew better than to let his guard down.

"Yeah!...about that," he paused, reaching under his coat. "Did you complete your task?"

The man in the straw hat grinned, revealing his teeth. "Of course I did," he boasted, his tone dripping with confidence. "They're all poisoned. I bet his majesty will be quite pleased."

"!!!" Winston's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the man's words. When he had entrusted the thief with poisoning the entire Frostguards, he never said anything about his majesty.

"Now about that reward you promised..." the man prompted, his grin faltering slightly.

"Well…The thing is," Winston stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment before gesturing towards his men. "Sorry, but you know too much," he declared coolly.

The thief's grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty as Winston's men closed in around him, their hands tightening on the hilts of their weapons.

"W-What are you doing?..." the man said, his voice laced with fear. "Y-You promised me."

Winston's expression remained impassive as his men surrounded the thief, their eyes steely with determination. "I lied, thieves like you don't deserve rewards," he replied coolly, his voice carrying a hint of malice. "You were a means to an end, nothing more."

The thief's eyes widened in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend the betrayal that unfolded before him. "But...But I did everything you asked," he protested, his voice tinged with desperation.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Winston's lip curled into a sneer as he watched the thief's futile attempt to plead for mercy. "And you'll have his majesty's eternal… gratitude," he said with a dismissive wave, ordering his men to finish the job.

His command hung heavy in the stale air of the sewers, his men wasted no time in carrying out his orders. With cold efficiency, they advanced upon the trapped thief, their weapons gleaming in the dim torchlight.

The thief's desperate pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears as Winston's enforcers closed in, their movements swift and calculated.

"Dammit! If I'd known that the Frostguard could be dealt with so easily, I wouldn't have squandered so much coin from his majesty's funding," Winston grumbled, lamenting the wasted funds he could have pocketed himself with a bit more cunning.

Suddenly, a memory sparked in his mind. He raised his hand, halting his men. "Hey, tell me something. I heard rumors of a new Frostguard lord commander. Any truth to that?"

The thief, his defiance replaced by resignation, simply nodded.

"I see," Winston's interest piqued at the thief's silent confirmation. Then a cruel smirk played on his lips. "Anything else interesting about this new Lord Commander?"

The thief gritted his teeth, his eyes darting nervously between the fat captain and the menacing five men surrounding him. "Why should I tell you anything? You betrayed our deal."

Winston chuckled, his belly jiggling slightly. "Come now, spill the details. If the information proves valuable, I might just consider letting you live."

The thief hesitated, weighing his options carefully. He knew he was at Winston's mercy. "Fine," the thief muttered, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "But first, tell me what you intend to do with this information."

A predatory glint flickered in Winston's eyes as he leaned closer to the trembling man, savoring his fear. "Because, my friend," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice, "I need to know what my new little bitch could do after I seize control of the Frostguard for myself."

"..."

The thief's eyes widened in shock and fear as Winston's words sank in. Staring at him, the fearful expression that was on his face instantly vanished and replaced with a smirk.

"You're a dead man, Chowblade," he rasped, his voice no longer his own.

The moment those words left the thief's mouth, a wave of cold bone-chilling aura engulfed the stinky tunnel, extinguishing the flickering torchlight and plunging them into an inky blackness.

"OH!...Interesting." Suddenly, a dark demonic-like voice boomed through the suffocating darkness, sending shivers down spines that couldn't feel chills anymore. The voice seemed to resonate from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Winston's men, caught off guard by the sudden darkness and the ominous voice, froze in their tracks, their hands trembling on the hilts of their weapons. Even Winston himself felt a sense of unease creeping over him, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

When facing the unknown, the best thing to do is to RUN. However, before the fat man had the chance to even twitch.

Crack. Boom!

The sewer's stone floor beneath him crumbled, giving way to an unseen chasm below.

HISSS!

A monstrous hiss, filled with primal rage and hunger, echoed through the collapsing sewer floor. But the fat man didn't fall into the darkness. He let out a high-pitched scream when he felt something slowly swallowing his legs.

"AHHH!...WHAT THE HELL?" he howled, thrashing and struggling against the unseen force pulling him downward. Fortunately for him, his unnatural round fat belly came in handy as the hole beneath him was relatively small, his belly acted as a grotesque plug, preventing him from being completely swallowed whole.

"HELP YOU ASSHOLES!" Winston roared, snapping his frozen men; who rushed to his aid. Unfortunately for Captain Chowblade, his struggles only seemed to anger the unseen creature below. The hisses intensified, laced with a frustrated screech.

"Eh?" At that moment, Winston felt that the things that swallowed his legs instead of pulling him downward pushed him upward.

HISS! CRACK!

The sudden change in direction sent Winston flying through the air. He let out a yelp of relief as his legs were freed, but that relief was short-lived. He was still in a tunnel, and his upward trajectory ended abruptly as he slammed into the rough stone ceiling with a bone-jarring impact. Pain exploded through his body, but that was the least of his concerns now.

He saw it! "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" As he plummeted, he glimpsed the creature that had engulfed his legs.

A colossal, shadowy, ethereal serpent with crimson eyes unlike anything he had ever imagined.

HISS!

Unable to restrain itself and wait for its prey to descend, the serpent's jaws unhinged in a furious hiss as it lunged forward, snapping at Winston with a speed that defied its monstrous size.

His men were immobilized by a primal terror, rendered mere spectators as the crimson-eyed serpent devoured their captain whole before swiftly vanishing back into the depths from whence it emerged.

In the blink of an eye, Winston Chowblade, the corrupt leader of the city palace guard, was gone. His men, paralyzed by terror, could only stare in mute disbelief at the vacant space where their leader had just been.

A heavy silence descended, broken only by an unsettling dripping sound. When they turned towards the source of the sound, bewilderment washed over them.

A crimson liquid dripped against the steel boots of four of them–Blood. It dripped sluggishly from the hems of their coats. As their eyes slowly followed the crimson liquid upwards, their hearts hammered in their chests.

Their throats were severed, the wounds so clean they couldn't even feel the pain.

"!!!" The realization struck them with the force of a blow to the gut, stealing the very air from their lungs. Their throats had been slit open, and in that instant, the four men crumpled to the floor, clutching at their gaping wounds, crimson blossoming on their deep blue coats.

The fifth guard, who remained unscathed, was captivated by something that banished all thoughts of his captain, his comrades, and the lurking danger.

"Beautiful," he breathed, the word escaping his lips in a reverent sigh.

Emerging slowly from his shadow was the most breathtaking woman he had ever witnessed. Mesmerizing violet eyes and an otherworldly allure drew him in like a moth to a flame. The woman smiled, her face mere inches away from his, seeing that charming smile from those gorgeous lips, the man understood the meaning of falling under someone's spell.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice like a gentle breeze on a summer night. She raised her dagger to his throat and slowly drew it across his skin, slicing it open. Yet to the man's horror, he felt nothing. No prick of pain, no rush of fear. As the blood rushed from the wound.

All his focus was on the woman, his gaze locked on her face as if etching that moment into his memory for eternity.

"Sleep," the woman whispered softly. Watching the man comply with her gentle command, slowly closing his eyes, to a slumber from which he would never awaken.