The area illuminated had pictures, writings, letters and locations, all about Henry, the man who had murdered his parents. There were two promises he made to himself; that he would look after his sisters, and that he would avenge his parents’ death.

In reality, Sol stood no chance at killing him, but he was going to in time. Henry Murdoch was his name, he looked to be no more older than 30 now but levelling up reduced ones aging. He was in his 20s when the Great Merge happened, and he grew to be one of the best adventures that ever lived.

A few years after his parents’ death, the man announced his retirement. He disappeared from the public eye after that a founded his own business. Since then, Sol had been trying to gather information on him, but the man was a ghost. He had houses all over Gaia and no doubt protection. It seemed impossible but Sol had made himself a promise.

“Interesting,” a voice said from the dark corner of the room.

Sol panicked, put his hand over the main light, and picked up a rusty dagger which was hanging on the side.

Once the room lit up, Sol saw two men in either corner of the room. One man was small, and wore black clothes and black leather gloves. He had a beard with a receding hairline, and looked like a stereotypical thief. The other man was tall and muscular, and wore a metal chest piece in a vest shape. Other than that he was bare chested and had on thick trousers with fur on the inside. He held a sword on his back. Sol knew this man was a veteran adventurer from the ghastly scars across his face. His eyes looked mean and his head was shaven.

The small man raised his hands in the air. “We’ve not come to fight,” he said calmly.

Sol clutched his rusty dagger; he was not used to these situations. Fist fights were a common occurrence for him, but with real fighting he had no experience. Not to mention that Sol was all skin and bone. Buying protein was a privilege for him, so he could never build muscle. He worked out and did a lot of cardio, but still he looked like a malnourished teen.

“Then why are you here?” Sol asked, his voice shaking.

The small man stood up from the chair he had been sitting on, put his hands behind his back, and calmly walked over to the information board. He peered at it while stroking his beard.

“Henry Murdoch. He’s a strong bastard; cruel though.”

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Sol looked at the man with crazy eyes, holding up his dagger in fear. The adventurer in the corner tensed up and took a singular step forward, but was stopped by the small man with a gesture of his hand.

“Your name is Solomon Thorn. Your parents were killed by Henry,” the man stated.

“How do you know?” Sol asked, “The public were told they died fighting the wyvern.”

The small man stared at Sol for a while, then moved towards him. Sol tensed his grip on the dagger and so did the adventurer on his sword.

“Have you ever heard of the Unwanted?” The man asked him.

Sol didn’t respond, he just stared at the man.

To him the Unwanted were a bunch of crazy, strong adventurers, who did dirty jobs. They hid their faces while doing them too. The outcome was always supposedly good though, even if what they did to achieve it was awful. They operated in secret and no one knows where they were located. They were named a secret organisation by many people.

The man got even closer, stretched out, and began to touch Sol’s arm.

“Very skinny,” the man mumbled to himself. “You have talent in your blood Solomon. I would like to invite you to join the Unwanted,” he said.

“Just like that?” Sol asked.

The man turned and walked away slowly. He sat back down on the chair and crossed his legs.

“No, not just like that. You will go through tests and training,” the man said.

“And if I fail?” Sol asked.

“We erase your memory and send you back here. Not to worry, during your training you will be financially supported,” he said, glancing up to the house above.

“I will join under one condition,” Sol said boldly.

“Revenge?” the man questioned.

Sol nodded.

The man clicked his teeth. “We won’t help you directly, but serve us long enough and we will give you the tools to do it.”

Sol sat down on the table. “How many others are like me?” he asked.

“Orphaned? A fair few; troubled teens, castaways, fallen nobles. We are the Unwanted after all.”

“How dangerous is it?” Sol asked.

The man chuckled without moving his mouth. “Very,” he said plainly.

“I’m in,” Sol responded.

“Nice to meet you then Sol. My alias is Mercy, and this is Scarface.”