The man's words echoed through the coffee shop, sending a jolt of surprise across his pallid face. The shop was nearly empty, with only five patrons in sight.

Factions like Shadow Syndicate, Nameless, and Viper had reputations that rivaled the notorious Blood Cult in the ranking games and throughout the tower's participating stages. Vipers weren't bound by a specific dress code, free to wander as they pleased. However, each member bore a mark: the maw of a viper beneath their right eyelid.

The five men approached the Hound Extermination Crew, halting at the sight of Zara's Blood Cult robes. A cruel smile curled the lips of their leader, the same man who had shouted earlier.

“Well, well, look who's here,” he said, hands hovering near the daggers in their sheaths. Towering over the Hound Extermination Crew, they effectively blocked any escape route. They scrutinized the crew, their brows furrowing. The crew was certainly unique. Scott with his ominous mask, Slim, the undead man in a suit, caught their attention. Yet, Zara intrigued them the most.

“You must be new,” the bald leader said, sizing up the brawler. “Didn't your friends warn you about venturing into Viper territory?”

Unfazed, Zara and her crew continued sipping their drinks, deliberately ignoring the men.

The leader's smirk faded, replaced by a frown. “Playing the silent game, are we?” He withdrew his hands from the daggers and sighed. “As much as I enjoy games, I'm short on time.” His tone grew stern as he raised the index and middle fingers of his right hand. “You have two options: leave now or stay and wait for our buddies. And trust me, several squads are on their way.” He grinned menacingly. “Feel free to choose—” Scott and his companions rose abruptly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

The vipers shifted, ready for combat. Yet, to their surprise, the peculiar group settled their bills quietly and departed without a word or a fuss.

“Should we follow them?” someone suggested as the door closed behind the group.

The leader hesitated, then shook his head. “We have more pressing matters.” He took a seat, eyeing the empty glasses on the table. What wine is this? It smells fucking good, he thought.

His companions followed suit, settling into the vacant seats. The rich aroma of the wine filled the air.

“They must've had something fancy,” a viper remarked. “Boss, shouldn't we at least tail them?”

“We don’t have the time,” the bald leader snapped. “We have an important meeting soon. Are you willing to miss it because they were drinking some fancy shit?” His stern gaze silenced any further objections.

After a moment, one viper cleared his throat and glanced around. Leaning closer to the leader, he whispered, “Any idea what this meeting's about? It's been ages since so many squads were called together. Could we be heading for war?”

The leader surveyed the room, ensuring their privacy. “I don't have all the details, but it sounds like some big shot needs someone to be found. We'll learn more during the meeting,” he whispered back.

The eyes of the champions gleamed with greed.

“How big is this job?” one asked, licking his lips.

“I already said I don't know,” the leader snapped. But then a sly grin spread across his face. “However, from what I've heard, whoever finds the target will hit the jackpot. I’m not talking about being comfortable or some average shit. Rich—rich, like partying everyday with big booty bitches kind of rich.”

The men's eyes gleamed with excitement; their passion reignited. Just as their anticipation peaked, the shop's main entrance burst open, drawing their attention involuntarily. Five figures entered, each bearing an identical, unique tattoo under their right eyes.

Meanwhile, farther down the bustling street, the Hound Extermination Crew moved discreetly. Zara had abandoned the striking robes that had marked her as a cultist, opting for a simple silver cloak instead.

“Where's your friend’s place, Slim?” Scott asked via the party channel.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The necromancer had suggested they visit his friend's place for a change of clothes, assuring them he'd cover the expenses.

“He's nearby. He'll be closing soon, but he'll make time for us,” the skeleton said with a smirk.

Zara's curiosity sparked. “How do you two know each other?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but he's a big fan of my music,” the necromancer chuckled, catching the attention of a few onlookers.

Orion and Llorva exchanged incredulous looks before turning to the skeleton.

“Why the surprise?” Slim asked mentally. “Is it so hard to believe I'm a talented musician?”

“Wouldn't you be shocked if Scott turned out to be a talented poet?” Zara countered, giving Scott's shoulder an affectionate pat.

Laughter erupted from Slim, Llorva, and Orion.

“I get it now,” Slim said, but before he could continue, Orion yanked the necromancer aside. A pristine, snow-white arrow pierced the spot Slim had occupied moments before, shattering on impact.

Orion's staff materialized in his hand. “We're being pursued by multiple groups,” he observed. "They're might not be...” His words trailed off as he pulled Zara out of harm's way. Another arrow whizzed by, striking down several champions before embedding itself in a building.

Blood sprayed as bodies hit the ground, sending nearby champions into a frenzy. Arrows rained down, decimating everything in their path. Even those who had prepared to retaliate could only flee for cover.

While many champions scattered in panic, the Hound Extermination Crew and a few others sought refuge in a nearby shop.

Orion stroked his chin, captivated by the spectacle of so many archers converging in one place. Arrows rained down, wreaking havoc on the streets below. Though mangled corpses amassed quickly, they vanished within minutes—a sign that the fallen champions had been revived elsewhere in the neutral zone.

Llorva voiced her unease. “Is it safe for us to stay here?”

Without turning, Orion replied, “Certainly not. We’ve been led into a trap. The masterminds behind this will reveal themselves soon.” His gaze remained fixed on the destruction unfolding outside the window.

His companions exchanged worried glances, uncertain of the identity or motives of the culprits.

Suddenly, Orion's voice echoed in their minds, snapping them back to attention. “It’s starting,” he teased with a cryptic chuckle.

The barrage of arrows ceased abruptly, leaving the once-thriving street eerily silent, reminiscent of a ghost town after a terrorist attack.

“How did you know that?” Slim whispered, his eyes darting between the devastated streets and Orion's satisfied smile.

Orion turned to the necromancer, his grin widening. “Data is a wonderful thing.” He slammed his staff onto the ground, startling the nearby champions. Then he singled out five of them with a wave of his hand. “Would you mind stepping outside?”

The champions found themselves unable to resist, compelled by an unseen force. As soon as they set foot outside the store, arrowheads found their mark, decapitating them instantly. Their lifeless bodies collapsed and vanished within moments.

Inside the store, fear and anxiety spread among the remaining champions. None could move—except for Scott and his companions.

“Have you pinpointed their location?” Scott asked, his thoughts reaching out telepathically.

Orion pivoted toward the eldritch knight. He nodded before gesturing toward multiple directions in quick succession. “I've roughly pinpointed their locations,” he said with a smile. Then, he scanned the deserted streets again. “The archers are a concern, but the ground forces will arrive soon. You can handle them, can't you?”

Scott cracked his neck from side to side, replying, “Deal with the archers; we'll handle the rest.”

Slim interjected, “Any idea who's behind all this?”

Scott and Orion exchanged glances. The eldritch knight spoke first, “I have a guess, but no confirmations. The Shadow Syndicate is likely responsible.” He recalled the wanted posters they'd seen earlier.

Orion nodded. “You're on the right track. Besides Valkyrie and perhaps Frăția Morții, the Shadow Syndicate boasts some of the best archers. Considering our history and those wanted posters, it's plausible they're involved.”

Slim looked puzzled. “What posters? Did those guys serious target us because of the incident in Nova Primus?”

“Never mind that,” Scott said dismissively. “We had another run-in with them in another ranking game.”

Zara cut in; her bloodlust palpable. “Enough talk. What's the plan?” Thick veins lined her arms and neck, intimidating the nearby immobilized champions.

Scott paused before responding, “Orion will handle the archers, while we deal with any search parties. Our goal is simple: survive.”

Llorva interjected with a determined look. “We should head to the gate and start climbing the tower again. The chances of facing them in another ranking game are low. We risk an unending series of attacks if we choose to remain in the neutral zone.”

Scott nodded. “That sounds like a solid plan, but where is this gate?”

Llorva pointed to a towering skyscraper. “There it is. I've seen parties heading there over the past few days.”

“Then I’ll meet you guys there. See ya,” Orion said, tapping his staff on the ground. He shattered into pieces like stone, leaving the group, apart from Scott, in stunned silence. Soon they turned their attention toward the eldritch knight, their curious gazes seeking an explanation.

“You’re only going to give yourselves a headache trying to figure it out. We should move too,” Scott said.

“Shouldn’t we wait until he’s dealt with the archers?” Slim suggested.

“I don’t think they'll bother us at the moment,” Scott replied softly, glancing toward a specific direction.

Suddenly, explosions erupted from various locations, including the spot Scott stared at. Amidst the chaos, maniacal laughter filled the air, accompanied by delirious, eager voices, “This isn’t nearly enough data! C’mon, show us more!”

Scott's smile beneath his mask turned sinister as he faced his companions. “It’s time to go.”