“The royals made a request to me. They wanted to weaken the nobles, in preparation for the godly war.”

Zethir's eyes flickered, spewing out a thin, red mist. “Godly war? The godly war?”

Falco nodded, his face devoid of playfulness. “Yes, it's that godly war. Of the fourteen kingdoms, seven will fight. four virtues against three sins… The royals want to unite the religion before the war begins, that's why they want to kill as many nobles as they can.”

Zethir nodded. It wasn't his first time hearing about the blood feud between the royals and nobles. In their kingdom, the kingdom of Targia, the god of lust was the main religion. However, the nobles of Targia believed in the god of chastity, leading to the feud between the two factions.

Legend has it, the god of lust and chastity were once good friends. Though no one could prove it, this was how their kingdom was built in the first place.

“But…” Falco lowered his head. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, silently taking out his eye contacts.

As he raised his head to look at Zethir, his once ordinary brown eyes were no more. Instead, his left eye glowed in topaz orange, while his right eye glowed in sapphire blue.

“...my request is different. Every time you kill a noble, I want you to let them bleed as much as you can.”

Zethir nodded calmly. He wasn't averse to such requests, having done far stranger missions. Once, he was hired to torture a slave, prolonging their suffering for an entire day before their death.

“I won't ask why. I trust you, Falco,” Zethir said, turning around and placing his hands on the iron door.

Thinking about it, Zethir couldn't help but feel frustrated. ‘I should've asked him back then,’ he clicked his tongue.

After an hour, their group of three decided to reunite with Fernando. Neither of them had anything to pack, so their departure was swift.

“Be careful, the enemies might still be nearby,” he whispered, moving carefully from tree to tree.

Although the trees in the mountain foot were sparse, there were many bushes to hide behind. The sun was setting, and the dimming light helped in concealment too.

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“Hmm. Mr. Zethir, if I may ask a question…” Marco looked at Zethir's back as he inched toward the man.

Behind him, Augustin was almost crawling like a baby in fear. Ever since earlier, he hadn't spoken many words.

Not hearing Zethir say anything, Marco smiled. “Why do you insist on continuing the mission? We could've left earlier, it would be safer.”

Zethir glanced at Marco. “Two reasons. A favor and a desire.”

“That's… unexpected,” Marco cocked an eyebrow.

Augustin nodded.

“May I know what those are?” Marco asked, suddenly looking behind at Augustin and winking.

Zethir looked around, before moving behind another tree. Then, as Marco and Augustin moved after him, he spoke.

“Do you know anything about Fernando?” His hand tapped the hilt of his sword.

“Mr. Fernando? I heard about him. He's a brave warrior, and he brought many victories to the kingdom before,” Marco nodded.

Zethir blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that. He didn't even know the man before, he only knew of him from his dream.

“...then, do you believe in Clairvoyance?” Zethir's eyes glowed crimson red, dyeing his eyes but not turning his vision red.

“Oh!” Marco exclaimed, a little too loudly for Zethir's taste. Even Augustin tensed up, but Marco seemed to not notice.

“I've heard of Clairvoyance before. Does mr. Zethir you know about the god of three eyes?” He asked in a cheerful tone.

Zethir frowned, wanting to silence the other man.

However, Marco spoke before he could do so.

“In the past, when gods were abundant, there was a powerful god who could see the past, present, and future. Legend has it, he knew what you would think about before you thought about it. He'd know what you did, and what you would do,” he sighed. “Alas, he fell in battle many, many years ago.”

“Eh?” Augustin cried out from behind. “If he was so powerful, how could he have fallen?”

Marco chuckled. “Gods are not omniscient. Their powers come at a great cost. In essence, gods are just extremely powerful individuals who gained unique abilities… that's the theory, anyway.”

“Really? So, say we become rank 15, will we be considered a god?” Augustin chirped, his pale complexion turning rosy.

Ranks 1 to 5 were called “green.” For mercenaries, they were all dubbed green mercenaries for convenience.

From rank 6 to 10, they'd be called an elite.

“Silly child,” Marco smiled. “Rank 15 isn't the end. Even a thousand rank 15s can't hope to lick a god's toe.”

“Tsk,” Zethir glared at the two parrots behind him, his patience running dry. “Could you be any louder? Be quiet!”

Marco grinned bashfully, averting his gaze. Augustin followed his example.

“We're about to reach our previous position. In a bit, we'll reach your mercenaries, Marco,” Zethir walked ahead, not bothering to hide behind tree anymore. Instead, he unsheathed his sword.

“Be ready for battle,” he said.

Marco let out a lengthy sigh. “Have you found anything?”

Zethir nodded, gritting his teeth. “I sense extreme bloodlust. We may be surrounded. It's better to act quick, than to be caught unprepared,” he said, giving Marco a meaningful glance a they half-ran forward.

Marco took out a book. Opening it, a glass flask full of green liquid appeared on top of the yellowish pages.

“I can fight,” he said, downing the potion. “But the only battle spell I do well is [Telekinesis]. Will that be—”

“That's enough. You,” Zethir motioned at Augustin.

Augustin opened his mouth when they reached Marco's team. Seeing the pile of dead mercenaries, he couldn't help but gulp.

“I—I know [Chain of Lightning]... but my arcane isn't high,” he said, peeking at Zethir.

Zethir nodded, not expecting anything more.

‘[Telekinesis] and [Chain of Lightning]... I can focus on the archers,’ he thought.

“Use your spell at the best opportunity,” he told Augustin. “The bloodlust somehow thinned out. Let's hurry.”

Marco nodded. Then, he tapped Zethir, as well as Augustin. Smiling, he said, “As a good luck token. [Lightness]!”

Suddenly, Zethir felt like his bones were oiled. Twisting his limbs around, he nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you—”

Marco's eyes widened, and he shoved Zethir aside. Then, raising his hands, he yelled. “[PROTECTION]!”

An arrow cried out like an eagle, falling down on Marco's green energy shield lime lightning.

BANG!

The green shield shattered, and blood splattered on the ground. Marco stumbled back, falling to his knees as he looked down at the arrow sticking out of his body.