The chamber fell quiet the moment Rhell dismissed them.

  For a breath, no one moved, not Bash, not his team, not Zycof or Murdoc.

  Then the two elite guards stepped forward and gestured sharply.

  “This way.”

  Bash rose without bowing, an intentional slight. His team followed, still wide-eyed and overwhelmed

  as they filed out behind the Eclipse Veil escorts.

  The doors slid closed behind them with a soft chime.

  And inside the room, Murdoc and Zycof remained, standing rigid as Rhell’s gaze shifted toward them.

  Murdoc bowed his head respectfully.

  “With all due respect, Councilor… you just signed a contract agreeing to stay cordial with Bash and his

  guild. I do not understand.”

  Rhell’s expression twisted into a scowl.

  “You fool. I said after this mission, and as long as we both stand. That is what is written in the

  contract.”

  Murdoc’s brow furrowed. “…Meaning?”

  Rhell leaned forward, voice dropping to a cold whisper.

  “It is your job to make sure he does not come out alive.”

  Silence dropped like a hammer.

  Zycof did not gasp, did not flinch, but Bash would have noticed the small betrayal: Zycof’s pupils

  constricted, his breath tightened. He had not expected that command. But he kept composure, as if he

  understood what was expected of him now.

  Rhell rose from his seat. Zycof and Murdoc straightened instantly.

  Rhell’s gaze moved between them.

  “He trusts you more,” he said, staring directly at Zycof. “You will be the one to escort him to the

  temple.”

  “Yes, Councilor,” Zycof replied, mask of professionalism locking in place.

  Rhell turned toward the door.

  “Go. There is work to be done.”

  Zycof and Murdoc followed, leaving the room with him. The two headed toward the forges to relay the

  orders, both spoken and unspoken.

  Back at the Grey Guild Base

  The internal transport platform flashed, depositing Bash’s team back into the lower district. Their

  cramped metal corridor felt almost unreal after the polished grandeur of Eclipse Veil’s domain.

  They stepped inside their tiny base, shoulder-to-shoulder as always.

  The door closed behind them.

  And the room erupted.

  A chorus of cheering blasted off the walls. Myr laughed. Cerny jumped in place. Nixon pounded Bryn’s

  shoulder. Even Garret, perpetually intense, let out a wild, disbelieving shout.

  “We’re going to be fully geared T2A!” Bryn cried.

  “We’ll finally be able to contribute,” Nixon added, nearly shouting over her.

  “With beast fragments like this, we can actually afford a real guild hall!” Mirran breathed, almost

  tearing up.

  Their voices bounced in the tiny chamber, too full of excitement for the space to contain.

  But Bash didn’t celebrate.

  He stood slightly apart, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, gaze distant.

  Myr noticed first. His smile faltered. “Bash? Something wrong?”

  The others quieted instantly.

  Bash was speaking with SC.

  “There’s something more going on.”

  SC answered within him, tone low and sharp.

  “Agreed. Rhell is not the type of Spartor to sign over his guild without absolute certainty he will never

  have to do it. His phrasing was deliberate.”

  “Yeah,” Bash replied silently. “I heard that too. What do you think it means?”

  “I do not know. But you must be cautious. Extremely cautious.”

  When Bash finally looked up, the others were watching him.

  “What’s the problem?” Garret asked, concern slipping past the tough exterior.

  Bash shook his head slowly. “It feels too simple. Rhell knows something more, or has something

  planned. And I do not know what.”

  The team’s excitement dimmed. Shadows replaced the smiles. Bryn folded her arms. Nixon stared at

  the floor. Cerny bit her lip.

  “Yeah,” Myr said quietly. “We need to get through the mission first.”

  Bash chuckled softly. “You won’t be joining me.”

  The room froze.

  “What?” Mirran whispered.

  “That was not part of the agreement,” Bash said. “It’s only me going.”

  Garret protested, “They wouldn’t mind if we go, would they?”

  Bash lifted a brow.

  “They are going to say: ‘What can six Grey Spartors contribute that Eclipse Veil can’t?’ No one in

  Eclipse Veil is going to allow it.”

  The mood darkened immediately.

  Nixon shook his head slowly. “We’ll try anyway.”

  “No,” Bash said firmly. “The agreement was made. I will go. I will try to enter. If I can, I’ll retrieve

  whatever is inside. If I cannot… well, hopefully I return.”

  Silence fell heavy as iron.

  The weight was real now, the stakes, the danger, the betrayal hiding beneath the surface.

  This mission was no longer exciting.

  It was terrifying.

  Myr stepped forward, voice soft. “Bash has a big day tomorrow. He needs rest.”

  The team nodded reluctantly and filed out one by one. Garret lingered, then followed.

  Bash waited until the door clicked shut.

  Then lowered himself into the metal chair that served as his bed, hard, uncomfortable, but familiar now

  after six months.

  “What could they be planning?” he whispered.

  SC answered truthfully.

  “I do not know, Bash. But we must be ready for anything.”

  He closed his eyes.

  Sleep took him quickly.

  The jingle of the doorknob woke him, just like every morning.

  That soft metallic rattle Myr always made while trying not to be loud.

  “Are you awake?” Myr asked, same tone, same question as every other day.

  Bash didn’t even open his eyes. “Yeah.”

  One by one, the rest of the team filtered in, yawning, stretching, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Garret

  was last as usual, hair still half-flattened from sleep.

  Myr tossed him a ration bar. “Let’s go get our gear and send Bash off.”

  They stepped out into the corridor.

  For the first time, none of them joked.

  None laughed.

  None teased.

  The tension was thick.

  They followed the same path Murdoc and Zycof had led them through the previous day, down the

  narrow corridors, across the internal walkway, into the Nexus center.

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  The Nexus guards shifted when they saw them coming.

  Two different guards than the evening before, but their disdain was the same, eyes cold, posture stiff.

  Bash spoke before they could argue.

  “We are here by order of Rhell.”

  The sound of Rhell’s name stiffened both guards instantly.

  Bash swiped his watch. A hologram of authorization appeared between them.

  The guards examined it quickly.

  Then stepped aside without another word.

  The team passed through the gate, and the moment they entered, Zycof appeared from inside the base,

  as if he had been waiting.

  “Good timing,” he said. “I just came from the forge and imbuers. Your gear is done. Come. Councilor

  Rhell will meet us there.”

  Bash lifted a brow. “No Murdoc?”

  Zycof cleared his throat. “Rhell sensed the hostility between you two. Murdoc was assigned to a

  different mission.”

  “…Interesting,” Bash replied.

  Zycof led them deeper into the base, through turning corridors, past armored members, past

  shimmering alloy walls.

  Eventually they entered the forge hall.

  The Forge and Imbuers’ Corridor

  The heat hit them first, dry, metallic, humming with power.

  Ten forging bays glowed with ember-light on the left. Opposite them, ten imbuing rooms thrummed

  with color-shifting resonance fields.

  Down the center of the corridor stood seven long tables.

  Each table was stacked with gleaming armor and weapons, new T2A equipment tailored for each of

  them.

  No one needed to be told where to go.

  Every Spartor walked straight to their own table, as if instinct guided their steps.

  Bash’s table was first.

  Eight new pieces of gear replaced the T2G equipment he still wore. His eyes immediately locked onto

  the pair of daggers resting atop the table, sleek, dark silver blades etched with crimson tracery.

  Razorvein.

  He lifted them, testing the balance.

  Zycof stepped beside him. “We replicated every piece of gear you currently have, just upgraded to

  T2A. You have a strong build. But…”

  He gestured to the armor.

  “We could not recreate your suit. No one has ever seen an imbuement like the one you use. We made

  something close, better healing, but no damage mitigation. To be honest… your current suit is still

  superior.”

  Bash nodded. “Yeah. I’ll keep what I have.”

  Zycof handed him a gear bag. “For your old pieces.”

  Bash began swapping out his equipment, daggers, shoulders, bracers, leggings, boots, belt, ring, each

  one replaced with a higher tier counterpart. He placed the old items neatly into the bag.

  Garret, meanwhile, was struggling. He tried to shove oversized pieces into a tiny bag with growing

  frustration.

  Bash sighed.

  “Garret. I have room in mine. If you carry my bag back to the guild, I’ll pack everything for you.”

  Garret looked relieved. “Yes. Please.”

  Bash slipped his gloves off. Then he sorted Garret’s equipment with meticulous precision, angling

  plates and bracers so they nested correctly, placing reinforced pieces at the base, arranging smaller

  items along the sides. When finished, he slid his gloves back on and cinched the bag.

  Garret stared in disbelief. “How…?”

  “Just needed organization,” Bash said casually.

  Before anyone could joke about it, a ripple of energy swept the corridor.

  Rhell entered with two elite escorts.

  He surveyed the tables, nodding.

  “I trust your gear meets expectations.”

  The team bowed instantly.

  Except Bash.

  Myr spoke for them. “We are very grateful, Councilor.”

  Rhell waved a hand. “No need to thank me. You should thank Bash. He is the one who made this

  fortune possible.”

  Bash’s brow dipped slightly at the peculiar way Rhell phrased it.

  Then Rhell tossed a pouch toward him.

  Bash caught it easily… and immediately tossed it to Myr.

  “Payment in full,” Rhell said. “My obligations are met. Shall we proceed to the portal?”

  Two new Eclipse Veil escorts arrived.

  Myr cleared his throat. “Councilor, we were hoping to accompany Bash, to help escort him to the

  temple.”

  A flicker, tiny, sharp, pulled at Rhell’s lip.

  He turned to the guards, then Zycof.

  “Well… I suppose there is no harm in that.”

  Bash stepped forward.

  “I have to intervene. An agreement is an agreement. It should only be me.” His voice remained steady.

  “Besides, what could six Grey Spartors contribute that Eclipse Veil cannot? There is no reason to put

  them in danger or force Eclipse Veil to intervene in a high-tier beast attack.”

  The team froze.

  The words stung, more than Bash intended, but he did not retract them.

  Rhell nodded once. “So be it. Escort them out.”

  The escorts gestured for the team to follow.

  The six Grey Spartors left in stunned silence, hurt, confused, but respectful of Bash’s decision.

  Only Bash, Zycof, Rhell, and the two escorts remained.

  They moved to the internal portal chamber, a guarded room filled with dozens of nexus operators.

  Zycof approached the clerk and checked them in.

  Authorization approved.

  The clerk bowed his head low as Rhell passed.

  They reached the portal, a shimmering oval of swirling silver-blue energy.

  Bash looked around. “Just us two?”

  Rhell nodded. “Yes. There are two guards stationed at the temple. The path is safe. We have been

  traveling it for days now. No beasts for kilometers.”

  He turned to Zycof.

  “Your mission is to escort Bash to the temple… and bring him back afterward.”

  Zycof bowed slightly. “I will do as you command.”

  Bash and Zycof stepped toward the portal.

  Zycof paused only once, giving a subtle glance, something between duty and dread.

  They stepped through.

  Their silhouettes vanished in swirling light.

  Rhell exhaled, expression sharpening.

  One escort stepped closer. “Councilor, should we… take care of his guildmates?”

  Rhell shook his head.

  “Not now. Follow them on their next portal run. Make it look like they bit off more than they could

  chew.”

  A cruel smile formed at the edge of his lips.

  “No one will question it.”