Everyone has secrets

Belial lay sprawled on the cool grass, gazing up at the sky. The faint rustling of leaves in the breeze was the only sound, apart from Cassidy pacing nearby. His body ached from the relentless training session, but his mind was elsewhere.

He couldn't help but replay the warnings he'd received before joining the guild. "Most of those people are criminals," they had said. That he was making a mistake. At the time, Belial had brushed it off, thinking it was mere exaggeration. Now, though, as he reflected on what he'd learned about his guildmates, he wasn't so sure.

Cassidy, for instance, was a confirmed former mobster—a fact that had been casually revealed during one of their earlier conversations. It made sense; Cassidy carried himself with the confidence and sharpness of someone who had survived in a world of shadows and blood. But it also raised questions.

If Cassidy was part of a crime organization, then what about the others?

Belial frowned, his crimson eyes flickering with curiosity. His thoughts wandered to Troxil, the towering, bald guild member who always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. Troxil wasn't exactly friendly—rude and abrasive were more accurate descriptors—but he didn't strike Belial as a hardened criminal.

Still... what could Troxil have done before joining the guild?

Belial let his imagination run wild.

Maybe Troxil was caught smuggling something ridiculous, like counterfeit dentures, into enemy territories.

He snorted softly, finding the image amusing.

Or maybe he was arrested for something hilariously mundane, like jaywalking.

Belial couldn't suppress a chuckle at the thought, earning a curious glance from Cassidy.

"What's so funny?" Cassidy asked, his cyan dreads swaying as he leaned against a nearby tree.

Belial smirked, sitting up slightly. "I was just wondering... what did Troxil do before he joined the guild?"

Cassidy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the question. "Oh, him?" He crossed his arms and tilted his head back, as if recalling a distant memory. "He used to work under me with Craver."

Belial blinked, caught off guard. "Wait—Troxil? Seriously?"

Cassidy grinned. "What, you don't see it? Sure, he's a bit... rough around the edges, but back in the day, he was one of my best guys."

Belial shook his head in disbelief. He'd always found Troxil's imposing stature intimidating, but he'd never pegged him as a former mob enforcer.

"Honestly, I thought Troxil's biggest crime was being obnoxious," Belial muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from Cassidy.

"Don't let appearances fool you, kid. People like Troxil are full of surprises," Cassidy said, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Belial's mind churned. If Troxil had that kind of past, what about the others? He thought of Natalie, the guild's ever-efficient secretary, who somehow managed to keep everything running smoothly despite the chaos around her.

What could she have done?

And then there was Leah, the compassionate doctor who had healed him and Xin not long ago. She seemed so gentle, so kind. But now, even her past felt like a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

It seemed that everyone had a deep dark past in this guild.

"You could just ask them yourself, you know," Cassidy said, breaking Belial's train of thought. He waved a hand dismissively, as if the answer were obvious.

Belial scoffed lightly. "Yeah, right. 'Hey, Natalie, ever smuggled anything illegal? Oh, and Leah, any skeletons in your medical closet?' That'd go over well."

Cassidy shrugged, clearly unbothered. "You'd be surprised. People around here don't exactly hide their pasts. This guild's full of misfits for a reason, kid. We're all here because Cole gave us a second chance."

Belial lay back down, letting the weight of Cassidy's words sink in. A second chance. That's what the guild was—a haven for people with checkered pasts, a place to start over.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was just scratching the surface. What other secrets were his guildmates hiding?

For now, though, he'd leave it alone. There was only so much he could take in one day.

… 

Belial's breath was ragged as he leaned back against the tree, the cracks in his kite shield a stark reminder of the ferocity of Cassidy's training. The cool shade provided little relief from the sweat dripping down his face, and his fingers curled around the darkened remnants of his summoned shield. Cassidy stood across from him, tossing another water bead up and down in his hand, his cyan dreads swaying lazily in the breeze.

"You're slipping, kid," Cassidy taunted, smirking. "Gotta stay sharp if you don't want to get flattened."

Belial gritted his teeth, his crimson eyes narrowing. He wasn't about to let Cassidy have the last word, not when he had made so much progress over the past few days. Summoning a new kite shield made of darkness, he steadied himself and rose to his feet. The black surface shimmered faintly in the light, its edges sharper than before.

"I'm not done yet," Belial growled, his voice firm despite his exhaustion.

Cassidy chuckled, twirling his dagger in one hand. "That's the spirit. Show me what you've got."

Belial wasted no time. He dashed forward, the ground beneath him crunching as he closed the distance between them. Cassidy responded with a flick of his wrist, sending another water bead hurtling toward him. This time, Belial was ready. He raised his shield and deflected the attack, though the force sent vibrations up his arm.

Cassidy darted to the side, his movements fluid and calculated. Belial turned to follow, summoning a small, dark bear trap that materialized mid-air before clamping down near Cassidy's leg. Cassidy reacted with impressive speed, narrowly avoiding the trap by flipping backward.

"Creative," Cassidy remarked, landing gracefully. "But predictable."

Belial didn't respond. Instead, he summoned another object—a small, sleek musket, its barrel glinting ominously. He took aim and fired, a shadowy projectile whistling through the air. Cassidy ducked, the shot grazing past his shoulder.

"Alright, I'll give you that one," Cassidy admitted, rubbing the near-miss. "You're starting to think outside the box."

Belial pressed his advantage, summoning a flurry of dark needles that shot toward Cassidy like a swarm of angry hornets. Cassidy spun his dagger with precision, deflecting several of the needles, but a few managed to scratch his arm.

"Not bad," Cassidy said, grinning despite the shallow cuts. He lunged forward, closing the gap between them. Belial barely had time to raise his shield before Cassidy's dagger slammed against it, sending sparks flying.

The two clashed in a rapid exchange, Cassidy's dagger flashing as Belial parried with his shield and countered with short, sharp swings of his shadow-forged sword. Though Cassidy lacked the finesse of a true melee fighter, his agility and experience made him a formidable opponent.

Belial, however, was holding his own. With each passing moment, he felt his movements growing more fluid, his reflexes sharper. He could sense the Oracle's subtle guidance, helping him anticipate Cassidy's moves and adjust his tactics.

But even with this advantage, the strain of battle was beginning to show. Belial's ether reserves were dwindling rapidly, and every summon felt heavier than the last.

Cassidy seemed to notice. "Running low already?" he teased, stepping back to create some distance.

Belial ignored the comment, instead focusing on his next move. He summoned another trap—a spiked caltrop this time—and scattered it across the ground. Cassidy leaped to avoid them, but the distraction gave Belial a split-second opening.

He charged forward, slamming his shield against Cassidy with all his remaining strength. The impact sent Cassidy stumbling back, his dagger slipping from his grasp.

"Got you," Belial said, a rare smirk crossing his lips.

Cassidy regained his balance quickly, though, and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, you win this round," he said, chuckling. "But don't get cocky. That's just one fight."

Belial's legs gave out beneath him as he collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving. His shirt, long since discarded, clung to the bark of a nearby tree, and his torso was slick with sweat. Cuts and bruises marred his skin, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his tired expression.

Cassidy grabbed a bottle of water from his pack and took a long drink before sitting down on a dead tree trunk nearby. The two men sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the forest filling the air.

"You're improving," Cassidy said finally, breaking the quiet. "But you still have a long way to go."

Belial nodded weakly, too exhausted to respond.

Just then, the sound of footsteps drew their attention. A figure emerged from the edge of the clearing, her presence commanding and poised. She wore a pencil skirt and a button-down shirt, topped with a well-tailored coat. Her hair was tied neatly, and she carried herself with an air of confidence that immediately caught both men's attention.

"mignonne?" Cassidy greeted, raising an eyebrow as she approached.

She nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze sweeping over the scene. Belial, shirtless and sprawled on the ground, looked up at her with curiosity. Cassidy, still perched on the trunk, seemed unbothered by the interruption.

"Rough day?" Emily remarked, her tone light but tinged with amusement.

"Not really a little bit of babysitting," Cassidy replied, smirking. "What brings you out here?"

Emily crossed her arms, her expression growing more serious. "Cole told me to give this to you. There's a mission for you."