No

Kaden quirked an eyebrow at the big man's barked threat. A ragged laugh escaped his lips—low, disbelieving. "You think you can just 'get rid' of me, huh?" He had seen many kinds of people in his life and this was not the first or going to be the last time to encounter this type.

With a smile, Kaden splayed a palm over the battered spear in his other hand, brandishing it enough to make a point. Blood still dripped from the blade—kobold, boar, some of his own. "Go ahead. Try."

The hulking swordsman tensed, fists clenching white around his hilt. There was raw anger in his eyes. The silver-haired priestess shrank back a step, her fearful gaze darting between the two men, and the wiry fellow beside her winced as if anticipating a fight he couldn't win.

"Garrus," the wiry man said, voice tense, "We didn't come back to pick a fight. You said it yourself—we grab the staff and we're gone."

Garrus's lips peeled back in a sneer. "That was before I realized this bastard was going to mooch off our kill. And now he's eyeing my woman."

"First off," Kaden growled, "I didn't ask you to come barging in—let alone to kill-steal that caster." He flicked a glance at the caster's corpse, crimson vines still unwinding from its ankles. "If anything, you got in my way, not the other way around."

The priestess swallowed hard, stepping between Garrus and Kaden, though she wobbled visibly.

"Please," she whispered, "no more killing. We came to… to see if we could stop any more tragedy." Her soft gaze darted up to Garrus, entreating him to stand down. "Let's not spill more blood in this place."

Garrus's jaw tightened, the cords in his neck standing out. For a second, Kaden thought he'd ignore the priestess entirely. But, at last, he let out a sharp exhale, stepping back and sheathing half his blade with a clank. "Fine," he snapped, shooting Kaden a glare of warning. "But don't blame me if this ends badly."

"That's enough," the wiry man muttered, placing a hand on Garrus's shoulder. Then he turned to Kaden, forcing a brittle smile. "Sorry about him—he's not great at losing, especially a kill that size. But we didn't come to pick a fight with you. We just wanted to confirm that caster's death and see if you were okay."

Kaden responded with an even stare.

"The thing is…" The guy was not done talking. "We have a healer with us. We need the staff. If you want you can tag along with us. We can heal your wounds in a second. All you have to do is hand over that staff. I mean… you don't need it, right?"

Kaden smiled and then shook his head. "As a matter of fact, I do need it. I am a caster too."

The wiry man's forced smile froze on his face, while Garrus stiffened again, one hand lingering near his sword hilt. Even the priestess, still pale and trembling, blinked in surprise.

"You're a caster?" the wiry man echoed, as though doubting his own ears. The battered state and the spear in Kaden's hand didn't quite scream spellcaster.

But Kaden gave a slow shrug, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulders. "A caster, a fighter… Not that I care about your definitions." He tapped the cracked staff with the toe of his boot. "But yes. I have a use for this thing. So I will be taking it."

Garrus's jaw worked, anger flickering in his eyes once more. "We need that staff more," he insisted, voice raw. 

Kaden arched an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

The wiry man put up both hands in a placating gesture. "All right, look… we do have a decent camp a short trek from here—bandages, potions, and the priestess can handle the rest of your wounds, fully. If you come with us, hand over the staff, we'll make sure you're set. Food, healing, maybe even a safe night's rest."

Kaden eyed the man, then looked at Garrus's clenched fists, the priestess's anxious frown. He let silence weigh on them for a moment. "And if I keep the staff?"

Garrus snorted. "Then you're on your own. You'll bleed out for all I care, or limp into the next band of monsters unhealed."

Kaden couldn't help a slight, humorless laugh. "I've been 'on my own' this whole time, and I'm still here." He gestured at the field of dead kobolds. "Not to mention I just jumped two levels and snagged a title—thanks for that." His tone dripped with pointed irony as he pointed to the dead kobold magician.

A flash of frustrated rage twisted Garrus's features, but again, the priestess intervened. She shuffled forward, arms half-raised as though to calm them both. "Please. This has gone on long enough. None of us are at our best." 

Her soft silver hair caught the flicker of dying torchlight, and though she looked fragile, something earnest shone in her eyes. "We can help you," she added quietly. "We truly can. If you'd just… trust us."