Mysterious

A black cloaked figure walked into a small dusty town, keeping his gaze straight ahead, careful not to look at the locals. They were a very curious bunch, the whole lot of them. He'd been coming here once every week now but their stares hadn't reduced in the slightest.

He ignored them, walking up to a tavern near the town square that served ale as readily as it served information. His entrance hushed the low murmur of conversations for a beat before the clinking of tankards and the scraping of plates resumed. He picked his usual spot at the counter and ordered a round of beer in a gruff voice.

The bartender's lean, scaled arm slid into his view with practiced efficiency, delivering his drink.

He paused for a moment — the sight of the arm still threw him off. He hadn't gotten used to it yet — the fact that everyone here had scales on their bodies to varying extents.

He picked up the mug and gulped it down in one go, earning a few whistles from some in the bar. He didn't pay them any mind.

"Where's Rita?" he asked as he stood up, dropping a few coins on the counter.

The bartender jerked his chin to the back without a word, like this was a regular occurrence.

The cloaked figure grunted in response, walking into the dim back corridor where the kitchen, ale storage and staff-only rooms were. As he moved by the kitchen's open doorway, he spotted Rita with her sleeves rolled up, a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, kneading dough on a large wooden table.

He knocked loudly on the doorframe, startling her into a spin. A gasp slipped out of her mouth as she noted who it was, causing her to bark into laughter as she clutched her chest.

"Gods! How are you so light on your feet? One day you'll give me a heart attack," she scolded with an exasperated smile that softened when she caught herself. She rarely smiled, but for him, it slipped out naturally.

She was a beauty, Rita. A homegirl. Plain and natural. Her face was freckled, her brown hair tied in a bun that exposed the scales running from her neck down to her spine, and covering her entire arms. Her pupils were slit like a reptile's, and when she laughed, one could glimpse slightly serrated teeth and a normal-looking but longer tongue. Everything about her tied together perfectly, bringing a sense of fiery danger under her homely look.

Every man in the tavern vied for her attention, but she didn't pay them any mind. Besides the fact her father — the owner of this tavern — was a kingpin in these areas, she was also a tough nut to crack. She could be mellow, but once triggered, all hell broke loose. She rarely smiled, yet he was the one person who consistently elicited a genuine, true smile from her.

"You here for the usual?" she asked with a resigned sigh when he didn't reply. He simply grunted as she walked to a corner of the kitchen, past some busy workers, and picked up a fairly large satchel of what appeared to be supplies. She lifted it to hand it over, but as his gloved hand reached out, she pulled it back, making him pause. She tried to meet his gaze, but it remained hooded beneath the shade of his cloak. With a frustrated huff, she swallowed her curiosity and pushed the bag into his chest anyway.

He reached into his cloak for a small bag of coins to pay her, but as she heard the familiar chink of metal, she snapped, "No! You promised last time you wouldn't pay! This was supposed to be free! You do this every week, you stubborn—"

"I'll take it, if you don't want it, lovely Rita." A new, slick voice cut her rant short.

She jumped at the voice but the cloaked figure didn't even flinch, slowly turning his head to meet the owner of the voice.

The newcomer — a lanky-looking man — leaned against the wall of the corridor. His eyes slanted upward in a slit, pronouncing his already reptilian-looking pupils. His hair was a pale blond, slicked back with wax to prominently display the rough scales along the sides of his face. He flicked his forked tongue out, tasting the air as an ever-present smirk played on his lips.

He hummed and ahhed at the cloaked figure's indifference to his abrupt appearance, making snarky statements trying to trigger a reaction, earning him some light scolding from Rita, who seemed hesitant. She didn't like the guy, but it seemed she couldn't do anything about him. He was her father's man, one of his top enforcers. Incredibly sadistic. He'd chase down anything that interested him, toying with it until he was bored. He'd grown up under her father's wing. Learned to kill, learned to wield magic, learned to smile while carving a man's bones open. He adored her father like a god and guarded Rita like a wolf with a chained collar. Not out of love but a twisted sense of possessiveness.

The cloaked figure showed no signs of being disturbed and simply threw the bag of coins into the air and turned to leave, cutting off the guy's attempt to goad him as he reacted to catch the coin.

By the time he caught it, and Rita realized that he'd paid her again, he was already moving down the corridor, with his gloved hand in a lazy wave to pacify her angry call.

"You promised! Next week I swear you won't pay—"

The snake-eyed man chuckled, pocketing the pouch. "I'll be here waiting to collect it," he said with a mock bow toward Rita, earning himself a glare that could shoot daggers. He laughed again as he sauntered off in the opposite direction, his grin melting into a flat, cold line the moment he was out of sight.

Stepping back into the sunlight, the cloaked figure paused. He lifted his chin slightly, letting the warmth wash over him for a rare moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a cluster of ragged children by a dry water trough, watching him like hungry dogs. Without a word, he flicked a few bronze coins their way. They scrambled over each other, squealing in glee. It bought him the few seconds he needed to slip away unseen.

Once, some of those same children had followed him far from town, drawn by curiosity and rumors that he was rich and soft. They knew he wasn't from here. His appearance, the way he moved, talked, ate and was even generous with his tips. Word moved around within this small town very quickly, and soon everyone knew he had money on him and was an outsider.

The beggars' pestering was relatively tame. It was when some bad eggs had tried to see if he was a sheep or a wolf that he retaliated decisively. News of a whole local gang of more than twenty individuals being seen in a secluded alley, beaten very precisely to the point of death, spread like wildfire. Everyone knew who did it. It wasn't a secret that the Ironfang gang was targeting the new guy in town. The crazy thing was there wasn't even any retaliation from the higher echelon of the gang.

Since then, the whole town had started to treat him with respect and fear.

He walked up to the signboard in the Town Square, where common folk and town higher-ups posted job offers and their rewards. He bypassed the left side, where petty jobs were listed, heading directly to the right. Others scanning the signboard cleared the way for him. No one was on this side — the jobs posted here were incredibly dangerous, enough to kill any of them many times over. They usually required venturing deep into the wild woods. Only a madman would go that far. And it seemed there was one. The cloaked figure was one of the very few who took such dangerous jobs, and none took them as regularly as he did.

Without fail, he picked up a new job every week he came into town, meaning he completed the job within that same week. Unlike the few others who took such jobs and it would take them weeks, if not months. The pay, however, reflected the danger, which was why the cloaked figure could afford to be so generous with tips.

He looked at a job posting from the local apothecary. The old fellow was looking for the heart of a Blue-headed Ice Python. The pay was fifty gold coins, enough to comfortably feed a family of four for more than half a year. He snatched the paper off the signboard, drawing sharp intakes of breath from those silently watching in curiosity. The sheer danger of the job sent shivers down their spines. That was an adult Tier Two beast, capable of nearly razing this town to the ground if given leeway. The pay, however, made their eyes glitter, making them wish they possessed the strength to take on such tasks.

Usually, one was supposed to take the job posting to the specified address and sort out the specifics with the client. But he didn't need to. The old fellow knew no one else had the guts to take the jobs he posted. And after a few weeks of him repeatedly completing his jobs, they'd simply come to an understanding. The man posted a job, and he got his results cleanly the next week. The cloaked figure only came for his pay.

He walked out of the rickety wooden city gate which was more for show than security, as there were many entrances to the town. This was more like a checkpoint on a major road to tax travelers entering the city. They let him pass without any hassle as he neared, recognizing his familiar gait from a distance. He grunted a greeting as he walked past. After a few minutes, he veered off the road and entered the forest some ways in the distance, disappearing from their view.

"Is it really true what they say? That he can talk to beasts and has some kind of agreement with them? Every week he comes for fresh supplies, enough to feed five men for more than a week, and comes back with precious resources from mana beasts?" a fresh-faced soldier asked, earning heckling laughter from the more experienced soldiers stationed there.

"There's no such thing as agreements with mana beasts, boy!" an old soldier laughed, then gazed into the distant woods with a serious look. "He's a dangerous man. You can't tell yet, but as you grow, you'll be able to sense these things... When he stares at you, it's like a beast is wrapped up under that cloak, waiting to pounce on you at any moment if you make the wrong move," he whispered.

The figure in question was running through the woods rapidly, oblivious to their gossip.

He ran for a long while, taking random turns and paths before he headed down the direction he was familiar with, confident he had lost the people that engaged in this regular game of tailing him. His path led him to a wide river where he ran right along the bank as a consistent rumbling noise from the distance became louder.

He halted right at the edge, where the bank ended, opening up to a large waterfall that thundered loudly now that he was up close.

He watched the might of nature for a while, savoring the calm in chaos before eventually reaching into the recess of a large rock, pulling out a thick woven rope that was wound round the same rock in a hidden position. He stretched it out, walking into the water and the very edge of the fall, on slippery water-beaten rocks. With the rope tied to his waist and his bag of supplies strapped to his back tightly, sure that he was perfectly positioned, he jumped right off the edge without hesitation, the roar of the waterfall drumming loudly in his ears and vibrating through his bones. His hair fluttered wildly in the air as the wind beat against his face.

Suddenly, he grabbed the rope with practiced timing, just before it ran out and jerked his body. With the instant change of momentum, his body swung forward towards the falling water as he braced for impact.

He speared through the water, swinging into an open cave right behind the thundering fall now behind him.

With a spin midair, he slashed the rope that now threatened to pull him right out of the cave under the might of the fall, watching the rope disappear into the water.

He grinned at the thrill of what he'd just experienced, but it still couldn't be seen behind the hooded cloak he wore.

"One of these days you won't be as lucky anymore..." a raspy voice whispered from somewhere in the cave.

"Yeah well, I'll probably survive anyways." The cloaked figure replied as he pulled the hood off his head, revealing his wet black hair that stuck, matted to his face. He swung his head back, revealing his face fully. His black eyes gleamed in delight with a smile tugging on his lips. Water dripped down his sharp jaw as he glanced at the speaker who slowly moved into the light.

"Even that may fail at some point. There is a safer and more discreet way to get to this cave... Remember we don't want to draw unnecessary attention." Smiling Devil coughed out weakly.

"..."

"I know." Zephyr replied solemnly, closing his eyes and snapping fingers as a fire spell sparked into life.