The streets of Virelia were as loud and alive as Kael remembered, but today they felt different. Perhaps it was the tall, cloaked figure walking beside him, the very picture of barely contained malice.
Belphegor's hood was drawn low, yet it did little to hide him. He was impossibly striking, too symmetrical, too flawless, with sharp, predatory features that looked carved from marble and an otherworldly grace to his every movement. His crimson eyes glowed faintly beneath the hood, as if mocking the sunlight. He looked like something humans were never meant to behold, beautiful, but dangerous.
Kael had never thought of himself as plain. In fact, he'd been called handsome more than once, with his dark hair and confident grin. But beside Belphegor, he looked painfully ordinary.
The crowd noticed too. Whispers followed them like shadows. Merchants stared. A pair of women paused mid-conversation, eyes fixed on the figure beside Kael until he was gone.
"Are we nearly there?" Belphegor's voice was deep, smooth, and cold.
Kael nodded. "The guildhall is just ahead. If you're serious about earning power and coin, this is where you start."
Belphegor grunted, unimpressed. "You make it sound like worship. Do you expect me to kneel?"
Kael smirked. "Not to them. But if you want missions, equipment, and access to higher ranks, you play by the rules, at least until you're strong enough to ignore them."
That made Belphegor chuckle, a low, dark sound that sent a shiver through a nearby peddler, who turned and pretended to rearrange his goods.
The guildhall loomed ahead, a broad wooden structure crowned with banners bearing the crest of the Adventurers' Guild, a sword and quill crossed over a shield. The doors opened to a storm of sound and motion: armored men and robed mages shouting across tables, merchants hawking potions and charms, and drunken adventurers laughing at some bawdy song.
As Belphegor stepped inside, the noise faltered for just a moment. Heads turned. Eyes lingered. His presence was like a torch in a dark room, impossible to ignore.
Belphegor's lip curled in faint amusement. "Mortals celebrating their own weakness," he muttered.
Kael shot him a warning glance. "Keep it down. This is neutral ground, you don't want to start a fight here."
They approached the front desk. The clerk, a young woman with bright eyes, spotted Kael and smiled. "Kael! You're back!"
Then she noticed Belphegor. Her words caught in her throat.
"And you've… brought a friend?" she said carefully.
Kael leaned against the counter. "A recruit. I'm here to register him."
The clerk blinked, her gaze darting between Kael and Belphegor. "You? Recruiting? This should be interesting." She handed Belphegor a quill and parchment.
Belphegor looked at the paper like it was an insult. "I am not writing anything."
Kael sighed and began filling in the form himself. "Standard procedure," he explained. "They keep track of who takes what quest. You get paid when you succeed, blacklisted if you fail too many."
Belphegor leaned closer, his height forcing the clerk to crane her neck to meet his gaze. "And what do I get if I succeed?"
The clerk swallowed hard. "Coin, equipment, reputation… the higher your rank, the greater the rewards. Rare contracts are sometimes issued by nobles or royal messengers, they pay better than most jobs."
Belphegor's lips twisted into a dangerous smile. "Power. That is enough."
Kael led him toward the quest board. Dozens of parchments were pinned across it, some worn from handling, others freshly inked. Most sat in the lower tiers, simple work meant for beginners.
"Start small," Kael said, glancing back at him. "You don't want attention yet."
Belphegor did not respond.
His gaze had already moved past the lower requests.
Without hesitation, he reached into the higher-rank section and tore a parchment free.
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly.
Belphegor read it once, then lowered it.
> Mission: Investigate the raiding parties harassing the Northern Trade Route.
Reward: 50 gold pieces and a royal favor upon successful report.
Kael let out a quiet breath. "That's not small."
Belphegor handed him the parchment.
Kael skimmed it, then looked up again. "That's a royal contract. Not guild-level. That means soldiers have already failed, or something worse is involved."
Belphegor's expression didn't change.
"Then it's worth taking."
Kael studied him for a moment, then gave a faint, knowing smile. "You don't do 'easy,' do you?"
"Easy is a waste of time," Belphegor replied.
Kael shook his head lightly. "Then you'll need more than just yourself."
Belphegor's eyes flicked toward him. "Then find them."
---
They crossed the room to a table tucked into the far corner.
Three figures sat there.
The first to look up was a wiry archer, his eyes sharp and immediately distrustful. Beside him sat a woman in healer's robes, composed and observant. Across from them, a broad-shouldered warrior leaned back in his chair, expression already bordering on bored irritation.
Kael stopped at the table.
"This is Belphegor."
The warrior gave him a quick once-over and grunted. "Big one."
The healer tilted her head slightly, studying him with quiet focus. "There's something unusual about him."
Belphegor met her gaze without interest. "You'll live."
The archer's mouth twitched faintly. "Comforting."
Kael dropped the parchment onto the table.
"We've got a contract."
The healer reached for it first. Her calm expression faded slightly as she read.
"This is royal," she said.
The archer leaned in, scanning it over her shoulder. His brows pulled together almost immediately.
"You're serious?" he asked, looking at Kael. "Trade route raids don't get escalated like this unless it's organized. Or something's backing them."
The warrior straightened a little, finally interested. He took the parchment, read it once, then let out a low whistle.
"Fifty gold," he said. "And a favor."
Then he grinned.
"I like it."
The archer shot him a look. "Of course you do."
The healer set her hand lightly on the table. "This isn't just about the reward. If this is a royal request, failure won't be ignored."
Her gaze shifted to Kael.
"And you want us to take this… now?"
Kael didn't answer immediately.
Because Belphegor did.
"It's already decided."
All three of them looked at him.
The archer's expression hardened. "You don't decide for us."
Belphegor's gaze settled on him, calm and utterly unconcerned.
"Then stay behind."
Silence fell over the table for a moment.
The warrior snorted under his breath, clearly amused.
The healer frowned slightly, not at Belphegor, but at the situation.
The archer leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. "You don't even know what you're walking into."
Belphegor didn't blink.
"If it stands in my way, I remove it."
The simplicity of the answer only made the tension worse.
Kael stepped in before it could escalate further.
"He's right about one thing," Kael said calmly. "This isn't a beginner's contract. But that's exactly why it matters."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"If something is strong enough to disrupt a royal trade route, it won't stay contained. It spreads. And when it does, smaller contracts won't matter anymore."
The healer's gaze softened slightly as she considered that.
The archer still looked unconvinced, but he was listening now.
Kael continued.
"We've handled worse odds before. The difference is, this time we're not walking in blind."
He tapped the parchment.
"We prepare properly. We move carefully. And we finish it before it grows into something bigger."
The warrior leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
"I'm in," he said simply.
The archer exhaled through his nose, clearly irritated.
"…You always pick the worst jobs," he muttered.
Then he glanced at Belphegor.
"And you," he added, "better be worth the trouble."
Belphegor didn't react.
The healer looked between them, then gave a small nod.
"If we're doing this, we do it properly. No reckless decisions."
Her eyes lingered on Belphegor for a moment.
"From anyone."
Belphegor gave a faint smile.
"No promises."
Kael allowed himself a small breath of relief.
"Good," he said. "Then we plan."
As they sat to discuss the contract, Belphegor found himself listening more than speaking. Kael and his companions planned routes, supply needs, and fallback points. They argued over tactics, then compromised.
Belphegor leaned back, studying them. In Hell, power was taken, never shared. Here, they built it together.
He would never admit it, but something about that intrigued him.
"Then it's decided," Kael said. "We take the contract."
Lyra still looked uneasy, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of the table. "A royal-marked mission isn't something you just 'take,' Kael. There are procedures."
Corin gave a short nod. "Verification, registration… and consequences if we fail."
Jarek stood with a stretch, rolling his shoulders. "Or rewards if we don't." He flashed a grin. "Fifty gold sounds like a good reason to me."
Belphegor rose last.
Unbothered.
Unimpressed.
"To think mortals need permission to act," he muttered under his breath.
Kael glanced at him. "You'll get used to it."
Belphegor didn't respond.
They moved through the guild hall, weaving past crowded tables and clusters of adventurers until they reached the front desk. Unlike the chaotic energy behind them, this area was orderly. Clean.
Deliberate.
A long wooden counter separated the guild staff from the adventurers. Behind it stood a woman with sharp eyes and neatly tied hair, flipping through a thick ledger.
She didn't look up immediately.
"Next."
Kael stepped forward and placed the parchment on the counter.
"We're registering a mission."
Her eyes dropped to the document.
For a brief moment, nothing changed.
Then her gaze sharpened.
She looked up slowly, scanning each of them in turn before settling back on Kael.
"This is a royal contract."
Her tone was no longer casual.
"Confirmed," Kael replied.
The woman's eyes shifted again, this time lingering briefly on Belphegor. There was a flicker of something there. Not fear.
Not quite suspicion.
Recognition of danger, perhaps.
"You understand the conditions?" she asked.
Corin answered this time. "Completion requires verifiable evidence. Failure to report within the stipulated time frame results in contract forfeiture and potential blacklisting."
Lyra added quietly, "False claims carry penalties."
Jarek leaned on the counter. "We know the rules."
The woman held their gaze for another second.
Then she reached for the ledger.
Names were written.
Signatures marked.
Ink pressed into official record.
"Party designation?" she asked.
Kael paused for a fraction of a second.
Then, "Independent unit."
Her brow lifted slightly, but she wrote it down anyway.
When she finished, she stamped the parchment with a firm motion. The sound echoed softly across the counter.
"Registered."
She slid a smaller slip of marked paper toward them.
"Present this upon return. Your reward and rank evaluation will be processed after verification."
Belphegor picked up the slip between two fingers, examining it like it was something mildly inconvenient.
"This determines whether you're worthy of coin?" he asked.
The woman met his gaze evenly. "It determines whether you completed the job."
Belphegor's lips curved faintly.
A system.
Crude.
But functional.
Kael took the slip from him before he could say something unnecessarily provocative.
"Thank you," he said.
The woman gave a small nod. "Try not to die. Royal contracts attract attention."
Jarek chuckled as they turned away. "That's the fun part."
As they stepped back into the noise of the guild hall, Lyra exhaled softly.
"Well," she said, "there's no backing out now."
Corin adjusted the strap of his gear. "There never was."
Kael glanced at Belphegor. "We move at first light."
Belphegor's eyes flickered faintly with something unreadable.
"Move whenever you want," he said.
"As long as it leads to something worth my time."
Jarek grinned.
Kael sighed.
Lyra shook her head.
Corin said nothing.
And just like that, the mission was no longer an idea.
It was set in motion.