Chapter IV Part II

Crap crap crap. He noticed, didn’t he?

I twist around, heart pounding, half-expecting him to be tearing down the alley after me. But he’s not after me. I’m two steps from slipping back into the bustle of Arroyo’s main road when—

Wham.

I walk straight into someone’s chest, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. A hand shoots out, steadying me by the elbow.

“I’m so sor—” I start, but the words die on my tongue. It’s him. The rogue. Standing right in front of me, grin coiled tight, those hazel-green eyes sharper now, less playful.

“How did you get ahead of me?” I hiss, taking a half-step back. My tail flicks, agitated.

His smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hey. How’d you do that?”

“Do what?” I edge back again—right into something solid. I glance over my shoulder and meet the smirk of that so-called mage—his partner, of course—standing there like a snake in fresh clothes. His hand dips into his coat, the glint of a blade flashing.

“Mess with my game.” The rogue’s voice stays easy, but there’s a bite beneath it now. He crosses his arms, feet braced like he owns this alley. “I’ve run it for years without a single hiccup—then all of a sudden my customers keep winning. I saw you. Little flick of your finger, yeah?” He lifts one brow, steps closer.

“Zeke.” My voice is calm, but the hum behind my ribs sharpens to a knife-edge.

My little seeker droid zips ahead from the shadows, sparks crackling at its zapper prong. It hovers just above the rogue’s shoulder, beeping in a shrill, menacing pitch.

“Not. A. Step. Closer.” Zeke’s beeps, but the message is clear.

The rogue freezes, hands still half-raised like he’s considering whether Zeke’s zap would sting enough to ruin his day. He doesn’t look scared, though—more curious. The mage behind me shifts his weight, and I feel the tension gather in his arm.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my tone ice. I slid sideways so my tail flicks past the mage’s boot. He flinches. Amateur.

“Sure you don’t,” the rogue drawls. “But you owe me. Today’s losses.” He nods to the mage, who lunges forward, a small knife glinting as he draws it up.

I don’t even breathe. A flick of my wrist, a tug through the Force—

Shhhhk.

The knife tears from the mage’s hand, spinning end over end until it hovers point-first at the rogue’s chest.

His eyes widen, arms snapping up in surrender as his partner stumbles back, cursing. “Ey! Chris!” the rogue shouts, but the fake mage—Chris, apparently—doesn’t look back. He bolts down the alley, boots clattering over the wet stones, cloak flapping behind him like a torn flag.

“Smart friend,” I say flatly, stepping closer to the rogue. The blade drifts with me, its point hovering just shy of the fabric at his throat. The metal glints, the alley’s shadows curling around us.

He presses himself back until his shoulders scrape the damp bricks. “Look, it’s not even that much silver,” he says, trying for calm but his voice edges rough. “Just pay me back what you cost me, and we’re square. Alright?”

I scoff, my tail snapping once, hard. “Seriously? Look at your situation. What makes you think I won’t just slit you open and leave you bleeding in this alley?” The blade dips closer, the tip grazing the hollow of his throat. His breath catches, but that damn smirk doesn’t vanish completely.

“You don’t seem the type to kill in cold blood.” His voice is low, teasing. One corner of his mouth quirks like he’s flirting with his own death.

I bare my teeth, ears flattening. “What you do is just wrong,” I growl, the blade pressing tight enough to make his skin dimple. Still, no flinch. Just those damn eyes, bright and steady. What is with him?

“Doing what? This pebble game?” He laughs—low, mocking. “Please. It’s played everywhere, sweetheart. They charge more than I do. No one misses a few silver. No one gets hurt.”

His words curdle in my gut like spoiled milk. I snarl, “You disgust me.”

He shrugs, shoulders scraping the wall behind him. “And you owe me. Either cut my throat and leave or pay me back.” He leans forward until the blade bites at his skin. “Your choice.”

The arrogance drips from him, infuriating and weirdly magnetic. My tail lashes so hard I nearly swat Zeke. I growl under my breath, flick my fingers—and let the knife clatter to the ground. The clang echoes off the stone walls.

“Fine,” I spit. “But I can only pay you after a quest.”

He scoffs, rolling his neck like he’s loosening a knot. “Fine by me.”

“And you’re coming with me,” I add, stepping back, crossing my arms.

He barks a laugh. “Accompany you? And why in the seven hells would I do that?” His tone drips with mockery—until I turn to Zeke.

“Show him.”

“Understood.” Zeke’s lens flickers. A tiny projector pops out from his undercarriage and a crisp hologram blooms in the shadows. There it is—clear as daylight: the rogue’s hands flicking the pebble up his sleeve, the sly switch under the cup. The mage—Chris—palming it. The pattern, frame by frame.

The rogue’s grin fades, replaced by a twitch of his jaw. “Alright, alright!” He waves his hands through the hologram, which fizzles and dies. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Of course you’d have a magic recording.”

“Yep,” I say, letting a grin curl at the edge of my mouth. I bend, snatch up the knife, and slip it into my belt. “Congratulations. You’re my partner for the day. Come on—Platinum Griffen’s waiting. You are an adventurer, right?”

He throws up his hands. “You can’t be serious.”

Zeke hums closer, his zapper sparking an inch from the rogue’s ear. He flinches. “Okay, okay. Serious. Understood.”

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I spin on my heel and stalk back toward the street. He trails after me, boots crunching over the alley’s damp stones. Zeke drifts between us, his lens fixed on the rogue like an ever-watchful hawk.

“Can you not have your golem be like that?” the rogue mutters, lifting his hands in exaggerated surrender every time Zeke whirs closer.

“Don’t worry,” I say sweetly, shooting him a sidelong look. “Zeke only bites when he has a reason to. Don’t give him a reason.”

“Noted.” He sighs, adjusting the strap of his quiver. “And yes, I’m an adventurer. Silver rank.”

“Great,” I say, stepping out of the alley and into the swirl of Arroyo’s midday crowd. The air smells like pine wreaths and spice bread, festival stalls half-built, banners fluttering overhead. “Then you won’t have any problem with a Gold rank quest.”

“Gold rank?” His voice squeaks on the word. I flash him a smile over my shoulder. He grumbles something under his breath.

I duck around a market stall stacked with dried herbs and turn back to him, my tail flicking smugly. “What’s your name, swindler?”

“Adam,” he says after a beat. His eyes flick over my shoulder, calculating. “Adam Coal.”

“Coal? Like the rock?” I snort.

“No—Cole. C-O-L-E. Adam Cole.” He spells it out, teeth gritted.

“Fine. Adam Cole.” I spin, thrusting my hand out. “I’m Nikko. Nikko Chikara. Gold rank adventurer.”

His eyes narrow at the name, then soften—just a touch. He takes my hand, warm fingers wrapping around mine, a half-cocked grin tugging at his lips. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Heat prickles up my neck. I yank my hand back, spinning around so fast my braid nearly smacks him in the face. “Don’t get cute.”

He laughs, boots crunching on the road as he matches my stride. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Zeke hums at my shoulder, his lens swiveling to Adam’s face. Adam only grins wider.

I roll my eyes, pressing through the busy plaza. The Platinum Griffen’s great stone spire gleams ahead, its banners snapping in the breeze. Time to teach this swindler a proper lesson.

The Platinum Griffen’s main hall is quieter than usual — probably because everyone’s busy stringing up garlands and building festival stalls outside. But there’s still a healthy crowd: warriors swapping tall tales, spell-slingers scribbling runes across their mission slips, a few rough-edged mercs swapping battered weapons for newer ones.

I spot her immediately behind the reception counter. Felicity. Her smile is warm as ever, her vibrant blond ponytail bouncing as she leans over a ledger. Her ruby eyes — bright as fresh embers — catch mine, and she lifts her hand in a little wave. I wave back, my tail flicking once, betraying my nerves.

Behind me, Adam snorts, flopping onto one of the low benches like he owns the place. “Okay. Pick something that won’t get us killed, yeah?” he mutters, fingers drumming on his thigh. He glances at me from under that lazy fringe, his smirk annoyingly confident.

I ignore him — and that stupid smirk — and drift toward the rows of quest boards. Bronze, Iron, Silver… I stop at Gold. My eyes flick over the postings: escort a merchant convoy to the next city, track down a pack of forest drakes, clear out a minor cave of trolls. Routine. Predictable. Too easy.

I glance over my shoulder at Adam. He’s sprawled out like he’s already half-asleep — but when he feels my stare, his eyes lock with mine and he winks. The heat flares up my neck again. Seriously? Get it together, Nikko. I snap my eyes away.

My gaze drifts up the wide staircase that winds to the second floor — the pavilion floor. The place for higher rank postings. Technically, I’m qualified for Platinum quests, too. But I can’t drag Adam through something suicidal… not right away, at least. Still, Gold? Too easy. Too small.

My boots click against the marble as I climb the stairs. The murmur of the hall fades, replaced by that hush that always clings up here — like the boards themselves hum with all the secrets they hold. Mythril rank postings glitter behind glass. Diamond rank flyers pinned like dangerous promises. I drift past the Mythril board. One day. But not yet.

Diamond. I scan the papers. One catches on the edge of my senses like a splinter under skin: Hornfang Forest — Eldorian border — 27 missing villagers, three parties never returned. A low fog. No explanation. No survivors. The payout is triple what any Gold quest could promise.

Zeke’s low beep rattles beside my ear. “Are you insane? Diamond rank. Nikko, three Diamond teams — Diamond — didn’t come back. You can’t handle this.”

I snatch the flyer from the board, folding it in my hand so the seal faces my palm. “I can do this,” I whisper. “We’ve got better gear. I’ve trained under Papa — a Mythril-ranked Acolyte. And I’ve got you.”

Zeke drifts in front of my nose, lens flickering like a scolding teacher. “You want to prove yourself. But you don’t have to.”

Don’t I? The words almost slip past my lips, but I bite them back. Instead, I shove past Zeke, my boots creaking on the stairs. If I can finish this, maybe Papa will finally see me as more than his daughter — more than his shadow.

Back on the ground floor, Felicity’s still at the counter, humming softly to herself. Adam’s still parked on the bench, twirling a loose thread around his finger, oblivious.

I step up to Felicity, smoothing my ears back. I place the flyer on the polished wood. Her eyes flick down. Widen.

“Nikko… this is Diamond rank.” Her voice drops, concern replacing that spark. “I can’t log you for this alone. It’s too dangerous.”

I steel my spine. The lie forms so easily I almost hate how smooth it feels. “It’s not just me, Felicity. Papa and Apollo will be with me, of course.”

I tilt my chin at Adam. He straightens, sensing my eyes, and when I flick my hand toward him, he gives Felicity that same easy smirk — as if he knows exactly what he’s nodding to. “And Dad’s newest pupil will accompany us too,” I add.

Felicity studies me. Her red eyes flick from me to Adam and back again. I force my tail to stay calm, but inside, my pulse hammers. Papa lied too — back then — to keep us safe. If he could bend the truth for the right reason, so can I.

She lets out a slow breath and nods. “Alright. But this is no small job. King Bjorn himself sent this request. Three weeks ago, a strange fog rolled in — the village of Wollten, right on the forest’s edge, reports people vanishing one by one. Three well-equipped parties went in. None came back.” Her fingers hover on the stamped mark. “Investigate. Find them if you can. Bring them home.”

She stamps the parchment. The thunk feels like a judge’s hammer. Zeke’s anxious whir fills the pause.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he beeps, softer now.

“Hush,” I whisper. I tuck the flyer into my belt, feeling the weight of it settle on my hip.

Felicity’s smile returns, though worry still shadows her eyes. “Best of luck, Nikko. And with your father and Apollo…” She glances at Adam, who’s too busy checking the fletching on an arrow to realize he’s the final piece of my lie. “The four of you will be fine.”

I nod. “Thank you, Felicity.”

I stride over to Adam. He pushes himself up with a grunt, stretching like a lazy alley cat. “So,” he drawls, “what suicide mission did you just rope me into? You looked way too smug up there.”

I flick my tail at him, hiding the tight knot in my chest. “Just a simple investigation. Hornfang Forest, villagers gone missing. Easy work.”

His brow arches, his hazel-green eyes narrowing in that infuriating way. “Easy, huh? You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“We’ll be in and out before sunset,” I say, ignoring the twist in my gut. Zeke hovers closer, his lens fixed on Adam like a threat.

Adam just laughs, flashing that grin again. “If you say so, Miss Gold Rank.”

He bumps his shoulder against mine as we push through the wide guild doors into the bright square outside. Festival ribbons snap in the breeze overhead. Zeke hovers close, silent now — but his hum feels like worry pressed against my fur.

This is it, I tell myself as we step out onto the road. Time to show them. Time to show him. Time to prove I’m not just my father’s shadow.