Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

”One week. That’s what it should take, sir!”

”That’s it?” Adom looked at Master Kern.

”If Fili says one week, then one week it is.” She nodded, and Fili let out a small, excited giggle before catching himself.

Adom couldn’t help but smile at the apprentice’s enthusiasm. ”Then I’ll trust you with it. I’ll come back in a week.” He shifted his weight, reaching for his coin purse. ”Now, about the cost-”

”Oh! Well, um, aside from the materials...” Fili’s fingers twisted together. ”Since you’re my first customer ever, there’s no service charge.”

”Really? That’s not necessary, I can pay-”

”No, no!” Fili’s awkwardness gave way to unexpected firmness. ”It’s tradition. I couldn’t possibly take service money from my first customer.”

”Oh.” Adom blinked. ”Well, what will the materials cost then?”

”Ah, one minute!” Fili darted toward the back of the shop. There was an immediate crash, followed by the sound of shuffling papers and sliding metal.

”Everything alright there?” Adom called out.

”Uh, yes!” More crashing sounds. Then, ”Master...?”

Master Kern sighed. ”Top shelf, right side, Fili.”

”Thank you!”

A moment later: ”Master...?”

She looked at Adom apologetically. ”Excuse me for a moment.”

”Oh, no worries.”

Master Kern disappeared into the back room. Her voice carried clearly: ”Three years, Fili. You’ve been working in this smithy for three years, and you still can’t remember where I keep the price book?”

”I know, I know, but you keep moving it-”

”I haven’t moved it in six months.”

”Oh. Really?”

Adom heard more shuffling, followed by what sounded like a heavy thud and Fili’s muffled ”Found it!”

The apprentice emerged carrying an enormous leather-bound book, its corners worn smooth with age. He heaved it onto the counter in front of Adom, their eyes meeting briefly before Fili offered an awkward smile and a mumbled ”Sorry.”

He opened the book, fingers trailing down columns of numbers. ”Let’s see... premium-grade iron for the core structure... enhancement-grade steel for the joint mechanisms... specialized binding materials...” He muttered to himself, making quick calculations on a scrap of paper. ”The crystalline components for the runic interfaces... That’s going to be... yes...” More scratching of charcoal. ”And the stabilizing elements...”

Finally, he looked up. ”For all the materials, it comes to one thousand and fifty-eight gold pieces, and thirty silvers.” He paused, then added quickly, ”But that includes the highest grade materials! We could potentially use lower grades for some components, but I wouldn’t recommend it!”

Adom reached for his coin purse, counting out the gold and silver pieces, then added a small stack of extra coins. ”For any unexpected price changes,” he explained, sliding them across the counter.

”Thank you for your trust, sir!”

The word hit Adom oddly. In his previous life, he’d grown used to being called ’sir’ - expected it, even. But somewhere in the past few days, he’d unconsciously started thinking of himself as young again. Hearing it from someone who looked barely older than his current physical age felt... wrong.

”Just Adom is fine,” he said, extending his hand. ”Nice to meet you, by the way.”

Fili’s eyes widened as if Adom had just offered him a precious gift. His face broke into a broad grin, and before Adom could react, both of Fili’s hands engulfed his in a grip that made him suddenly, acutely aware of what it meant to be a blacksmith’s apprentice.

”Nice to meet you too, Adom! I promise you won’t regret this! I’ll start working on it right away - well, after I clean up the workshop, and finish Master Kern’s current projects, of course, but I could stay late, or come in early, or both! I’ve never worked on anything this complex before, but I’ve been studying similar mechanisms for years, and-”

Adom’s fingers were starting to go numb. He tried to subtly extract his hand, but Fili’s enthusiasm translated into a grip that could probably bend iron. The apprentice kept talking, apparently oblivious to Adom’s increasing discomfort.

”Fili.” Master Kern’s voice cut through the stream of words. ”I think Adom would like his hand back.”

”Oh!” Fili dropped Adom’s hand as if it had suddenly turned red-hot. ”I’m so sorry! Sometimes I forget my own strength, and then Master Kern has to remind me, and- oh, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

Adom flexed his fingers, trying to restore circulation.

[+1 White Wyrm’s Body]

”It’s fine,” he said quickly, taking a prudent half-step back while trying to make it look casual. ”Strong grip. That’s... probably good for a blacksmith.”

Fili’s shoulders visibly relaxed, though his cheeks remained flushed. ”Really good for hammering metal,” he said with a small, self-deprecating laugh, then immediately winced at his own words. ”Not that I’d- I mean, your armor won’t be- I’ll be very careful with the delicate parts!”

He started reaching for something on the workbench, presumably to demonstrate his capacity for gentleness, but Master Kern cleared her throat softly. Fili’s hand froze mid-motion, then slowly retreated to his side.

”Right,” he said, taking a deep breath and obviously trying to contain his excitement to more manageable levels. ”One week. I’ll have everything ready.” He managed to maintain his composure for about three seconds before adding, ”Would you like to see the workshop where I’ll be working on it? I’ve already got some ideas about how to approach the joint mechanisms, and-”

Master Kern coughed.

”Or... maybe next time? When you come to pick it up?” Fili offered hopefully, bouncing slightly on his toes despite his evident attempt to stay still.

Adom glanced around the smithy, taking in the organized rows of weapons. Swords of various lengths hung on the walls, their polished surfaces catching the forge light. Spears and lances stood in racks, their points gleaming. War hammers and maces rested on sturdy shelves.

Again, beautiful craftsmanship, all of it. And now that he was training regularly, the idea of learning to use them held a certain... appeal. But something told him that wasn’t his path. The golem would handle the heavy weapons - that’s what it was designed for. As for himself...

His eyes caught on a pair of thick leather smithing gloves lying on the workbench, their palms and fingers reinforced for handling hot metal. Something clicked in his mind - an idea starting to form.

”Actually...” He turned back to them, flexing his fingers unconsciously. ”How are you with gauntlets? Something like knuckle bracers, but designed for combat?”

”For the golem, I presume?” Master Kern stepped forward this time.

”Ah, additional armor pieces for the golem I presume?” Master Kern nodded approvingly. ”Smart thinking. The joints are always-”

”No, these would be for me.”

Fili’s eyes darted to his master. Master Kern’s eyes flickered to her apprentice. The exchange lasted less than a heartbeat, but Adom knew exactly what passed through their minds. At least they had the decency not to voice their thoughts about a scrawny teenager wanting combat gauntlets.

Master Kern grunted, her calloused fingers drumming once on the workbench. ”In that case, I’ll handle that part myself.”

”So,” she pulled a worn notebook from her apron pocket, ”what exactly are you looking for in these gauntlets? Weight preference? Material flexibility? Protection coverage?”

Adom considered for a moment. ”I need them to be durable enough to withstand repeated impact, but light enough that they don’t slow down my movements. The knuckles should be reinforced - maybe with a shock-absorbing mechanism? Something that would distribute the force of impact so I don’t shatter my own bones when striking.”

She nodded, charcoal scratching against paper. ”Smart. Joint mobility range?”

”Full range of motion in the fingers and wrist. I need to be able to form specific hand positions quickly.” He traced a few spell-casting gestures in the air. ”And I’ll need spaces for mana crystals - three, maybe four anchor points? Plus surface area for runic inscriptions. The runes would need to be positioned so I can chain them together for quick spell weaving.”

Kern’s eyebrows rose slightly as she continued writing. ”Spell weaving configurations with impact resistance...” She tapped her charcoal against the page. ”We could use a layered design. Enhancement-grade steel for the outer shell, spelled leather inner lining for flexibility. Crystalline anchor points here, here, and here-” she sketched quick marks, ”with runic channels connecting them. Shock absorption through spelled spring mechanisms in the knuckle plates...”

She looked up. ”The crystal placement would affect the balance. Any preference for positioning?”

”One on each palm for channeling, one on each forearm for storage. If you could work in a fifth one, maybe between the knuckles...?”

More scratching on paper. ”Doable. We’ll need to adjust the weight distribution, but...” She held up the sketch, showing a complex network of interlocking plates and runic patterns. ”Something like this?”

Adom leaned in, studying the design. The technical aspects were well beyond his expertise, but even he could see how the various elements would work together. ”Can you really make something like this?”

Master Kern’s stern face cracked into a smile. ”Of course.”

”What specific fighting style are you planning to use with these gauntlets?” Master Kern asked, adding more details to her sketch.

”Something that allows for quick strikes and fluid movement, but strong enough to punch through...” Adom paused. ”...tough opponents.”

”Tough opponents?” Fili piped up, eyes wide with curiosity. ”What kind of practice involves punching through tough things?”

”Ah, yeah... practice.” Adom laughed awkwardly, the sound hollow even to his own ears. ”You know how it is... better safe than sorry?”

Fili opened his mouth to ask more, but Master Kern’s eyes met Adom’s, and in that brief moment of eye contact, he knew she saw right through his flimsy excuse. Thankfully, she simply turned back to her sketch.

”The knuckle joints here and here,” she gestured with her charcoal, while Fili leaned in to watch, ”will need reinforcement without restricting finger movement.”

”Like the articulation system you showed me last month?” Fili asked eagerly. ”The one with the overlapping plates?”

”Similar principle, yes.” She continued sketching. ”But we’ll need something more sophisticated for this, especially with the runic integrations.”

Fili bounced on his toes. ”Will you be using the new metal-folding technique you’ve been developing?”

”Fili,” she said gently, and he immediately fell silent, though his eyes remained bright with interest.

Master Kern turned the sketch toward Adom. ”Given your requirements, I’d recommend Tungstral metal. It’s second only to star-fallen steel in terms of durability, but it has good flexibility for what you need. Most Imperial Knights prefer it for exactly these properties.”

”Oh.” Adom said.

He reached into his inventory and pulled out an ornate box. Both smiths fell silent as he opened it, revealing the rings nestled inside.

Fili’s breath caught. ”Is that... I’ve never seen so much star-fallen steel in one place before.”

”You’ve never seen star-fallen steel at all, boy,” Kern corrected quietly, her eyes not leaving the box.

”Right,” Fili whispered, transfixed.

”Could you use this to make the gauntlets instead?” Adom asked.

Kern didn’t ask where he got it from, which made him like her even more. She simply nodded and carefully took the box. ”The cost for crafting would be five thousand gold coins. The gauntlets can be ready in a week, along with the golem’s armor.”

”That’s fine.”

”GREAT!” Fili burst out, then immediately covered his mouth with both hands, glancing apologetically at his master. ”I...”

Master Kern’s lips twitched slightly. ”Yes, Fili?”

”I just... I was thinking about how the gauntlets and the golem’s armor could share some design elements, and maybe we could...” He trailed off, looking between them uncertainly.

”Go on,” Master Kern encouraged.

”Maybe we could coordinate some of the runic patterns? Make them more efficient?” His words tumbled out faster. ”Since I’ll be working on the golem’s armor anyway, and if Master Kern doesn’t mind me observing the gauntlet construction, I could make sure the runes complement each other perfectly!”

”That’s actually a good idea,” Adom said, and Fili’s face lit up. ”But would coordinating both projects affect the timeline?”

”No, no!” Fili started, then caught himself and glanced at Master Kern.

She nodded slightly. ”The timeline remains the same. I’ll focus on the gauntlets while Fili works on the armor.” She gave her apprentice a meaningful look. ”As long as he stays organized.”

”I will!” Fili promised, then turned to Adom. ”I’ve already got some ideas. See, if we align the structural support here-” He reached for the sketches, then froze mid-motion. ”Um, may I, Master?”

”Go ahead.”

Fili carefully moved Master Kern’s armor sketch next to his own preliminary drawings for the armor. His earlier excitement had transformed into focused intensity as he pointed out various technical details. ”If we adjust these connection points, and maybe incorporate a similar material grade at the interface...”

”Of course,” Fili added quickly, straightening up, ”that’s just a suggestion. We can do it however you prefer.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

”I trust your judgment,” Adom said, and immediately regretted it as Fili’s eyes began to shine dangerously. He took a preventive step back, adding, ”Both of your judgments.”

Master Kern smoothly stepped in before Fili could respond. ”Then we’ll see you in a week. Same time?”

”Yes, same time works perfectly,” Adom said, reaching for his coin purse.

Master Kern held up a hand. ”The payment can wait until you’ve seen and approved the finished work.” Her eyes held a glimmer of professional pride. ”I prefer my clients to be fully satisfied before any coins change hands.”

Adom smiled. ”Thank you. I appreciate that.”

”See you in a week!” Fili called out as Adom turned to leave. ”I’ll make sure everything is perfect! The joints will be smooth as silk, and the mechanisms will be- ow!” He rubbed his arm where Master Kern had gently nudged him.

”Let the poor boy leave, Fili.”

”Right, sorry!” Fili waved, somehow managing to put his entire body into the gesture. ”Goodbye! Thank you for trusting us!”

”Bye!” Adom waved back.

*****

Adom finally made his way toward the Academy - he couldn’t afford to be late to another class, not with people now starting to notice so often.

As he approached the Academy gates, a familiar figure came into view. Eren stood with his arms crossed, leaning against one of the stone pillars in a pose that was probably meant to look casual but betrayed nervous energy in every line.

”Hey,” Adom called out.

Eren straightened. ”Hey. I sent a raven earlier, but it didn’t come back.”

”Yeah, they just deliver the message and leave. If you’re not there to receive it, that’s it.”

”Huh.” Eren’s face scrunched up slightly, then quickly shifted to something more animated. ”So... your name’s getting pretty popular in the undertow. Or well, not your name exactly, but everyone’s talking about the warrior who blew up the Children’s shipment.” His voice dropped to an excited whisper. ”How did you even manage that? They say the Children have gone practically rabid looking for-”

”Did Cisco send you with something?” Adom cut in, glancing at the stream of students flowing through the gates.

”Oh. Right.” Eren glanced around. ”Maybe we should find somewhere quieter?”

”It’s fine. Just need to touch it.”

Eren reached into his jacket, barely exposing what looked like a sealed envelope. Adom’s fingers brushed against it, and it vanished instantly.

”That’s so cool,” Eren breathed. ”Will you teach me how to do that?”

”Sure, as long as you promise not to use it for pickpocketing.”

”I don’t pickpocket.”

”Our first meeting was literally you trying to pickpocket me.”

Eren’s face settled into an expression of dignified calm. ”That was in my younger days.”

”That was about one month ago.”

”Well-”

”Actually,” Adom cut in, checking his pocket watch, ”I’ve been meaning to talk to you about life in the undertow, and how it might conflict with your future at Xerkes.” He adjusted his glasses. ”But I need to get to class - attendance is mandatory. The pie place, later?”

”Sure.” Eren nodded, trying and failing to hide his obvious disappointment at the conversation being cut short. ”The pie place.”

The day passed in a blur of lectures and assignments, but Adom’s mind was elsewhere, turning over problems like puzzle pieces that refused to fit together. His notes were sparse, his participation minimal - just enough to avoid drawing attention. The professors’ voices faded into background noise as he wrestled with the implications of what he had to do next.

The proof about Mr. Fox sat in his inventory like a loaded weapon. The smart move, the obvious move, would be to anonymously deliver it to both the headmaster and Professor Kim. Let the system work as intended. The Academy had protocols for dealing with corrupt sponsors, after all. It was one of the oldest and most respected institutions in the capital.

And yet...

Adom absently drew circles in his notebook, his mind racing. In his previous life, he’d learned the hard way that corruption rarely traveled alone. It bred in networks, in carefully cultivated relationships. Mr. Fox hadn’t chosen this Academy by chance - someone had to have vouched for him, introduced him, smoothed his way through the bureaucracy.

The question was: how deep did those connections go?

He thought about Professor Kim’s enthusiasm, his brilliant mind focused on pushing the boundaries of what was possible, never questioning who was funding that pursuit or why. But was that simple academic naivety, or something else?

The headmaster’s office would be the logical place to deliver the evidence. Adom had known Merris well in his past life - worked with him, trusted him implicitly. The man’s integrity was beyond question, his dedication to the Academy absolute.

But that was exactly the problem. Merris was just a man - a good one, yes, but still bound by the limitations of his position and perspective. In Adom’s previous life, despite all of Merris’s experience and wisdom, he had missed the warning signs about Dragon’s Breath. Not through any fault of his own - he simply hadn’t been in a position to see the whole picture, to connect dots that were deliberately kept separate.

How much could be happening right under Merris’s nose even now, carefully arranged to seem innocent when viewed through the lens of academic administration? In his previous life, hadn’t the Dragon’s Breath project continued despite numerous red flags that should have raised alarms at the highest levels?

The smart play would be to trust the system, yes. The safe play would be to assume the system was compromised. And the right play... well, that’s what he needed to figure out.

”-dom? Adom!”

He blinked, focusing on Sam’s concerned face across the table.

Ah. Right. It was dinner time. He had not seen the day go by.

Steam rose from the meat pies at Old Mari’s stand, mixing with the evening air. The three of them - Adom, Sam, and Eren - sat at one of the worn wooden tables, the streets busy with the usual dinner crowd. Someone knocked into their table as they passed, making their cups rattle.

”Watch it,” Sam muttered, then turned back to his pie. ”Adom, you haven’t touched yours at all. Mari’s outdone herself today - the meat’s perfect.”

Adom poked at his pie with a fork, breaking the crust. More steam escaped.

”He’s right,” Eren said through a mouthful. ”Better than usual.”

Adom set his fork down and leaned back, watching people move through the streets. A cart rolled by, wheels clattering on the cobblestones.

”You’ve been quiet all evening,” Sam said, wiping his mouth. ”Actually, you’ve been different lately. More... I don’t know. Distant?” He looked at Eren. ”You’ve noticed it too, right?”

Eren shrugged, suddenly very interested in his pie. ”People get like that sometimes.”

”See?” Sam pointed his fork at Eren. ”Even he’s noticed, and he barely knows you.”

Adom pushed his chair back slowly. The wood scraped against stone.

”I need to walk.”

”Come on, you haven’t eaten anything,” Sam protested. ”At least finish half-”

”You can have it,” Adom said, already standing. ”I just need to think.”

Sam started to rise. ”I’ll come with-”

”No.” Adom’s voice was quiet but firm. ”Finish your food. We’ll talk at the dorm later.”

”You’re worrying me, you know that?” Sam frowned. ”Whatever’s going on-”

”It’s fine.” Adom managed a small smile. ”Everything’s fine.”

He turned and walked away, weaving between the tables and crowds. Behind him, he heard Sam ask Eren, ”He tells you stuff sometimes, right? Is he okay?”

Eren’s response was lost in the street noise.

Adom found a quiet corner in the rose garden and took out the envellope Eren gave him. Two sealed packages, two anonymous messages - one for Kim, one for the headmaster. Simple, clean, and hopefully effective.

But his mind kept circling back to Gale. A Star Knight-level threat on his trail. The kind of opponent Adom had no business facing.

No amount of preparation would make a fight with that guy winnable. Not with his current capabilities, not with any amount of tricks or planning.

The police weren’t an option either. Not with what Cisco had told him about the criminal factions’ reach into law enforcement.

Walking into a station to report this would be like painting a target on his back - he’d have no way of knowing which officers were clean and which were on someone’s payroll. But then again, what was the best counter to someone operating at Star Knight level?

Another Star Knight. And as it happened, Adom knew one very well. One who would definitely come if he knew his son was in real trouble.

Father would be at the Twin Peaks right now, holding the line against Dastonian empire’s forces.

A letter could be sent, but... Adom’s fingers drummed against his leg. Gale and his people were looking for him now. The clock was ticking, and he had no idea when they’d make their move. Would they strike tomorrow? Next week? They clearly weren’t the type to give up easily, and they had the resources to keep the pressure on.

A normal letter would take days to reach the front lines, if it reached Father at all. The battles had made communication channels unreliable - messengers were being intercepted, supply lines disrupted. Even if the letter made it through, how long would it take Father to secure permission to leave his post? The bureaucracy alone could take weeks.

No, he needed something faster. Something immediate. Something that would cut through all the red tape and get Father moving right away.

His hand brushed against his pocket as he sat up straight.

Oh.

The whistle!

A solution so obvious he’d nearly missed it, hidden right there in plain sight all along.

Finding an empty classroom wasn’t difficult at this hour. Adom slipped inside, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

He settled into a chair near the back, the wood creaking softly under his weight. For a moment, he just sat there, letting the quiet settle around him like a familiar blanket. Then, reaching into his inventory, he withdrew the small wooden whistle.

Adom turned it over in his hands, examining every nick and scratch. Then, bringing it to his lips, he took a deep breath and blew.

Nothing. No sound emerged.

Frowning, he channeled mana into the whistle, watching as the barely visible runes etched into its surface flickered faintly in response. He knew the enchantment was still there - it had only been weeks since his last encounter with Bob, and magical items like this didn’t just stop working.

He tried again, this time maintaining a steady flow of mana as he blew. Still nothing. Not even a whisper of sound.

...Okay. Third time’s the charm, he thought, gathering his mana once more. But before the whistle could touch his lips, a familiar voice cut through the silence, thick with an accent and more than a little irritation:

”You better not blow it again, lad.”

Adom’s lips curved into a smile.

”Hello, Bob.”

*****

At the same moment, in the dregs...

The market crawled with vermin pretending to be people. Helios could smell their fear, hear their hearts racing whenever he passed. Like mice spotting a cat. They’d glance his way, then quickly look down, suddenly fascinated by their shoes or the grimy cobblestones.

Their whispers followed him like insects.

”Don’t look, don’t look.”

”Is that...?”

”Shh!”

He wanted to tear their tongues out. The hood of his cloak felt like it was strangling him, but he couldn’t show his face. Not after what happened last week. Or the week before that. Or the one before that.

The bodies were probably still floating in the river.

A child started crying as he passed. The mother quickly hushed it, hurrying away. Smart woman. Helios’ fingers twitched. His fangs ached.

Then he heard it.

”That’s him! Helios, the vampire from the children.”

His ear twitched. Three men, near the tanner’s stall. About forty paces behind him.

”The one who got his ass handed to him by that kid mage?”

Laughter. Low, trying to be quiet. As if that mattered.

”Yeah, heard he went full naked too. Got himself kebab’d by the Silver Circlers...”

More laughter.

Helios stopped walking.

The market went silent. Even the rats in the walls held their breath.

”Oh shit, did he-”

Helios moved. One moment he was standing in the middle of the street, the next he had the loudmouth by the throat, slamming him against the nearest wall.

”Are you actually stupid?” Helios growled, punctuating each word with another slam. The man’s head left wet marks on the stone. ”Did you think I couldn’t hear you?” Slam. ”Did you think these ears were just for show?” Slam. ”Did you think vampires have selective hearing?!”

The man tried to speak. Probably to beg. Blood was running down his face, getting in his mouth.

”Because that would be really fucking convenient, wouldn’t it?” Slam. ”To only hear what we want to hear?” Slam. ”To not have to listen to every single” - slam - ”stupid” - slam - ”worthless” - slam - ”WORD!”

The final impact did it. The man’s head came apart like rotten fruit, painting the wall red. The body slumped, twitching.

Helios turned to the other two men. They were frozen, faces pale as milk.

”Anyone else want to share some funny stories?”

They ran. Smart choice.

Helios looked down at his hands, now covered in blood and... other things. Great. Another cloak ruined. Another market he couldn’t come back to.

And they were still whispering. Always whispering.

All of this was because of that fucking little mage. He’d humiliated him. Made him look weak in front of every single bastard present that day.

”Sir.”

A grunt from behind him. Helios turned around, blood still dripping from his fingers. ”What?”

The messenger - some low-level grunt in cheap clothes - kept glancing at the twitching body, throat working like he was trying not to vomit. ”Mr. Fox... he wants to see you.”

”Fine.” Helios wiped his hands on his ruined cloak. The messenger was still staring at the corpse, face green. ”Oh, stop looking like you’ve never seen a dead body before. Clean this up.” He kicked the corpse. ”And don’t worry about drinking it. I’m tired of human blood today.”

The messenger nodded frantically, probably grateful to still have his head attached.

Helios walked away, boots leaving red prints that quickly faded to brown. His mind wandered to that little brat, that insufferable child. He imagined catching him alone, somewhere quiet. No witnesses. No rescue this time.

He’d take his time. Make the boy understand true fear, not that cocky bravado he’d shown before. He’d watch those eyes widen as realization set in - no escape, no help coming. Then he’d feed. Slowly. Savor every drop, every scream.

The fantasy carried him through the winding streets until he reached Fox’s building. The guards straightened when they saw him, trying to hide their trembling. Smart boys.

”Evening, sir.”

”Mr. Helios.”

He ignored them, climbing the stairs to Fox’s office. The wood creaked under his feet, complaining about his weight. Everything in this dump was cheap, falling apart. Fox could afford better, but he liked to keep up appearances.

Helios didn’t bother knocking. He pushed the door open - and stopped.

Fox was there, sitting behind his desk like always. But next to him stood Gale, that pompous bastard, looking as smug as ever.

”You called, sir?” Helios kept his voice neutral, but his fangs ached. Two people he wanted to kill, in one convenient location. Shame he couldn’t. Yet.

”Ah, Helios.” Fox gestured to the chair. ”Sit.”

Helios glanced at Gale, who smiled and gave him a little wave. Pretentious prick in his thousand-gold coin armor.

”Whatever you just thought about me,” Gale said casually, ”right back at you.”

Helios’ smile was all teeth. No warmth.

”Calm down, both of you,” Fox said, standing up and reaching for his coat. ”This isn’t helping.”

”What’s going on?” Helios asked, not sitting.

”You’re being reckless. Killing everyone who looks at you funny isn’t exactly keeping a low profile.”

”They disrespected me.”

Gale chuckled. Helios turned towards him, but Fox cut in before things could escalate.

”We’re fighting on too many fronts already. The last thing we need is you leaving bodies all over the city because someone whispered about you.” Fox straightened his collar. ”Take a break. Cool off.”

”That’s it? That’s why you called me here?”

”Mainly.” Fox adjusted his cuffs. ”Also, stay ready. We need to find the one who destroyed our cargo. Lost a fortune in crystals that night.”

Helios turned to Gale. ”You were there, weren’t you? How’d that bastard get away from you?”

”Magic,” Gale said, examining his nails.

”But how?”

”Am I talking to a magician?”

”No.”

”Then why ask me to explain magic?” Gale’s smile was infuriating. ”Would you understand if I did?”

Helios opened his mouth to respond, but footsteps in the hallway made them all turn. Someone was coming.

A knock at the door. Fox’s ears perked up - his actual fox beastkin ears, because apparently this idiot thought being subtle meant using your species as a code name. Who does that? Helios had hated him for it since day one. Just one more reason to want to tear his throat out.

”He says he wants to talk to you, sir,” came a voice from outside.

”Enter,” Fox called. ”And who might you be?”

A man stumbled in, practically reeking of fear. Helios could hear his heart hammering, smell the sweat beading on his forehead.

Pathetic.

”D-Devon, sir. I’m so sorry to come this late, I know it’s terribly inconvenient, and I wouldn’t dare impose if it wasn’t important, but I thought you should know-”

”I have places to be,” Fox cut in. ”Stop wasting my time.”

Devon’s eyes darted to Gale, who smiled and wiggled his fingers. ”Hello there.”

The man actually squeaked. Like a mouse. Helios’ fangs itched - he hated weak people, hated how they cowered and stammered and-

”If you don’t start talking,” Helios growled, ”I’m going to tear you apart. Slowly.”

Devon was trying to steady himself, but his heart was still going crazy. Helios just wanted to rip it out, watch it beat its last in his palm.

”I-I’m one of the men you put a bounty on,” Devon managed.

Oh?

Helios laughed, crossing the room in a blur. His hand wrapped around Devon’s throat. ”Is that so? Which group are you from? Silver Circle? The Klan?” He squeezed slightly. ”Not that it matters, but I’d like to know who’s about to lose a member-”

His arm stopped mid-motion. Just... stopped. Like hitting a wall of steel.

Helios looked up. Gale had his hand wrapped around Helios’ wrist, that infuriating smile still on his face. Helios tried to pull free. Nothing. Not even a twitch. How the fuck was this bastard so strong?

”Now, now,” Gale said, casual as discussing the weather. ”It’s not very smart to kill someone before they tell us why they’re here, is it?”

”Let. Go.”

”Sure thing.” Gale released him. ”Have a chocolate or something. Chill out.”

Devon was frozen in place, so terrified he’d actually pissed himself. The smell hit Helios’ nose, making him tsking in disgust.

”P-please,” Devon sobbed, tears running down his face. ”Don’t kill me. I-I’m one of Cisco’s men.”

”Cisco?” Fox’s ears perked up again. ”Well, well, well.”

Helios’ attention snapped back to Devon. Now this was interesting.

”Oh, did Marco send you?” Gale asked, lounging against Fox’s desk.

Devon nodded frantically.

”Marco?” Helios turned to Gale. ”That piece of shit?”

”What?” Gale spread his hands, grinning. ”Being feared is useless if you can’t leverage it properly.”

He pushed off the desk, walking in a circle around Devon like he was giving a lecture. ”See, while you were out there turning everything that moved into paste, some of us were actually working. Little Marco figured out they’d get caught eventually.” He stopped, gesturing at Devon. ”So he came to me with a deal - he’d give us the mage who started all this mess, in exchange for their lives.” His smile widened. ”Work smarter, not bloodier.”

Fucking arrogant piece of shit showboating cocksucker-

”Right back at ya, sunshine,” Gale sang.

Fox watched them both, ears twitching in annoyance. He cleared his throat. ”If we could focus on the matter at hand?”

”Marco’s setting up a meeting with the mage,” Devon stammered.

”Wonderful,” Gale purred.

Fox nodded. ”Good, good.”

Helios grabbed Devon by the collar, yanking him close. ”The mage? Which mage?”

”L-Law,” Devon squeaked.

Helios froze. Then laughed, the sound sharp and wild. ”Law? That’s his name? Law?” His grin stretched wider. Finally. A fucking lead.

”Where? When?”

”Marco s-said they’re deciding soon! The mage placed an order with Cisco. He’ll come collect it when it arrives-”

”Wait.” Helios shook him. ”Are we talking about the little mage? From that day?”

Devon hesitated.

”Yes,” he whispered.

”LOUDER!”

”Yes!”

”Law,” Helios savored the name. ”Law, Law, Law.”

Gale’s hand appeared on his shoulder, forcing him to release Devon. ”Thank you so much. Tell Marco we’ll be in touch.”

”Th-thank you,” Devon practically ran out the door.

Fox wrinkled his nose. ”It reeks of piss in here now.”

Helios didn’t care. He couldn’t stop grinning. Best news he’d had in weeks. That little bastard had a name now. Law. He could taste it already-

”Ugh. Freak,” Gale muttered.

Helios’ joy curdled. One of these days, he was going to find a way to kill that smug bastard. One of these days.

”That’s one problem dealt with,” Fox said, straightening his coat. ”Now we just need to find whoever destroyed our cargo. The boss came all the way to Arkhos just for this mess.”

”You know,” Gale tapped his chin, ”I have a feeling our mage friend and our cargo problem might be connected.”

”Don’t know, don’t care. That’s your job to figure out.” Fox turned to Helios, his expression hardening. ”And you - don’t move until you get orders. I’ve got enough problems with the boss already.”

He headed for the door, pausing. ”I’m counting on you, Gale. And Helios?” He stressed each word. ”Don’t. Act. Rashly.”

”Say hi to His Highness the Prince for me!” Gale called after Fox’s retreating back.

The door clicked shut, leaving behind only the lingering smell of fear and urine.