Five Days ago... An Unknown Place.

It was a marketplace bustling with people. The market square was full of vibrant colors, and different types of people. It was a vibrant tapestry of sound and scents.

Stalls and makeshift shops adorned with weathered wooden signs and colorful banners lined the cobblestone streets. The air was alive with the symphony of haggling merchants, laughter, and the occasional clatter of horse hooves on the cobbled paths.

Different stalls displayed an array of variety goods, from gleaming weapons and intricately crafted armor to richly dyed fabrics and exotic trinkets. The scent of herbs and spices wafted through the air as apothecaries peddled their wares, while the rhythmic clanging of a blacksmith's hammer echoed from a corner, promising finely forged weapons and armor.

The market square was a haven for street performers, with musicians filling the air with lively tunes and fire breathers mesmerizing onlookers with their daring displays.

Vendors called out to passers-by telling the advantages of their wares and convincing them to open their coin pouches for them. Some succeeded, some failed but the life continued.

In that market square, there was a place full of visitors. It was the tavern, a favorite destination for every shopper.

As the heavy wooden door creaked open, a waft of warmth and merriment spilled out into the cobblestone street. The tavern, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candles and hearth fires, welcomed all who sought refuge from the night's chill.

The room was alive with various activities. Wooden tables, worn and polished by countless patrons, were scattered throughout, each accompanied by a motley assortment of chairs. The air hummed with a harmonious blend of laughter, clinking tankards, and the lively melodies of a bard strumming a lute in one corner.

Paintings and Art pieces adorned the stone walls, depicting scenes of mythical creatures and legendary battles. The low ceiling, supported by sturdy wooden beams, gave the room a cozy and intimate feel. Hanging lanterns swung gently from above, casting warm, golden hues that danced across the worn wooden floor.

The bar, a prominent fixture, showcased an impressive array of bottles and kegs. A skilled barkeep, wiping down a mug with a cloth, stood ready to cater to the diverse tastes of the patrons. The shelves behind him were lined with an eclectic assortment of spirits, from locally brewed ales to exotic concoctions from distant lands.

Patrons from various walks of life filled the room. Merchants discussed deals over frothy mugs, adventurers shared tales of daring escapades, and hooded figures engaged in hushed conversations in the dimly lit corners. The atmosphere resonated with the spirit of camaraderie, as strangers became friends and friends became family under the tavern's welcoming embrace.

The crackling fire in the hearth cast a warm glow across the faces of those gathered. Shadows danced along the walls, adding an air of mystery to the lively establishment. The scent of roasting meats and seasoned vegetables wafted from the open kitchen, enticing the patrons with promises of savory delights.

Overall, the tavern stood as a haven of respite and revelry, where the mundane and the magical coexisted in the shared celebration of life's simple pleasures.

In the heart of that bustling tavern, a single table commanded attention. Surrounded by five sturdy chairs, it was a focal point for valor and camaraderie. The wooden surface, worn smooth by countless hands, bore the scars and stains of countless shared tales and laughter.

Four individuals occupied the chairs, their presence commanding respect. Clad in a mix of practical leathers and worn armor, they exuded an air of seasoned warriors. Each bore the marks of battle – scars, weathered expressions, and the quiet confidence of those who had faced the unknown and emerged victorious.

The flickering candle at the center of the table cast dancing shadows upon their faces, enhancing the mystique surrounding the group. Tankards, half-empty and well-used, were scattered across the tabletop alongside plates adorned with the remnants of a hearty meal.

Amidst the clinks of metal tankards and the laughter that echoed within the tavern, the occupants of the table engaged in lively conversation. Tales of past exploits, jests, and camaraderie flowed freely, creating an atmosphere of shared history and mutual understanding.

One chair at the table remained conspicuously empty, waiting for the return of a missing companion. The other four chairs were occupied by diverse personalities- a burly swordsman, a lithe male elf more beautiful than any woman, a man in a robe, and a masked man.

"Greenbow, where is Captain? What's taking him so long?"

Asked the burly man, his rugged-looking face adorned with a scar reminiscent of many battles, to a long-eared man sitting beside him.

"I don't know why he is late. And how many times I will say not to use that name? I am not even green... Do you understand what I am saying Scarsword?"

Replied the elf with an annoying expression as if he had been fed up with this incident. Hearing that reply, the man with a scar laughed loudly attracting all attention.

"Can't you be silent for one second?"

This time the man wearing a robe while holding a cane said to the swordsman aka Scarsword who was laughing not thinking about time or place.

"Oh! Did you say something Oldcane?"

"I said... Be silent for a second."

Two men started glaring at each other. A tense atmosphere surrounded the table that was before exuded a merry vibe.

Suddenly, a cold energy covered the whole table. The three men looked at the source of that chilly sensation. A man seated silently with closed eyes, a dark mask covering half of his face down.

"Shut up..." That man said without opening his eyes for a second. Just those two words were enough.

"You are no fun... not even your name 'Deathmask'" The Scarsword said in a hushed voice with a disgruntled expression.

At that moment the masked man aka Deathmask opened his eyes and looked toward the door of the tavern.

"Captain came"

The man addressed as captain came to the table hurriedly. He was a middle-aged man, with a rough face and a battle-hardened body. He was wearing the same leather armor as others. He hurriedly came and prompted all of his members to come with him.

"Everyone get ready we have got a commission, and we have to go now. It is from the Royal Guards at order from the Royal Palace so, we have to hurry. I will explain every detail on the way."

The captain seemed agitated. He knew his team needed rest, but he couldn't refuse this important request.

"Cap, at least tell us what happened?" The Scarsword said.

"I will. Now let's go and prepare for a long journey."

On the way to the inn, the captain started talking more about the request and why they should hurry.

"This request is most probably from the Empire. Royal Guards didn't mention them but after listening to the details I assume it should not be something under the order of the Royal Family."

As he was going to tell more the Oldcane interrupted. "First you said the Royal Family and now you are saying it is from the Empire. What could be the request for you to assume that?"

"It is a request to explore Shadow Garden and to enter the Middle Dungeon that is situated middle of it before anyone from Tearmoon Empire enters."

"What! Explore Shadow Garden... hmm it might be possible for us but conquering the Middle Dungeon is impossible." Said the mage after some contemplation.

"I know as the toughest five dungeons the Middle Dungeon is even more dangerous than the other four dungeons. It is impossible to conquer that, but we don't have to. Our job is only to enter the dungeon before those bastards from Tearmoon. So, we will enter the dungeon defeat weak monsters on lower floors and wait for those bastards to come."

"Yes, we won't fail this task. Hahaha! let those Tearmoon bastards come, I will make them cry blood tears." bellowed the burly Swordscar.

Ignoring his brash comments all members of the group went to their rooms for a short rest and preparation for a long journey to Shadow Garden.

It had been four days inside the Shadow Garden. Even though it had the garden in its name it was a forest expanding hundreds of kilometers. They have been traversing inside for four days fighting various monsters and groups of them. Suddenly, they notice a pack of wolves emerging. They seemed to be terrified, lost, and were running from some other creature.

But they met their group and got killed. After the battle ended captain wanted to give command to rest but he noticed one of his members was holding another unknown human. The human more accurately a boy was unconscious. His clothes were... more accurately he was practically naked. Other members also notice the Deathmask holding an unconscious boy.

"Who is he?" the captain asked.

"He was hiding behind that tree." Deathmask replied just the answer to what was asked.

"From the clothes he is wearing at least what is remaining of it, he doesn't look like from our Blazingsun Empire.", the captain said after looking at that unconscious boy.

"Is he from Tearmoon then?", the elf, Greenbow asked.

"No, not from there but I have seen these types of clothes before. Hmm... Ah! Yes, these clothes same as the clothes worn by members of that organization." the mage, Oldcane said.

"What organization? Can't you say the whole thing?", Swordscar shouted impatiently.

"Uhh! You dumb there is only one organization that can announce itself as a group and establish itself even higher than both the Empires. It is them the ISA- Interstellar Security Alliance."

"Then it will be complicated. We should take this boy with us for now.", the captain gave his order.

Everyone complied still a look of uncertainty flashing in their eyes.

Alex, unaware of all the conversations that happened between his captors was still unconscious. He was unaware that his clothes had saved his life but made him the focal point of another mysterious plot unfolding in this mysterious world.