The contract landed on Gio’s glass desk with a sharp thud, sliding a few inches before stopping against his sleek pen holder. Eryx crossed his arms, his towering frame casting a shadow over the desk. “Do you prefer a slow or quick death?”

“So, did the Crystal Guild pick up a shiny new recruit?” Gio looked up with a bemused smirk.

Eryx’s golden eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “With those contractor benefits, anyone with half a brain would sign. Especially since it’s non-exclusive.”

Gio chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Then why are you threatening me? Shouldn’t you be celebrating a brilliant recruitment strategy? Even if it’s only temporary.”

Eryx turned to leave, muttering something under his breath. But halfway to the door, he stopped. Pivoting on his heel, he returned to the desk, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Almost forgot.” He placed an envelope on top of the contract with deliberate care and a devilish smile.

Gio arched a brow, pulling out the contents. His grin faltered as he stared at the invoice: $56,200 for repairs to government property in Raider Park.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gio said. “Tell me you at least won. For the pride of the Crystal Guild, if nothing else.”

Eryx’s eyes crinkled, a flicker of dissatisfaction crossing his face. “Let’s just say... it was enlightening.”

FLASHBACK

The enchanted dueling ring in Raider Park buzzed with a faint glow as Eryx and Elara squared off, a handful of onlookers perched on nearby benches.

Eryx rolled up his sleeves, his fitted black long-sleeve shirt clinging to his athletic frame. He pulled on fingerless leather gloves with practiced ease, unbuckling his dagger holster and tossing it aside.

“Hand-to-hand combat,” he proposed, his voice smooth but firm. “No weapons. No abilities. Just strength.”

Elara raised a brow, smirking. “Fair enough. Less collateral damage.”

The moment the duel began, Eryx lunged forward. He moved with a grace that belied his size, every punch and kick calculated. Elara ducked and weaved with an agility that impressed him, countering with quick, sharp jabs that kept him on his toes.

She’s fast. Eryx thought, sidestepping her spinning kick. And strong. Even without making contact, he could feel the force behind each attack. 

Elara grinned, her mind equally occupied with assessment. He’s smoother than I expected for someone built like a tank. No wasted movements.

As their blows became faster, more precise, the tension between them grew. Something in Eryx began to itch—an irritation that festered with each failed attempt to pin her down. She somehow even seemed to block his attacks, maintaining a firm guard against his strength with her small frame. Shadows started to snake from his feet, curling around his ankles. It’d been a while since he felt this… pressure.

Across from him, Elara felt warmth spreading down her arms. A faint golden glow began to pulse. No, this is a friendly duel, she reminded herself.

When the twinge in his shoulder sharpened his control slipped. A tendril of shadow lashed out, surging toward Elara. Nobody was able to go unscathed when he used his shadow ability.

Eryx cursed, “Shit.” But it was too late to pull the attack back.

However, his eyes widened when Elara dodged instinctively with practiced ease, and the shadow crashed into the enchanted barrier surrounding the ring. The barrier shattered with a thunderous crack, fragments of magic dissipating into the air.

Elara whistled, her gaze darting to the gaping hole left in the ring’s protective field. The golden glow around her arms faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving her wondering if Eryx had noticed.

“I didn’t realize you weren’t looking for a “friendly” duel,” she said, dusting off her hands. “But I think we can call it a draw since you’re clearly handicapped.”

Eryx bristled at the unexpected comment. “Handicapped?”

She started to walk away but stopped when his hand shot out, gripping her arm. “What did you mean by that?”

Elara shrugged him off, her gaze dropping to his shoulder where the Black Frog injury was hidden under his shirt. “You should get that healed before the raid. Wouldn’t want the Prince of Darkness looking sloppy.”

She turned on her heel and left, leaving Eryx standing there with a storm brewing in his chest. Had he lost his touch? How did she manage to sense the injury?

Eryx snapped out of his thoughts, his jaw tightening. He wasn’t about to admit to Gio how his intrigue only seemed to deepen with the brief interaction—or how much that duel had thrown him off balance.

Gio leaned back in his chair, watching him closely. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“What is with everyone and cats?” Eryx muttered under his breath. “Pull another stunt like this, and invoices will be the least of your worries.”

Gio raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted. But seriously, rest up. The raid’s going to be brutal. Maybe even make a friend or two while you’re at it.”

Eryx frowned, confused by the comment. But the growing irritation in his arms distracted him, and he excused himself with a curt nod.

“Stubborn kid.” Gio took a sip of whiskey from the glass he held.

Elara swung the sleek, lightweight sword Z had given her for the upcoming raid. The weapon cut through the air with a satisfying whistle, her movements fluid as she tested its balance.

Her thoughts wandered back to the duel with Eryx. She remembered how effortlessly he moved despite his injury, his every step calculated, his strikes precise.

He’s annoying, she thought. But annoyingly good.

The memory of the golden glow around her arms made her pause. She’d almost gotten too serious in what was supposed to be a friendly battle. Though, if his shadow attack had hit, she might have been forced to use her healing abilities.

The sound of light footsteps behind her snapped her out of her reverie. She spun, swinging the sword in a defensive arc.

Clang!

Her blade met a white rod, the impact ringing out in the empty training field. The man holding the rod wore a hat pulled low and a mask covering his mouth. Light blonde hair framed his face, brushing against his neck.

Though his face was obscured, his lean, almost delicate frame caught her attention. His stance was relaxed, but the strength behind his parry was anything but casual.

“Who the hell are you?” Elara demanded, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword.

The man tilted his head slightly, his voice calm and measured. “Someone curious about the Angel of Death."