In a dark room, three robed men prepared to change the course of warfare with an experiment.

One of them sat at a wooden desk acting as the recorder. The other two stood face to face in front of the desk.

One of the two reached inside his robe and pulled out a flask filled with glowing red liquid. It sloshed around as the other man stared at it with dead eyes.

"Brynn, it is time to start," rasped a voice from the person at the desk. A sigh, complete with months of research, enveloped the red flask experiment.

"Here is the prototype," said Brynn as he shook it towards him.

The volunteer promptly stripped his robe down. Under a reddened bandage was a large gash straight across the volunteer's chest. It could lurch any average man into weakness.

A shaky hand glided to the neck of the flask.

"Are you sure you wish to do this? We do not know how this will affect you…and it is certainly not too late to stop," said Brynn, averting his eyes.

The recorder glared at Brynn. He would not allow progress to be stopped by a whim.

The other man gazed into the red liquid. He imagined it being spilled into his hands. Hands colored with something so strikingly similar to blood.

"I will take it. I do not want you to risk losing anyone else, especially not the Crimson Blade mercenaries." That proud declaration shook Brynn down to the core. To be so brave in the face of possible death, Brynn never questioned the will of a Crimson Blade mercenary. Especially this one.

"Very well. You may proceed," replied Brynn before joining the recorder by his side.

Before the undertaking began, the man stripped off his bloody bandages, letting the wound gush out blood with impunity. His hands quaked before they were calmed in an exhalation of calmness and endurance. He raised the flask to his lips and drank until there was no more.

Brynn held his breath. His research dive into the life erg crystal essence had culminated into the red flask. The potion in theory was supposed to heal all physical injuries possible.

Being subject to a myriad amount of experiments by many magicians, the erg crystals collected a mystical essence inside that revolutionized the arts of alchemy. While they benefited magicians, none of it could be applied against the Fomors or for the benefit of the common humanity, much less a soldier. Anyone who mishandled the powerful erg crystals could be subject to mana poisoning, and would require a medicine of many exotic components.

That was until today; once the formula became perfected with no side effects, the casualties suffered could be reduced to an all-time low. The humans would stand a better chance against the battle-hardened Fomors led by the wise Shakarr.

And for Brynn, it would make it easier to protect the Oracle. He steeled himself, drawing his eyes to the volunteer once more.

The flask shattered to the floor.

The volunteer convulsed as if he was being possessed.

Coughs of blood purged through the air.

His entire vocabulary reduced to hacking and choking.

He writhed. Blurry vision set in. Unbridled pain attacked his insides.

The volunteer fell to his knees. He could lose consciousness.

But his will remained. He fought to keep his chest in clear view of the two researchers.

The researcher's hand glided through the paper. His eyes focused on the glowing red and white energies surrounding the wound.

The energies would sew up the wound as if skin regained its ground over muscle.

Then, the skin and muscle would split open like it never happened.

All in a matter of seconds.

Brynn watched with horror. Dying by this had to be worse than the most sadistic torture device possible. Being healed and then be ripped apart in a continuous cycle.

Any human body did not deserve to go under this duress.

Brynn readied a blue orb, but the researcher held him back with a hand.

The red and white energies expanded outwards in a flash before the volunteer collapsed to the ground on his stomach.

"Be careful Brynn, the formula still has a chance of a mana explosion," warned the recorder.

Brynn nodded before he approached the tester. He flipped him over, hunting for the wound on his chest. Not even a scar was present.

Brynn felt for his pulse, detecting a steady beat. He nodded back to the recorder. "It was a success."

"Good. With this, we can reduce the number of casualties among mercenaries once we remove any further impurities from the formula."

"What about him?" Brynn pointed to the unconscious one, knowing that the man came in here with a death wish.

"Inspect him. Check for symptoms. I want to see if this formula has any long-lasting effects."


4 months later.

"Thank you for helping me with these spears, Shren." A young, red-haired woman in a Crimson Blade tunic placed a set of sharpened spears one by one on a rack. A young man sat on a nearby wooden table filled with paper stacks and shields.

"Don't get tired on me, Ceara," joked Shren. Ceara giggled to herself as she looked at Shren with a careful eye.

"How are you not worn out yet? Everything has been happening so fast," sighed Ceara as she swiped a document beside Shren's thigh and moved her eyes. "Ever since the bell tower incident, rookies as talented as her began coming in."

As news of Wenshardt spread across the land, gifted warriors from afar began coming into the town of Colhen to take up arms against the Fomors. Fiona, Lann, Evie, and Karok were those very warriors so far. Ceara, a Crimson Blade veteran who oversaw the recruitment, kept an eye on them as if they were valuable armor pieces with growing fatigue.

"You sound jealous, Ceara" said Shren, having heard of Fiona's fearlessness at the bell tower.

"If you mean Fiona, she still has much to learn from me…yet I feel like I hide behind my shield more than she does," joked Ceara, making Shren chuckle.

"I wouldn't call it hiding. I call it not dying," joked back Shren, making Ceara giggle even more.

"And now it looks like you changed. You used to brood all the time."

"I'm not brooding now, so is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Your first day back and you're still asking for more quests? I think that makes you one of them now" said Ceara as she smiled coyly. "I think I have two left for you in that case."

"Bring them on," taunted Shren.

"You asked for it. I'm warning you," laughed Ceara. "First, deliver these letters to the four talented rookies."

Ceara walked to the other side of the table, grabbed a set of envelopes, and handed them to Shren. "Their names are on the letters and they should be at the inn."

"Lann, Fiona, Evie, and…Karok?" asked Shren.

"You came from the Inn, right?"

Shren nodded, prompting Ceara to whistle in amazement.

"I think that 'eye' of yours has waned since your stay at the inn," remarked Ceara.

"My eye says it hasn't noticed anyone out of the ordinary when I walked here," rebuked Shren.

"Tieve must be asking him to deliver pancakes again. It's very hard to miss him."

"Thanks for that. What's the other task?"

"Report back here in the outpost tomorrow. Aodhan, Marrec, and I have planned something special for you to do," answered Ceara, causing Shren to raise his eyebrows.

"Any hints?"

"None. Just be here and we will tell you everything."

Shren pouted, causing Ceara to giggle again. "Oh you're brooding again! You're going to be fine. It won't kill you."

"All right Ceara, whatever you say" replied Shren as he walked to the door. "I'm going to go deliver these letters. One more thing…"

A long pause ensued as Shren held onto the doorknob. Ceara knew what Shren wanted to say as soon as she saw him contemplate in conflict.

"Don't worry, Shren. She's still out there."


Shren had never met any of the rookies he was supposed to deliver to. If they came from far-away lands, meeting one should have been easy with their exotic clothing. That delusion was crushed when Shren almost passed by Lann outside the Mercenary Outpost.

"A fairly normal-looking mercenary," thought Shren. "Twin Swords? Only Marrec and Gallagher had mastered that dangerous art."

When Shren introduced himself to Lann and gave him his letter, he only received a paltry nod with not even a glance of eye contact. Rather, Lann only acknowledged Ceara as he looked past Shren and walked towards her. Shren wanted to see a bright side to this cold mercenary, so he focused his ears to find out what he was so intent on.

Everyone in Colhen, including Shren, eyed Lann leaving the outpost with a very high stack of skill books. Some would say he was eager to learn everything, but only Shren and Ceara had the satisfaction of seeing Lann grimace upon having to practice a specific skill, Fishing.

After petting the dog Black Tornado III, Shren strode into the Inn.

An array of plated, steaming hot pancakes with a slightly melted slice of butter on top filled the atmosphere of the inn. This would normally be a sign of a good home, were it not for the giant and the petite blonde woman.

Shren stood awestruck as if Shakarr was standing before him telling him to brush his teeth. "Ceara was right."

"Hello Shren, have you and Karok met before?" asked Tieve as she handed a plate to Karok.

"I..uh…haven't," answered Shren as he felt Karok stare down at him. A stilted smile was all he could muster.

Never had the wooden floor in the Inn creaked so loudly as Karok treaded towards Shren. Both maintained eye contact as Shren felt like he could be crushed by Karok's shadow at any moment. Tieve watched the two with an easy-going smile.

"Would you like some pancakes?"

Shren could not comprehend the sonic boom that came out of Karok's mouth at first. He had been staring up at him so much that he forgotten he was wearing a Crimson Blade tunic.

"Oh yes, thank you." He took the pancakes in a shudder. The giant exhaled deeply, as Shren could feel the hot air pouring over his presence.

"Are you new?" asked Karok.

"Oh uh umm, I am not. I became a mercenary at the same time as Ceara," stammered out Shren.

Seemingly knowing this forced conversation would continue, Karok made a deep nod to him. He made sure his head was bent down longer than normal before he stopped and picked up another batch of pancakes from Tieve. He left the inn crouching.

Shren still stood in the same place as Tieve walked over to him and asked, "Would you like another plate?"

"Y-yes please," replied Shren as he walked over to a nearby table and sat down. The pancakes he held soon became massacred with his fork. A starving madman held no candle to the way Shren ate.

Tieve showed a concerned expression as she handed another plate to Shren. "Please don't be so afraid of Karok. He's a sweet man."

Shren didn't reply until he finished his first plate. He exhaled like all of his burdens were lifted. Tieve had known this ever since his long stay at the Inn.

As Shren stabbed his next batch of pancakes, he said, "I'm sorry. I just never seen a giant like him before. I felt like he could crush me….oh no."

"What's wrong?" asked Tieve.

"I forgot to give him this letter," said Shren. "Can you give it to him for me?"

Shren handed the envelope to Tieve as he rushed through his second batch.

Shren asked, "Do you know where I can find Evie and Fiona?"

Tieve could only look with a worried smile as she answered.


Shren leaned on a nearby wall after knocking on a wooden door. He had never been to the Inn's basement; much less know that a mercenary with a penchant for alchemy experiments and magical practice would reside below the inn. Evie had kept herself quiet during her stay.

"From what I heard, she's our youngest," thought Shren. A mercenary so young would be a prime target for Gallagher to bully. Shren ruminated on this as the door opened.

Alas, this was Shren's first experience with the magician's skill, for he met no one but a staircase descending into a stonewalled room.

"Come in," sang a spritely voice from below. Clinks of vials, a potion bubbling, and humming from the youngest magician in town were heard as Shren walked down.

Evie manned a messy alchemy workstation against a wall; amongst a sea of disorganized papers on the desk was a miniature wooden duck, acting as a paperweight.

A bed with a bronze lamp was up against the opposite wall. Between the two pieces of furniture was a large clearing of stone floor.

Evie could not bear to take her eyes off of the red bubbling potion as she threw a quick glance at Shren before looking back.

Shren stayed silent, not wanting to disturb her as his eyes observed Evie from top to bottom. He noted that Evie had quite an adult figure despite being so young; an instant 10 out of 10 on the Gallagher approval scale.

"And yet, she's another Alchemist like that Brynn," thought Shren, as the red potion leered back at him.

"Do you wish something from me?" asked Evie, staying fixated on the potion.

"Yes. I have a letter for you from the Mercenary Outpost" replied Shren.

Evie pointed towards her bed with her eyes still. A lone flame flickered to life in the wick-less bronze lamp. "Please place it on the bed."

As Shren walked over to the bed, Evie tapped her fingers, tapped her feet, and glanced all around the room. The virtue of waiting seemed to be her very enemy. She whipped her weary eyes back to the potion after staring at Shren a little longer than needed.

A wave of her hand sent a floating pen and paper to Evie. After another quick glance at Shren again, she inscribed, "Ask the recovered mercenary."


With his task done, Shren had one letter left. A letter addressed to the mysterious warrior who slain the former guardian of Colhen many times her size.

Shren would hear from Tieve that she was the most admired mercenary in Colhen. With her bravery proven in single-handedly protecting the town with her shield, her reputation was deserved. Shren looked forward to meeting this mercenary the most.

Before Shren climbed the staircase, he heard hasty footsteps above the basement. Orders rang out. Swords were drawn. Loud breaths were heard.

There were even blasts of gunpowder, accompanied by small tremors.

Shren knew this chaotic state too well. It was the very reason why he came to Colhen. He came to one conclusion.

Colhen was under attack.