Chapter 28: The Shadow Merchant Queen
The bells tolled across the kingdom.
The people of Midgar gathered in the squares, in the streets, at their temples- waiting, listening as the Templars and the Inquisition of Beatrix made their decree.
Possession cases were rising.
And so, for the good of the people, they demanded that all who bore the "curse" be handed over.
"For their peace," the declaration said.
"For their salvation," the priests preached.
"For their cleansing."
But Shadow Garden knew the truth.
Cleansing meant culling. Annihilation. The church wasn't saving the possessed- they were erasing them.
No more.
Not as long as Shadow Garden exists.
~!~
The bells of the Church of Beatrix tolled across the land, their chimes echoing in grim proclamation. A holy order had been issued- a call to gather and purge the Possessed in the name of divine justice.
Grudges and rivalries within the Church's ranks were set aside, if only for the moment. The Templars donned their gleaming plate, swords glistening with sanctified silver. The Bishops of Duet, draped in ceremonial white and gold, walked in their midst, their solemn chants amplifying the aura of divine authority. The Inquisitors of Pente, clad in their shadowed robes and masked helms, carried the scourges of judgment- long iron rods tipped with burning brands to mark those tainted by corruption.
As one, they marched from the grand cathedrals, their unified force descending upon town after town, city after city. No gates barred their path, no pleas softened their resolve. The will of the Church Echelon was absolute.
Cries of terror filled the air as the Church's forces poured into the streets, shoving aside market stalls and barricading exits. Families clutched their children and fled into their homes, but the Templars moved swiftly, kicking down doors and dragging out anyone suspected of harboring corruption.
"The Lord's mercy extends to the faithful," a Bishop of Duet declared to the terrified masses. "To those tainted by darkness, only the flame of absolution remains!"
One by one, the Possessed were seized, their markings of twisted veins, darkened flesh, or glowing eyes betraying them. Some had mutations- fanged mouths where lips should be, too-long fingers curled into claws. Others appeared normal, save for the desperate fear in their eyes- an uncertainty of whether the Church's judgment would spare or condemn them.
For the latter, a single glance from an Inquisitor was all it took. Those deemed unclean, even by suspicion alone, were thrown into iron-wrought cages, their hands bound in chains marked with holy scripture.
A young boy, no older than ten, sobbed as his mother clutched him, his body trembling as darkened veins crawled up his neck. "He's just a child!" the mother wailed, falling to her knees before a stern-faced Templar. "He hasn't harmed anyone! Please, I beg you- "
The Templar's sword flashed once- the boy slumped forward, lifeless. His mother let out a broken scream, cradling his corpse.
The Bishop beside the Templar merely nodded in approval.
"Mercy has been granted."
Amidst the chaos, some Possessed ran, desperate to flee their fate. They slipped through alleyways, ducked into sewers, and sprinted across rooftops.
A teenage girl with horn-like growths darted through a side street, dragging her younger sister by the hand. "Keep running, don't stop!" she urged, her voice shaking.
They nearly made it past the town's outskirts- until a searing bolt of light lanced through the older sister's back.
She stumbled, collapsing in the dirt, blood staining her tattered dress. The younger sister screamed as she was ripped from her grasp by armored hands.
An Inquisitor loomed over the fallen girl, his masked face unreadable. "Attempting to flee judgment only confirms your corruption," he said, voice hollow and unmoved.
As the girl sobbed in the dirt, her sister was dragged away, the Bishops chanting hymns as the cages filled with the damned.
The Templars executed the worst cases on the spot- those whose bodies were warped beyond recognition, those who resisted too fiercely, and those whose pleas irritated the Inquisitors.
The rest- those who could be paraded before the people- were bound and marched through the streets, their suffering a public spectacle.
A wealthy noblewoman, her eyes flickering with faint traces of uncontrolled mana, sobbed as she was forced onto a wagon. "You can't do this! My family has served the Church for generations! My husband-!"
A Bishop merely smiled, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "The Church is merciful, Lady Evenshire," he said softly. "Your husband's donations will ensure you receive... a proper trial."
And yet, in the shadows of the city, a merchant whose pockets had been heavy with gold walked freely, his possessions untouched. His daughter, once rumored to display signs of corruption, was nowhere to be found.
The purge lasted days. When the Church's forces finally left, the towns and cities bore silent scars- homes emptied, streets lined with blood stains where executions had taken place, and entire families shattered by loss.
Yet, to the Church of Beatrix, it was a glorious triumph.
"The Lord's work is done," a Bishop declared in a sermon, his voice reverberating across the grieving town square. "The filth of corruption has been cleansed. Rejoice, for you are now saved."
But the people did not rejoice.
They mourned.
And in the distance, as the Church's forces moved onward to their next purge, another shadow loomed- one that watched and waited for its own chance to claim the remnants of the damned.
The Cult of Diabolos was never far behind.
~!~
No borders could hold them. No treaties could deter them. No autonomy could shield those deemed impure.
The Church of Beatrix had moved beyond the human kingdoms, their crusade now turning northward to the untamed lands of the Elves.
For centuries, the Elves of Lys Anorel and the merchants of Bramble Hollow had governed themselves, very rarely touched by the religious zealotry of men. But to the Church, this was nothing more than a refusal to obey the Divine Will.
Their solution? Correction by force.
Whether by divine mandate or whispers of sabotage- whether this was truly the will of the Echelon or a sinister orchestration by the Cult of Diabolos, none could say. But when the orders came down, there was no hesitation.
The march into Elven lands began, and so too did the purge of the impure.
The golden towers of Lys Anorel, shimmering beneath the morning sun, had long stood as a testament to Elven pride and self-rule.
Now, those streets ran red.
The Templars stormed through the city gates, iron-clad knights advancing in rigid formation. The Bishops of Duet raised their staffs, calling down holy proclamations that echoed through the air, their chants twisting reality, forcing the Elven wards to bend and break before them.
The Inquisitors of Pente moved like wraiths through the noble districts, their black robes blending into the city's shadows. Their masked gazes pierced through walls, through flesh, through lies.
"Find them," the Grand Inquisitor had commanded. "Root out their filth. The Elves think themselves pure? Let us see what festers beneath their arrogance."
Elven families shrieked as their doors were shattered. Some fell to their knees, pleading their innocence, but the Inquisitors cared little for words. Their brand-irons burned against skin, searing flesh- those who withstood the pain were deemed "cleansed," but those who reacted unnaturally were immediately bound in chains.
The Possessed were not always obvious. Some bore twisted limbs, their corrupted flesh writhing with unnatural mana. Others appeared no different from their kin- save for the unseen taint that only the Church could "detect."
A noble Elf lord, his long silver hair flowing as he stood defiantly at his manor's steps, raised his hand to cast a spell- only for a Templar's spear to impale his chest before he could finish the incantation.
His wife and daughters screamed as the Inquisitors descended upon them, branding their skin, whispering judgments of damnation.
"Unclean."
"Impure."
"Heretic."
None were spared.
The banners of Lys Anorel fluttered, untouched by the bloodshed beneath them. The Elves who had stood in defiance were now corpses in the streets, their bodies left as warnings to those who would resist the Divine Will.
~!~
Further south, the once-bustling trade hub of Bramble Hollow became a choked ruin of screams and fire.
This was a city of both Elves and Humans, where coin ruled above all else. But coin could not bribe the Church, not when righteousness had been declared.
The Templars rode in first, their horses trampling through market stalls, their flaming torches setting wooden bridges alight. The merchant princes, once untouchable behind their wealth and influence, found themselves no safer than beggars.
"Please!" a merchant lord wailed, offering a chest of gold to a passing Bishop. "We serve the Church! We have paid our tithes! You cannot do this!"
The Bishop of Duet merely smiled, placing a gentle hand upon the trembling man's shoulder.
"We do this because we love you, child of the Lord," he whispered.
Then, with a nod, the Templars slit the merchant's throat, his body toppling over his spilled gold.
Elsewhere, the rounding up of the Possessed continued.
Those who showed signs of mutation were bound in iron shackles.
Those accused of hiding a Possessed relative were dragged into the streets.
Those who resisted were cut down where they stood.
"There must be some mistake!" a mother sobbed, clutching her young daughter as an Inquisitor loomed over them. "My child is not- "
A hand shot forward, gripping the girl's forehead.
The Inquisitor did not need her to finish. His gloved fingers tightened, and with a single spark of mana, he pried into her mind- his gaze piercing into her soul itself.
She gasped in pain, her body twitching unnaturally as he searched.
Then, a single word.
"Tainted."
The mother screamed as her daughter was ripped from her arms, her tiny form tossed into a caged wagon among the other sobbing victims.
The mother rushed forward, clawing at the iron bars, only to be backhanded by a Templar's gauntlet, sending her sprawling into the mud.
"You should be grateful," the Templar muttered, stepping over her. "Your daughter will be purified. As for you..."
The burning brand of the Inquisitors pressed against her back, marking her as a sympathizer of the impure.
She did not scream. She had no voice left.
~!~
Bramble Hollow burned.
The once-thriving marketplace- where Elves and Humans bargained, laughed, and lived in uneasy harmony- was now reduced to screams and bloodstained cobblestones. The air reeked of charred wood, coppery death, and the sickening scent of sanctified flames consuming the impure.
The Church of Beatrix had descended in full force.
Templars stormed the streets, their plate armor glinting in the firelight, swords cutting down those who resisted.
Bishops of Duet chanted in unison, their voices rising above the massacre, proclaiming the will of the divine.
The Inquisitors of Pente moved like wraiths through the chaos, their masked faces unreadable as they delivered their judgments.
None were spared.
In the midst of the slaughter, Lysera, an Elven healer, knelt amidst the fallen, her hands aglow with soothing mana, desperately trying to stem the tide of death.
She had always been a protector- a gentle soul who believed in redemption, not execution. Now, she had become a shield for the hunted, hiding the Possessed and the accused alike behind overturned carts and fallen beams, whispering prayers of protection as the sounds of war drew ever closer.
And among those she shielded was Erin.
A clumsy young Elf, Erin had never been much of anything- not a warrior, not a runner, not a fighter. She had tripped on more stairs than she cared to admit, had failed every agility test in her youth, and had always been one step behind her peers.
She was a prodigy as a merchant, boasting a long line of merchant savants before her time.
But now?
Now, she was just scared out of her mind.
She clutched Lysera's robes, shaking violently, her breath coming in panicked gasps. "W-We need to run," she whispered. "Please, we need to go!"
Lysera placed a firm hand on her shoulder, her silver eyes filled with quiet determination. "Not yet. There are still others who need me."
And then-
A Templar's sword plunged into her back.
The healer gasped, blood spilling from her lips as she collapsed forward, her hands still outstretched toward those she had been trying to save.
Erin screamed.
She screamed so loudly that her felt her throat tear up, her vision blurred with tears and horror. Lysera had been her neighbor, a well thought of friend of her family- and now she lay broken on the ground, the light in her eyes fading with the flames around them.
A Templar ripped his sword free, shaking Lysera's blood from the steel before turning his gaze upon Erin. "One more witch," he muttered. "Bring her to the Inquisitors."
Strong hands seized Erin.
She kicked, she flailed- but she had never been strong. Never been fast. Never been able to escape anything.
They dragged her toward the branding post, her sobs drowned by the roaring fires consuming Bramble Hollow.
The Inquisitors of Pente stood in a silent line, their robes barely shifting in the ashen wind, their masked faces devoid of emotion.
One of them- the tallest, clad in black iron-threaded robes, stepped forward. His voice was cold. Measured. A butcher who believed himself a surgeon.
"Another?" he murmured, staring down at Erin as she trembled in the dirt.
"A suspected Possessed," the Templar holding her grunted. "Found cowering behind a healer's corpse."
Erin shrank back, her stomach churning with terror.
The Inquisitor hummed, then reached for the brand- a long iron rod glowing red-hot with sanctified magic, inscribed with the divine scripture meant to mark the unclean.
"Hold her still," he commanded.
Erin thrashed, but the Templars held her down.
The brand pressed against her shoulder-
- and nothing happened.
No searing pain. No smoke. No mark.
The holy magic simply dissipated, as if repelled by an unseen force.
The Inquisitor stilled. The Templars holding Erin exchanged wary glances.
"Again," the Inquisitor ordered.
They pressed the brand against her neck, her wrist, even her cheek. Each time, the result was the same- the brand could not leave its mark.
It was as if her own mana was rejecting the judgment, an unseen barrier blunting the divine inscription before it could take hold.
The Inquisitor slowly tilted his head, as if studying a rare specimen.
"Fascinating," he murmured.
Erin, gasping in shock, could do nothing but shiver as he crouched to her level, his masked gaze locking onto her.
"You are not Possessed," he stated. "And yet, the brand does not take."
She had no answer. She could barely breathe.
The Inquisitor stood abruptly. "This one is to be taken separately. She will not burn with the rest."
A special cage was brought forward- reinforced with runed iron, meant for those of unusual significance.
As Erin was hauled to her feet, her hands shackled, her breath ragged, she caught one last glimpse of Lysera's body lying motionless in the dirt.
And then-
The gates of her cage slammed shut.
The screams of Bramble Hollow faded behind her as the Church carried her away, to a fate unknown.
~!~
The bells tolled across the kingdom, their somber chimes ringing through the air like a dirge. Across Midgar, people gathered in the streets, drawn by the weight of the announcement being made by the Templars and the Inquisition of Beatrix. They stood shoulder to shoulder in crowded town squares, at temple steps, and before grand cathedrals where the holy decree would be read aloud. The voice of the clergy rang through enchanted amplification stones, carrying the message far and wide, ensuring that no soul in the kingdom could claim ignorance of the will of the church.
The declaration was clear. Cases of possession were rising at an alarming rate, more than ever before. The church, in its infinite mercy, sought to protect the faithful by offering a path to salvation for those afflicted. They called upon the people to do their sacred duty, to bring forth the possessed, to deliver them into the hands of the Inquisition so that they might be cleansed of their corruption.
The priests spoke with reverence, their voices thick with devotion. They implored the masses to act not with hesitation or doubt, but with the certainty that they were doing what was right. Those afflicted by possession were suffering. To withhold them from the church's purification was to deny them their peace. It was a kindness to give them over, to let the divine purging restore their souls- or so the clergy claimed.
But Shadow Garden knew the truth.
Cleansing was a farce. Salvation was a lie. The church did not seek to heal these people. They sought only to eradicate them. The possessed, regardless of the severity of their affliction, were not given a chance at redemption. They were not questioned, nor examined, nor aided. They were executed. The Inquisition wiped them from existence with the same ruthless efficiency that one might use to stamp out a disease, as though they were nothing more than an infestation to be purged.
And now, with this new decree, the church had escalated its efforts.
The Inquisition had just finished their latest purge.
It had taken place near the elven lands of Midgar, at two locations in particular- Lys Anorel and Bramble Hollow.
The moment Cid heard those names, his expression darkened. He sat in silence, letting the weight of it settle over him, his fingers tightening ever so slightly against the arm of his chair. Lys Anorel was a name he was familiar with, as were Alpha and Beta. They had been there before. It was a place tied to memories, some more recent than others, but significant nonetheless. And Bramble Hollow… that was a name that carried with it a deeper meaning, an undercurrent of something unspoken, something that could not be ignored.
The cleansing had already been completed, but the question remained- what was left? Had the Inquisition already wiped out everyone they deemed tainted? Was there anything left to salvage, any trace of survivors who had managed to escape their purge? Or had the so-called righteous burned everything to the ground, leaving only cinders and graves in their wake?
Cid knew the church's methods all too well. They would have sent their Templars in force, backed by their Inquisitors, ensuring there was no room for resistance. Those who had been handed over to them- whether by fearful villagers, desperate families, or informants seeking favor- would have been taken without hesitation, dragged from their homes and into the arms of their executioners. Some would have been killed on the spot, their deaths swift and merciless. Others, the ones the Inquisition deemed particularly "valuable," might have been taken elsewhere- perhaps for further study, or for more public demonstrations of the church's authority.
The thought made Cid's blood simmer.
The church was getting bolder. This was not an isolated incident, nor was it a quiet operation done in the shadows. They had declared their intentions openly, had made their demands known to the entire kingdom. And worse, they had done so with the confidence of those who believed themselves untouchable.
But they were wrong.
The Inquisition may have cast its judgment, but the world was far larger than their narrow view of righteousness. There were those who walked the paths unseen, those who refused to bow to the authority of the so-called divine.
Shadow Garden would move.
They would uncover what the church had done in Lys Anorel and Bramble Hollow. They would find out if there were any survivors, if any remnants of the purged had managed to escape the church's grasp. And if they had been too late- if the Inquisition had truly left nothing behind but ashes and bones- then Shadow Garden would remember.
And then, the church would learn what it meant to be hunted in turn.
Shadow Garden was small- just three people- but even with their limited numbers, they did what they could. There was no network of informants to pull from, no vast array of resources to lean on. Every lead, every whisper of information, had to be pursued by their own hands. They moved quickly, listening in taverns, bribing merchants, eavesdropping on soldiers, following whatever scraps of information they could gather.
For days, they searched.
For days, they found nothing but death.
Reports of cleansings had already reached them- settlements wiped clean, entire families dragged from their homes, and once the Inquisition had deemed their work complete, they had vanished without a trace, leaving only silence in their wake.
But then, a break.
A hushed conversation between two traveling merchants. A quiet word exchanged between a guard and a courier. A fragment of overheard dialogue, but enough to piece together a single, precious lead.
One captive.
One still alive.
Not yet executed. Not yet lost.
A prisoner being transported under heavy guard, bound for an unknown fate.
Cid, Alpha, and Beta worked through the night, pouring over everything they had learned. They had no army to rely on, no reinforcements waiting in the shadows. This would be just the three of them, against a heavily armed transport carrying a captive that the Inquisition had deemed valuable enough to keep alive- for now.
If they moved too late, the captive would be gone, lost to the depths of the church's strongholds, where even Shadow Garden could not yet reach.
If they moved too soon, they risked alerting the Templars and jeopardizing everything.
There was no time for hesitation. No room for failure.
They had one chance.
The raid would happen at dawn.
And if they succeeded, they would prove that no one the church condemned would ever be beyond their reach.
~!~
The gates of Bramble Hollow groaned as the last of the Church's prison wagons rumbled through, each one packed with the condemned.
Men, women, and children huddled in chains, their faces hollow, their futures stolen. Some wept silently, while others had already surrendered to despair, their eyes vacant, staring at the ruined city they would never see again.
"Please!" a woman sobbed, gripping the iron bars. "I am not Possessed! I swear it!"
A Templar rode alongside the caravan, sparing her not even a glance. "It is not for you to decide."
And that was the truth of it.
The Church of Beatrix had passed its judgment. There would be no trials, no individual assessments- only chains and a one-way journey to the Church's main purification facility.
Where the accused- whether truly Possessed or simply caught in the storm- would be lost forever.
Among the wagons, only one took a different path.
Erin sat alone, wrists bound, her cage reinforced with sigils and runed iron. The other prisoners were gone- sent toward the main facility for the Possessed, never to be seen again.
But she was not going with them.
Her destination lay elsewhere.
The clatter of hooves echoed as her carriage veered off the main road, taking a narrower, unmarked path through the dense forests beyond Bramble Hollow. The air here was thicker, colder, untouched by the fires of the purge.
Through the bars, she could see heavily armed Templars escorting her. Their armor bore no insignias, their expressions unreadable. Unlike the others, they spoke little, their focus entirely on the road ahead.
Something about them felt different- even compared to the Inquisitors.
For the first time since her capture, fear of the unknown settled deep in Erin's gut.
The Church's main facility for the Possessed was a place of horrors, but at least it was known. She had heard whispers- the fate of those taken there was torturous, but understood.
But the Templar's island?
She had never even heard of it.
Erin swallowed hard, the realization settling in:
She wasn't being taken to die.
She was being taken for something worse.
For something the Church did not even speak of.
~!~
The night was cold, the wind whispering through the towering pines as the Templars of Beatrix rode in grim silence.
Their armor gleamed silver in the moonlight, their cloaks billowing behind them as they escorted the lone caged prisoner along an ancient, unmarked road.
The path was narrow, cutting through dense woodlands, the trees ancient and towering, casting long shadows that danced in the moon's glow.
Commander Alric of the Templars tightened his grip on his reins, his horse's hooves clopping steadily against the dirt road. His gaze swept the darkness ahead, then behind, scanning for signs of pursuit.
There should have been none.
The Templars of Beatrix feared no one.
They were the sword of the divine, the unyielding vanguard that cleansed the world of impurity.
And yet-
There was an unease in the air.
The forest was too quiet. Not a single owl's call. Not the chirp of an insect. Even the wind had stilled, as though holding its breath.
Alric frowned. Something was wrong.
"Prepare torches," he ordered. "Light the way. I don't want anything lurking in the dark."
Two knights dismounted, retrieving oil-soaked torches from their saddlebags. One of them struck flint against steel, sparking a small flame-
An arrow struck his throat before he could ignite it.
The other knight barely had time to react before a second arrow took him in the eye, the impact sending his helmet flying as he collapsed into the dirt.
"Ambush!" Alric shouted, drawing his sword-
And then the night erupted into chaos.
From the shadows above, Beta loosed another arrow, her bowstring singing as she fired with pinpoint precision.
The arrow struck a knight's chestplate- and then detonated.
The Templar's upper body was instantly obliterated, a shockwave of blackened mana bursting outward, sending fragments of gore and shattered armor flying.
"They're in the trees!" one of the knights roared, raising his shield-
Only for Alpha to emerge from the undergrowth behind him, her slime blade humming with condensed mana, cutting through his spine in one clean stroke.
Blood sprayed across the dirt road, his body falling in two separate halves before he could finish his warning.
And then, he arrived.
A dark silhouette descended from above, his form wrapped in a cloak of living shadows.
His boots barely touched the earth before he moved forward, his blade an extension of the night itself.
Lord Shadow had come.
"Slaughter them."
His words were not shouted. They did not need to be.
They were absolute.
Inside the caged caravan, Erin clutched her knees to her chest, shaking violently as chaos engulfed the night.
Her mind swam with terror, her thoughts a frantic mess.
Who were these people?
Was this another Church faction? Another horror meant for her?
Was she being saved… or simply being thrown into another nightmare?
And then- she felt it.
A sharp, unnatural pain in her side.
Erin gasped, her body convulsing as she clutched her left forearm- only to find her skin writhing unnaturally beneath her touch.
She stared in horror as darkened veins spread across her pale skin, twisting like burning roots beneath the surface.
Her fingernails sharpened, her eyes flickered strangely, her breath hitched as something unnatural stirred deep within her bones.
"No- No, no, no, no- "
This was not happening.
She had always felt normal- always believed herself free of corruption-
But now?
Now, she could feel it pulsing within her.
And the only thing more terrifying than the Templars outside-
Was the monster growing inside her.
A knight stumbled backward, raising his sword against the midnight-cloaked figure before him.
"Stay back, monster!"
Lord Shadow tilted his head, his face unreadable beneath his hood.
"A monster?" he murmured.
The slime along his arm shifted, forming a wicked black lance, its surface rippling like liquid darkness.
"I am the abyss that monsters fear."
With one effortless motion, he thrust forward- and the knight was impaled, lifted off his feet, his body twitching as the blackened weapon burned through his armor like wax.
From the tree line, Alpha and Beta unleashed another volley of slime arrows, the explosions tearing through the remaining knights, sending fire and gore into the sky.
A knight crawled on his hands and knees, his legs missing, his breath ragged.
Beta stepped forward, her expression cold, her bow shifting into a dagger.
"You took everything from us," she whispered.
Her dagger plunged downward, silencing him forever.
Within minutes, it was over.
The road was silent once more.
The Templars of Beatrix, once the unshakable sword of the Church, lay scattered in pieces, their armor ruined, their bodies broken.
Lord Shadow stood at the center of it all, his cloak billowing in the night air, his blade dripping with the last remnants of the battle.
Alpha and Beta scanned the scene, ensuring no survivors remained.
And then, at last-
They turned to the prisoner's cage.
Lord Shadow approached slowly, his gaze locking onto Erin, who still shivered inside, clutching her tainted arm.
She flinched as he reached for the iron bars.
And then- with a single effortless gesture, he sliced through them, sending the door crashing open.
Erin stared at him, her breath shallow, her mind screaming at her to run.
But then he spoke.
His voice was calm. Absolute.
"You are safe now."
"Come with us."
For the first time that night-
Erin dared to believe him.
~!~
Darkness cradled Erin, weightless and suffocating all at once. She felt as though she was floating through a void, her body adrift, her mind slipping between fragmented thoughts.
She remembered running. Fleeing. Screaming.
She remembered the brand of the Inquisitor pressing against her skin- but failing to burn her.
She remembered mutations crawling up her arms, twisting her fingers, her veins blackening with something unnatural.
And then…
A flash of violet light, emanating from a figure cloaked in darkness.
A voice- calm, absolute- telling her that she was safe.
Then, nothing.
Erin awoke with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright as though she had been plunged into ice-cold water.
Her breath came in short, panicked bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to orient herself.
Where- ?
She clutched the blanket around her, feeling its coarse fabric beneath her fingertips. She was lying on a bed- a real bed, not a cold cage or a stone floor.
Blinking against the dim light of dawn filtering through a dusty window, Erin took in her surroundings.
The room was small and plain, its wooden walls bearing patches of recent repair. The furniture was minimal- just a simple chair, a wooden dresser, and a bedside table. The place had the look of something abandoned and recently repurposed, its walls still holding the stale scent of dust and aged wood.
Her forearm itched. Instinctively, she pulled back her sleeve-
And froze.
Her skin was normal.
Gone were the darkened veins, the horrid twisting mutations that had begun creeping across her body.
"What?" Erin whispered, her fingers trailing over the spot where the corruption should have been. She could still remember the pain, the unnatural pulsing beneath her flesh- but now, it was as if it had never been there at all.
She swallowed hard.
Had she imagined it?
Was this a dream? Or worse- was it just the calm before another storm?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
Erin's breath hitched, and she instinctively pressed herself against the headboard, eyes darting toward the entrance.
The door creaked open, revealing a figure-
A young girl with silver hair and piercing blue eyes.
She was around Erin's age, maybe younger by a couple of years, but she carried herself with an eerie confidence, her expression calm, unreadable.
"Ah," the girl murmured, her gaze flicking to Erin's startled state. "You're awake."
Erin did not relax.
Her first instinct wasn't relief, but wariness.
This girl- who was she? Where was she?
And more importantly…
Was she still a prisoner?
Erin swallowed, her voice coming out hoarse from disuse. "Who are you?"
The silver-haired girl studied her for a moment before answering. "Beta."
No title. No last name. Just… Beta.
Erin's stomach twisted uneasily.
"Where am I?" she tried again, her tone edged with caution.
Beta tilted her head slightly, as if considering whether to answer truthfully. Her silence only made Erin more nervous.
"Someplace safe," Beta said finally.
That didn't help.
If anything, it made Erin's unease deepen.
Safe? From what?
From the Templars? From the Church? Or was this simply another group with their own twisted agenda?
Her fingers curled against the blanket, trying to still their trembling.
"Who brought me here?" she asked next.
Beta did not hesitate this time. "Our lord."
Erin's throat went dry.
"Lord?" she echoed. "Your… leader?"
"Yes."
"And what exactly is this… group of yours?" Erin pressed, her heart hammering as the realization settled in.
These weren't Church forces. That much was clear.
And if they weren't Templars, Bishops, or Inquisitors…
That meant they were something else entirely.
Beta's lips curved slightly, though it was unclear whether it was amusement or mere politeness.
"I will inform Lord Shadow that you're awake," she said, ignoring Erin's question entirely.
Beta turned to leave, her movements eerily graceful, as if she belonged in some noble court rather than a dimly lit hideaway.
"Wait!" Erin blurted, pushing herself further upright. "Who are you people?"
Beta paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder.
For a moment, her expression remained unreadable.
Then-
"You'll understand soon enough," Beta murmured.
And with that, she left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Leaving Erin alone, her mind racing with more questions than answers.
Who were they?
What had they done to her?
And more importantly-
Had she just traded one captor for another?
Erin swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet touching the wooden floor, feeling the cool texture beneath her. She still felt weak, but her body was responsive- not weighed down by fatigue or injury.
Whoever these people were, they had treated her wounds, healed her corruption… but why?
Her eyes darted to the window.
Outside, she could see a town, or at least the remnants of one. The rooftops of other buildings were visible, but many looked partially restored, like the room she was in.
A hideout? A bandit stronghold?
The thought made her stomach churn.
Had she just escaped the righteous cruelty of the Church, only to end up in the hands of opportunistic scavengers?
Her mind was screaming at her to run, escape while she could- but something stopped her.
Her arm.
The corruption was gone.
And whatever these people were, they had saved her from the Church's grasp.
That was not something done without reason.
A cold chill ran down her spine.
Erin had spent her whole life hiding from the Church, praying they would never turn their eyes toward her. And yet, she had been caught, branded, nearly executed… only to be saved by a group she had never even heard of.
She was alive because of them.
The question was-
At what cost?
The door to Erin's room opened with a slow creak, and she immediately straightened, her heart hammering in her chest.
Footsteps, measured and deliberate, approached.
Her hands curled into fists, her body tensed- not in aggression, but in readiness. She did not know who these people were.
She did not know if she was truly safe.
And then- he stepped into the light.
A tall figure, draped in a black cloak, his form obscured by the very shadows he commanded. His presence was undeniable, a weight in the air that demanded attention.
And yet-
Her breath hitched.
"No way…"
The memories flooded back.
Bramble Hollow.
A boy wanderer, passing through the market, quiet but watchful. He had traveled with another- a girl with long golden hair, an Elf, like herself.
Erin had only seen him once, had barely spoken a word to him, and yet…
It was him.
The same boy.
But he was no wanderer now.
The calm, detached look he had worn in Bramble Hollow had been replaced by something else entirely- a quiet, assured confidence that commanded attention without demanding it.
And then her eyes flickered to his companion-
And she froze once more.
The Elf girl with golden hair was still with him.
But she was different now.
Back in Bramble Hollow, she had worn a lost look, her expression uncertain, her posture hesitant, as though she were searching for something- or someone.
Now, that girl stood tall, clad in a sleek black outfit identical to Beta's, her blue eyes glowing faintly with power, her very presence exuding purpose and conviction.
"Alpha."
The name slipped from Beta's lips as the blonde Elf girl stepped forward, her gaze locking onto Erin's.
Erin could see it now. The change.
This was no longer the lost girl who had wandered through Bramble Hollow's markets, seeking Lysera's guidance.
This was someone who had found her path- and walked it without hesitation.
Erin felt a strange pang in her chest, something between admiration and sorrow.
"Twice now," Erin thought bitterly. "Twice I've failed to get his name."
Not this time.
She would not let it slip past her again.
Steeling herself, she lifted her chin. "Who- "
But before she could even finish, the boy- no, the man before her- chuckled softly.
It wasn't mocking.
It wasn't cruel.
It was simply… amused.
And then, at last, he spoke.
"Cid Kagenou."
She blinked.
"Son of the Kagenou Viscounty," he continued smoothly, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood.
"But you may know me by another name- Lord Shadow."
Her breath caught in her throat.
Cid Kagenou.
A nobleman?
No.
That wasn't right.
The boy she met in Bramble Hollow had been a traveler, a nobody passing through.
Yet here he stood, introducing himself as a noble's son- and as the leader of the very group that had saved her from the Church of Beatrix.
Erin's mind whirled with questions, but only one thing was certain.
This was no coincidence.
Fate had crossed their paths again.
And this time-
She would not let him walk away without answers.
Erin opened her mouth, her mind racing with questions-
But before she could even form the words, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over her, hitting her like a tidal wave.
Her legs wobbled, her vision blurred, and for a brief moment, it felt like the room itself was tilting beneath her feet.
"No- no, not now- "
She tried to steady herself, but her body refused to cooperate.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as her knees buckled-
Only for strong hands to catch her before she could collapse.
"You're still recovering," Alpha's voice murmured, her grip firm yet careful.
Beta was already at her other side, supporting her weight. "We should bring her back to her room."
Erin gritted her teeth, frustration bubbling beneath her exhaustion.
"No- wait- I need to- "
But her body had other plans.
Her vision darkened, her head grew unbearably heavy, and before she could fight it, the world around her faded once more into black.
The scent of aged wood and faint candle smoke greeted her as she stirred.
Her body felt less heavy than before, but her limbs still carried the lingering fatigue of someone recovering from a deep exhaustion.
Slowly, she blinked her eyes open.
The room was familiar now- the same quiet space she had woken up in before. The repairs in the wood, the window letting in soft daylight- it all came back to her.
But something was different this time.
She wasn't alone.
A figure sat at the foot of her bed, arms resting on his legs, his presence unmistakable.
"You're finally awake," Cid Kagenou said smoothly, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Erin's breath caught in her throat.
He was waiting for her.
Her mind reeled.
She had been too exhausted before to piece everything together, but now, in the clarity of this quiet moment, the weight of it all crashed down on her.
The boy she met in Bramble Hollow-
The one who had traveled with Alpha-
The one who had saved her from the Templars-
The leader of this strange group- Shadow Garden.
"Cid Kagenou."
"Lord Shadow."
And now, he was here, in front of her, ready for the questions she had been burning to ask.
Erin swallowed, forcing herself to sit up despite the residual weariness in her limbs.
Her gaze locked onto his.
"I want answers."
Cid's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile.
"Then ask."
Erin's fingers tightened against the blanket, her exhaustion still lingering- but her mind was sharp now.
She had too many questions.
And she would not let them go unanswered.
Taking a slow breath, she locked eyes with Cid- the boy who had saved her, who had fought the Templars without hesitation, who was supposed to be a noble, yet commanded warriors like a seasoned ruler.
"Who are you?" she asked, voice firm despite the unsteadiness of her body.
Cid tilted his head slightly, as if the question amused him. "I already told you my name."
"Not your name," Erin snapped, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Who are you? Who are all of you?"
Cid's faint smirk remained, but there was something steadier in his gaze now, something that made it impossible to dismiss him as just another noble playing warlord.
"We are Shadow Garden," he said simply. "A faction devoted to fighting the Cult of Diabolos."
Erin blinked.
The name hung in the air, her mind struggling to process it fully.
Her throat tightened. "The… Cult of Diabolos?"
She let out a breathless laugh, one of disbelief, of incredulity. "You're joking, right?"
Cid remained silent.
That was what made her stomach drop.
"No, that- that doesn't make sense," Erin muttered, shaking her head. "Diabolos is a story. A legend. Just something passed down to scare children."
Cid's gaze never wavered.
"The truth," he said, his voice calm but absolute, "is far more terrifying than the legend."
The room suddenly felt colder, the weight of his words pressing against her chest.
She wanted to deny it- wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.
But there was no humor in Cid's expression.
No deception.
Just certainty.
Erin swallowed hard, her mind swimming with too many revelations at once- but there was still one question burning in her chest.
"Did you know?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cid didn't blink. "Know what?"
"That the Templars were going to attack Bramble Hollow."
Silence.
The kind that felt heavy, like the moment before a storm.
Cid exhaled through his nose. "No. We only learned about the purge after it had already begun. We were too late to stop it."
Erin's nails dug into the fabric of her blanket.
"Too late," she repeated, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
Too late to save Lysera.
Too late to stop the slaughter.
Cid continued, his tone even. "We do not serve the Church, nor did we have any intelligence on their plans. But once we learned what was happening, we moved to intercept their remaining forces."
The attack on the Templar caravan- the ruthless efficiency of the slaughter- it all made sense now.
They hadn't come for revenge.
They had come for her.
"Then why save me?" Erin demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion. "You didn't even know me. So why?"
Cid's answer came without hesitation.
"Because you were taken."
She flinched.
"Because you were marked for something beyond execution," he continued. "And that meant you were valuable to them."
Erin felt a cold chill run down her spine.
Whatever the Church had planned for her, whatever awaited her on the Templars' island, she would never know.
Because he stopped it before it could happen.
Her hands trembled in her lap.
She had spent her entire life avoiding the Church, avoiding attention, avoiding fate itself-
And yet, it had caught up to her anyway.
But then, so had he.
For the first time since waking up, Erin truly looked at him-
At the boy she had seen in Bramble Hollow, who had seemed like nothing more than a passing traveler-
At the leader of the warriors who had slaughtered the Templars like they were insects-
At the noble who was not a noble, the man who fought the Church, the one who spoke of myths as if they were reality.
And she realized something that sent a new kind of fear curling in her chest.
Cid Kagenou was dangerous.
Not because he was cruel, or because he wielded overwhelming power-
But because he believed every single word he said.
Because to him, this was not a game, nor a fantasy, nor a fairy tale.
To him, the Cult of Diabolos was real.
And if he was right-
Then everything she thought she knew about the world was a lie.
Erin slumped forward, her arms resting on her lap, her breath uneven and shaky.
Everything she had ever known, believed in, and built her life around- gone.
The home she had grown up in, the people she had laughed with, argued with, and shared her life with- cut down as if they were nothing.
Her family was gone.
The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea and grief rolling through her chest, her fingers curling tightly into the fabric of her blanket.
Was there anything left?
What was she now? A ghost? A stray leaf caught in the wind, with no roots, no place to return to?
A survivor, perhaps. But for what purpose?
She had no answer.
But then-
"There's more."
Cid's voice cut through the silence like a blade, calm yet carrying a weight that made Erin's stomach twist.
She barely had time to look up before he spoke again.
"One of your own was responsible for Bramble Hollow's destruction."
The words hit her harder than a strike to the gut.
Her heart seized, her vision blurred at the edges.
"What?" she rasped, not believing her ears.
Cid's gaze remained steady. Unflinching. Absolute.
"Among the forces that led the purge," he continued, "was an Inquisitor- an Elf."
Erin's lungs felt too tight, her breath caught between gasps.
No- no, that couldn't be right.
Elves did not work with the Church of Beatrix. They hated their interference. The Inquisition was almost exclusively human-
Except for one.
Her mind lurched backward, into memories she had buried long ago-
A man draped in fine robes, with silver hair and a cruel smirk, always boasting of power he did not have-
A man who had disgraced their family, stealing from their house, squandering their name-
A man who had been banished for his crimes-
"Uncle Lirian…" Erin whispered, her blood running cold.
Cid gave the faintest nod.
"He was there," he confirmed.
Erin sucked in a sharp breath, her hands trembling violently.
He was there.
Her disgraced uncle, the one her family had cast out, forsaken, disowned-
The one who should have never been able to return.
He was there.
And he lived.
While her family burned.
While Lysera bled out in the dirt.
While she was branded and thrown in chains.
He lived.
Knowing what happened. Knowing her fate. And he did nothing.
Something inside her cracked.
Her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, her breath ragged with a storm of emotions she could not control.
Rage.
Grief.
Betrayal.
How? How could this have happened? How could he still be alive while everything she knew was reduced to ashes?
Cid watched her reaction carefully, his expression unreadable.
Erin gritted her teeth, forcing down the scream building in her throat.
Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Not for him.
Not for the man who had betrayed everything her family had stood for.
Not for the monster who wore her bloodline's name like a curse.
"No," she breathed, shaking her head. "No, I… I won't accept this."
She lifted her gaze, her emerald eyes burning with something new- something raw and unrelenting.
"Where is he?"
Cid's lips curled, ever so slightly.
"That," he said, "is something we intend to find out."
A sharp chill ran through Erin's spine.
The branding.
She remembered it now- not just the failed mark, not just the Inquisitor's intrigue- but him.
His voice, soft yet calculating.
His hand, gripping her jaw, tilting her face toward him like a specimen under observation.
"Fascinating," he had murmured that day, the ghost of amusement in his tone. "Not a single trace. Unnatural… yet, somehow, fitting."
She had been too terrified, too shaken, too desperate to understand at the time.
But now, in the wake of Cid's revelation, the truth crashed down on her like a hammer to the skull.
Lirian.
That bastard of an uncle.
He had recognized her the moment she was dragged before him.
He had manipulated the Templars, using the failed brand as an excuse to elevate her to 'special status'- no doubt with plans for her future, twisted plans only he knew.
He had known.
He had known she was his own flesh and blood- and still, he had let her suffer.
Still, he had let her entire family burn.
He had let her rot in a cage like an animal.
Something boiled inside her, hotter than grief, stronger than despair.
Hatred.
Pure, seething, unforgiving hatred.
"I will kill him."
The words left her lips before she even realized she had spoken them.
Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms, her entire body trembling not with fear- but with absolute certainty.
"That bastard is mine."
She lifted her gaze to Cid, her breath heavy, her resolve unshaken.
"Take me with you," she demanded.
Cid remained still, his expression unreadable.
"I want in. I want to fight. And I want to be the one to end that bastard's life."
Alpha and Beta exchanged brief glances, but neither spoke. They were waiting. Watching.
Waiting for Cid's answer.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then- he sighed, leaning forward slightly.
"Shadow Garden is not a place for those who still live in the light," he said, his voice even, measured. "If you join us, you will not simply be a recruit. You will become one of us- "
His eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his face.
"And to do that, you must let go."
His words hit like a blade to the heart.
"Let go?" Erin repeated, almost bitterly.
"Your name. Your past. Your ties to the world of light."
Cid's voice lowered, his tone smooth yet absolute.
"The path of the shadows demands everything."
For a moment, silence settled between them.
And then-
A spark of understanding ignited in Erin's mind.
Let go of her name?
Let go of her past?
Let go of her ties to the world of light?
But he never said to let go of her vengeance.
A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"I accept."
Cid nodded, as if he had expected that answer.
"Then kneel."
Erin hesitated only for a second, before lowering herself to one knee.
The room seemed to darken, as if the very shadows around them responded to Cid's presence.
Alpha and Beta stood solemnly, watching as their leader summoned his blade.
A weapon of black void, shifting like liquid shadow, forming into the shape of a sword that absorbed the light around it.
Erin felt her breath hitch, a shiver crawling down her spine- not in fear, but in awe.
The blade lowered, resting lightly upon her right shoulder.
"From this moment forward," Cid intoned, his voice filled with weight, command, and something eerily ancient, "you are no longer the girl you once were."
The blade shifted, moving to her left shoulder.
"You forsake your old name, your old ties. You walk no longer in the world of light."
The shadows stirred, coiling faintly around her as if responding to the ritual.
"From now on, you shall serve the darkness, and in turn, it shall serve you."
The blade lifted from her shoulder, hovering before her bowed head.
"Rise, Gamma of Shadow Garden."
Erin lifted her gaze, something new burning behind her emerald eyes.
She was not Erin anymore.
She was Gamma.
And she would see her vengeance fulfilled.
~!~
The grand halls of the Church of Beatrix's inner sanctum were eerily silent, save for the steady clinking of armored boots against polished marble.
The Templar field commanders strode forward in disciplined formation, their helmets tucked beneath their arms, their faces worn from battle yet filled with the pride of victory.
Before them, seated upon thrones of gold and white stone, were the three highest figures of the Church:
Grandmaster Orwin of the Templars, clad in gleaming ceremonial armor, his sword resting at his side.
High Bishop Elvere of the Bishops of Duet, draped in immaculate white robes, a soft, knowing smile upon his lips.
Grand Inquisitor Petos of the Inquisition of Pente, wrapped in dark crimson and gold, his gloved fingers resting together in contemplation.
The air was thick with incense, swirling from the many golden braziers, their embers glowing like watchful eyes.
Orwin, ever the warrior, was the first to speak.
"The purge was a resounding success. Bramble Hollow has been cleansed, and Lys Anorel has been broken under our will. The Possessed were either executed or taken into custody."
The Bishop, Elvere, gave a slow nod, his eyes closing briefly as he murmured a prayer of thanks.
"Blessed are we who carry out His will," he said softly.
"And the survivors?" Petos asked smoothly, his voice oily and composed, betraying none of his inner thoughts.
"None," Orwin confirmed.
"A shame," Elvere murmured, though his expression did not match his words. "But such is the price of purity."
The leaders exchanged pleasantries and praises, their words meaningless to all but themselves.
Then, at last, Orwin exhaled and turned to his men.
"You are dismissed. Rest well, my brothers, for you have done the Lord's work today."
The Templar field commanders saluted before marching out, their boots echoing through the chamber.
As the doors sealed shut behind them, the air shifted.
The formal pleasantries fell away, and in their place came something else entirely.
Something colder.
Something darker.
Orwin leaned back in his golden chair, running a hand over his aged face, sighing.
"The Templars will need time to recover before we march again. But rest assured, the next campaign will proceed as planned."
"Of course," Elvere nodded, though his thoughts were elsewhere.
Only Petos remained eerily still, his fingers tapping against his chair in slow, deliberate motions.
Then, his lips curled into the faintest of smirks.
"A most... successful harvest," he murmured.
Orwin barely spared him a glance, his interest in the Inquisition's affairs minimal. "What you do with them once they're in the facility is your business, Petos, so long as the Lord's will is carried out."
Petos chuckled.
Oh, it was his business, indeed.
Because he was not simply the Grand Inquisitor of Pente.
No, his true allegiance lay elsewhere.
With the Cult of Diabolos.
Beneath his composed, measured exterior, he was positively giddy.
A fresh batch of Possessed- all ready to be delivered straight to the Cult's hands.
The experiments could continue. The truth could be unraveled. And soon…
Soon, their greatest project would be complete.
"Yes," he mused, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Lord's work indeed."
And for the first time that night-
He meant every word.
~!~
Extra Chapter: Gamma's First Day
The corridors of Shadow Garden's hideout were silent, save for the soft footsteps of four figures.
Gamma followed closely behind Alpha, Beta, and Lord Shadow, her mind still reeling from the ritual that had bound her to this group.
A new identity. A new purpose. A new path in the shadows.
The weight of her new name settled on her shoulders like a mantle of responsibility. She had expected a grand unveiling, a vast network of spies, an underground force hidden in the world of light, manipulating the fates of nations from the shadows.
Instead…
She found four people.
Including herself.
"Wait… what?"
The realization hit her like a brick to the skull.
This wasn't some legendary order of assassins or an unseen empire of darkness.
This was just them.
Just four people.
And one of them was Cid Kagenou, a boy she had met as a wanderer just weeks ago.
Gamma's eye twitched.
"We… we're the entire organization?" she asked, trying to mask her disbelief with a neutral tone.
"For now," Alpha replied smoothly, as if completely unfazed by this glaring fact.
"But… but we don't have any resources. No influence. No funding- "
"Yet," Beta corrected, smiling slightly.
Gamma felt her entire vision blur for a second.
She had signed up for a hidden war against an ancient cult, dedicated herself to building an organization powerful enough to take down the Church and the Cult of Diabolos alike-
And all they had to work with was a ruined hideout and no money.
Her mind raced.
"Okay. Okay. First things first. We need funds. Lots of it."
"We're aware," Alpha nodded.
"We can't conduct operations without money," Gamma continued, hands gesturing wildly now. "We need weapons, informants, infrastructure. We need to expand!"
"Also true," Beta agreed.
"Then we sell our best wares!" Gamma declared. "That's how we get started! The slime suits you all use! They're like nothing I've ever seen before. If we market them right, we could- "
"No."
The entire room froze as Lord Shadow- Cid- spoke.
His voice was not loud, nor aggressive, but the finality in his tone sent a shiver through them.
"Shadow Garden Tech is off-limits to the world," he said. "We do not sell our weapons. We do not reveal our methods. The world is not ready for them."
Gamma blinked, gears in her head grinding to a halt.
"Then… then what do we sell?"
Cid paused, placing a hand on his chin, looking deep in thought.
Then, with a sudden shift, a strange, knowing grin crept onto his face.
"Food."
Gamma stared at him.
Alpha and Beta stared at him.
The silence stretched on.
"...What?"
Cid nodded as if this were the most obvious answer in the world.
"We start with food. And then, we see where it goes."
The room remained dead quiet as the three girls absorbed this statement.
Gamma, who had spent her life studying the intricacies of Elven and Human commerce, who had just mentally mapped out an elaborate financial strategy for their secret war, struggled to wrap her head around this suggestion.
"Food," she repeated blankly.
"Yes."
"Not weapons. Not military contracts. Not alchemical goods. Food."
"Correct."
Gamma inhaled deeply.
"...What kind of food?"
Cid's expression grew enigmatic, his voice carrying an air of deep wisdom.
"Hamburgers."
The air grew even stiller, as if the world itself had stopped to process this utterly nonsensical statement.
Alpha and Beta exchanged glances.
Gamma felt her brain short-circuiting.
"...What," she said again.
Cid nodded sagely, as if imparting forbidden knowledge.
"Hamburgers."
The room remained dead silent after Cid's declaration.
Gamma, Alpha, and Beta exchanged baffled glances, the sheer weight of their collective confusion thick enough to cut with a blade.
Finally, Beta tilted her head.
"Lord Shadow… what exactly is a… 'hamburger'?"
Gamma nodded slowly. "Yes. Please explain. In detail."
Alpha crossed her arms. "I assume it is some form of tactical nourishment?"
Cid blinked.
Then, with the air of a scholar imparting ancient wisdom, he took a slow breath and began.
"The hamburger…" he said, his voice carrying the weight of a prophecy, "is the ultimate food of warriors, scholars, and kings alike. A delicacy, yet practical. Powerful, yet simple. The perfect meal, containing everything one needs in a single, glorious bite."
Gamma squinted.
"...Go on."
Cid nodded solemnly, his expression unreadable.
"It begins with bread- a soft, yet sturdy bun, capable of holding the divine creation within. The core of the hamburger is the patty, made of ground meat, seasoned and seared to perfection. Upon this foundation, one may add cheese, vegetables, and sauces to create harmony and balance."
Beta furrowed her brows.
"So… it's just a meat sandwich?"
"It is a revolution."
Alpha rubbed her chin, processing the information. "And you say this… hamburger will fund our operations?"
"If done right, it will become the very foundation of our future."
Gamma, the financial mind of the group, bit her lip, deep in thought.
"A dish that contains both protein, greens, and grains… an all-in-one meal. If it's cheap to make and appeals to the masses, this could very well be a sustainable business model."
Cid gave a knowing smirk.
"Exactly."
Gamma clapped her hands together. "Alright then. If this food is as incredible as you say… I'll make one."
Gamma took immediate control of the kitchen, her mind racing with theories and possibilities.
The problem?
She had never seen a hamburger before.
Her only knowledge came from Cid's poetic descriptions, meaning she had to reconstruct it from pure imagination.
"Soft yet sturdy bun… meat patty, seasoned and seared to perfection… cheese, vegetables, sauces…"
Her hands moved with the determination of a master artisan, assembling the dish with unwavering confidence.
She sliced a round loaf in half- close enough to a bun.
She took premium ground meat, seasoning it as best as she could from Cid's descriptions.
For the cheese, she used a rich, creamy blend of aged Elven dairy.
For the vegetables, she gathered the freshest produce- crisp greens, ripe tomatoes, and a dash of finely chopped onions.
And for the sauce…
She decided to experiment.
Something sweet. Something spicy. Something rich.
By the time she was finished, the kitchen was filled with a divine aroma, a mix of sizzling meat, melting cheese, and perfectly toasted bread.
Gamma stepped back, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, admiring her work.
"It is done."
The trio of Alpha, Beta, and Lord Shadow sat at the table, eyeing the mystical creation before them.
Alpha, the first to take action, picked up the burger with both hands and took a bite.
Silence.
Beta followed suit, her eyes widening the moment the flavors hit her tongue.
Cid, of course, was completely composed, as if this was the expected result all along.
Alpha set her burger down and slowly placed her hands on the table.
She stared into the distance.
"What… was that?"
Beta took another bite, then another. "This… this is… indescribable…!"
Gamma, arms folded, smirked with satisfaction. "Well? How does it compare to the legendary dish Lord Shadow spoke of?"
Cid nodded approvingly.
"You have exceeded my expectations."
Gamma beamed.
Beta, meanwhile, had already devoured half her burger, her expression one of pure bliss. "We… we must sell these immediately. We will become gods among merchants!"
Alpha, still dazed, muttered, "The people of the world… they must taste this."
Cid leaned back, content in their realization.
"And so… the foundation of Shadow Garden's empire begins."
And thus-
The first hamburger in history was born.
And Shadow Garden had its first true business venture.
Beta took another bite of her hamburger and smiled happily.
They finally have a good cook!