Morning light filtered through the cluttered windows of Xin's studio, casting a dull glow over the mess of papers scattered across the floor. Xin sat cross-legged, furiously rifling through the growing pile of receipts, bills, and hastily scribbled notes. His fingers worked through the chaos, flipping through sheets with increasing frustration.
"Come on… I know you're in here somewhere," he muttered under his breath.
Buried beneath ticket stubs and crumpled invoices, he finally found it—the logbook.
"Ahh, how could I forget!" he exhaled, almost laughing at himself. But the moment of relief was short-lived.
His eyes scanned the pages, and the blood drained from his face. His fingers, steady just moments before, now trembled as they traced over the inked numbers. The reality of it hit him like a punch to the gut.
His debt wasn't just bad—it was catastrophic.
3.5 million gold coins.
Xin swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He turned to Belial, his expression stricken. "We… we have to repay 3.5 million gold coins."
He barely recognized his own voice—it sounded hollow, drained of all hope.
Belial had been stretching, arms lazily reaching over his head, but at those words, his movements froze. His gaze sharpened, all traces of sleepiness vanishing. "That's a lot of money," he said slowly, as if trying to process it. "How do you think you're gonna pay it all off?"
Xin didn't answer right away. Instead, he shot to his feet and began pacing, his hands threading through his already-messy hair.
"Maybe if I pull together every last coin from ticket sales, merch, and sponsorships… No, that won't be enough. Maybe if I sell my instruments? But even that won't put a dent in it…" He stopped, pressing his fingers against his temples. "Damn it! There's no way I can come up with this on my own!"
Belial watched, his arms crossed as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. Xin wasn't just some musician trying to scrape by—he was drowning. And if they didn't find a way to pay off this debt, the kingpin wouldn't wait forever.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, something stirred in the depths of Belial's mind. A memory, distant yet vivid, flickered to life.
He saw himself as a child, sitting alone in the shadowy corners of the Demon King's library, poring over dusty tomes with pages so old they crumbled at the edges. They told stories of adventure—of guilds.
Organizations filled with fearless hunters, warriors who roamed the land battling monsters beyond human comprehension. They fought for glory, for survival, for the thrill of the hunt. But most of all, they fought for the immense rewards.
Morning light bled through the dusty windows of Xin's studio, dim and reluctant, as if even the sun didn't want to wake the chaos that lived there. Papers blanketed the floor—scattered receipts, old bills, ticket stubs, and coffee-stained notes forming a sea of clutter. In the center of it all, Xin sat cross-legged, rifling through the mess like a man possessed.
"C'mon… where are you…" he muttered, fingers flipping frantically through sheet after sheet.
His breath caught as his hand brushed against leather. He yanked the worn logbook free from beneath a pile of wrinkled invoices and old merchandise drafts. A laugh escaped him—half relief, half disbelief.
"How could I forget?" he exhaled, shaking his head. But as he opened the book and his eyes ran down the inked numbers, the warmth drained from his face.
Silence. Cold, oppressive silence.
His fingers trembled. The numbers weren't just high—they were devastating.
3.5 million gold coins.
The weight of it crashed down on him. All this time, he'd lived the dream—sold-out shows, packed venues, adoring fans calling his name. But beneath it all, buried like a ticking bomb, was this debt. This deal he had tried to forget.
His throat tightened. He turned toward Belial, his voice barely audible.
"We… we owe 3.5 million gold coins."
Belial had been mid-stretch, arms lazily arching over his head. At those words, he froze. The sleep vanished from his face in an instant.
"That's… a lot of money," he said, his voice low. "How are you gonna pay all that off?"
Xin sprang to his feet, pacing like a man trying to outrun the truth. His hands raked through his wild hair.
"Maybe if I squeeze every last coin from ticket sales, merch, leftover sponsor money—" He paused, shaking his head. "No, that's not enough. Maybe I could sell my instruments…"
He stopped, breathing hard. "Damn it. It's useless. I can't do this on my own."
Belial leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He didn't speak, didn't try to offer false comfort. He just watched, eyes dark with thought.
Then something flickered behind those eyes. A memory, old and worn, stirred in the corners of his mind.
He saw himself, young and alone, buried deep in the Demon King's library. Dusty tomes stacked high around him. Pages full of legends and forgotten names. Stories of guilds—warriors and hunters who battled monstrosities that tore holes through the world. They didn't fight for glory. They fought for survival… and for rewards beyond imagination. Gate Bosses, reality-warping creatures, their bounties measured in treasure and artifacts.
Belial had once scoffed at those tales. But now… now they felt like fate.
"We need to find a guild," he said.
Xin stopped pacing. "What?"
Belial met his gaze, steady and serious. "A guild. One that'll take us in. Give us work. If we hunt… we can earn the money."
Xin stared at him, trying to gauge if this was desperation or resolve.
"You think we can just become hunters?"
"Unless you have a better plan?"
Xin didn't. And his silence was all the answer Belial needed.
The decision was made.
They hit the streets, moving through the heart of the city as the sun dipped low, shadows stretching over the cobblestones. One by one, they approached the guild halls. And one by one, they were turned away.
Reputation? Lacking. Experience? None. All the guilds saw were two broke teens with no scars and a pipe dream.
Belial kicked a pebble, sending it skittering into a gutter. "You believe this? Not even a second glance."
Xin's shoulders were slumped, but his voice held quiet determination. "I know. It's discouraging. But we can't let it stop us."
Belial shot him a skeptical glance. "With what? We have nothing to offer."
"You're wrong," Xin said, his eyes steady. "We have heart. We're willing to risk everything. Somewhere out there, a guild's got to see that."
Belial sighed… then gave a faint smile. "You're stubborn, you know that?"
"Takes one to know one."
They kept walking, night curling around the city like a slow exhale. Somewhere along the way, their conversation softened—drifting toward old jokes, embarrassing memories, songs Xin never finished, and stories Belial never meant to share.
And then… they saw it.
The Crimson Phoenix Guild.
The building rose above them like a monument, solid and unmoving. A massive crimson emblem of a phoenix spread across the facade, wings stretching skyward, flames etched into the stone.
Belial stopped, unease flickering in his chest. "You sure this is the one?"
Xin's eyes gleamed beneath the torchlight. "We don't have another choice."
Belial looked at the door. Looked back at his friend. Then nodded.
"All right," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Let's do it."
The moment Belial and Xin stepped inside the guild hall's great doors, they were promptly beset upon by every sound imaginable. Laughter and jovial chatter joined in a burble of clinking tankards, while the odd roar of triumph cut through and lent the air an energetic pulse thick with life. The room was a hive of hunters of varying shape and size, eyes jumping from conversation to conversation, attention dancing between this and that.
Their entrance had not gone without its due share of attention. A cluster of hardened hunters, grouped together in one corner of the great hall, had stopped talking and were now regarding the pair with interest. Whispers ran around, and speculative eyes continued to rest on Belial and Xin, weighing them up with curiosity and skepticism.
Belial swallowed hard, the weight of their inexperience weighing heavily upon him.
He could feel the burning in his skin as they stared at every detail, weighing how worthy something was. The boisterous atmosphere had briefly faltered onto an underlying tension that hung in the air, a wave of chaos. Noises of laughter and shouting ring in their ears, the air reeking of alcohol and smoke.
His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around at the other hunters, each one more battle-hardened and seasoned than the last.
Belial cast an unreadable glance his way. "We got this, what could go wrong?" he had replied so sure of himself.
He couldn't help but admire the bravery of Belial, who was willing to do whatever the odds dictated, so long as it meant they could survive yet another day.
As Xin neared the receptionist desk, he struggled to keep his voice even. "Excuse me, ma'am; we're looking to join your guild."
The receptionist passed them over, her eyes settling upon them critically. Green eyes stared into one's soul, it seemed.
"Well, if you want to join, first you'll have to prove that you can do jobs. You'll have to pay 5 gold each, collect 100 orc or goblin ears, and pass our test."
The thought brought a knot to Xin's stomach: the gold, it was possible they could scrape together, but the orc ears? They would have to fight their way through hordes of vicious beasts to even come close to that number.
Belial looked at Xin with calm expression. "We can do this," he told Xin, his voice full of assurance.
Xin couldn't help a lot of admiration for Belial's brazen fearlessness. He nodded his head to that.
The night streets of Silva City were dimly lit as Xin and Belial made their way to Xin's apartment, the site of last-minute preparation before heading into the Outlands. The city was quiet at that hour, but the air was thick with portent.
Belial hoisted his katana over his shoulder and readied a small pack with rations, while Xin went to fetch his huge dull axe. It was about the same height as xin. Belial lifted an eyebrow at the weapon choice of Xin.
"That thing looks heavy, can you even fight with that?" he asked incredulously.
Xin grinned confidently. "It's more than enough," he said, hefting the axe onto his shoulder.
Belial couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he looked upon the weapon-many weapons had come and gone within his lifetime, nothing quite like Xin's colossal dull axe.
"I hope you're right," he said, his tone threaded with doubt.
He could feel the hesitation in Belial, so he laid a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing," he said firmly.
Belial nodded, almost bizarrely appearing to relax a bit. "All right, then, let's be off," he replied briskly, slinging his satchel over his shoulder and heading toward the apartment door.
While hopping onto a train and making their way east towards the Outlands, Belial had asked Xin about the kingpin.
"What's this kingpin all about?" he asked.
The countenance of Xin turned melancholic while his tone turned somber.
"Lets just say we aren't on good terms. When i stopped working for him he gave me an ultimatum he told me he would finance me in my music career..as long as i give him Information..i promised i would pay him back. In summary He could be your greatest supporter and advisor; as long as you obey his instructions. But if you step out of line or err…. he won't hesitate to eliminate you or subject you to far worse fates than death. But its been a year now and i this must be his response."
Belial watched Xin with a look of concern; for the first time, he saw another side of his friend. He knew this mission was important, not only for paying off their debt but more importantly, it would be safer that way for Xin's sake.
It finally stopped, and thus they did reach Gregon Forest. The air thickened with pine smell; one could hear the now louder and more vigorous rustling of leaves. They walked further into the forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick underbrush.
As the two adventurers went deeper into the woods, the night grew darker and more silently ominous. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped in the air with much frequency, yet there was no sign of orcs.
Xin was on edge and could not get rid of this feeling that they were being watched. His eyes scanned the environs warily, darting from side to side, in search of a telltale sign of peril. Meanwhile, Belial moved with the surety of a warrior who had been so very trained for battle, as all his senses were tuned for a dangerous signal that might be lurking in dark.
The sudden loud roar that boomed through the forest exploded the eerie silence. Xin leapt two feet in the air, his hand going instinctively to his dull axe as he looked around frantically. Belial's grip on his katana tightened as his eyes scanned. And then the roar came again, this time louder, this time closer.
"It's them," Xin whispered, his voice barely audible above the pounding of his heart.
Belial nodded, his eyes fixed in the direction from where the noise came. Without saying a word, they moved forward, their weapons ready, the pounding of their hearts was the only thing that filled their chests. As they rounded a bend in it, they came upon several orcs standing in their path; their beady eyes glinting in the firelight, Xin and Belial assumed defense positions, weapons ready. Before there was a great rush of orcs forward, accompanied by a loud war cry; their weapons flashed in the moonlight. With an elegant and serene countenance, Xin and Belial fought strenuously; their wepons danced in the light from the moon to the orcs' cries, but these two could hold their own against them. What felt like hours passed before the final orc collapsed to the earth, defeated.
Xin and Belial were standing, weapons at the ready. "We did it!" Xin said panting, the tension melting away from his shoulders. Belial smiled, his eyes showing a tinge of pride.
"You did it," Belial said, patting Xin on the back.
"You were pretty good back there too." A broad grin spread across Xin's face, the pride swelled in his chest.