The Dragon Palace

  The dinner table was silent, save for the scraping of silverware.

  Aiko picked at her food, her head bowed. Yamato watched her from the head of the table, his expression stern but conflicted, the candlelight carving shadows across his face.

  "Is there a problem, daughter?"

  Sasaki slammed her fork down. The sound echoed in the vast hall.

  CLANG.

  "Oh, spare me, Komodo," she snapped. "Don't be childish. Do you not realize what you've been doing to her these past few days?"

  "I did what was best for this family," Yamato retorted, his voice rising. "The Komodo Family must be strong. We must be respected in this world. Those Elves... they think they are the mighty ones, that they can dominate everything, But no.."

  He looked at Aiko, his gaze softening slightly.

  "I understand your questions about my methods, Aiko. But I guarantee you... it is to protect you. Even though I declared neutrality, the Elves will come for us eventually. I need to be prepared."

  BOOOOM.

  A massive explosion rocked the foundations of the castle. Dust fell from the ceiling into the wine glasses.

  "What was that?!" Sasaki cried out.

  Yamato stood up instantly, his aura flaring.

  FWOOOM.

  "Guards! Protect my daughter and the Queen!"

  He didn't wait. Yamato sprinted down the stairs toward the lower levels. The air grew thick with smoke and the smell of ozone.

  He reached the Royal Vault. The massive steel doors had been blown off their hinges.

  KRAAANG.

  A hole had been blasted through the outer wall, leading directly to the sea cliffs.

  Bodies of elite guards littered the floor. Yamato coughed, waving away the smoke. He spotted a soldier leaning against the wall, clutching a gruesome wound in his stomach.

  Yamato rushed over. He bit his own thumb, drawing blood, and placed his glowing hand over the soldier's injury. The wound began to knit together instantly.

  HSSSS.

  "Report!" Yamato commanded.

  "My Lord..." the soldier gasped, seizing Yamato's arm. "It was him... He blew the safe... He took the box."

  Yamato went rigid. The color drained from his face.

  "The box?"

  "Yes... He took it."

  Yamato stood up slowly, looking at the empty pedestal in the ruined vault.

  "Shit," the Dragon Lord whispered, genuine fear creeping into his voice. "(Sigh)... He has returned."

  The Journey Through Hell

  Isaac jerked awake at a sudden jolt. He blinked, disoriented by the swaying of the carriage.

  Across from him, Olivia was watching him intently. She quickly turned her face away, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

  "I see you slept soundly," she teased, her voice a soft whisper.

  "I guess I did," Isaac smiled back, rubbing the stiffness from his neck. "I haven't slept in a few days."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Long story."

  He glanced at Kenji and Aya. They were huddled together on the opposite bench, fast asleep. Kenji let out a loud, rattling snore.

  HRRNNK.

  Isaac and Olivia exchanged a look and stifled a giggle, covering their mouths.

  "And you? Don't you sleep?" Isaac whispered.

  "I already rested," she replied, her eyes bright in the gloom. "Actually... I'm just anxious to get home."

  "I can imagine."

  "Are you in Hell for business?"

  Isaac raised an eyebrow, amused. "Why do you ask?"

  "I don't know..." she shrugged playfully. "You look like a merchant. Or a traveling salesman. Something like that."

  They both laughed softly.

  "Not exactly," Isaac said. "I'm looking for a person. A great friend."

  "I hope you find him soon, Joe."

  "I hope so too."

  Olivia looked at him for a moment, a comfortable silence settling between them, filled only by the wagon’s creaks and the distant wind.

  "Hey... why don't you spend the night at our house?"

  "I appreciate it, Olivia, but no. Thank you."

  Suddenly, Kenji snorted loudly and woke up, looking around in confusion. Aya stirred beside him.

  SNORT.

  "Ah..." Kenji yawned, stretching his arms wide. "Did I sleep for long?"

  "Actually, yes," Olivia laughed. "You even snored."

  "Well," Isaac grinned. "That's a sign of a good sleep."

  The family laughed warmly.

  "Father," Olivia interjected. "I was inviting Joe to stay with us for dinner. In the morning, he can go find his friend."

  "That is definitely a great idea," Kenji agreed enthusiastically.

  "Ah, sorry... but I really can't," Isaac insisted politely. "I need to find this friend today."

  "Don't trust Hell at night, son," Kenji said, his tone turning serious. "It's a beautiful and wonderful city, but that doesn't change the fact that it's dangerous after dark. Spend the night with us. My wife will make a wonderful dinner."

  Just then, the small sliding window behind the driver opened.

  "We're here," the Old Man grunted.

  Isaac used his Sight to peer through the canvas. He saw the massive city gates ahead, illuminated by magical torches, and the starry sky above. He looked back at the hopeful faces of the family.

  "Alright," Isaac smiled. "I accept."

  Olivia beamed at him.

  "Wonderful!" Kenji clapped his hands. "Let's have dinner. We can talk about your friend. Who knows, maybe I can help? I know the city very well."

  "Okay. Thank you."

  The Arrival

  The cart came to a halt. The rear door swung open, and they climbed out into the cool night air.

  Isaac watched the family unloading their crates of merchandise. The city of Hell loomed before them, bustling with life even at this hour—torchlight and spell-light flickering like restless stars.

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  He felt a tug on his cloak. He turned to see the Old Driver holding out a greedy hand.

  "That'll be 5,000 for the trip."

  "What?" Isaac stared at him. "All that?"

  "How do you think I get undocumented cargo through the border?" the Old Man spat, leaning closer. "It's not cheap, kid. Pay up."

  Isaac sighed, defeated. He opened his pouch and counted out the coins. It was almost everything he had. He handed over the heavy sum, leaving him with a measly 20 in his pocket.

  The Old Man snatched the money and drove off without a word.

  Isaac let out a long sigh, staring at his nearly empty pouch.

  "Joe... shall we?"

  Isaac turned. Olivia was struggling with a heavy box, smiling at him.

  "Here, let me get that," Isaac said, taking the crate easily.

  "Thank you!"

  BOOM.

  An explosion rocked the clearing. Lican rolled effortlessly to the side, dodging the blast. He came up in a crouch, his wrist-mounted crossbow singing as he unleashed a volley of bolts toward Derek and Ery.

  TWANG. TWANG. TWANG.

  "Cover!" Derek shouted, diving behind a rock.

  Mia stood her ground. She raised a hand, summoning a massive claw of condensed shadow to crush Safira.

  But the assassin was too fast.

  Safira leaped into the trees, bouncing from branch to branch like a spider. In mid-air, she spun, unleashing a rain of throwing knives.

  "Shield!"

  Mia conjured a wall of darkness. The knives sparked against it, but one blade slipped through, slicing the fabric of her dress.

  RIP.

  "You bitch!" Mia shrieked, furious.

  Safira landed gracefully on the forest floor. Mia stuck out her tongue, a childish gesture of defiance, and reached out. She tried to use Blood Control to seize Safira from the inside out.

  The spell washed over Safira... and did nothing.

  Mia blinked, confused. "What?"

  "Behind you," a whisper came from her ear.

  Mia froze. The "Safira" in front of her flickered and vanished—a speed mirage. The real Safira was standing right behind her, a dagger pressed firmly against her jugular.

  "Move and you die," Safira hissed. "The blade is pure silver."

  Derek and Ery emerged from cover, weapons raised, but stopped dead when they saw the hostage.

  "Take another step, and she bleeds," Safira warned.

  "Mia!" Derek shouted, panic edging his voice. "Shift! Turn into smoke like you did before!"

  "She can't, you idiot," Safira sneered. "Silver is her weakness. Look at her trembling."

  Mia was paralyzed with terror. The silver burned her skin just by being close.

  Ery growled, his knuckles white around his sword hilt, stepping forward. Derek grabbed his arm.

  "Ery, stand down! Don't do anything stupid!"

  Lican walked out from the trees, leveling his crossbow at them.

  "Drop your weapons."

  Derek hesitated, then threw his sword to the ground.

  CLANG.

  "Do it, Ery. Obey."

  Ery looked at Mia, fear and rage warring in his eyes. He dropped his weapon.

  Silence stretched for a heartbeat. Derek and Mia locked eyes. A silent signal passed between them.

  NOW.

  Derek slammed a smoke bomb onto the ground.

  POOF.

  Thick gray fog exploded outward, blinding everyone.

  Mia didn't hesitate—she drove her elbow back into Safira’s ribs. Safira grunted, her grip loosening just enough.

  "GRAAAH!"

  Ery charged through the smoke blindly. He tackled Safira, slamming her hard against a tree. He began to grapple with her, keeping her away from Mia.

  THUD.

  "Damn it!" Lican shouted, firing into the smoke.

  TWANG.

  Derek drew a hidden dagger and engaged Lican.

  In the chaos, Mia scrambled away on her hands and knees. She reached the edge of the clearing and curled up behind a bush, hyperventilating, terror overwhelming her senses.

  Isaac stared out the window at the illuminated city of Hell. The lights flickered like distant stars, hiding the rot beneath. He sat on the edge of the bed, uncorking his flask. He took a sip, staring at, then put it away.

  A soft knock came at the door.

  KNOCK. KNOCK.

  "Come in."

  Olivia peeked her head in.

  "Joe... Wow. How are you? Do you like the room?"

  "Yeah. It's very comfortable. Thank you."

  Olivia smiled, looking at him with a shy intensity. She blushed and looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  "You are very... handsome. Without the hood and mask."

  "Ah... thanks. You're pretty too, Olivia."

  "Really?" She touched her messy hair self-consciously. "I didn't even brush it properly today."

  "Yeah. I think you're beautiful."

  Her face turned crimson. She stood up abruptly, fumbling with her apron.

  "Ah... I... I'll go see if dinner is ready. See you soon!"

  Isaac watched her go, a small, genuine smile softening his tired face. He checked his reflection in the mirror, then grabbed his pouch. He counted out the remaining 20 silver coin.

  I should pay them for their hospitality. They seem like good people.

  He pocketed the heavy pouch and opened the door. Olivia was standing there, hand raised to knock again. They both jumped.

  "Joe! I was just coming to get you. Dinner is ready!"

  "Lead the way."

  The Dinner

  In the kitchen, the air was thick with the smell of stew—heavy, meaty, and strangely metallic. Kenji was already seated, while his wife, Aya, placed steaming dishes on the table.

  "Joe! Come in, son! Sit with us!"

  Isaac sat down. "Thank you."

  "Don't mention it."

  Olivia and her mother stood watching him. Their smiles were fixed, almost too wide.

  "Sit down, before it gets cold," Kenji urged, his eyes unblinking.

  They sat. Kenji beamed.

  "So, Joe... do you like the room?"

  "Honestly? Yes. Compared to where I've been sleeping lately, it's a palace," Isaac laughed.

  The family laughed with him. But the laughter dragged on a second too long.

  HEH. HEH. HEH.

  It sounded hollow.

  Isaac lifted the lid of the tureen to serve himself.

  The smell hit him first—copper and rot, masked by heavy spices. The soup was a dark, coagulated purple. He ladled it into his bowl, and something solid splashed in.

  SPLOSH.

  He froze.

  Floating in the thick broth was not a carrot or a piece of beef. It was a thumb. A thumb, the nail still attached, boiled pale gray.

  His stomach lurched violently. He looked up at Kenji. The man was still smiling, but his skin seemed to sag, gray and lifeless.

  "Something wrong, Joe?" Olivia asked sweetly. "Oh... wait. I made a special dish just for you."

  Isaac tried to stand, to draw his weapon, to run.

  He couldn't.

  His muscles locked. His lungs felt like they were filled with concrete. A cold, magical paralysis gripped his very soul.

  "What an honor, stud," Kenji chuckled, his voice warping, deepening into a guttural growl. "Our daughter cooking a special meal is rare."

  Isaac dropped his spoon. It clattered loudly on the floor, the sound deafening in the silence.

  CLATTER.

  He watched in horror as the mother, Aya, laughed hysterically. She reached into her own bowl, pulled out a severed ear, and chewed on it, blood running down her chin.

  Olivia returned from the kitchen. Her shy demeanor was gone, replaced by a predatory grace.

  "Here it is," she sang. "A dish fit for royalty. For a King without a Kingdom."

  She placed a silver platter in front of him. On it lay a heart, still steaming.

  Kenji and Aya clapped slowly, their hands making a wet, slapping sound.

  SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

  "Do you like it, darling?" Olivia laughed. "I killed them a few hours ago. Just for you. They're fresh. Eat."

  She snapped her fingers.

  The Illusion Shatters.

  The cozy kitchen melted away like wax near a fire. The warm candlelight vanished, replaced by the damp, moldy darkness of a rotting shack. Cobwebs hung thick from the ceiling.

  Kenji and Aya dissolved into piles of dust and bone. They had never been alive.

  Standing before him was not the shy girl, but a woman with wild, matted hair, skin stitched together from different patches of flesh, and eyes that burned with ancient malice.

  A Flesh Witch.

  "Am I still beautiful, Fallen King?" she crooned, her voice scratching like sandpaper.

  Isaac couldn't speak. He couldn't move a muscle. He could only stare.

  "I see the confusion in your eyes," she purred, circling him like a shark. "Let me explain. You walked right into my web."

  She picked up a rusted, jagged knife from the table and began sharpening it against a stone.

  SHHHK. SHHHK.

  "My name is Astrid. I was exiled from the Rotten Fens a century ago for my... artistic tastes. They called me a monster because I wanted to be beautiful forever."

  She tested the blade's edge against her tongue, drawing a drop of black blood.

  "I stitch the finest skins to my own. I consume the strongest hearts to extend my life. But you..."

  She leaned in, her breath smelling of decay and old blood.

  "Fate is a comedian. Bringing the adopted son of King Goda... the Savior of Olympia... right into my slaughterhouse."

  She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her.

  "You want to know how I found you? You can wear masks. You can wear hoods. But you can never hide your scent. And you, Isaac... you stink of Death and Kings. A vintage I have waited centuries to taste."

  She ran the flat of the knife down his cheek.

  "You think you're the hero everyone needs? In the end, you're just a slab of meat with a lot of luck. But today... your luck ran out. No one is coming to save you."

  She shoved him hard. Isaac toppled over, chair and all, crashing onto the dirty floorboards.

  CRASH.

  He lay there, helpless, staring up at her.

  "I'm going to carve you up slowly," Astrid whispered. "I need your skin intact."

  She straddled him, sitting on his chest. The weight was crushing. She raised the knife.

  Then, she paused. She noticed the bulge in his pocket.

  "What is this?" she sneered. "Payment? Let's see what a King carries."

  Greed overtook her. She reached into his pocket and grabbed the heavy pouch.

  "Let's see your gold..."

  She opened the pouch and plunged her hand inside.

  SIZZLE.

  "AAAAHHH!"

  Astrid screamed, a sound of pure agony. Smoke hissed from her hand as she frantically shook the pouch off. The silver coins spilled across Isaac's chest, burning through her thin dress where they touched her skin.

  "SILVER! PURE SILVER!" she shrieked, falling back off him, clutching her blackened, smoking hand.

  The paralysis spell flickered. Her concentration was broken by the pain.

  Isaac felt his pinky twitch. Then his arm.

  He didn't wait. He roared, forcing his body to move through the fading numbness. He surged upward, tackling Astrid against the rotting wall.

  THUD.

  She clawed at him, but he grabbed a handful of the silver coins from the floor.

  "NO!" she begged, eyes wide with terror.

  He slammed the fistful of silver directly against her forehead.

  "GAAAAH! STOP! IT BURNS!"

  Her skin sizzled and bubbled like acid was eating through it. She writhed in agony, pinned by his strength.

  "Where can I find Gwyn?" Isaac roared, pressing the coins harder into her flesh.

  "I... I don't know!" she shrieked, blood weeping from her eyes.

  "THINK HARDER!"

  He grabbed another coin and pressed it into her cheek.

  "THE SEWERS! HE MIGHT BE IN THE SEWERS! ASK LIAM! TALK TO LIAM!"

  Isaac snatched the rusted knife from her hand. He looked down at her—a monster who wore the stolen faces of the innocent.

  "Mercy... please..." she sobbed, her face a ruin of burns.

  Isaac’s expression was stone.

  "No."

  He swung the blade.

  The Basement

  Isaac washed the black blood from his hands in a bucket of stagnant water.

  SPLASH.

  He was breathing hard, the adrenaline fading into disgust.

  He grabbed his bag and scanned the shack. He noticed a trapdoor under a rug. He kicked it open and descended the creaking stairs.

  CREAK. CREAK.

  The smell hit him first. Formaldehyde and rot.

  It was a laboratory. But it was also a trophy room. Jars of preserved organs lined the shelves.

  On a central table lay the mutilated bodies of the real family—Kenji, Aya, and Olivia. Their faces had been surgically removed.

  Isaac closed his eyes, a heavy weight settling in his chest.

  "Shit," he whispered. " (Sigh)...

  Outside

  Isaac stood in the cold night air, watching the old shack burn. The flames licked at the night sky, consuming the horrors inside.

  CRACKLE.

  He stared at the fire for a long moment, the crackling wood the only sound in the silent forest. Then, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark streets of Hell.