The month passed in relentless motion. The underground tournament ,dubbed "The Crimson Rite" by Ryvaris,had already begun to stir whispers among noble circles. The Third Prince's uncle, now fully convinced of the event's potential, agreed to supply prisoners in exchange for a hefty cut of the profits. And while Ryvaris threw himself into overseeing the arena's construction, Rin focused on something far more delicate,far more important.
The staff.
The blades that would encircle the death rings,massive, curved, impossibly fast ,were already being forged. The idea of death not only by combat but by machinery thrilled Ryvaris. He added his own flair, installing retractable spike tiles beneath the arenas and high walls covered in rune-forged chains.
But Rin's attention was elsewhere.
He wasn't looking for strong men with swords or elite maids with perfect etiquette. He needed loyalty. He needed desperation. He needed people who would cling to purpose as if it were life itself.
So he began searching,masked in the guise of a common merchant's son, his aura suppressed, his eyes cold. He visited dozens of minor guilds. Most were mercenaries, sloppy with mess and coin. Others were glorified scavenger crews. None met his standards.
Until he heard the rumor.
A nameless, barely-recognized guild operating out of a ruined district in the lower quarters. Twenty members. All orphans. Raised by one man,barely older than Rin himself , about 30 years. He wasn't royalty, nor a chosen bloodline. But he had something else. Grit. A man who stole, bled, and killed to feed the mouths that looked up to him. He had 35% purity,nothing to the elites,but enough to stay alive. Enough to protect his family.
Rin listened in silence to the stories told in brothels, taverns, and criminal dens. Stories of the "Big Brother" who broke a man's skull for slapping one of his younger siblings. The same man who once walked through a beast-infested gate with broken ribs, dragging a corpse behind him just to claim the bounty.
Yes.
This was the one.
Rin found their guildhouse tucked between two collapsed buildings. It was smaller than he expected,clean but worn. Hand-patched walls, a flickering rune-lamp hanging overhead. Three young men sat in the reception area. One was barely older than a teenager, sharpening a dagger. Another cleaned an old spear. The third looked up as Rin walked in, his face cautious.
"I have a j*b for you," Rin said, voice measured and confident.
The three exchanged glances. "What kind?" the one with the spear asked.
"A service j*b," Rin replied. "Security, cleaning, management. You'll be working in a large private event. Regular pay, full food, and if you do well… noble protection."
Still they hesitated. This wasn't their usual kind of mission. Finally, one of them stood. "Wait here," he said, and disappeared into the back.
Moments later, he returned,with him came a man who immediately caught Rin's attention.
He was tall, with rough black hair tied behind his head. His eyes were tired but sharp. He carried no weapon, but his steps were steady, practiced. There was a faint heat around him, like a man constantly holding back.
"You're the one offering the j*b?" the man asked.
"I am."
"What's the pay?"
"Enough to feed your people for a long time."
"And the risk?"
"Minimal. You'll serve at an event. No fighting. Just work. But," Rin paused, "you must all obey orders. Without question."
The man narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
Rin smiled. "you will find ou very soon."
Silence stretched for a few seconds. Then the man nodded once. "We'll take it."
Rin's smile widened.
Perfect.