As Brokenfang slowly descends the stairs, he keeps his ears erect, acutely aware of the sound and movements of the thugs on the first floor. His heightened sense of smell picks up on the mixed scents permeating the air, old and new. He quickly deduces that there are a total of 13 individuals in the area by the sound and smell of the space.

  Brokenfang silently crouches halfway down the stairs, concealing himself in the shadows. He carefully scans the room below, observing the various thugs lounging around. He takes note of the majority of the men, some sleeping, others engaged in conversation. Brokenfang notices three of the four men who had fled in the rain, their clothes still damp from the earlier downpour.

  Breathing in deeply, Brokenfang is unexpectedly hit by a flood of new scents masked by the thugs own scents. He picks up the distinct aroma of both males and females, as well as a faint hint of children. Shaking his head, Brokenfang realizes that these scents are fresh, likely belonging to recently arrived individuals. As he listens more intently, he discerns additional sounds - the rhythmic breathing and faint heartbeats of six or even more individuals.

  Brokenfang ponders the whereabouts of these additional individuals, concluding that they are likely held captive in the adjacent room at the back of the house. Using his senses and hearing to map out the layout of the people and building itself inside his mind. Recognizing that the area would be heavily guarded, frustration washes over him by the complexity of the situation as of now. He shakes his head, feeling that the task at hand has just gotten even more difficult than it needs or should be. However, one thought persistently remains in his mind: "where is the antidote?"

  Brokenfang tries to mentally compartmentalize the scents, distinguishing the scent of the people, the scent of Kaiden's blood, but notably missing the scent of the antidote itself. For a moment, he contemplates returning to Wulfric to share the information, but his attention is suddenly diverted by the distant voices of the thugs emerging from the rear of the house.

  A voice, filled with a cold, menacing tone, cuts through the air. "Where is the lad we encountered earlier today?" the speaker demanded. "You worthless, good-for-nothing fools, you were supposed to find him and bring him back." The harsh words echoed throughout the room, the harsh tone conveying the speaker's displeasure and anger.

  The men who were previously asleep suddenly wake up, their fear palpable as their scents grow more pungent. Brokenfang stealthily crouches lower, keeping himself hidden from view as he continues to listen in on the conversation happening below.

  One of the men speaks up, his voice shaky, “We-we couldn’t find him-“ he stutters.

  “Shut it, you idiot. It’s not that hard to just find and get one person.” The harsh voice barks out

  “Uh, boss?” Another thug responds, his voice filled with a mix of nervousness and trepidation. “We tried to track him down but he vanished. There is no trace of those 3 men.”

  Brokenfang continues to listen intently to the conversation, focusing on the angry, harsh tone of the first voice as it barks out, "He didn't just disappear, he's somewhere in this city." The sound of a hand slamming down on something fills the air, the impact creating a loud noise. The speaker's words continue, emphasizing the urgency of the situation. "If we don't find him, then we could be found out, but it would be especially bad because we lose a perfectly good meal ticket.”

  Brokenfang cautiously moves closer to the bottom of the stairs, carefully shifting his position to try and get a glimpse of the hidden individuals whose voices he's eavesdropping on. The words of one of the voices echo, seeking answers; "Boss, what's so important about that kid?" The question hangs in the air, betraying a hint of curiosity and ignorance of the hidden context behind the situation.

  Brokenfang moves stealthily, sliding against the wall and maneuvering around the railing, staying low to the shadows as he cautiously approaches the other room on the first floor. Below, the men who are fully awake remain transfixed, their gaze fixed on the hidden room where the voices of the hidden individuals emanate from.

  The harsh voice continues, a sinister tone of satisfaction creeping into its words as it shares its wicked thoughts. "As for that kid, you wouldn't believe it. But I have the best eyes in this line of trade. And that kid is quite a catch. His eyes, for one, are just gorgeous – a mesmerizing shade I've never seen on someone so young. And that brown hair of his? It's common enough, but the way it frames his face... Oh, it could fetch a fortune in the right market. He would be sold for a higher price than anyone we have sold before."

  Brokenfang swiftly connects the dots, recognizing the description as a match for Kaiden. The next words spoken by the voice, however, leave no room for doubt. "He fought hard, but the poison coursing through him is lethal without the antidote. And guess who's got the only antidote? That's right, us." The voice then laughs, mockingly adding, "We should've taken him when we had the chance. And killed the other two for good measure. Too late now."

  As Brokenfang listens to the conversation, fury rises within him like a fire, causing his fur to bristle as his teeth bare in anger. His thoughts whirl through his mind, filling with a visceral desire for vengeance, "These thugs are undeserving of life. Preying on the innocent, treating them like livestock. I want to tear their throats out for what they have done.”

  Suddenly, Brokenfang's stealth is revealed as a thug's voice shouts out, "Hey!" He pivots his gaze and realizes that he's been spotted, the eyes of the thugs now fixed on him. Confused, he looks down and realizes the culprit: his tail, still bristled with fur, has betrayed him, falling into the light of the room and revealing his presence.

  Brokenfang rises to his feet, realizing that stealth is no longer an option. The group from the other room enters, consisting of 5 individuals, 4 of whom he recognizes from earlier that day outside his home. Brokenfang quickly confirms by the scents and clothing that the individuals before him are indeed the ones he fought earlier to rescue Kaiden. The dagger-wielding man and the brawny man are present, accompanied by the other two lackeys who he tossed. Additionally, he notices a fifth individual who is one of the men he encountered during their escape in the rain, his damp clothing still bearing traces of the earlier downpour. Brokenfang's gaze hardens as he prepares to confront the familiar faces.

  The imposing figure, whom Brokenfang recognizes as the thug that he took down earlier, steps forward, his voice matching the harsh tone he had heard from the other room. This was the Leader of the group, the boss of the gang. "Well, look who we have here - our mysterious cloaked friend whose intrusion interrupted us earlier," he sneers. "Let me guess, you've come for the antidote, haven't you? He pauses, a cruel glint in his eye, and then adds, “You wouldn't happen to have that kid with you, would you? It would certainly make things easier for us."

  Brokenfang's voice seethes with a mixture of anger and determination as he clenches his fists, a gesture that does nothing to hide his emotions. "You won't get your hands on the priestess," he growls, his tone edged with menace. "Release all the others you've abducted, and hand over the antidote now, or else you'll wish you never messed with me."

  The thugs encircle Brokenfang, their weapons drawn, their laughter echoing mockingly in the air. "Only one of you and a dozen of us, and you think you stand a chance?" the boss sneers, his voice heavy with malicious glee. "Let's see who comes out on top in this battle, shall we, loner?"

  Brokenfang defiantly retorts, "Who said I was alone this time?" He swiftly unsheathes his sword, the shimmering blade visible in the dim lighting. The thug’s confidence wavers as Brokenfang’s sword shines, their attention now drawn to his words. “I'm not alone anymore," he bellows, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who knows reinforcements are on the way. "Wulfric!" Brokenfang calls out, his voice reverberating through the room and upward, signaling for the need of his ally.

  Brokenfang and the thugs all fall silent, their ears straining to catch any sound of movement from above. The thugs were initially amused, their laughter filling the air, but it abruptly ceases when they hear the crash from upstairs, signaling the approach of someone else. Wulfric appears, descending the stairs, his armor glinting in the dim light. The thugs' previous confidence evaporates, replaced by a paling of their faces and a noticeable trembling as they witness Wulfric standing before them in his imposing armor.

  The atmosphere in the room takes a dramatic shift as the tension mounts. The thugs nervously begin to whisper amongst themselves, their words spreading like a wave throughout the space. "That's the Silver Shield!" one mutters, his voice trembling. "The Merciless killer, the Silver Shield of the emperor!" another pipes up, fear evident in his voice. "We're dead, so dead!" the group collectively shudders, their impending doom looming before them.

  The boss, bristling with anger and frustration, stomps his foot, his harsh command shattering the hushed whispers. "Silence!" he roars, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Attack, you fools! Kill them both!" The thugs, caught between fear and obedience, rally themselves, their trembling hands gripping their weapons as they prepare to face their formidable opponents.

  “Ready," Brokenfang calmly states, his gaze flickering towards Wulfric, who has halted at the foot of the staircase. Wulfric responds, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, absolutely," he grins, his voice filled with anticipation. "I've been itching for some action." The tension in the room hangs heavily as the two allies prepare to face the onslaught of the thugs.

  Wulfric swiftly unsheathes his sword, his movements precise and fluid as he positions himself for battle. His gaze darts around the room, studying the thugs and their weapons, anticipating who will make the first strike. The air is thick with tension as the moment hangs in the balance, the potential for bloodshed significant in the cramped space. Who will make the first move in this deadly confrontation?

  Brokenfang's fur is still bristled, his heightened senses attuned to the atmosphere in the room. The acrid stench of sweat and fear permeates the air, emanating from the thugs as they begin to realize the gravity of the situation they've found themselves in.

  The boss, consumed by a mix of bravado and desperation, takes the initiative, pushing his subordinates aside as he charges at Brokenfang, sword held high. The other thugs follow in their leader's wake, charging at both Wulfric and Brokenfang simultaneously, their own weapons at the ready.

  With lightning-fast reflexes, Wulfric blocked and lunged at two thugs, his sword flashing in the air as he swiftly disarmed one of them. Brokenfang, meanwhile, gracefully dodged a wild swing from one thug before delivering a powerful kick to another, sending that one sprawling to the ground.

  Brokenfang and Wulfric work in tandem, their movements quick and precise as they expertly block and dodged the onslaught of blades hurtling toward them. With practiced ease, they exploit the thugs' overconfidence and lack of coordination, threw them off balance and swiftly incapacitating them. Together, they moved like a whirlwind, their weapons a blur as they incapacitated their opponents in mere moments. Their swordsmanship was flawless and the fight was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Despite the odds usually stacked against normal people, Brokenfang and Wulfric turned the tide easily being celestial warriors. Both warriors proving to be formidable opponents against the group of assailants. The thugs quickly were sprawled out on the ground, dazed and unable to move due to the beating they received from Wulfric and Brokenfang.

  With the other thugs swiftly taken down, the boss remains standing, his face twisted with anger as he scolds his subordinates. "Useless!" he bellows, his voice filled with contempt. "All of you are useless!" His gaze turns to Brokenfang, his brown eyes narrowed with animosity. "This is all your fault," he growls, his voice dripping with venom.

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  Wulfric instinctively moves closer to Brokenfang, his sword raised, ready to fight the last thug, the Boss. In response, Brokenfang raises his hand, signaling for Wulfric to hold for a moment. With a swift and graceful gesture, Brokenfang lowers his hood, fully revealing his face. The air in the room seems to shift, tension building as the boss's expression changes upon seeing Brokenfang's features.

  The boss's face initially expresses horror and embarrassment, as he grapples with his defeat by Brokenfang. He mutters, "A Beastel, I was taken down by a beast earlier." His denial sets in as he attempts to rationalize the situation. "No, there was no way. It was a trick. Probably magic," he insists, trying to save face.

  Wulfric, unable to contain his laughter, shakes his head in mockery. "No, Brokenfang is not a Beastel. He is a celestial warrior of Astryaln," he mocks, his sarcasm thinly veiled. As the boss lunges forward, interrupting Wulfric’s words, the tension in the room escalates. Wulfric's expression turns serious as he locks eyes with the boss, preparing to respond to the attempted attack.

  As the boss attempts to lunge at Wulfric, Brokenfang moves with lightning speed, appearing behind the boss and delivering a strike to the back of his neck. The blow effectively immobilizes the boss, who collapses to the ground, defeated. Wulfric is momentarily stunned, witnessing Brokenfang's swift and precise maneuver.

  Wulfric whistles in appreciation, his sword sheathed effortlessly at his side. "Nice move," he acknowledges, a hint of playful competitiveness in his voice. "I could have handled it, of course," he adds, feigning nonchalance but secretly impressed by Brokenfang's display.

  Brokenfang dons his hood once more, placing his sword securely into its sheath. He straightens his cloak, and with a lighthearted tone, declares, "I know you're capable of handling things, but I thought it would be nice to return the favor for your words earlier." The hint of a smile appears beneath the shadows cast by his hood as he nonchalantly steps over the unconscious thugs sprawled across the floor, making his way toward the rear room of the house.

  Wulfric's competitive edge mellows, and a hint of respect enters his voice as he responds, "What, that? You've proven yourself a warrior, and it's about time that it was recognized."

  He mentions, "Kaiden and Loden have told me I need to lighten up and trust people more. I appreciate the save, though."

  His words carry a sincerity that contrasts with his earlier mocking attitude, revealing the layers of his character and the bond he shares with his companions.

  As Brokenfang brushes off his cloak and is halfway over the bodies of the defeated thugs, Wulfric quickly follows closely behind, and together they head towards the back room of the house.

  Brokenfang and Wulfric turn the corner, spotting two frightened thugs guarding a door. The thugs' eyes bulge with fear, their limbs trembling uncontrollably. With a scoff, Wulfric makes a face, causing the thugs to panic and hastily throw down their swords, desperately fleeing the scene. However, Brokenfang and Wulfric react swiftly, halting the thugs in their tracks by extending their arms and forcefully knocking them onto their backs. The thud of the thugs hitting the ground echoes through the air as they are rendered unconscious.

  Wulfric shoots a glance at Brokenfang, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Nice one," he says, acknowledging the synchronized move.

  Brokenfang nods in agreement. "Indeed, great warriors think alike," he replies, his voice filled with confidence.

  Wulfric laughs heartily and adds, "Shall we?" as he gestures toward the door guarded by the unconscious thugs.

  Brokenfang firmly asserts, "Yes, the sooner we find the antidote, the better." He extends his hand, stopping Wulfric from proceeding. "But wait," he adds, his voice carrying a note of caution. "I must warn you, there are people trapped inside. They are likely captives, so be prepared to face frightened and panicked individuals."

  Wulfric, chuckling, throws his head back in exaggerated despair. “Ah, believe me, I'm no stranger to frightened and panicked folks," he remarks. His expression then turns serious as he attempts to open the door, only to find it locked.

  Wulfric, with a hint of frustration, attempts to forcefully open the door, but it remains steadfastly locked. Meanwhile, Brokenfang approaches the unconscious thugs, a more measured approach in mind. He uses the heel of his foot to gently nudge both thugs, searching for anything of importance. The sound of metallic clinking finally catches his attention - the keys, which he had hoped to find, are located under the thug Wulfric knocked over.

  Brokenfang's voice oozes with practicality as he suggests, "How about we avoid breaking down the door? Those people inside are frightened enough as it is. Let's not add to their fears." He holds up the keys he has retrieved triumphantly, the metallic jangling evidence of his find.

  Wulfric stops his futile attempts to force the door open upon hearing Brokenfang's suggestion. He looks over to see Brokenfang holding up a set of keys, a satisfied expression on his face. With a smirk, Wulfric replies, "Alright, alright, I suppose you might have a point there,."

  He extends his hand towards Brokenfang, signaling for him to hand over the keys. "Though breaking down door does have its own thrill, you have to admit.”

  Wulfric takes the keys from Brokenfang’s outstretched fingers and carefully inserts them into the lock. A sound of soft clicks signals their success as the gears come apart. He slowly turns the handle, and the door swings open, revealing a disheartening sight to them both.

  In the middle of the room, a group of individuals are tied up, young and old, male and female, their faces a mix of fear and desperation.

  Brokenfang pulls his hood down farther, hoping to conceal his face from the captives' view as he enters the room. He, alongside Wulfric, quickly assess the condition of the individuals, their concern evident in their expressions. They begin to cut the ropes that bind the captives, gently untying them while being mindful not to cause further distress. As they work, they also remove the gags from the captives' mouths, allowing them to speak freely, their breathing ragged and panicked.

  The captives express their gratitude in heartfelt cries of relief and appreciation. Their voices ring out in unison:

  "Thank you," they say, their panicked breaths mingling with words of gratitude.

  "Thank Astryaln, we are saved." "Thank you both for saving our lives."

  Their faces, previously etched with fear, now radiate with a flicker of hope. As a token of respect and gratitude, the men, women, and children reach out, placing their hands on Wulfric and Brokenfang, their touch speaking volumes of their thankfulness.

  Wulfric nods in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes. "It is in the name of Astryaln and the values we uphold that we fight," he says, his voice firm and resolute. He then turns to the captives, their faces still etched with fear and exhaustion, and asks, "If any of you have information that could help us find the antidote, I beseech you to share it. We are desperately trying to locate the antidote to a poison that was used on our friend. Would any of you happen to know where it might be kept?"

  While Wulfric spoke to the captives, trying to glean any information that could lead them to the antidote, Brokenfang stood silently, his senses heightened. With focused attention, he carefully sniffed the air, hoping to catch some clue or hint that could guide them in the right direction.

  Suddenly, his sharp nose picked up a faint odor coming from the back wall of the room. With a furrowed brow, he took a few cautious steps closer to the wall, trying to ascertain the source of the scent.

  Wulfric's words lingered in the air, and the captives hesitated for a moment, as if weighing their thoughts. Then, a little girl's voice piped up, her small finger pointing towards the back wall. "I saw those bad men doing something over there whenever they brought in people," she said, her voice trembling. "Maybe the thing you're looking for is over there."

  Wulfric knelt down, placing a gentle hand on the little girl's head. "Thank you, little one," he said kindly, his expression softening. He then turns to address the captives as a whole, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone as he stands to his proper height.

  “You are all free now," he declared. "Please return to your families and homes. Rest assured, the Royal guard will ensure that these men will face justice for their actions."

  The captives, still shaken from their ordeal, darted quick glances at Wulfric and Brokenfang before hastily making their exit. The adults took charge, diligently helping the children by either carrying them or holding their hands, their eagerness to depart the same as everyone else’s. It was evident that they had no desire to lingering any longer than necessary, yearning for the safety and familiarity of their homes.

  Once the last of the captives had left the room, Wulfric turned his gaze to Brokenfang, who was standing near the back wall. His unreadable expression hidden beneath the concealing cloak, his tail unusually still.

  Wulfric's eyes lingered on Brokenfang for a moment before he stepped closer, his voice gentle yet firm. "Found something?"

  “I believe so," Brokenfang responded, his gloved hand touching the surface of the wall in a search of any indication of a hidden mechanism or weakness. However, his search proves fruitless, the wall remaining steadfast and unyielding. With a sigh, he decides to try a different approach due to his inability to detect anything through the barrier of the fabric, he takes off one of his gloves and tries again.

  His bare hand made contact with the cold surface, searching for any inconsistencies or unusual textures that could hint at a hidden mechanism or a secret door.

  Brokenfang leaned in closer to the wall, using his heightened hearing to listen for a change of sound behind the solid material. He carefully examined the surface, his touch light but intentional once again. As he ran his ungloved hand over the wall, he could feel a subtle difference in texture now. It was barely perceptible, but it gave him a sense that there was something hidden there.

  With his heightened senses, Brokenfang quickly discovered the concealed door, his fingers effortlessly pulling it open. The surface had been seamlessly integrated into the wall, making it nearly invisible to the naked eye.

  As the door opened, revealing a deep chamber extending to the length of a man's outstretched arm, Wulfric peered inside, curiosity piqued by the hidden contents.

  As their gazes traveled across the hidden chamber, Brokenfang and Wulfric both found their eyes widening in surprise. The back section of the space was brimming with an assortment of currency, coins of varying values meticulously stacked high. Alongside the coins, they spotted neatly arranged papers and trinkets.

  However, their attention was quickly captured by the presence of two rolls of vials that stood facing opposite to each other, their purpose and significance soon to be determined.

  As Brokenfang and Wulfric focused their attention on the vials, they observed the difference in color and the varying quantities of liquid within them. The vials on the left, a deep purple hue, were filled to the brim with the mysterious liquid, while the vials on the right, a vibrant blue, were only half filled.

  They both looked at each other, their gazes locking, each silently contemplating what one was the antidote.

  Wulfric's excitement gets the better of him, his hand instinctively reaching out. "That's it, right? The antidote." Wulfric exclaims.

  Brokenfang's quick reflexes quickly steps in, stopping Wulfric mid-motion. He places a firm hand in front of Wulfric's hand, blocking him access to the space. "Hold on," Brokenfang says with a serious tone. "We can't be hasty. We need to be sure it's the antidote we're taking back."

  Wulfric, clearly annoyed at being stopped, retracted his arm and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What do you mean 'hold on'?" he replied, his voice slightly irritated. "This has to be the antidote, the vial is full. We're here to save our friend, aren't we? We take this one back.”

  Brokenfang withdraws his own hand, his head shaking in disagreement at Wulfric's words. "It's not just about the color or how much there is," he countered. "The fact that the purple vial is filled to the brim with the same color that Tibost showed us is a strong indication that it's the poison."

  Brokenfang points towards the blue vial, continuing, "However, the blue vial, filled only halfway, is more likely to be the antidote we're searching for. We can't risk taking the wrong one."

  Wulfric clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting at Brokenfang's words. "You were THIS close to being bearable, but now I'm reminded why I dislike you so much," he retorted, his voice brimming with irritation. "I'm a human, and I hold a higher status than you, Beastel. My decision is final."

  In a sudden gesture, Brokenfang pulls his hood off, revealing his face and exposing the extent of his irritation. His fur bristles, mirroring the intensity of his emotions. "Your decision is wrong," he responds, his voice firm and resolute matching Wulfric’s. "My decision is the correct one. You may think you are closer to Astryaln, but you're just deluding yourself. I am human too still."

  Wulfric's expression darkened at Brokenfang’s words and him throwing his hood back, revealing his fur bristling with his anger. "Your 'closeness' to Astryaln doesn't give you the right to question me," Wulfric retorted, his voice growing more assertive. "I'm the one who makes the decisions around here, and I won't be undermined by a beastel like you."

  Brokenfang's expression grew serious as he braced himself, his arms extended in a standoffish manner. "Do you really want to test that?" he challenged. "Who is truly superior here? Because I, and Astryaln, know the answer. It's not you."

  Wulfric's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in Brokenfang's challenge. "You really want to test your limit with me?" he growled, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "You think Astryaln holds you in higher regard? Let's see if you can back up your words, then."

  Brokenfang confidently smirks at Wulfric, his eyes filled with determination. "I can prove it without words," he asserts. "This will be more fun than taking down those thugs."

  The tension between Wulfric and Brokenfang had finally reached its peak. They stood opposite one another, their eyes locked, ready to square off in a physical confrontation. The urgency of returning to Kaiden, Tibost, and Loden had momentarily faded from their minds. All that mattered in that moment was proving their superiority.