Chapter 34: A gift
Maren slammed his mug down hard, making the table crack and his beer to wash over the rim.
"That piece of shit," he slurred, his face red and eyes unfocused. "That worthless, no-name bastard."
The bar around him was mostly empty, a few regulars scattered at the far tables who had already learned to ignore the angry drunk in the corner. The bartender wiped a glass and watched him like he had seen this exact scene a hundred times before.
Maren didn’t care who was listening.
The humiliation from the guild hall replayed in his head on an endless loop, Hajin’s hand clamped over his mouth, his feet kicking in the air, being forced to look at that beastkin girl and apologize like some whipped dog.
"Who the fuck does he think he is?" He grabbed the mug again and threw back the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Grabbing me like that, in front of everyone. Making me say sorry to some animal."
He laughed, the sound bitter and broken. "Yenna just let him walk out. Fifty silver and he walks out like he owns the place."
His fingers tightened around the cracked mug until his knuckles hurt. The memory of that golden ring appearing around Hajin’s wrist wouldn’t leave him alone. It had been brief, barely a second, but he had seen it.
Something was wrong with that guy, something that didn’t fit into anything Maren understood about power or rank.
"Doesn’t matter," he muttered, his head dropping toward the table. "Doesn’t fucking matter what weird trick he pulled. Nobody does that to me, nobody."
The chair across from him scraped against the floor.
His head snapped up, blinking through the alcohol to see someone settling into the seat. A figure in a cloak, the hood pulled low enough that he couldn’t see their face, just a pale chin and a hint of something red at the corner of their mouth.
"What?" he said, the word coming out aggressive and sloppy. "This table is taken."
"By who?" The voice was female, smooth and low, carrying an edge of amusement that immediately put him on edge. "Your wounded pride?"
He stared at her, his drunk brain taking a second to process. "The fuck did you just say to me?"
"I couldn’t help but overhear," she said, leaning forward and folding her arms on the table. "You seem to have a problem with someone."
"Yeah, I got a problem." He slammed his palm down again, spilling more beer. "Some nobody commoner thinks he’s tough shit because he caught me off guard. Thinks he can embarrass me in front of the whole guild."
The figure made a sympathetic sound, almost a purr. "How terrible."
"You don’t know the half of it." He leaned in, the alcohol making him eager to explain exactly how wronged he had been. "That guy doesn’t deserve a girl like that. You see her? Beastkin, silver hair, cute as hell. And he’s treating her like... like..."
"Like she belongs to him?" The cloaked figure finished, and he heard the smile in her voice.
"Exactly!" He pointed a finger at her, nearly losing his balance. "She should be with someone who actually has status. Someone who can take care of her properly. Not some broke loser who dresses like a beggar."
"You seem like a man who knows his own worth." She said, tilting her head slowly. "It’s a shame someone like you had to suffer such... indignity."
He felt something warm spread through his chest, validation mixing with the alcohol. "Finally, someone who gets it. Everyone else in that guild just watched. Didn’t do a damn thing while he dragged me around like trash."
"Cowards," she said softly. "All of them."
"Yeah." He nodded hard, grabbing his mug and finding it empty. He set it down with a disappointed grunt. "Cowards."
The figure was quiet for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly against the table in a rhythm that somehow made Maren’s headache worse.
"Do you want revenge?" she asked, the question dropping so casually that it took a second to register.
He blinked at her. "What?"
"It’s a simple question." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that cut through the bar noise. "Do you want to kill him for what he did to you?"
He’d been thinking about beating Hajin senseless, breaking his legs, dragging that beastkin girl away and teaching her some manners right in front of him, but actually killing him?
"I..." He hesitated, the alcohol still there but something colder was pushing through. "I want him dead, yeah. He humiliated me. Nobody does that and just walks away."
"Good." She reached into her cloak and pulled out something.
A crystal core, but something was off about it. Normal monster cores were clear or tinted with elemental color, but this one was dark, almost black with veins of purple pulsing through it.
"A gift." She placed it on the table between them, the dark surface swallowing the candlelight. "Use this and get your revenge, make him understand exactly who he dared to cross."
Maren stared at the core, the drunk fog in his head clearing just enough for a warning bell to try and ring. "What’s the catch?"
"No catch." She stood up, the chair scraping again. "Only opportunity. You wanted to show him his place, didn’t you? Prove you’re the stronger one?"
"Yeah," he said, his eyes locked on the pulsing crystal. "I want him on his knees begging."
"Then accept it." Her voice came from above now, low and soft like she was sharing a secret. "The power is already yours. You just have to reach out and take it."
Maren’s hand moved before his brain could stop it. His fingers closed around the crystal and the moment he touched it something squirmed under his palm, writhing, like it’s alive.
He should have dropped it, any sane person would have dropped it and run.
But he thought about Hajin’s face. That calm, empty expression while he held Maren up by the throat. He thought about the laughter in the guild hall and the whispers that had followed him out the door. The way his friends had looked at him like he was nothing.
it really rubbed him the wrong way as his fist tightened around the core.
"I’ll kill him," he muttered, the words feeling right. "I’ll make him regret every second of what he did."
"Yes." The figure’s smile was audible even through the shadow of her hood. "You will."
She turned and walked toward the door, her cloak trailing behind her, moving between the tables without looking back. The bartender didn’t seem to notice her leaving, or maybe he hadn’t noticed her at all.
Maren sat alone at the table, the dark core clutched in his hand, staring at it while the purple veins pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Just you wait," he whispered, already picturing the moment when he would make Hajin bleed. "Just you fucking wait."