"Well, well," the creature sneered, a crooked smile stretching across its narrow snout. "Look what we've got here—uninvited guests."
Ashel turned slowly, blinking in disbelief. Standing before her were four humanoid mice— all attitude. Their patchy fur was mottled with grime, and the stench of damp iron clung to them. Each carried a weapon that looked scavenged from a junkyard: chipped blades, bent daggers, and a crude axe almost too big for their arms.
The trio stepped forward in unison, puffing out their chests like actors in a second-rate play. The leader jabbed a clawed finger toward her, his tail flicking dramatically.
"Listen well, human!" he bellowed. "We are the Black Claws Gang!"
The others struck poses behind him—one flexed, another tried to flip his dagger (and nearly dropped it). Thunder rumbled in the distance, like the universe itself couldn't help but play along.
Ashel just blinked. "Did you guys… practice that?"
Number Two grinned proudly. "Three times this week!"
She rubbed her temples. "Wow. I don't know whether to fight you or applaud."
The leader growled, trying to sound intimidating. "Mock us and suffer, girl! The Black Claws fear no one!"
Right on cue, Number Three sneezed, sending his weapon clattering to the ground.
Her brow lifted. "Wow," she muttered. "A giant mouse that talks. That's new."
The thinnest one stepped forward, tail twitching like a live wire. "You got a screw loose, girl?" His nose wrinkled as he looked her up and down, like he was deciding whether she was edible.
Ashel grinned. "Oh, this world just keeps getting weirder." She folded her arms, muttering under her breath, "A talking mouse with weapons. What's next, a singing toad?"
Behind her, a smooth, amused voice chimed in. "Darling, there are plenty of strange creatures in this world. Best get used to it."
She shot a glare over her shoulder. "Stop calling me that."
Darius only smiled wider. "Can't help it. The name fits you too well."
Before she could retort, the thin mouse snorted. "You flirting with a kid, pretty boy? Sounds like we found ourselves a pervert."
The others cackled, shrill laughter echoing through the clearing.
Darius's smile didn't fade, but the air shifted—cold and sharp. "You should watch your tongue," he said softly. "Before someone cuts it out." His gaze met theirs, calm and steady, and even the leader's whiskers trembled.
"I'm not a kid!" Ashel snapped, stamping her foot. "Say that again, and I'll make you regret it!"
The gang howled louder. "She thinks she's grown!" one jeered.
Her voice rose. "You'll be rethinking those words ten times before I'm done with you!"
The laughter only grew until Darius stepped forward. "That's no way to speak to a lady," he said smoothly. "And for the record…" He gave Ashel a sidelong look, his tone dipping to a teasing murmur. "She's very much an adult."
The leader hefted his axe, baring his teeth. "Doesn't matter what she is. Hand over your belongings—and your ourin—or we'll take them off your corpses."
Darius tilted his head, unimpressed. "You gutter rats belong exactly where you're standing."
The leader snarled. "What did you just say?"
Darius smiled, slow and sharp. "You heard me."
The mice hesitated, fur bristling. The leader's grip tightened. And Ashel, standing beside Darius, grinned like someone who'd just been handed a challenge.
"Fine," she whispered. "Let's see who scurries first."
The white screen pop up.
SYSTEM: QUEST UPDATED — ASHEL, DEFEAT THE BLACK CLAW GANG.
"What?!" Ashel's voice cracked. "Are you kidding me right now?" she thought that she would let Darius handle.
Number Two bared his teeth. "What are you yelling for, huh?"
Number Three nodded eagerly. "Yeah, yeah! Stop screaming, brat."
Before Ashel could respond, Number Four lunged with a wild cry. "Yaaah!" His axe swung through the air, but she dodged just in time. The blade slammed into the stone wall with a loud clang, showering dust through the alley.
Ashel stumbled back, smacking against the wall. "Are you insane? This place is too damn small for your oversized tantrums!"
Number Two groaned, clutching his head. "Ugh! Number Four, can't you even hit a petite girl?"
Number Four, still flat on the ground, wheezed. "She moved!"
Darius's chair scraped back as he stood. His calm expression darkened, eyes flashing with quiet fury as he stepped to Ashel's side. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice low but tight.
Ashel rubbed her head, grimacing. "Do I look alright to you?"
He exhaled slowly. "Let me handle this."
"Handle—?"
Before she could finish, Darius turned toward Number Four, his tone dropping several degrees colder. "How dare you." His stare locked onto the trembling mouse, sharp and merciless.
Number Four froze, fur standing on end. "Wh–what's happening to me…?"
"Darius!" Ashel snapped. "Stop!"
He looked over his shoulder, eyes still burning. "Why?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Because this is my fight," she said, voice steady now.
The mice blinked, unsure whether to laugh or run.
Darius's expression softened, one corner of his mouth curving. "You're really going to fight with that?"
Ashel smirked. "Watch me."
Ashel strode toward number four as he staggered upright, his crooked grin stretching wider.
"What's wrong, little girl? Gonna cry for mommy?" he sneered, leaning close enough for her to smell his foul breath.
Her hand moved before he finished the sentence. The slap cracked through the alley like a gunshot.
Number Four spun backward, hitting the dirt hard before his friends caught him.
"What the hell, Number Four?!" one shouted. "How can a tiny thing like her knock you flat?"
"She's... strong," he groaned, voice glitching like static.
"Impossible," muttered Number Two, turning toward their leader.
Number One's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching near his temple. "Something's off about her," he said quietly. "Look."
The others followed his gaze.
Ashel stood still-expression blank, eyes distant. For a second, it looked like she wanted to speak. Her lips parted just slightly, then stopped. Something inside her shifted, and her pupils rolled upward until only the whites remained.
The ground around her darkened, shadows crawling up her legs like they'd found their master.
Darius felt it first-the air getting heavier, sharp with a pressure that made breathing feel like punishment. He moved to call her name, then froze. Every instinct screamed that one wrong move would end him.
Number One barked, "Enough! Drop the act before I-"
He never finished. Ashel was gone and then instantly in front of him, her fist slamming into his stomach. The sound that came out of him was ugly and final.
Number Three had Number Four locked by the arm, dragging him backward. Number Two-face pale, nerves fried-snatched the weapon from Number Three's grip the moment he was distracted.
"Fine, I'll do it!" Number Two shouted, though it sounded more like a plea than courage. He pointed the blade toward her, shaking so hard the weapon trembled with him.
Ashel turned her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips-something wrong in it. Then she moved. Number Two hit the ground before he even realised she'd struck him. The weapon clattered beside him.
Number Three stumbled, still holding Number Four, but Ashel was already there. She yanked Four free and slammed him against the wall. The rain started then-soft at first, like the world itself was trying to wash away what it just saw.
Number Three tried to attack bare-handed. She didn't bother to block. Her fist connected with his jaw, sending him crumpling next to the others.
The rain poured harder, soaking through Darius's coat, dripping from Ashel's hair. She stood in the middle of it all, silent. Then, slowly, her head tilted, and a grin crawled across her face-something monstrous and too calm to be human.
Before Darius could take a step, she was gone. Vanished. No flash, no sound-just rain and the bodies she left behind.
He stood there, watching the spot where she'd been, heart hammering, trying to convince himself she'd ever been there at all.
Ashel.. Darius whispered.
The rain kept coming, hard enough to blur the world into a smear of grey and mud.
It sluiced over Darius's coat and ran down his face, but he didn't move from the place where Ashel had vanished.
The spot was empty save for puddles that hid blood and the soft, ugly shapes of bodies.
A ragged cough cracked the silence. Number One sagged against a broken wall, chest collapsing with each breath. He spat into the mud and let out something like a laugh-thin, wet, half-crazed.
"You humans," he rasped, voice full of venom, "always look down on us. Always that disgust in your eyes... like we're dirt under your feet."
Darius stepped forward until the mud whispered beneath his boots and knelt without ceremony.
Rain stitched his hair to his forehead. Number Three crawled through the sludge toward Number Four's unmoving form, hands shaking.
"Number Four-wake up!" he pleaded, shaking the body as if noise could bring life back. Nothing answered him but the rain.
Number One's laugh broke again, sharper this time. He stared at Darius with bloody teeth and a humorless grin.
"You came to see us, didn't you?" he said. "Wanna see how disgusting rats like us die?"
The words were a dare, soaked in contempt and something rawer-years of being looked past.
Number Three scrambled to his feet despite the pain, clutching his side.
"Boss-don't-he's dying'! Don't hurt him!" His voice cracked; snot and rain mixed on his face.
Number One barked, "Step aside, Number Three," but his own hands trembled as he spoke.
Darius's face did not change. He let the rain wash his features cold and steady, then leaned closer so his voice cut through the storm.
"Tell me something," he said quietly, "who gave you those numbers names?"