Kalem stared at the paper in his hand, trying to make sense of the strange designation. The bureaucrat behind the counter glanced up from a stack of documents, noting his confusion.
"Hey, I think my deployment order got mixed up. It says 'pseudo' instead of any unit insignia," Kalem pointed out.
The bureaucrat barely looked up from his papers. "Kalem, right? That's the correct one. The insignia means you are to depart on your own."
Kalem frowned. "Yeah, but what—"
"Just go. The officer at the front line will explain," the bureaucrat interrupted, waving him off dismissively.
Kalem sighed, folding the paper before slipping it into his pocket. He turned away from the counter, muttering to himself. "Looks like we're on our own, Onyx."
The massive bull, adorned in full armor, snorted as if in agreement. Kalem took the reins, guiding the beast out of the city gate. The cart creaked under the weight of supplies and weapons, each carefully prepared for the upcoming journey.
A few minutes into the journey, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows along the road. Kalem's gaze remained forward, but his senses were on high alert. The quiet wasn't natural—not on this road.
Suddenly, he halted Onyx, his hand tightening on the reins. "Come out. Now."
There was a rustle in the underbrush on both sides of the road. A group of armed men emerged, their faces partially hidden by cloth masks. One of them, wearing a distinct badge with a raven emblem, stepped forward.
"Corvine Syndicate," Kalem said flatly, eyes narrowing.
The leader of the group chuckled. "You're a quick one."
Kalem glanced at the badge. "Not to be rude, but you're literally wearing it on your chest."
The man scoffed. "Well, since you know, it saves me the introduction. I hope you understand why we're here?"
Kalem tilted his head, seemingly unimpressed. "Let me guess—you're here to kill a guy who wiped out a horde of monsters with just twenty men."
The leader's eyes narrowed, his hand twitching toward his weapon. "Since you know, this'll be a happy ending."
Kalem smirked. "Happy ending, huh? I agree."
Before any of them could react, Kalem flicked his wrist, sending a pair of daggers flying through the air. The blades twisted and turned, weaving around each other like serpents. In a blur of motion, they found their marks—one embedding itself in the leader's throat, the other slicing through the tendon of a man reaching for his bow.
The remaining assassins hesitated, unsure whether to advance or retreat. Kalem wasted no time. With a flick of his finger, the daggers reversed direction, circling back and cutting through two more throats.
A single survivor managed to draw his blade, lunging at Kalem with a desperate yell. Kalem sidestepped smoothly, hooking his foot around the man's ankle and sending him sprawling to the ground.
One of the men, still alive but bleeding out, rasped, "H-how...?"
Kalem picked up one of his daggers, cleaning the blade on the man's cloak. "Twiststeel. Enchanted to follow a path I set. You should have done your research."
The assassin coughed, blood staining his lips. "We... underestimated you."
Kalem crouched down, cold eyes meeting the dying man's. "And that's why you're dead."
He whistled, and the daggers spun back to his hands, the steel gleaming in the fading sunlight. Onyx remained calm throughout the entire ordeal, occasionally snorting at the scent of blood.
Kalem inspected the bodies, rifling through their pockets. He found a scrap of parchment with a crude map marking his route. "Someone's been tracking me."
He glanced back down the road, pondering whether more syndicate members would follow. The Corvine Syndicate was notorious for hunting down targets without fail, but Kalem hadn't expected them to act so openly.
After ensuring none of the men were playing dead, Kalem gathered their weapons into a pile and set it ablaze with a small flicker from his fire sword. The smell of burning leather and cloth filled the air.
"Happy ending," Kalem murmured to himself, echoing the assassin's last words.
He climbed back onto the cart, giving Onyx a gentle tap. "Let's move."
As they continued down the road, Kalem couldn't help but think about the syndicate's motives. Had someone hired them, or were they acting on their own? The most likely answer was that one of his past encounters had drawn their attention, and now they deemed him a threat.
"Trouble seems to follow me everywhere," Kalem muttered, glancing back one more time to ensure no one else was on his trail.
The next few miles passed without incident, the forest gradually giving way to open plains. Kalem took a deep breath, enjoying the breeze that replaced the tense air of combat.
Suddenly, he spotted a group of soldiers patrolling the road ahead. Their armor bore the insignia of the front line's regional command. Kalem approached cautiously, signaling Onyx to slow down.
One of the soldiers, noticing his approach, raised a hand in greeting. "You the solo deployment from the capital?"
Kalem nodded. "Yeah. Pseudo designation."
The soldier nodded. "We were told to expect you. Follow this path to the camp. The officer in charge will brief you."
Kalem gave a curt nod of thanks before urging Onyx onward. As they made their way to the camp, he couldn't help but wonder why he had been given a solo deployment. Most new arrivals were assigned to squads or units. Being sent alone felt like an odd choice.
Once they reached the camp, Kalem spotted a group of veterans training in the clearing. Their movements were fluid and practiced—clearly seasoned fighters. Kalem dismounted, giving Onyx a reassuring pat.
The officer on duty approached, his expression unreadable. "Kalem, right?"
"That's me."
The officer handed him a small, sealed letter. "Your orders. And before you ask, yes, pseudo designation means you'll be operating independently. You'll be stationed as a mobile support for skirmish operations."
Kalem raised an eyebrow. "You mean I'm going to be sent wherever they need someone disposable."
The officer smirked. "Something like that. You've made quite a name for yourself with that last mission. The higher-ups are curious to see how well you do alone."
Kalem folded his arms, unimpressed. "Not exactly reassuring."
"Front lines aren't meant to be. Get used to it," the officer said, walking away.
Kalem let out a sigh. "Great. Just what I needed—another headache."
He turned to Onyx, who huffed in response. "Guess we'll be doing things solo for a while, buddy."
As Kalem set up his temporary camp, he couldn't help but reflect on how quickly his reputation had spread. But reputation didn't mean much if it only made him more of a target.
"Looks like I'll have to stay sharp," Kalem muttered, watching the sun dip below the horizon.