The Mercenaries of Mayhem stood inside the mercenary guild, waiting for their next job assignment. Across the counter, the guild official—a tired-looking woman who had clearly seen some things—rubbed her temples.
"This is very simple," she said, sliding the job request toward them. "The town outskirts are infested with rats because of the growing trash piles. Your task is to clean up the garbage and get rid of the rats without causing unnecessary destruction."
She gave Bam a particularly sharp look.
Bam blinked. "Why are you looking at me?"
"Because every time you're involved, something catches on fire," she said flatly. "The entire forest burned down last time."
Bob chuckled. "Oh yeah, that was a classic!"
Derek, ever the responsible one, sighed. "We'll handle it."
The official wasn't convinced. "Just… no explosions, no fireballs, no 'creative solutions' that somehow involve setting things ablaze."
Bam raised a hand. "What if—"
"No exceptions."
Bam folded his arms and pouted.
The guild official exhaled. "The mayor personally asked me to remind you: If anything catches fire this time, you will be fined."
Bob gave a thumbs-up. "Got it. No fire."
And with that, the team set off on their noble quest to take out the trash.
The outskirts of Border Town were disgusting.
Piles of rotting food, shattered barrels, and suspiciously gooey substances littered the area. The smell alone was bad enough to make even Jim wrinkle his nose—and Jim had willingly eaten food he found on the floor before.
Bob cracked his knuckles. "Alright, let's do this."
Derek took a disciplined approach, carefully collecting trash and tying it into neat sacks.
Bob, less elegant, used his massive shield to shove entire piles of junk into a corner.
Jim—because he refused to use tools—punched trash into smaller, more manageable pieces.
Marcus, being the genius of the group, had designed a "Trash Retrieval System" using a rope, a pulley, and a crossbow. It immediately malfunctioned and yeeted a fish head straight into Bam's face.
Bam wiped fish guts off his robe and muttered, "I could burn this whole pile away in seconds, you know."
Derek shot him a look. "No fire."
Bam sighed dramatically.
Just as things were going somewhat smoothly, they heard a noise.
A low, eerie rustling came from the largest trash pile.
Then the pile shuddered.
Then it erupted.
From the depths of the garbage rose a massive creature—a tangled, writhing mass of rats, all knotted together by their filthy, matted tails. A Rat King.
It squeaked in unholy fury, its dozens of glowing eyes locking onto the mercenaries.
Jim recoiled. "OH, HELL NO."
Derek gritted his teeth. "A rat king. This isn't good."
Bob blinked. "I thought Rat Kings were just a myth."
Marcus tilted his head. "Nope. It's a real thing. Usually happens when—"
"I DON'T NEED THE SCIENCE!" Jim shouted as the rat king charged.
Derek reacted first, swinging his massive sword at the beast. The blade slashed through the writhing mass, but the rat king rolled like a cursed ball of fur, dodging the strike.
Jim lunged in, fists flying. His iron gauntlets crunched into one of the rats, but that only angered the creature. It leaped at him, wrapping dozens of tiny claws and teeth around his arm.
Jim flailed. "GODS, IT'S ON ME! GET IT OFF!"
Bob, thinking quickly, swung his hammer—directly at Jim.
"WAIT—"
BOOM!
Jim was sent flying into a nearby trash heap. The rat king, barely fazed, turned toward Bob.
Marcus, ever the inventor, raised his crossbow. "Hold still! I'll shoot it!"
Bob immediately moved.
The bolt missed and ricocheted—
—straight into Bam's robe.
Bam looked down at the embedded arrow, then at Marcus.
Marcus gulped. "Uh—"
Bam reflexively cast Fireball.
The flaming spell hit the rat king—which should have been a good thing.
Except the rat king was standing on top of a massive pile of grease-covered trash.
The garbage pile exploded into flames.
In mere seconds, the entire dump site turned into a raging inferno of burning garbage and screaming rats.
The rat king, now on fire, shrieked and took off sprinting—directly toward Border Town.
The mercenaries watched in stunned silence.
"…Should we stop it?" Bob asked.
Jim, still brushing rats off himself, groaned. "You stop it."
Marcus shrugged. "Technically, if the rats leave the dump, we completed the job."
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "We are so getting fined for this."
Bam, watching the fire spread, simply nodded. "There are always exceptions."
Then Bob clapped his hands. "Alright, team! Let's go chase that flaming rat abomination before it sets the town on fire!"
And with that, they took off running after the rampaging inferno of chaos they had absolutely created.