The Mercenaries of Mayhem sprinted down the road, hot on the trail of the Flaming Rat King, which was currently rampaging straight toward Border Town. The monstrous ball of burning rodents let out an unholy screech, setting fire to everything in its path—wooden fences, market stalls, and the occasional unlucky laundry line.
Bob ran at full speed, hammer in hand. "We need to stop it before it burns the town down!"
Jim, still shaking off smaller rats from his gauntlets, wheezed. "We need to stop it?! You guys set it on fire!"
Bam shrugged while jogging. "In my defense, fire was going to happen eventually."
Derek, keeping pace, glared. "No, it really wasn't."
Marcus, who had somehow managed to strap his crossbow to his back mid-run, pointed ahead. "Less talking! It's about to hit the market square!"
They collectively turned the corner—
—just in time to see the Flaming Rat King launch itself directly into a merchant's cart filled with fireworks.
There was a brief pause.
Then—
BOOM!
A colorful explosion erupted, launching flaming rats into the air like a twisted holiday celebration.
The market square, which had previously been filled with peaceful townsfolk buying produce, immediately dissolved into chaos.
"THE RATS ARE FALLING FROM THE SKY!" someone screamed.
"IT'S A PLAGUE OF FIRE!"
"MY CABBAGES!!"
The mercenaries barely had time to react before flaming rats began raining down like some divine punishment.
One hit Jim's shoulder. "GAAAHHH!" He flailed, trying to shake it off.
Another landed on Marcus's crossbow, promptly gnawing at the trigger.
Bob swatted away a flaming rat with his shield like he was playing some horrific version of tennis.
Bam just casually dodged each one, hands behind his back, like he had trained for this moment.
Meanwhile, the Rat King, now even more on fire, was bouncing wildly through market stalls, knocking over barrels and sending townspeople running.
Derek gritted his teeth. "Enough! We end this now!"
Bob raised his hammer. "Alright! Marcus, shoot it!"
Marcus, frantically reloading, took aim—just as the flaming rat on his crossbow bit down and accidentally fired the bolt too early.
The shot went wide, hitting a nearby shop sign, which snapped off—
—falling directly onto Jim.
Jim collapsed under the wooden sign, muffled curses coming from beneath it.
Derek sighed. "Fine. I'll do it." He sprinted forward, sword raised, ready to deliver the final blow—
—only for the Rat King to suddenly bounce off a cart and ricochet straight at him.
Bob, thinking fast (for once), tackled Derek out of the way—sending both of them crashing into a fruit stand.
Jim, still under the sign, groaned. "I hate this team."
The Rat King, still aflame, skittered onto the roof of a house, setting the thatched roof on fire.
Bam nodded approvingly. "Majestic."
Derek, peeling a banana off his face, growled, "Bam! Do something useful!"
Bam considered for a moment. "Okay."
He pointed both hands at the flaming creature.
"…Wait," Derek said, suddenly realizing what was happening.
BOOM!
A massive fireball engulfed the Rat King—blowing it and the entire house into pieces.
The force of the explosion sent everyone flying backward, crashing into stalls, barrels, and, in Jim's case, a particularly angry goose.
When the dust settled, all that remained of the Rat King was a charred crater where a house had once stood.
Silence fell over the market.
Bob sat up first, brushing off debris. "Well. That worked."
Derek lay on his back, staring at the sky, questioning every choice in his life.
Marcus groaned from under a pile of broken wood. "Technically, we did kill it."
Jim, still wrestling the angry goose, grumbled, "At what cost?"
Bam nodded, completely unfazed by the destruction. "There are always exceptions."
Then, from somewhere in the distance—
"YOU IDIOTS!!!"
The guild official stormed into the market square, eyes burning with rage. Behind her, a crowd of furious merchants, guards, and homeowners who had just lost their houses followed.
Bob coughed. "So… do we still get paid?"
The answer, judging by the way the mob started chasing them, was no.