Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

The putrid form of the Malifuge rippled, dissolving into mere flickers of malice energy. Aurel stepped back, a ragged breath escaping his lips as silence descended. Then, shadows stirred. Darkcuties, tiny forms jittering with excitement, scuttled from the room's corners toward the dissipating remnants. They moved erratically, yet with purpose, like miniature harvesters absorbing the fading energy.

Aurel watched, a brow raised, his expression softening into rare amusement. "Oh, how cute," he murmured, his voice laced with a playful tone. "Go on, darkcuties. Harvest to your heart's content." He spoke to them as if they were his pets, a faint grin tugging at his lips despite the bizarre scene. Their flickering shadows danced in celebration, their chaotic presence oddly endearing in the wake of destruction.

Then, Aurel froze. His amusement vanished as his sharp instincts flared. He stood perfectly still, his hand shifting on his blade's hilt, focus narrowing. His voice dropped, calm and measured, as he spoke, not to the darkcuties, but to something hidden.

"Alright, whoever you are," Aurel said, his gaze steady and piercing, "you can come out now."

A suspended moment of silence hung heavy until—BANG!—a loud crash echoed, followed by a heavy thud. Aurel spun to see a man sprawled on the stone floor, limbs tangled in his robes. He groaned, pushing himself up awkwardly, clearly disoriented. Dust clung to his hair and glasses, the latter askew.

It was the scholar.

Aurel's eyes narrowed, studying the man who looked up with a mix of astonishment and nervous excitement. The scholar's gaze flickered between Aurel and the darkcuties still jittering around the Malifuge's remains, his eyes wide with dawning realization. "So…" the scholar began, his voice rising with enthusiasm, "You can see them? You can see them!?"

The scholar's question hung, charged with wonder. He was visibly thrilled, as though he'd just unearthed a profound secret. Aurel didn't reply, his thoughts churning, processing the sudden appearance and the man's words. A palpable tension filled the air, yet an undeniable shared intrigue—two minds grappling with the mysteries of chaos—bound them.

The darkcuties continued their lively harvest as Aurel turned his attention back to the unexpected arrival. He observed the disheveled man, still dusted from his clumsy fall. The scholar adjusted his glasses, looking at Aurel with wide-eyed, animated enthusiasm.

"So," Aurel began, his tone calm but probing, "You can see them too?"

"Ah, no, I can't," the man replied casually, waving a dismissive hand. "But the way you acted, it was as if you were seeing them! During the battle, your movements—oh, incredible!" The scholar suddenly burst into a comical reenactment, miming sword swings and exaggerated action sounds. "You were like—swish, clang, whoosh! Oh, and that final blow? Genius!" He clapped his hands, beaming. "Gosh, mister, you're so strong!"

Aurel blinked, caught off guard by the scholar's antics. He couldn't tell if the man's enthusiasm was endearing or simply irritating. But as the scholar straightened his glasses, dusting himself off absentmindedly, Aurel's mind drifted back to his mission details. The description matched perfectly—slim build, glasses, strange personality. So, this is him.

Aurel crossed his arms, his voice cutting through the scholar's rambles. "Ah, so you're that scholar, huh?"

The man froze, blinking as realization dawned. "Oh! I'm so sorry—I completely forgot to introduce myself!" He bowed, a hurried, awkward movement that only added to his eccentricity. "I am Clyde Ernest, a scholar dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of the Mystic Bloom."

Aurel let the words settle, glancing back at the lingering darkcuties celebrating their harvest. His gaze returned to Clyde, who looked up with excitement and curiosity, clearly eager to share his findings—or perhaps dig deeper into Aurel's.

The pieces of this strange puzzle were beginning to fit, though Aurel felt the weight of even more questions settling in his mind. Clyde's presence, his fascination, the connection to the Malifuge—it all pointed to something much larger than either of them.

"Well, let's get you to safety first, then we'll talk later."

The Next Day: A New Proposition

The next day, Aurel stood at the village's edge, his hand resting on his sword hilt, staring at the distant horizon. The quiet was soon broken by hurried footsteps and an unmistakable voice. "Aurel! Aurel!" Clyde's enthusiastic tone pierced the still air, accompanied by his slightly disheveled figure bounding toward him.

Aurel turned, a raised eyebrow conveying his unimpressed demeanor. "What is it now, glasses boy?" he asked, his voice measured. "Here to talk about the Malifuge?"

"Ah, well—" Clyde waved a dismissive hand, catching his breath. "We can do that later. Right now, I want you to meet my backers! They're offering you a job!" He grinned widely, practically bouncing on his heels. "Isn't this exciting? You'll be my bodyguard!"

Aurel's gaze sharpened, skepticism betraying his calm tone. "Bodyguard?" he echoed, narrowing his eyes at Clyde. "It's nice and all, but there's no free lunch here, sir. My services aren't free."

"Of course I know that, silly!" Clyde replied without missing a beat, his grin unwavering. "That's why, if you agree, we'll discuss the terms with my benefactors. Trust me, they're more than prepared to compensate you for your… incredible skills."

Aurel paused, crossing his arms as his gaze lingered on Clyde. He was quiet for a long moment, his thoughts racing. If I go with this glasses boy, I might learn more about those Malifuge thingies. But bodyguarding him… this guy doesn't look like he can fight. If something goes wrong, it's going to be dangerous for both of us.

He fixed his eyes on Clyde, who, despite being under scrutiny, seemed delighted by Aurel's murmuring and distracted expression. Clyde's amusement was unmistakable—like one weirdo observing another.

Finally, Aurel spoke, his tone laced with reluctant agreement. "Alright, fine. I'll go with you. But…" He paused, his tone shifting slightly. "I have an agent—this guy Leto. I can't leave him out of the loop."

"Leto?" Clyde asked curiously, tilting his head. "Oh, sure! Let's bring him along." His excitement grew as he straightened his glasses once more. "The more the merrier, right?"

The Grand Hall: Terms of Employment

Aurel, Leto, and Clyde entered the estate's grand hall, its dim lighting casting long shadows across the stone walls. At the far end stood Vera, a woman with an air of mystery, her sharp eyes studying them as they approached. Her presence demanded attention; the two men beside her sat silently, letting her command the room.

"Good day to you gentlemen," Vera began, her voice smooth and poised. "I am Vera, and I believe you are here for the bodyguard position?" Her gaze shifted sharply to Leto. "And who is this man?"

Aurel stepped forward, his tone steady and firm. "He's my agent. We're mercenaries, and he's my partner. He does all the paperwork."

Vera's eyebrow raised slightly, though her expression remained controlled. "Ah, I wasn't informed. Originally, we were here to discuss hiring you as a bodyguard. Of course, the pay will be substantial, but… your agent. Hmm." She studied Leto briefly. "I'm sure we can arrange something for you, too. Come, let's get inside."

She gestured for them to follow her into the meeting room, where three of Clyde's backers sat in polished chairs alongside her. Opposite them were Clyde, Aurel, and Leto. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Vera sat at the center of the table, her presence commanding attention as she addressed the group.

"First, I would like to thank you gentlemen for coming," she began smoothly. "And, of course, thank you for saving Clyde. We are an organization dedicated to researching the Malice Bloom. Our group is backed by powerful Divinants, nobility, researchers renowned in their fields, and other figures whose names I cannot share at this time. Rest assured, our purpose and actions are for the good of all. Now, we are here to discuss your employment with us, should you agree, and come to terms."

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Aurel leaned back slightly, his sharp gaze shifting between Vera and her associates. "I'd agree to be his bodyguard," he said plainly, "but how much are you paying?" His eyes flicked to Leto, as if prompting him to speak, but Leto gave no reply.

Vera's lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes locking with Aurel's. "Pay is not an issue. However…" She paused briefly, studying Aurel's expression. "You don't seem overly concerned about the money, but rather about the man beside you. Am I right?"

Aurel nodded curtly. "He's my agent. If I accept this job, what of him? I can't leave him be—we're partners."

Vera inclined her head slightly, her smile widening. "We know about you, Mr. Leto. We've done our research—your accomplishments, your long tenure as a mercenary. You are getting older and have expressed interest in retiring. That's why you've transitioned to brokering work with Mr. Aurel, correct?"

Leto blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the depth of Vera's knowledge. He hesitated before nodding slowly. "Yes… That's right."

Vera's voice softened slightly, carrying a tone of assurance. "How about this? Mr. Leto, we propose that you work for us. We will ensure you no longer need to live the life of a mercenary, nor scrape by with scraps from the streets."

Leto's eyes widened slightly, his amazement giving way to a spark of excitement. "You mean… no more mercenary work?"

Vera nodded. "That's correct. We will provide you with stable, non-dangerous duties within our operations."

Leto glanced at Aurel, then back at Vera, before nodding eagerly. "Alright. I'll do it."

Vera gestured for one of her associates to escort Leto to another room to discuss the details further. As Leto left, he gave Aurel a thumbs-up, his expression brimming with approval. Aurel smirked faintly, returning the gesture. "At least that's sorted," he muttered to himself.

Vera turned her attention back to Aurel, her sharp gaze steady. "Now, Mr. Aurel. Let's discuss your terms."

Aurel leaned forward slightly, his tone unwavering. "I won't ask for much," he began, glancing briefly at Clyde. "Just like him, I want to learn about the mysteries of the Malice Bloom—and other mysteries of this world. I agree to be his bodyguard, but you will pay for everything we need. I'll protect him with everything I have, but you will support us fully—resources, information, whatever we require."

Vera blinked, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected demand. After a moment, she nodded, her composure intact. "If resources and funding are what you need, Mr. Aurel, we have no problem with that. Consider it done."

"And one more thing," Aurel added, his voice sharp. "I want the best sword you can offer—a weapon suited for a warrior like me."

Vera's smile returned, this time carrying a hint of intrigue. "A sword? I'm sure we can arrange that as well. You have my word."

The deal was sealed. Aurel felt a faint sense of satisfaction as Clyde practically bounced in his seat with excitement. Their partnership was official, and the journey ahead promised answers, challenges, and perhaps even more mysteries waiting to be uncovered.

Unraveling the Malice Bloom: Clyde's Theory

Aurel and Clyde sat in the corner of the tavern, the warm glow of lanterns flickering against the wooden walls. The gentle hum of conversation surrounded them, but Aurel's focus was solely on Clyde. He leaned back in his chair, his sword resting beside him, and spoke with a steady, direct tone.

"Alright, Clyde," Aurel began. "You've been studying the Malice Bloom. Tell me everything you know—the history, the patterns, the anomalies."

Clyde adjusted his glasses, his eyes lighting up as his scholarly enthusiasm bubbled over. "The Malice Bloom," he started, leaning forward as if to share a secret, "is one of the greatest and most dangerous phenomena known to humanity. It's cyclical, emerging periodically like some twisted force of nature. The Bloom spreads malice energy over vast territories, corrupting everything it touches—ecosystems, people, entire regions."

"And historically?" Aurel prompted, his gaze sharp but calm.

"Historically, it's followed predictable cycles," Clyde explained, pushing his glasses up his nose. "The Bloom develops in stages. At first, minor malice zones form—corrupted pockets that gradually expand. Then larger regions fall into chaos, malice feeding on itself until the Bloom reaches its apex. After a time, the energy wanes, leaving behind destruction that can take decades to recover from."

Clyde's voice dropped slightly, his tone shifting. "But this current Bloom—it's completely different."

Aurel's brows furrowed. "Different how?"

"The malice zones are forming without warning," Clyde said, his voice taking on a nervous edge. "Completely erratic, localized, and far more concentrated than anything we've seen before. There's no gradual build-up, no discernible progression. It's as if the Bloom has been… accelerated, manipulated."

Aurel stiffened slightly at the word "manipulated," but his expression remained unreadable. He knew Clyde was unknowingly brushing against the truth—the Athenari's involvement. But he kept silent, choosing not to reveal his own knowledge just yet.

"And then there are the Malifuge," Clyde continued, his tone darkening. "Those creatures—like the one you fought—they've never been documented in the historical records of the Bloom. They're new. They don't fit the established patterns."

Aurel nodded slowly, his gaze steady as he processed Clyde's explanation. "So, the Malifuge are tied to these anomalies. What else do you know about them?"

"They feed on malice energy," Clyde replied, "drawing strength from it and spreading corruption in their wake. But their behavior is peculiar. They're not random—they appear in areas of the most intense malice concentration, almost as though drawn to it, or…" His voice trailed off, the weight of his own hypothesis leaving him in thoughtful silence. "Or something is bringing them forth."

The tavern seemed quieter for a moment as Aurel leaned back, his hand resting on the table. His thoughts churned, weighing Clyde's observations against his own knowledge. Finally, he said, "Alright. Let's keep digging. We're nowhere near the truth yet."

A Shared Secret: Aurel's Sight

Aurel leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considered Clyde's question. The scholar was undeniably persistent, but there was something genuine about his curiosity—something that made Aurel pause.

"Look," Clyde began, his tone soft but insistent, "I observed your fight with that Malifuge. You seem to see things I don't. Tell me about it." His gaze held a mixture of intrigue and excitement, as if he knew he was teetering on the edge of a revelation.

Aurel didn't reply immediately. Instead, he straightened, his instincts flaring as he scanned Clyde intently for any lingering malice energy. He knew better than to trust anyone blindly, but as his focus settled on Clyde, he found nothing—not a trace of corruption or malice tethered to the scholar. Aurel exhaled, his grip loosening slightly on his sword. I can trust him.

"Alright," Aurel said at last, his tone steady but laced with a hint of caution. "I'll tell you. But promise me—you won't tell anyone about me seeing them. Not a soul."

Clyde's eyes lit up, his excitement bubbling over as he hurriedly nodded. "I promise with all my heart!" he exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest with theatrical sincerity. "I swear to the old Gods—I won't tell a soul or even a non-soul."

Aurel's lips twitched faintly in a half-smirk at Clyde's dramatics, though his expression remained guarded. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into a quieter, more deliberate tone. "Alright then. Listen carefully…"

The Cycle of Chaos: Clyde's Grand Theory

Aurel sat quietly, his expression unreadable as Clyde eagerly leaned forward, adjusting his glasses with a faint gleam of excitement. Clyde began, his words deliberate but charged with curiosity. "So… the circle of the Malice Bloom. That's it. As per the old records, if the Bloom is cyclical, then there must be a system in place."

Aurel, his curiosity piqued despite his reluctance to share further details, tilted his head slightly. "Explain."

Clyde straightened in his seat, his scholarly enthusiasm kicking in as he outlined his theory. "Alright, let's break it down. Let's assume the Malice Bloom operates in a cycle—say every hundred years. If we go back to the old records, there's evidence of harbingers. These aren't just ordinary creatures—they're like commanders. Signs of their appearance mark the beginning of the Bloom. Witnesses have recorded accounts of harbingers killing other monsters when the Bloom ends, almost as if they were stopping the cycle themselves."

Aurel frowned slightly but nodded, urging Clyde to continue. "So what are you saying?"

"Don't you see?" Clyde asked, his voice gaining fervor. "Based on our research, there must be powers that govern this cycle—like a system, an operational force. These harbingers seem to act as supervisors, generals, ensuring the Bloom operates properly. If the cycle becomes unstable or if its purpose is fulfilled, they intervene to halt it."

Clyde paused briefly, gathering his thoughts. He gestured animatedly as he said, "Now, you mentioned something about these 'darkcuties'—the creatures you can see, yes? You said they collect energy from humans without killing them. That would make them Gatherers."

Aurel narrowed his eyes, observing Clyde carefully but saying nothing.

"These Gatherers—like your darkcuties—must harvest malice or chaos energy from humans during the Bloom, acting as collectors," Clyde continued. "And the harbingers—supervisors or generals—manage the process. As per the records, when monsters die or destroy things during the Bloom, they don't leave physical remains. Instead, they dissolve into raw energy."

"Raw energy?" Aurel repeated, his tone skeptical.

"Yes!" Clyde said with confidence. "The question is: Where does this energy go? Is it absorbed into the land? Into nature? No… I don't think so. If malice energy, chaos energy, is inherent in humans—their emotions, their fears, their anger—then the cycle might return it to the people themselves. It could be redistributed, replenished into humanity as a whole, creating a never-ending loop of planting, harvesting, and growth."

Aurel frowned slightly, clearly grappling with the complexity of Clyde's hypothesis. "You're saying… chaos energy cycles through people? And the Bloom just… redistributes it?"

"Exactly," Clyde replied, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "But let me simplify it for you. Think of it like this: The seeds are planted in the soil—that's us humans. The farmers collect the fruits of the plant—that's the darkcuties gathering malice. Somewhere along the way, the fruits become monsters, and those monsters dissolve into seeds again, ready for planting. It's a cycle—a system that feeds itself."

Aurel sat back, arms crossed as he processed the explanation. "You're saying this cycle isn't random. It's… controlled."

"Yes," Clyde replied earnestly, "but what's controlling it—that's the mystery. And that's why we need to keep digging. If the cycle exists, it's because someone—or something—built it."