The tavern was quiet in the early morning, lit only by slanted sunlight bleeding through the shutters.
The scent of ash, damp wood, and last night's ale lingered in the air like a hangover that wouldn't die.
Calen was wiping down the bar when the barkeep grunted and nearly dropped a barrel of liquor.
"Where in the bloody sunfire are the lads who're meant to haul this?" she growled.
Without a word, Calen stepped over, wrapped his small hands around the thick rope handles, and lifted the barrel like it was no heavier than a basket of bread.
The barkeep stared.
"…You're stronger than you look," she muttered.
He gave her a faint shrug. "Reinforced skeletal structure."
"…Whatever that means, keep doing it." She jerked her thumb toward the cellar door. "You still want that rat-clearing job?"
Calen nodded.
"Good. Down there's the side cellar. We keep losing stock—meat, bread, sometimes bottles. Thought it was drunks. Or the cook. But last night I heard scratching. Big kind. Bigger than rats should be."
She leaned in slightly.
"Be back by midday. That's when the lunch crowd rolls in. If you're late, I'm locking the door and assuming you got eaten. Deal?"
"Deal."
He opened the hatch and descended the creaking wooden steps into the dark.
---
[Sub-Quest Activated: Side Cellar Mystery]
[Objective: Eliminate or Investigate the Vermin Threat]
[Estimated Risk Level: Moderate]
[Echo Status: Passive Surveillance Enabled]
---
The cellar was cool and damp. The smell hit first—mold, wet stone, and something else beneath it. Something sour and wrong.
Crates lined the walls. Half-eaten bags of grain. Chewed meat. A shattered bottle of wine soaked into the floorboards.
[HUD Flash – Organic Traces Detected]
[Rodent DNA – Mutated Signature Present]
"…Echo?"
"Yup. This ain't your grandma's rat problem."
He scanned deeper.
The back of the cellar split off into a narrower passage. Something old and stone, hidden behind a half-collapsed shelf.
He pushed the wood aside with ease.
A short, arched hallway descended further underground—lined in bricks that pulsed faintly with a dull red glow.
"That's not regulation," Echo said quietly. "That's old magic. Old blood magic."
Calen stepped forward. Quiet as a shadow.
[Auto-Defense Systems: Armed]
[Noise Dampening: Active]
[Heartbeat Detected – Approaching]
From the shadows ahead, something scurried.
Then hissed.
It emerged—bigger than a dog, spine arched, fur patchy and burnt, eyes glowing like coals. Metal wire twisted through its limbs like someone had repaired it with scrap.
[Target Identified: Ratspawn Alpha – Tier 0.8]
[Behavior: Aggressive / Corrupted]
The thing charged.
Calen moved. Fluid. Calculated.
He grabbed a broken broom handle from the ground, spun it, and drove it forward with a crack—slamming into the creature's jaw and knocking it back. It shrieked, claws sparking against stone.
Another hiss—two smaller rats skittered from the shadows, their spines clicking unnaturally.
"Alright," Echo chirped. "Definitely not your average infestation."
He dodged left, kicked off the wall, and drove the broom handle down onto the alpha's spine. Sparks burst where wood met wire. One rat lunged—he caught it midair and slammed it into the other with a crunch.
Three heartbeats later, the room was still.
[Threat Neutralized]
[Secondary Objective: Investigate Source of Mutation]
Calen walked deeper. At the end of the hall, behind a rusted iron gate, he found it:
A sigil carved into the floor. Blood-red. Pulsing. Symbols etched around it in a language he didn't recognize—but his core flickered.
[Unknown Script Detected — Corrupted Spellwork]
[Echo Protocol: Partial Decryption Possible]
"Echo?"
"…That's demon work. Not demonic, but close. Something tethered these rats here. Fed them mana and iron. This wasn't a natural infestation—it was a test."
"A test?"
"Yeah. Or bait. Someone wanted to see what would happen if they mixed magic and machinery in lesser creatures."
Calen frowned. "Like me."
"…Yeah."
He stood in silence for a moment, then carefully scraped the sigil with a broken pipe until the lines bled dull and faded.
[Magic Signature: Nullified]
[Environment Returning to Baseline]
He grabbed a shattered bottle of brandy, the melted rat core (a blackened marble-like thing), and a gear embedded in one of the creatures' limbs. All logged, all useful.
---
Back upstairs, the barkeep raised an eyebrow as Calen emerged, dusted and slightly singed, holding a burlap sack of ruined parts and fur.
"Well?"
"Handled."
She stared. "You what?"
He dropped the twisted gear on the bar.
"I'll take my bonus in copper. Or scrap."
She let out a short laugh. "You're a weird little bastard."
He just nodded. "I've been told."