Chapter 163 - 165: Commander Lathar

The reptilian stares at him, disbelief tightening his features. Blood seeps from the corner of his mouth as he growls low, eyes burning. "There's no way," he spits. "You're just a Tier 5? No Tier 5 can do that. No one beats us this easily!" The feline, still on one knee, wipes blood from his chin and glares at Alix. "You're hiding something." Alix's gaze sharpens. The casual air slips away like a dropped mask. He steps forward slowly, the mist parting for him, and his voice loses its playful edge — now cold, level, and edged with steel. "I don't care what the three of you are thinking," he says quietly. "Whether you believe me or not doesn't matter. What does matter... is that I offered to join you." The insectoid monster, still half-lodged in a splintered tree, clicks its mandibles rapidly. "Why?" it rasps. "You came from the Adventurers Guild. That quest — the one you took — it's a trap. We made it. For adventurers like you." Alix stops just a few paces from the reptilian, who instinctively flinches under his gaze. "I figured," Alix says. His voice is calm, almost disinterested — but something in his presence presses down like a storm front. Cold. Crushing. Unavoidable. "You put up that notice to lure fools in. Pick off the strong ones. Keep the Guild off balance while your faction grows in the dark." The reptilian bares his teeth again, though there's hesitation now. "...Yeah. And it worked. Until you showed up." Alix sighs, almost theatrically, then shrugs. "Then take it as a gift. I walked into your trap — and I'm still offering to join you. Doesn't that say something?" The three monsters glance at each other. They're bruised. Bloodied. Shaken. And not just physically. The feline narrows his eyes again. "Why? What do you want from the Ember Claw?" Alix's answer is simple, quiet. "Information. Access. And a person I want to meet." He smiles faintly, not kindly. "In return... you get me." Silence stretches between them — thick, uneasy. Then, after a beat, the insectoid clicks softly. "...We'll have to bring you to the commander." Alix's smile deepens just slightly. "Perfect," he says. The three monsters turn without another word, leading Alix deeper into the mist-choked forest. Branches creak above. The scent of decay hangs thick in the air. As they walk, Alix keeps his tone casual. "I want to ask something," he says, gaze forward. "Do you guys know anything about someone called the plaque? The new one who's been fighting your enemies lately." The feline glances over his shoulder, ears twitching. "The Plaque, huh. I've heard the name. Been getting thrown around lately in the whole continent." The reptilian grunts. "Yeah. Our leader's issued a standing order — if any member spots him, they're to try and invite him to the headquarters. Doesn't matter if he's Guild-affiliated or not." The insectoid adds with a dry click, "Last thing I heard, he fought Astram... and survived." That makes even the air seem to pause. The insectoid turns his head slightly. "Only our leader can face Astram and walk away. For that guy to do it..." He trails off, but the message is clear. Alix doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he hides a flicker of thought behind a neutral expression. 'So Gander is not in the Ember Claw.' After a while, the twisted trees begin to thin, and the mist gives way to a jagged clearing bathed in a dull red glow. Embedded into the side of a rocky hill is a structure — not made of stone or wood, but of some blackened organic material, like bones fused with metal, pulsing faintly with energy. Watchtowers loom above, their sentries barely visible through the haze. The reptilian gestures ahead. "This is one of our bases," he says. "Not the main one, but important enough. The one in command here is Lathar." He pauses, glancing sideways at Alix. "He's a peak Tier 5." The insectoid clicks softly, almost smug. The feline smirks faintly. They're watching for a reaction — a twitch, a frown, anything to show nerves. But Alix just keeps walking, his pace unchanging. "Alright," he says simply. No sarcasm. No tension. Just indifference — like someone hearing the name of a local shopkeeper. The feline's smirk fades a little. "You didn't hear me wrong," the reptilian says, trying again. "Peak. That's one step from Tier 6." "I heard you," Alix says, not looking at him. "I just don't care." The three fall quiet for a moment, unease flickering beneath their expressions. Alix stops in front of the wide, organic-looking gate, crimson eyes reflecting the pulsing light. "Let's go," he says, voice steady. "I'd like to meet your commander." The gates part with a heavy groan, the blackened material folding open like the ribs of a beast. Inside, the base hums with low energy — corridors woven of dark sinew and bone, glowing faintly with a red pulse that seems synced to a heartbeat too deep to hear. As Alix steps inside, every head turns. Monsters of all shapes and sizes, pause what they're doing. Conversations cut off. Weapons lower just slightly. All eyes fall on the trio leading the way... and the stranger walking behind them. There's no mistaking their status. The three monsters—wounded or not—walk with a quiet authority. Their presence carries weight here. Rank. Respect. Just below the commander. A horned, four-armed brute leans over to whisper, "What the hell happened to them?" "They look like they fought something nasty," another mutters from the shadows. One of the winged scouts perched above frowns down at Alix. "Who's the outsider?" The feline doesn't break stride, voice curt. "Potential recruit. Brought him in personally." The reptilian adds, "He passed the test." That gets a few murmurs. One of the monsters scoffs, but another leans forward, intrigued. Alix glances around, eyes brushing over the crowd like drifting coals—unbothered, calm. The murmur dies almost instantly. The insectoid clicks his mandibles once, a sound like a signal, and the hallway parts. No one stands in their way. The feline looks back at Alix, studying him again. "You're really not nervous?" he asks, quieter now. "Not even a little?" Alix meets his eyes, expression unreadable. "I've already beaten you three," he says simply. "Why would I be worried about your superior?" The reptilian chuckles dryly under his breath, almost impressed. ---- The hallway opens into a broad chamber carved into the hill's heart, lit by slow, pulsing veins of crimson light that snake through the walls. At its center stands a massive stone-like table, warped and cracked with age, surrounded by maps, carved tokens, and clusters of glowing shards that hum with arcane energy. Behind it stands a tall, imposing figure — lean but broad-shouldered, covered in sleek obsidian armor that seems to ripple with life. His face is partially covered by a bone-like helm, but one eye—sharp, yellow, and piercing—gleams from beneath it. Lathar. He doesn't look up at first. His clawed fingers move pieces across the table, muttering under his breath. Only after a long moment does he raise his gaze, fixing it on the three monsters. "What is it this time, you three?" His voice is low, gravelly, and edged with mild irritation. "You look like you've been stepped on by a dragon." The reptilian bows slightly. "Commander. There's someone here... he wants to join." That gets Lathar's attention. His eye narrows. "What? Since when did you three become recruiters?" The feline stiffens slightly but speaks up. "We didn't plan to. He found us. Took the bait quest." Lathar frowns. "And?" The insectoid clicks his mandibles. "He beat all three of us. Clean. We couldn't land a real hit." Silence stretches for a breath. Then Lathar straightens fully, stepping out from behind the table. His presence is heavy—every movement measured, precise, like a blade half-drawn. Alix doesn't bow. Doesn't flinch. He simply meets Lathar's gaze with quiet confidence. "You wanted to join?" Lathar asks. "You do realize what we are here, right?" Alix says nothing. Lathar gestures vaguely to the walls, the structure, the unnatural energy that pulses through the air like a heartbeat. "In the eyes of the world—of the nobles, the Guild, the city lords—we're not a faction. We're not a resistance. We're the villains. The rebels. The ones who refused to kneel when the 'One Lord' declared his reign absolute." He takes a few slow steps forward, each one ringing slightly on the hard floor. "Is that something you're ready for, adventurer? Because this... isn't just some mercenary group." Alix shrugs, his expression cool and unreadable. "I don't really care," he says. "Also, is it really this hard to join?" Lathar pauses, the flicker of a dry smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Normally? No. We'd welcome someone like you with open arms. Someone that strong doesn't come walking in every day." He stops just a few paces from Alix now, his gaze sharp as a blade's edge. "But lately... too many bases have gone dark. Destroyed from the inside. We've had traitors—people who joined just to gut us when we least expected it." His voice hardens. "So yes, we're careful now. Paranoid, even. We don't hand out trust just because someone looks strong." Lathar's smile sharpens. "How about this," he says, voice low. "Fight me." A stir ripples through the room behind them. A few murmurs, a few sharp intakes of breath. "If you survive for one minute, I'll recommend you directly to the headquarters." Alix raises a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Oh? And what if I defeat you?" That draws a short laugh from Lathar—deep, amused, almost predatory. "Defeat me?" he echoes, clearly entertained. "You're bold. I like that." He tilts his head slightly, stretching one armored shoulder. "Alright. If you beat me, I won't just recommend you." He steps back, the air around him beginning to hum with latent power. "I'll personally escort you to meet our leader."