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^000088Young Adventurer's Journal^000000

^778899Chapter 1: The Curse^000000

3.
Kshar was standing in front of the entrance to the giant Sphinx in Morroc, running over what he could remember from what had happened three days ago. He recalled making a toast with Aher, wishing him luck on his pilgrimage to become a Lord Knight, but nothing else. He had to stay in bed for two days from all the alcohol he drank. This was especially unusual since he always refused to drink or smoke. He didn't want to risk hampering his balance or sense of smell to detect poison, so he never even went out with his comrades for a casual drink. This was actually his first hangover.

"Whoa, you look pretty nauseated. Have you been drinking? I thought you didn't do that at all."
Kshar didn't even look up. That was Esmir's voice, calm and slightly high pitched as usual. Just one of the guild's leaders, showing his concern.

"Oh, you're definitely hung over. Huh. I never thought I'd see this. Still, it's good to see that you have your off days too."
Ziklein. Another guild leader come to check up on him. Kshar shrugged in an effort to show that he was okay, and then took a deep breath. He was such a fool to try to keep up with Aher's drinking. His superiors were here now, and he should give them whatever attention he could muster. However, they didn't seem to notice he was capable of listening.

"I thought he just got his assignment two days ago. Do you think he'll be alright?"
"Oh, yeah. So he went drinking, even though he's got a job to do? Pretty gutsy."
"Hey, Esmir. Aren't you supposed to help Kshar in his assignment?"
Esmir shrugged at Ziklein. He didn't know much about it. Ziklein started explaning Kshar's mission from the guild master to Emsir. They were still talking as if Kshar couldn't hear them, and this made him furious.

Kshar looked up to the sky. The sandy winds should have blocked his view, but he could see that it was crisp and blue. The deepness of the color brought his mind into focus. He was sober now, even if he did have a pounding headache. 

"Aaaaaaaaahhhh!"

Kshar screamed to the sky (it was probably a powerful kihop or a scream of rage--it was hard to tell), and then ran straight into the dark mouth of the Sphinx. He'd been in there so many times that he could navigate its maze with his eyes closed. He worked on reflex alone, slashing nearby Drainlairs and wandering undead slaves as he sped past them.

"This mission is so stupid! We get enough burial accessories from the Assassin test applicants! I don't see why he wants more of these!" Kshar slashed the throat of the Requiem attacking him behind from his right Katar. "Even if we did need more of this junk, the rookie Assassins could handle this! I should be working on something more important!" Kshar's angry thoughts throbbed through his mind in tune with his headache. He spied a Zerom, kicked open its box, and then split its head open and stabbed an approaching Drainlair with the same Katar in one fluid motion. The monsters lay still on the stone floor in a puddle of their dark blood.

Outside, the two senior Assassins were chatting.
"Why does the Guild Master pick on Kshar like this? I mean, that guy is cream of the crop. Even he doesn't like Kshar, he shouldn't be assigning these kinds of missions to him."
"Esmir... The master has got it all planned out. Haven't you ever wondered how Kshar got so strong so quickly? He wants to prove to the master that he can do anything the master asks of him. Sure, Kshar's angry as hell, but the Guild Master is motivating him in his own way. You'll see what I mean..."