No gathering of mercenaries would be complete without a bit of friendly rivalry.
Ethan had barely taken a sip of his drink before Eliara Venn and Zyrrix Korran made their way over, each wearing an expression that told him they had been waiting for this moment all night.
D-Rank mercenaries, ambitious and fiercely determined, the two had always been locked in an endless competition, whether it was body count, mission success rates, or even something as trivial as who could down the most drinks. They were always pushing each other forward, always looking for the next challenge.
And tonight was no different.
"You're just running away before I surpass you," Eliara teased as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. A smirk played at her lips, eyes glinting with mischief.
Ethan arched a brow, already seeing where this was going. "I wasn't aware that was even a debate."
Zyrrix, ever the calm and composed one, exhaled through his nose in amusement. "Because it's not," he said simply. "I could take out both of you from a kilometer away before either of you even knew I was there."
Eliara scoffed, turning toward him. "You wish. You rely too much on that rifle of yours. You ever gonna learn how to fight up close, or are you just gonna keep hiding behind a scope?"
Zyrrix didn't take the bait. He never did. His expression remained unreadable, his gaze steady as he replied, "I don't fight to show off. I fight to win. And if eliminating a threat before it even reaches me is the most efficient way to do that, then I see no reason to change."
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. "You two haven't changed a bit."
"Yeah, well," Eliara said, grinning, "we had a goal, remember? Beat you to C-Rank."
Ethan tilted his head. "And yet, here we are."
She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "Don't remind me."
Zyrrix, meanwhile, took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with deliberate patience. "We will get there," he said, matter-of-factly. "You just got there first."
"And now you're running off before we can properly challenge you," Eliara added, pointing a finger at Ethan.
He smirked. "You know, I think I remember you two swearing up and down that you'd get there before me."
"Well, excuse us for not having personally taken down one of the most wanted criminals in the entire Federation," Eliara shot back without missing a beat.
"Some of us have to make do with regular weapons. Ones that don't come with a transcendent boost of strength," Zyrrix added dryly. Though his tone was level, the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement.
"Right, right," Ethan said, amused. "So, what's the plan now? You both gonna try again and make sure you reach B-Rank before I do?"
Zyrrix met his gaze with quiet confidence. "No need to try. When we meet again, we'll be stronger. Maybe even higher ranked than you."
Eliara clinked her glass against his. "And when that happens, I expect you to admit which one of us is the better fighter."
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head as he raised his own glass. "I'll look forward to the challenge."
Zyrrix, as usual, didn't engage in the theatrics. But he did give Ethan a small nod, the kind that carried more weight than words.
Even with Ethan leaving, some things wouldn't change. Their rivalry, their drive, their relentless pursuit of something greater, it would all continue.
Not everyone could be here tonight.
Thalor had been called away on a mission. One important enough that even for a gathering like this, he hadn't been able to make it back in time. Ethan understood. That was the life they led. Jobs came first, and goodbyes were often left unsaid. But even in his absence, Thalor had made sure Ethan wouldn't leave without a reminder that he hadn't been forgotten.
As the night went on, Zyrrix reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped bundle. Without a word, he placed it on the table in front of Ethan.
"Thalor wanted me to give you this," he said simply.
Ethan unwrapped the cloth and found himself holding a Velkran charm, carved from dark stone. It was small, but its surface was smooth and cool to the touch, worn down from years of careful polishing. The craftsmanship was intricate, with delicate etchings curling around its edges in patterns he didn't immediately recognize.
"Supposed to calm the mind," Zyrrix explained, watching Ethan turn it over in his palm. "Helps with focus, or so they say."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "So they say?"
Zyrrix shrugged. "Thalor swears by them. Says every Velkran fighter carries one. I don't know if it actually works, but he figured if anyone could use it, it's you."
Attached to the charm was a small folded note. Ethan recognized Thalor's precise, measured handwriting instantly.
No matter where you go, your calm and composed self is your strength, Walker. And don't get yourself killed.
Ethan exhaled through his nose, a quiet chuckle escaping him. That was Thalor for you, straight to the point, but still managing to say more than the words on the page.
He closed his fingers around the charm, letting its weight settle in his palm. A simple thing, really. But in this moment, it meant more than he could put into words.
"Tell him I said thanks," Ethan said finally, slipping the charm into his pocket.
Zyrrix nodded. "Will do."
As the night continued, Ethan found himself rubbing his thumb over the charm absentmindedly, feeling the grooves and ridges beneath his fingers. Maybe it really did work.
As the night wore on, the laughter grew louder, the drinks flowed freely, and for a few precious hours, they weren't mercenaries, soldiers, or survivors of war. They were just people, friends sharing a final night together before life inevitably pulled them in different directions.
But like all good things, the evening had to come to an end.
The clatter of plates and glasses began to die down as the restaurant emptied out, leaving only their group still lingering. The air had shifted, not dramatically, not in a way that anyone acknowledged outright, but enough that they all felt it. The weight of reality settled in. In a few days, Ethan would be gone, and this chapter of their journey would close.
Rourke was the first to break the silence. The grizzled mercenary, ever the steady presence, clapped Ethan on the shoulder, his grip firm. "Don't be a stranger," he said, his voice even but carrying an unspoken sincerity.
Kara, standing beside him, smirked and crossed her arms. "If you ever need backup, you know who to call." Her tone was light, teasing, but there was something real beneath it, something that said she meant every word.
Malek, ever the life of the party, lifted his glass with a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And the next time we all share a drink, you're buying."
Ethan smirked, shaking his head. "Figures."
Across the table, Eliara and Zyrrix both pointed at him.
"You owe us a rematch," Eliara reminded him, leaning forward. "And no excuses next time. We settle this properly."
Zyrrix nodded, his expression grounded as always, though there was the smallest glint of amusement in his eyes. "And next time, we'll be stronger."
Ethan exhaled, glancing around at the faces before him. He had never been good at goodbyes, and he wasn't about to start now. But this wasn't really a farewell, it was just a pause. A brief separation before their paths inevitably crossed again.
They had fought together, survived together, and built something that couldn't be erased by distance or time.
He lifted his glass one last time. "To the next time."
A chorus of voices echoed the toast, glasses clinking together in one final, unspoken promise.
One by one, they all began to go their separate ways, heading off into the night, back to their own lives, their own futures. Some would stay in Kynara, others would leave for different corners of the galaxy. But no matter where they went, the bond they had forged here would remain.
Ethan lingered for a moment longer, watching them disappear into the city's neon-lit streets.
No matter how far he traveled, a part of him would always remain in Kynara and Valeris City. With the people who had fought for its future.