After Mr. Smith's arrival, the air remained thick with tension.
The nobleman, clad in his gaudy blue-and-pink robes, sneered, his chubby fingers adjusting the golden rings that barely fit over them. His face twisted in disdain as he eyed Mr. Smith from head to toe.
"And who might you be?" he spat, his round cheeks jiggling slightly with each word.
Mr. Smith's sharp, unwavering gaze bore into him. "State your name, traveler. And tell me—which empire do you hail from?"
The noble scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk. "Why should I tell you my name? And don't you dare speak to me like that! Do you even know who I am?"
Before Mr. Smith could respond, another voice cut through the growing hostility.
"Hey, I'm Athan! A vampire from the Xing Fu Empire!"
Athan waved lazily toward Mr. Smith, his tone lighthearted, yet his crimson eyes held a dangerous glint beneath his long black lashes.
Mr. Smith's gaze flicked to him for a second—then landed on Balwin. His brows furrowed slightly.
Tch. This kid. Wherever he goes, trouble follows.
"Hey, Balwin." Mr. Smith crossed his arms, exhaling sharply. "What have you done this time?"
Balwin opened his mouth, but before he could say a word—
"Balwin?"
Athan's voice came out softer this time, but there was something behind it—confusion? Recognition? His brows scrunched slightly, his crimson irises gleaming with curiosity.
The nobleman seized the moment, puffing out his chest as if to make himself look more important. "Yes! This brat ruined my clothes!"
Balwin shot him a look of disbelief. "Ruin your clothes? I didn't even touch you!"
Mr. Smith's eyes narrowed. His gaze slowly dropped to the noble's robes—a brown stain, spread across the silk like an ugly smear.
"Traveler," he said, his voice smooth yet cold, "are you claiming that Balwin spilled coffee on you?"
The balwin stammered. "I didn't even have coffee!"
Balwin lifted his hands, turning them over. His palms were clean, his sleeves free of stains. "See? No coffee. No spill. This guy bumped into me, fell over like a sack of potatoes, and then started yelling about how I should either work for him or pay up!"
Athan scoffed, folding his arms. "And let's not forget—he tried to slap him first. Then pulled weapons."
Mr. Smith's expression darkened instantly. His fingers tapped against the handle of his gun.
"Traveler," his voice dropped to a dangerous calm, "tell your guards to drop their weapons. All of you are coming with me."
The nobleman's face twisted in outrage. His beady eyes glistened with anger, sweat forming at his temple. "Wait! Do you even know who I am?!" He jabbed a stubby finger toward his own chest. "I am the Lord of Green Gaye City—one of the wealthiest cities in the world!"
Mr. Smith didn't blink. "And? Have you forgotten the rules of this land? Here, everyone is equal. Or are you suggesting you intend to resist?"
The noble's face went from red to purple. His hands balled into fists. "Damn it! Guards!"
The moment the word left his mouth, his men shifted into battle stances.
Swords scraped against scabbards. Bows tightened. Daggers gleamed under the sunlight. Their faces hardened, jaws clenched—ready to strike.
Mr. Smith let out a slow, exasperated sigh. He shook his head, rolling his shoulders before raising his gun. The sound of it loading echoed ominously in the air.
"If you think I'm alone, you've made the biggest mistake of your life."
His fingers curled around the trigger. His voice dropped lower.
"And if you think you can bully Balwin, especially—" his eyes flashed, "you're dead wrong."
Athan, watching from the side, chuckled. His sharp fangs barely peeked from under his lips. "Tch. That gun's too noisy." He rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles. "Let me handle this quietly."
One of the guards, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek, sneered. "You? Take me down? Don't make me laugh—"
He never finished his sentence.
A sharp gust of wind. A flicker of movement—too fast to track.
CRASH!
The guard's body was gone from its previous spot—now lodged deep into the stone wall of a building. His limbs twitched. His sword clattered uselessly onto the ground.
For a second, silence.
Then—
"S-So fast!"
The remaining guards barely had time to process what happened before—
WHAM! CRACK!
Another one disappeared—this time slamming straight into a wooden stall, sending fruits and baskets flying.
A third flew backward, crashing into a stack of barrels, shattering them like twigs.
One by one, they were tossed aside like ragdolls.
Some tried to lift their weapons. Some tried to shout orders.
But none of them could keep up.
Their vision blurred—before they even knew it, their backs hit something solid. Walls. Stalls. Ground.
The nobleman, frozen in horror, took an unsteady step back. His lips trembled. His fingers, once adorned with gold, now shook like leaves.
Athan, standing amidst the wreckage of fallen guards, tilted his head. His black hair swayed slightly in the breeze, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Hmph. That was pathetic."
He turned his gaze toward Mr. Smith, smirking slightly.
"Handled."
Three people remained still, watching the aftermath of the brief yet decisive fight.
Balwin stood among the fallen guards, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickered between their groaning forms.
The female Dark Elf, silent since Mr. Smith's arrival, had an unreadable look on her face. Her violet eyes lingered on Athan, then shifted toward Balwin.
And finally, Mr. Smith, who was lost in thought—his focus entirely on Athan.
After a moment, he exhaled and stepped forward, extending his hand. "Well done. Your name's Athan, right?"
Athan, his crimson eyes sharp with curiosity, took a slow step toward Mr. Smith. He studied the man for a brief second before gripping his hand firmly.
"Yeah, I'm Athan," he confirmed.
Mr. Smith gave a firm nod. "Thanks for the help."
Athan smirked. "No worries. It was nothing."
His gaze flicked past Mr. Smith—toward Balwin.
"Mr. Smith," Athan mused, his voice laced with amusement. "It seems you two know each other?"
Mr. Smith crossed his arms. "Yeah, we do. Balwin's a strong kid. Anyway, I need to take him with me to report what happened"
Athan raised a brow. "Oh sure. Have a good day, then."
With that, Mr. Smith turned away, leaving Athan to face Balwin—who was now deep in conversation with the female Dark Elf.
Athan approached with his usual air of confidence. "Hey there. Rough time, huh?"
The Dark Elf turned at the sound of his voice. Her violet eyes widened in shock before a broad smile broke across her lips.
"Oh, Lord Athan! It's really you!"
Athan blinked, then chuckled. "Silver? That you?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "I'm Silver, from the Kara Mercenaries!"
Athan's smirk grew. "Damn, it's been a while. How's your father? I heard he's sick."
Silver's expression faltered slightly. "Yeah… it's his age. He's been getting weaker."
Athan clicked his tongue, waving a dismissive hand. "Don't make that face. He's tough—he'll recover soon."
Silver sighed, then nodded.
Athan finally turned his full attention to Balwin, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "So, your name's Balwin, huh?"
Balwin grinned, crossing his arms. "Yep. I'm the infamous Balwin."
His smug smile only seemed to deepen Athan's curiosity.
Athan tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Balwin with an intensity that sent a hush through the air.
"You said infamous?" Athan murmured, his voice thoughtful. "You remind me of someone… an old friend I've been searching for."
Balwin's smirk didn't waver, but for the briefest moment, something flickered in his gaze—something unreadable.
Before Silver could speak, she hesitated. "Oh, Lord Athan, if you allow me to—"
Athan lifted a hand, silencing her with an effortless wave. His expression softened into a warm smile. "We'll meet again. How long are you staying here?"
Silver gave a small nod. "A year or two. Our shop is in the classic section—34/E."
"Got it." Athan nodded, watching as she waved and disappeared into the crowd.
Balwin stretched his arms lazily. "Well, Lord Athan, I've got important matters to handle myself."
Before he could take a step—
"Hold up. Come with me, kid."
Athan's voice was light, but there was an unmistakable weight behind it.
Balwin arched a brow but shrugged. "Alright, Lord Athan."
Without another word, Athan led him through the winding streets, weaving effortlessly through the bustling crowd until they slipped into a dimly lit alleyway, where the noise of the marketplace faded into silence.
Then, without warning, Athan stopped and turned sharply.
His eyes began to glow—a deep, burning red.
A shift in the air made Balwin's skin prickle. The oppressive aura, the sheer intensity of Athan's gaze—it was suffocating.
Balwin felt an odd amusement bubbling inside him, but he kept his emotions tightly sealed.
"Oh? What's this? Is Lord Athan turning into a villain now?"
Arms crossed, he let out a quiet chuckle, completely unbothered.