The Mad Lion felt as though his nose and mouth were being torn apart. The agony was unbearable, yet no sound could escape his throat.

  The air was filled with the sickening crack of breaking bone; every mercenary present shuddered in terror. They had provoked someone truly monstrous.

  “Stop! He doesn’t want to fight anymore!” Norman called out hastily on the Mad Lion’s behalf.

  Glenn stared at the man still thrashing in his grasp. “Is that so?”

  The Mad Lion could only make muffled, desperate noises through his crushed mouth.

  “Oh, right,” Glenn murmured, as if suddenly remembering. “You can’t answer.”

  He released his grip, and the brute collapsed onto the ground, clutching his mangled face, blood seeping between his fingers.

  “Do you still want to fight?” Glenn asked calmly.

  The Mad Lion convulsed like a man struck by lightning, shaking his head furiously in terror.

  Glenn’s eyes shifted to the female warrior nearby. Her knees buckled beneath her as she sank to the ground, shaking her head as well.

  That moment burned itself into the hearts of every mercenary present. For the first time, they saw their three captains—men and women they once revered—reduced to pitiful wrecks.

  When the fight began, some of them had even considered sneaking in a few blows. None could have imagined the battle would end so swiftly, so utterly one-sided.

  “Consider this a lesson,” Glenn said, his tone even and unhurried as he walked toward his deer cart. “Don’t be so arrogant next time. I’ve already shown mercy—at least you’re still alive. Had it been someone with less patience, every one of you would already be dead.”

  The crowd parted instinctively to give him space.

  Climbing onto the cart, Glenn added with a note of disdain, “I can’t even imagine how you’ve managed to survive this long—especially you, and you.”

  He pointed one by one at the three who had attacked him. None dared meet his gaze.

  “With strength like that, what gives you the right to act proud?” he said mockingly.

  A burning shame welled within the mercenaries, especially the three who had fought. Remembering their earlier swagger, they felt like clowns performing for their own humiliation.

  “Oh, right,” Glenn said suddenly, pausing as he gripped the reins. “You didn’t happen to capture any travelers, did you? Hurry up and release them.”

  The mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances until Norman shouted, “What are you waiting for?! Anyone who’s taken captives—release them now! Don’t make me find out who you are myself!”

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  The culprits, including the two who had first stopped Glenn’s carriage, slunk back toward the camp with ashen faces.

  Norman silently swore that once this ordeal was over, he would cleanse the entire company from top to bottom. His men’s petty greed and extortion had always been tolerated—so long as no one died. But this… this was different.

  Moments later, several frightened civilians and merchants were led out. They had no idea what had just happened, and some began to plead for their lives in trembling voices.

  “Return what you stole from them,” Glenn said mildly.

  No one dared to disobey. The mercenaries hastily returned every coin and trinket, their arrogance gone.

  When the captives realized their belongings had been restored—and that they were being freed—their terror turned to relief. Some opened their mouths to thank their rescuers, but Norman quickly interjected, explaining that it was Glenn who had saved them.

  At once, the civilians turned toward him, bowing and offering tearful thanks.

  Glenn frowned in discomfort. “Enough, enough. Just go. It was nothing.”

  He was about to leave when a soft, trembling voice rose from the crowd—familiar yet distant.

  “Dylan… is that you?”

  He froze and turned.

  A woman stepped forward, cradling a small child in her arms. Her features bore a faint resemblance to his—gentler, more delicate.

  “D-Danni?!” Glenn blurted out in disbelief.

  The original Dylan’s second sister—how could she be here? Was she searching for him? His mind reeled with confusion.

  Her full name was Danni Nibankru, the second of five siblings. Dylan had an elder brother, two older sisters, a younger brother, and a younger sister. Danni had long ago moved to the Kingdom of Tanks with her husband. He hadn’t cared enough to remember where.

  For a while, letters had come from his siblings, though he rarely read them, replying only now and then before ceasing altogether. After settling in Bayek, even those letters stopped arriving.

  Now, she was here—standing before him.

  Danni gently set the child down and rushed forward, throwing her arms around him.

  Glenn stiffened, then awkwardly returned the embrace.

  She held him tightly, as if she could pour years of worry into that single moment.

  “It really is you…” she whispered, tears spilling freely.

  Glenn felt completely lost. This was someone else’s sister, someone else’s past. The sudden flood of familial affection stirred nothing but confusion.

  Danni inhaled deeply, as though the scent of her brother might ease the pain she’d carried all these years.

  Only after a long while did she pull back, cupping his face in both hands. “You look so much better than before,” she said softly, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. “And stronger too. You changed your residence and never told us—your letters stopped coming. We were so worried.”

  “I’m sorry…” Glenn murmured simply.

  Just then, a small voice called out from behind her. “Mama…”

  Danni turned, wiping her tears. She lifted her son into her arms and smiled at Glenn. “Dylan, look—this is my son, Ricky. Ricky, say hello to your uncle.”

  “Hello, Uncle,” the boy said obediently.

  Glenn ruffled the child’s hair, then looked back at Danni. “Why are you here? And how did you end up captured by them?”

  The mercenaries nearby trembled, pale-faced. They had captured this demon’s family. There could be no worse mistake. Norman silently cursed the fools who had done it, wishing he could kill them himself before Glenn did.

  “I…” Danni hesitated, searching for words. “We hadn’t heard from you in so long. A few days ago, I decided to visit your old home. But when we arrived, strangers were living there. We kept asking around and eventually reached a town called Dudd. Then…”

  Glenn nodded grimly. “Then the demon invasion happened.”

  “And Paris?” he asked, naming her husband—a stout, middle-aged merchant of decent means. “Why isn’t he with you?”

  At that, Danni’s expression grew uneasy. “He… he’s been very busy lately, so…”

  “Daddy doesn’t want us anymore,” Ricky interjected innocently.

  “Ricky! Don’t say such things!” Danni scolded sharply. “He was only trying to scare us.”

  The boy buried his face in her shoulder.

  But Glenn already understood. His voice turned cold as steel.

  “He threw you out, didn’t he?”