“Boy, remember this—if you ever dare pull a stunt like that again, I’ll find you, cut off your ears and your tongue. Do you understand?”

  The boy trembled violently at Glenn’s chilling words, his lips quivering as he nodded frantically.

  Only then did Glenn release him, tossing the boy to the ground before turning to the woman named Bana. Ignoring her pained groans, he seized her by the collar. “Stop screaming. You’re still conscious—I can tell.”

  Bana’s cries faltered into silence, though her body continued to shake from pain. Her eyes burned with venomous hatred as she glared at him.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Glenn said coldly. “I’ve killed more than one mage of your rank—and even a few stronger than you. Do you really think you have the right to glare at me?”

  The quiet conviction in his tone made Bana’s eyes widen in disbelief. When she finally lowered her head, Glenn released her and straightened up.

  “And as for the rest of you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, “don’t think hiding among others will save you. Next time, watch your words—or no one will be able to save you.”

  His warning was heard clearly. None of them dared to meet his eyes; at best, their patrons were third-tier mages—not nearly enough to challenge someone like Glenn.

  “What are you all staring at?” Glenn added with a dismissive wave. “Go on, get back to whatever you were doing. Don’t waste public space.”

  The spectators dispersed in scattered murmurs. Bana, dragging her trembling apprentice, slipped away among them.

  Returning to the display stands, Glenn heard one of the enchanted fixtures remark, “So, you’re not just a mage’s apprentice—you’re a warrior as well.”

  Glenn ignored the comment and asked instead, “You don’t have security here? I was expecting a few guards with swords or axes to show up and restore order.”

  The display table responded languidly, “For a petty scuffle like that? Hardly worth the trouble of summoning security.”

  So it really was nothing more than a small commotion, Glenn thought, nodding slightly before continuing, “Then tell me—what’s the cheapest item you sell here?”

  “Two gold and fifty silver coins,” the stand answered promptly.

  Two hundred and fifty silvers? Glenn’s mouth twitched. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

  He didn’t truly need those items yet, and wasting money wasn’t in his nature.

  After he was gone, the table whispered to the stand, “Did you overcharge him?”

  The stand hesitated. “Perhaps... I misremembered.”

  Outside the Exchange, Glenn spotted the brown-haired youth who had been waiting for him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a piercing cry echoed overhead.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  A massive bird—large as a fighter plane—swept across the sky and vanished into the horizon in mere moments.

  “The Rez Knight...” the brown-haired boy murmured under his breath. “Where could he be headed?”

  “You said ‘Rez Knight’?” Glenn asked, catching every word.

  Startled, the boy straightened. “Ah! I didn’t think you’d hear that. Sir, the Rez Knight is one of the four Guardian Knights of Kairadrea—the only one who rides a Sky Lord as his mount.”

  “Sky Lord?” Glenn tilted his head. “You mean that great bird?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A faint smile tugged at Glenn’s lips. “A name like that—did the dragon clans approve of it?”

  “The title ‘Sky Lord’ doesn’t mean ruler of the skies, sir,” the youth explained quickly. “So the dragons have no quarrel with it.”

  “That makes sense,” Glenn mused. “Still, that bird seemed in quite a hurry. Some battle nearby, perhaps?”

  “I—I’m not sure, sir.” The boy shook his head.

  Glenn shrugged. “No matter. That’s enough for today—you’ve done well.”

  “Sir, you’ve only just arrived in this city. Surely you still need help—finding cheap lodgings, good food, directions—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Glenn interrupted. “I won’t be staying here.”

  The boy hesitated, then murmured, “Two silver coins, sir. My fee.”

  Glenn paused mid-motion. For a simple two-hour tour, the cost shouldn’t exceed sixty copper at most. He glanced at the boy, noticing several rough-looking men in work clothes edging closer.

  A faint, cold smile crossed Glenn’s lips. He had noticed them shadowing the boy earlier—and now their intentions were plain.

  Just as they prepared to surround him, Glenn slammed his foot into the ground.

  Boom!

  The cobblestones cracked outward in a jagged ring, dust rising as the tremor rippled a few meters around him.

  The brown-haired boy and his companions staggered, faces blanching.

  “My apologies,” Glenn said mildly, smiling at the trembling youth. “There was a bug. Now—what was your price again?”

  The men froze for a heartbeat—then bolted in terror.

  The boy’s knees shook violently, fear and shame mingling in his eyes. “T-twenty... No—free! You don’t have to pay!”

  Glenn stepped closer, dropped twenty copper coins into the boy’s palm, and patted his shoulder. “Keep it. You earned it.” Then he brushed past and walked away.

  He had meant to ask about local housing, but after hearing the price of even the cheapest trinket, he doubted rent here would be any kinder.

  Better to wait a while longer, he thought, flagging down a carriage bound for the city gates.

  Dudd Town.

  The air roared with the noise of frightened voices, a storm of panic threatening to shatter the sky itself.

  Local officers faced an impossible task—persuading the townsfolk to evacuate.

  Though they had explained the gravity of the situation countless times, many still refused to believe—or simply refused to abandon their homes.

  Most of them had poured their entire lives into the land and the property they owned. To leave would mean losing everything, starting anew—and that, to them, was unthinkable.

  Officer Douglas had tried every possible approach, but nothing worked. All he could do now was pray that someone of real authority would arrive soon to take control.

  The same chaos rippled across nearby towns as well. Local law enforcement simply lacked the power or trust to enforce such an order.

  At a small farm on the outskirts, a heated argument broke out.

  “Sir, please—you must leave! Your safety is what matters most!”

  “You can rebuild if it’s lost, but if you die here, nothing will ever matter again!”

  The officers’ faces were drenched in sweat.

  “No!” Hank bellowed, shoving one of them back. “You don’t understand what I’ve sacrificed for this land! I won’t abandon it!”

  His two children sobbed nearby, the nanny’s attempts to comfort them useless against their terror.

  Then—

  Rumble...

  The ground quaked violently, silencing the shouting in an instant.

  One officer, perhaps having reached his limit, turned and stormed away. “To hell with this! If he wants to die, let him! I’m not dying here!”

  Once someone led the way, the others followed. Most abandoned the argument, fleeing toward safety.

  Only a handful remained—perhaps out of genuine concern—still trying to reason with Hank and his workers.