An old man lay on the ground, his head resting comfortably on his hand. His long white hair spread around him like silk, his equally white beard falling over his chest. Contrary to what one might expect from a hermit blocking a passage, his appearance was neat—clean hair, beard trimmed with precision.
Around him, a small crowd had formed on both sides of the narrow passage. Merchants with their carts. Travelers with their bags. Entire families. All blocked.
“How long has it been now?” grumbled a man.
“Five days,” replied a woman.
The crowd suddenly parted.
An adventurer stepped forward—easily two meters tall, bulging muscles visible under minimal clothing. A great sword was strapped to his back, as big as he was.
He unstrapped it, planting it in the ground in front of the old man with a resounding THUNK.
“Hey, old man.” His voice was deep, authoritative. “Get out of there.”
A man in the crowd exclaimed with relief, “Finally! Someone took the quest! I sent someone to the Guild a few days ago.”
The old man lazily opened one eye. “Hmm? Oh, an adventurer.”
He stood up slowly, stretching with audible cracks. “If you want to pass to the other side, it’s simple. Pay with money. Give me valuable items. Or…” A smile stretched across his wrinkled face. “…show me something impressive. Entertain me.”
The adventurer stiffened. “You don’t seem to understand the situation, old man.”
He approached, towering over the old man. “I’m not the type to hit the elderly. But if you keep being stubborn, I’ll have to correct your insolence with my fists.”
“Stop talking!” someone in the crowd shouted. “Beat him and let us pass already!”
“Yeah! We have business to handle!”
“My grain’s going to rot if I stay here any longer!”
The adventurer sighed. “Okay. Since that’s what everyone wants.”
He got into a fighting stance.
The old man stroked his beard. “Kids these days. Full of fire. Full of confidence.” He smiled. “I appreciate that energy.”
The adventurer didn’t waste time. He threw a massive punch—aimed straight at the old man’s face, clearly meant to knock him out in one hit.
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His fist cut through empty air.
What?
Before he could react, the old man was standing on his extended arm. Perfectly balanced. Smiling.
The adventurer felt his arm—but felt no weight.
This is impossible. He’s STANDING on my arm but I feel nothing?!
He yanked his arm back violently, throwing a spinning kick.
The old man was no longer there.
The adventurer turned.
The old man stood behind him, back to back. He gave a friendly little wave to the crowd.
Some spectators exchanged desperate looks.
“Even the adventurer…”
“We have no chance.”
The old man tapped the adventurer’s shoulder. “So far, you’re disappointing. I expected better from you.”
“SHUT UP!”
The adventurer spun, chaining a series of quick strikes—fists, feet, elbows. Each attack was fluid, precise, the result of years of training.
The old man dodged them all. Effortlessly. As if dancing.
Then he moved.
A simple strike. Controlled. His palm sank slightly into the adventurer’s stomach.
The adventurer collapsed, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Silence.
At that moment, Hiro, Lena, Lucia, and Cassian arrived at the edge of the crowd.
“What’s this…” Lena started.
They saw the massive adventurer on the ground, the old man standing over him.
“He’s strong,” Hiro murmured, his eyes narrowing.
He discreetly activated his ability.
A marker appeared above the old man’s head.
Red.
“I doubt I can beat him,” Hiro admitted quietly.
A person in the crowd—a skinny young man—tried to sneak to the other side while the old man seemed distracted.
The old man’s hand shot out, grabbing the young man by the collar without even looking.
He tossed him back, sending him exactly where he came from.
“No free tries!” the old man sang cheerfully.
The crowd groaned collectively.
Hands went to heads in despair. “It’s over.”
“We’re stuck here forever.”
“My wedding’s in three days…”
“What’s going on here?”
A new voice. Young. Arrogant.
The crowd turned.
A young man approached—about eighteen. Black hair falling to his shoulders, framing a handsome but smug face. Bright green eyes. A permanent condescending half-smile.
He was accompanied by two older men—clearly servants or guards.
“Young Master Hector,” people murmured, immediately stepping aside.
A man—the one who had talked about his rotting grain—approached politely. “Young Master, there’s an old man blocking the passage. He only lets through those who…”
“I didn’t give you permission to speak to me.”
The man froze.
Hector looked down at him. “Common people should know their place.”
A woman—probably the man’s wife—intervened. “Please, Young Master, my husband was just trying to be helpful.”
Hector’s eyes turned to her. “Oh? You dare raise your voice in front of me?”
“I… no, I…”
“Women should be even quieter.” Hector approached, raising his hand.
The crowd held its breath.
A hand grabbed his wrist.
Hector turned, shocked.
Hiro stared at him calmly. “That’s enough.”
Absolute silence.
Hector yanked his arm back violently. “Who… WHO ARE YOU to touch me?!”
The two underlings rushed forward immediately.
“Do you know who the Young Master is?!”
“Hector of the Torbernus Family!”
“The Torbernus Family controls three cities!”
“The Young Master is a genius! A magic prodigy!”
“He’s been recognized as the Tobernus family genius since childhood!”
“His father is a Count!”
They continued, their voices rising in a crescendo.
Hector let them speak, strutting.
Then the underlings fell silent, out of words.
Hector looked at them with disappointment. “That’s all?”
“Uh…”
“Pathetic.” He turned to Hiro. “Now that you understand how exceptional I am, kneel and apologize.”
Cassian watched from the back with Lena and Lucia.
Her stomach twisted.
This young master…
She looked at him with pure contempt. But beneath the contempt, something else.
Discomfort.
He vaguely reminds me of someone.
She clenched her teeth.
No. I don’t want to admit it. I don’t want to know.
But she knew.
This scene. Hector and his underlings against Hiro.
It’s like me and my gang against Lucien.
And I know how that ended.
Her fists clenched.
In the background, two men were talking quietly.
“Your kids have grown up well since then,” one said.
“Thanks.” The other smiled. “And you, when are you getting married?”
“Soon.” A sly smile. “Your daughter’s growing up well too. She’s almost of age to become an adult.”
The father stiffened. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing! Just a remark.” The friend laughed nervously. “She looks almost like her mother now. I’ve waited too long.”
The father stared at him intensely.
