BAM!

  “Who wants a treat?” Earleon winked at the bartender, slamming a mug full of beer at the countertop. The bartender stumbled back, frowning, as Earleon's pale-white eyes started to blacken.

  “Sir, please do not disturb our customers…”

  “Bah!” Earleon snorted, slamming his palm on the countertop, making the bartender flinch.

  By now, everyone in the bar was staring at him, but he didn't feel an ounce of shame.

  “What disturbing customers, pfft!” He laughed, standing up from the tall stool and spreading his arms toward the customers.

  “Who wants a treat?! I'll buy all the beer you can drink!”

  At his words, the customers glanced at each other. Some frowned, while some grinned. In particular, a well-dressed middle-aged man spoke up, his chin raised high.

  “Me order a drink, ‘a twenty servings! Can ye buy me them?”

  Earleon turned to bartender, raising his voice. “What are you waiting for? Serve the gentleman!” Then, he turned and winked at the middle-aged man.

  “Brother! We'll be very good friends!” He raised his mug, spilling nearly half of the beer inside.

  “Cheers!”

  “Hyaha! Chee’s!” The middle-aged man laughed, walking toward Earleon and bumping his mug with the latter's.

  Afterward, the two downed their drinks in seconds.

  “Puhaa! One more! Oiya, stop dawdling and start servin’!” The middle-aged man slammed his mug on the countertop, much to the bartender's displeasure.

  However, all he could do was let out a sigh. After all, he wasn't the one paying…

  Earleon grinned. “Who else wants to be my friend?!”

  “Hah! Me! I want to sleep here today!” A gruff looking man yelled, followed by a series of laughter.

  Not long after, the bar was no longer orderly. Dozen men stood near the bartender who was pouring beer left and right, whilst chugging down their drinks as though the sun wouldn't rise the next day.

  Their voices filled up the establishment, and the staff could only stare helplessly at the drunken men. Before long, they were helping the bartender pour beer to mugs like it was water.

  Meanwhile, Zethir quietly slipped into the staff room. The door didn't even make a slight creak, but as he entered, the first thing he noticed was the emptiness of the room.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Just like everything else in the city, the room was cleaner than a polished gem. The walls looked smooth, the ceiling was adorned by hanging lights, and the floor looked warm with its wooden texture. However, there was no furniture.

  There wasn't even another door, or hell, a random pen lying around.

  ‘Where’d they go?’ Zethir frowed, raisng his hand to his waist. His frown deepened when once more, his hand wiped at air.

  ‘Tsk, if only I had my sword…’

  Shaking his head, he walked along the walls of the rectangular room. As he did, he ran his hand on the white-painted wall, but all his fingers felt was the roughness of bricks.

  Furrowing his brows, he gazed at the ceiling. ‘No, this place only has one floor. Maybe…’

  He glanced down at the wooden floor.

  ‘Underground?’

  Thinking so, he once again walked all around the room, tapping his foot hard against the floor. However, even after he circled twice around the area, he ended up with nothing.

  Just as he was tempted to start peeling the room with his bare hands, four men in suits sipped their tea.

  “Look ‘t him,” One of them, a man with a bearded face, pointed his chin at Zethir.

  Zethir was standing at the center of the room, his eyes shut.

  “How long d’ya think he'll last?” He asked, looking at the three other men sitting on the sofa with him.

  Shaking his head, one of the men, who looked like he ate half a cow a day growing up, spoke. “A few minutes?”

  He then put the teacup he was holding on the glass table in front of them. Compared to his hand, the tea cup looked like a toy.

  “Tsk, why did he come in so suddenly? It startled me, fuck!” Another man said, his voice filled with ire. He was half laying on the sofa, his scarred face donning a scowl as he rested his foot on the two small cabinets they brought in.

  “That’s not our main concern. The real question is why the fuck is he here?” A man who was blind in one eye furrowed his brow, standing up from the sofa.

  “Could it be? He's one of those… what was it again?” He looked back at the three men.

  The bearded man caressed his beard. “Aluksha?”

  “Aha!” The blinded man snapped his fingers. “Aluksha! Those damned mercenaries, did they think we're that easy to push around?!”

  Then, turning around, he cracked his fingers. Only to pause mid-way in doing so.

  “Oh shit,” he grinned, looking straight into Zethir's ruby-red eyes, which were glowing dimly.

  “Hey guys, we've got an elite here,” the blinded man laughed hollowly.

  The buff man stood up, grunting, followed closely by the other two.

  “Do you think we can't see?” The scar-faced man ruffled his hair. “It's just a new one—look, his eyes don't even glow brightly. I bet he's trash—”

  BANG!

  Suddenly, the buff man rushed at Zethir and sent his massive fist to Zethir's head. However, Zethir lifted his hand and opened his palm, blocking the punch effortlessly.

  “What did you just say?” He asked, his gaze homing in on the scar-faced man.

  The scar-faced man grinned. “You're trash!” Then, he unfolded his fingers and stretched out his palm. Right afterward, black and white dots started manifesting around him, which quickly turned to purplish energy.

  “[Spear of Geneih]” The scar-face chanted, and in an instant, a lightning bolt sped toward Zethir's chest.

  Zethir gritted his teeth, unable to dodge as his body ached. Just moments before, he forcefully used energy to expel himself from the illusion. The result was that his body went numb.

  ‘Damn it,’ he cursed just as the lightning bolt struck him.

  Crashing against the wall, he hurriedly stood up, only to be met with the buff man's knee to the chin.

  “Urgh—” His neck snapped upwards, and for a moment, his vision turned blank. His neck went limp as his head listlessly hung down.

  The buff man grunted, stepping back a few times.

  “Damn,” the blinded man whistled, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Did you hit too hard? What if he died?”

  “He brought it upon himself,” in a deep voice, the buff man huffed and walked back to the sofa.

  “Hey, hey! Come on now, don't sulk,” the blinded man tutted, watching the buff man letting out a sigh. “Even if you killed him, it's not your fault.”

  The buff man glanced at the blinded man. “Then whose fault is it, yours?”

  The blind man blinked. “No, it's his fault,” he pointed at Zethir. Coincidentally, Zethir's eyes opened.

  Zethir tried to stand, but all he did was spasm on the ground.

  “Hey—calm down,” the blinded man sighed, crouching to meet Zethir's gaze. “How’re you feeling, big guy?”

  Zethir gritted his teeth, his eyes nearly going bloodshot. In all his years, he'd never felt so embarrassed than now.

  “Why did you come here? Are you with the Aluksha?” The blinded man waved his hand in front of Zethir.

  Meanwhile, the scar-faced man silently gathered arcane energy around his arms.

  Zethir glared at the blinded man. “You all will go to hell.”

  “And so will you,” the blinded man shrugged.

  “At least I don't harm children…” Zethir muttered, though his words trailed out. It wasn't exactly a “lie.”

  He could kill anyone, no matter young or old, without thinking twice. But if they were children, he'd at least kill them instantly, without even letting them feel pain.

  As for these guys…

  “Human scum.”

  “Huh?” The blinded man blinked. Then, his gaze travelled to the cabinets they brought in.

  “Hey, are you sure you didn't misunderstand?” He clicked his tongue, before walking over to the cabinets and kicking the door open.

  There, numerous bags fell to the floor.

  “We have our honor, unlike those slave traders. We only sell drugs,” the blinded man grabbed one of the bags, before opening it.

  Then, he poured the contents out in front of Zethir, his chin lifted high like selling drugs was something to be proud of.