The heavy oak doors groaned in protest as they slammed against the interior walls.
Damien stepped across the threshold with unshakeable confidence, the hem of his coat fluttering in the draft.
A half-step behind him, Isabelle moved like a shadow, her posture perfect, her eyes scanning every corner of the room.
The interior of the Guild Hall was an assault on the senses. The air was thick with the smell of cheap ale, roasted meat, and unwashed bodies.
To the left and right, the cacophony of adventurer life was in full swing.
Some groups roared with laughter, clinking overflowing tankards to celebrate a payday, while others huddled in dim corners, nursing their wounds and mourning comrades who wouldn't be coming back.
Straight ahead stood a massive reception counter. Behind it, a rabbit-beastkin receptionist worked with practiced efficiency.
She possessed a delicate human physique, accented by long, chestnut-brown ears that twitched with every stamp of her paperwork.
'Classic,' Damien thought, his eyes drifting downward. 'I wonder if she has the tail to match?'
However, before he could complete his cultural observation, a voice, rough as grinding gravel and reeking of alcohol assaulted his ears.
"Hehe... hic! Look, lads. Since when did the Guild open a kindergarten?"
A shadow loomed over them.
"And is that a maid? Oi, noble brat. If you don't want to get hurt, take your doll and run back to mommy."
BURP!
A towering wall of muscle staggered into their path, blocking out the light from the chandeliers.
The man was a giant, easily seven feet tall. He wore battered leather armor, sported a shaved head, and a jagged scar ran viciously across his right eye.
To an ordinary civilian, this man was a nightmare incarnate.
To Damien and Isabelle, he was Tuesday.
Damien's eyes didn't fill with fear. Instead, they lit up with recognized delight.
'Oh? Is it happening? Is this really happening?'
Damien analyzed the scene instantly. The crowded hall, the arrogant tone, the stereotypical thug appearance.
'The cliche scene! The "Dumb Bully Provokes the Newcomer" event! He's even got the scar and the bald head! He's too small to be a recurring villain; he's strictly a mob character designed to be face-slapped to establish the protagonist's dominance.'
A grin tugged at the corner of Damien's lips.
'Looking at him... surely, it is my destiny to deliver the slap! Who knew a minor villain like me would trigger a Protagonist Event on day one?'
Damien Bugun circulated his mana, letting it hum beneath his skin.
He prepared to step forward, ready to deliver a witty retort followed by a devastating counterattack.
"Gravity C—"
"Kneel."
Isabelle's cold voice cut through the air before Damien could lift a finger.
BOOM!
The floorboards screamed.
In a fraction of a second, the invisible hand of gravity hammered down. The giant didn't just fall; he was flattened.
His knees cracked into the wood, and his torso slammed forward as if a mountain had been dropped on his shoulders.
The thug didn't even have time to scream. His eyes rolled back into his head, foaming at the mouth as he passed out instantly from the sheer shock of the pressure.
He remained there, pinned in a forced kowtow, held in place by the lingering magic.
"Young Master, forgive my unauthorized action," Isabelle said, her voice smooth but her eyes burning with a chilling, crimson light.
"There was a piece of trash blocking your path."
Ever since the bandit incident, Isabelle had sworn a silent oath: Nip the danger in the bud.
She glared at the unconscious heap of muscle. Had they been in the wild, she would have incinerated him. He was barely First Order, a bug unworthy of Damien's attention.
Even without her Demon Transformation, a single glare should have sufficed.
She turned to Damien, her expression softening into confusion.
"Young Master? Why are you silent? Are you injured?"
Damien stood frozen, his hand still half-raised in a casting motion. He was muttering under his breath, staring at the unconscious thug with a look of utter betrayal.
"No..." he whispered. "My moment... my face-slapping script..."
Isabelle tilted her head. She couldn't understand these strange incantations.
But the rest of the guild understood one thing: Fear.
The raucous laughter had died instantly. The hall was so quiet one could hear the wax dripping from the candles.
"Yo... did you see that? Muscle-man Theo... down in a second?"
"He's an E-Rank, you know? Close to D-Rank promotion! He got swatted like a fly!"
"Instant cast magic? Without a chant? Are those two C-Ranks?"
"When did Silverwood get monsters like this?"
Whispers spread like wildfire. The adventurers exchanged nervous glances.
In a world where strength was law, they realized they were standing in the presence of predators. If they offended these two, their lives were forfeit.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
"HAHAHAHA!"
A booming, boisterous laugh shattered the tension like glass.
"Why is it so quiet down there! Are you the same Silverwood drunks I know?"
Damien and Isabelle snapped their heads upward.
Leaning casually over the second-floor railing was a man who looked entirely out of place.
He was tall, dressed in an immaculate black suit that screamed nobility, with perfectly groomed white hair and a beard.
He looked down at Damien, his smile bright and welcoming.
"Hey, boy! You and your terrifying maid, meet me upstairs. And stop bullying my regulars, alright? Hahaha!"
The Guild Master's voice seemed to carry a strange magic of its own, instantly dissolving the fear in the room.
"Haha! Guild Head! Who's afraid? We're adventurers!" one man shouted, finding his courage.
"Yeah! Who doesn't know Theo is a fool anyway!"
"Heh! You're only saying that because he's unconscious. I bet five coppers you won't say it when he wakes up!"
"I bet ten!"
The guild exploded into noise once more, the tension forgotten.
But Damien and Isabelle didn't smile.
They stared up at the man in the black suit. The air around him felt... distorted.
'Strong,' Isabelle thought, her muscles coiling instinctively.
'Dangerous,' Damien agreed internally, the hairs on his arms standing on end. Beneath that grandfatherly smile, he felt a dormant volcano. This wasn't just an adventurer; this was a calamity in human skin.
'Hey, system? Isn't this the Starter Town?' Damien complained inwardly, swallowing dryly.
'What kind of end-game boss hides in the newbie village?!'
Damien knew he had no choice. To refuse a summons from a being this powerful would be suicide.
"Isabelle," he said low and serious. "Let's go."
"Understood."
Isabelle followed him toward the stairs, her eyes flashing red one last time. She sensed the danger.
If that man in the suit made even one wrong move toward her Young Master, she would burn this entire guild to ash, consequences be damned.