The leader reached over and slapped the back of the speaker’s neck.
"Idiot! He’s not going to kill a licensed SSS Rank in the middle of a guild tavern. He’s probably here to recruit him!"
"What? No way," the second mber argued, rubbing his neck. "Everyone knows him, He’s famous for doing everything solo. He’s never joined a party, never ford a guild, and he definitely doesn’t take a friend! Why would he change his heart now?"
"Maybe he’s tired of being alone," the leader speculated, his voice hushed with awe. "Look at the way he’s staring at the kid. You don’t think... is he actually going to break his legendary streak and form a duo with Johnn?"
In his excitent, the leader hadn’t realized his voice had risen from a whisper to a clear, audible pitch that cut through the sudden silence of the tavern.
SMACK!
The other two mbers of the trio acted in perfect, panicked synchronization. They slamd their hands onto the leader’s head, physically shoving him downward as they dived toward the floor with him. The three of them scrambled under their wooden table, a tangle of violet plates and trembling limbs.
"You idiot! You said it out loud! You actually said it out loud!"
"We’re dead... he heard you. He definitely heard you. The Proathers aren’t going to ’at’ their goals tonight... we’re just going to get ated by him! ated by... Slayter Fatalis the Monster Hunter!"
"Shhh! Don’t use the na!"
The leader whispered back, his face pale as he peeked out from under the tablecloth. They watched, frozen, as the spiked sabatons of Slayter Fatalis crunched past their table. The black tal of his greaves seed to swallow the light of the hearth, leaving only a chilling cold in its wake.
But the word "duo" rang in Johnn’s mind, echoing louder than the heavy footsteps or the terrified whispers of the crowd. He didn’t even notice how the tavern had gone bone chillingly silent, or how the veteran adventurers around him were trembling like leaves at the sight of the legendary figure now standing directly in front of him.
Instead, Johnn’s face suddenly flushed a deep, involuntary red. His eyes glazed over, the golden light of the tavern fading as a sharp, vivid image of a hooded woman surfaced in his thoughts. He saw her again: the massive iron sword slung over her shoulder, the tattered cloak, and that cold, unimpressed gaze that had looked right through his SSS Rank status as if it were nothing.
"Duo? I an, if it was with her... then maybe... hehe..."
He caught himself and shook his head slightly, trying to clear the fog.
"Why am I so dazed by her?We only t today. I don’t even know her na, yet I can’t stop thinking about how she looked when I bumped her... what is it about her that’s hitting this hard?"
He was so lost in his daydream of the "F Rank" warrior that he completely failed to realize the man in the Black Spiky Armor was now looming over him.
The "Proathers" were practically clawing at the floorboards now. From their undignified position under the table, they reached out, frantically tugging at the hem of Johnn’s cloak.
"Run, you idiot! Get out of there! Say you have to go to the bathroom! Anything!"
But Johnn didn’t hear the warning. Or rather, he heard the word "duo" again and his brain, already clouded by the mory Maddy, took the wheel. He looked up at the towering figure in the Black Spiky Armor, his face still flushed a rosy pink.He addressed the living calamity with a voice that was far too casual... and unfiltered.
"Oh! Uh, hey. Look, I’m really sorry, Mr. Spiky... but I’m not really available for a duo right now. I’ve kind of already got my heart set on soone else. Plus! You’re not really my type. Too much... tal? It’s a bit much, don’t you think? Kinda scary."
A collective, soul shattering gasp sucked the air out of the tavern. The "Proathers" slamd their foreheads into the dirt, whimpering in unison.
"He’s done. He’s actually done. Slayter Fatalis will definitely end him... We’re going to be collateral damage."
The other adventurers didn’t just back away; they scrambled, overturning benches and diving behind the bar. They watched in frozen horror as Johnn rejected one of the Seven Legends.
Slayter Fatalis didn’t move. He stood like a monunt to death, his face hidden by a helt that looked more like the skull of a prehistoric demon than armor. Every inch of his suit pulsed with a dark energy, and the massive blades strapped to his back looked physically impossible to wield. He tilted his head slightly, his visor glowing with an ominous red light as he stared down at the blushing young man.
"You... said. I am... not your type?"
Johnn, oblivious to the fact that he was standing in the center of a disaster, gave a nervous but polite shrug.
"I an, no offense! It’s just... I like soone a bit more feminine. I’ll just say it straight: I want a girl for a partner, not another man, if you know what I an!"
The silence that followed was absolute. You could hear the sweat dripping off the Protheans’ faces as they huddled together.
The leader muttered under his breath, his voice trembling.
"This newbie... does he not know that the Seven Legends are treated like gods? Slayter Fatalis is the most dangerous of them all, and he actually told him he wasn’t feminine enough. We’re all going to die right here."
Then, Slayter moved.
The entire tavern flinched. Adventurers dove over the bar, while the Protheans curled into tiny balls, clutching their hands together and praying under their breath. They waited for the massive blades on Slayter’s back to swing and cleave the building in half.
Slayter lifted a heavy, black-armored glove. The tal shrieked as his fingers curled. He reached out, his hand moving slowly toward Johnn’s...
User Comments
0 comments from readers