The quiet of the morning had barely begun to settle when Ryuuji stepped out of Jarred's modest home with a warm cup of barley tea in hand. The tavern was still shuttered, the streets of Southmark drowsy and slow to rise. A light breeze stirred the edges of his travel cloak, and he sighed as he watched the sun peek over the horizon.
It was time to return home.
He'd done what he came to do—no swords drawn, no blood spilled, no need for war cries or dramatic entrances. Marla was safe. Jarred could breathe again. Peace, however temporary, had been restored.
Or so he thought.
The first sign that something was wrong came not in a scream, but in the sudden thud of boots. Too many. Too fast.
Ryuuji turned calmly just as the street filled with armored soldiers—at least forty of them. The Count's crest, a black lion with a silver chain, was emblazoned on every breastplate.
And there, at the rear, red-faced and snarling, was Count Velhane himself.
"You dare to humiliate me?" Velhane spat, stepping forward. "To walk into my house and threaten me like some common thug?"
Ryuuji stared at him, dead silent.
"I am a Count of the Realm!" Velhane roared. "And you—hero or not—will answer for your arrogance!"
One of the soldiers stepped forward and pointed his halberd. "Asahi Ryuuji, you are under arrest by order of Count Velhane! Surrender peacefully or face the consequences!"
Ryuuji blinked once. Slowly. Then he sighed.
"I was really hoping," he murmured, setting his cup on the windowsill, "that I wouldn't have to kill anyone before breakfast."
The air shifted.
A heavy silence dropped like a curtain. Birds stopped singing. Even the wind seemed to pause, waiting.
Velhane scoffed. "Draw your sword, if you dare. Let the world see how the so-called hero hides behind his name."
Ryuuji looked up.
And for the first time since he arrived in Southmark, his smile disappeared.
"No," he said softly. "No sword."
With a flick of his wrist, the air around him pulsed—once, twice—then exploded outward with invisible pressure.
Boom.
The nearest three soldiers were sent flying back like leaves caught in a gale, slamming against walls and hitting the cobbles hard. The others backed away instinctively, shields raised, weapons trembling in their grip.
"I've lived fifteen years in this world," Ryuuji said, stepping forward. "Fought armies. Killed monsters that make your nightmares look like lullabies. I've held dying children and walked through battlefields soaked in blood."
The next wave of soldiers rushed him. Ryuuji raised a single hand.
Thud!
A wide arc of concussive force blasted them off their feet, weapons clattering like toys.
"I'm done with war," he said, voice cold and low. "But if you try to take away the peace I've earned—if you threaten my family, or my friends—then I'll remind you why even demons whispered my name in fear."
Velhane stumbled back. "Y-You think this proves anything? You think I'm afraid of you?"
"No," Ryuuji said. "I think you're too stupid to be afraid of what's already inside your walls."
He lifted two fingers.
A glowing rune circle appeared beneath his feet—elegant and ancient, lined with the script of a forgotten age. The count's guards froze.
"This is a teleportation ward," Ryuuji explained. "It won't kill you. But it will take your soldiers somewhere cold, wet, and full of sea serpents."
Velhane screamed. "Stop him! Kill him now!"
Ryuuji snapped his fingers.
With a flash, the remaining thirty soldiers vanished, leaving only smoking boots and scattered helmets on the street.
Velhane stared, his mouth hanging open.
Ryuuji stepped forward one last time, closing the distance between them. He bent just slightly, his eyes boring into the noble's soul.
"I gave you a chance," he said, voice like steel on stone. "I showed you mercy. You spat on it."
He reached out, and in one smooth motion, plucked the Count's jeweled ring from his shaking hand.
"Southmark deserves better," Ryuuji whispered. "And one day, it'll get it."
Then he turned, walked back into the tavern, and shut the door behind him.
Velhane collapsed to his knees, trembling.
Inside, Jarred had peeked out through the window. "That… was…"
"Too loud," Ryuuji muttered, already pouring a new cup of tea. "Sorry about the front step."
Marla, from the stairs, looked at him in awe. "You didn't even draw your sword."
"Didn't need to."
Ryuuji sipped his tea and finally cracked a smile again.