Cresty didn't use the stairs.
She placed one hand on the wooden railing and vaulted over the edge. She dropped three feet to the first floor, landing with the silent grace of a hunting cat. Her knees bent slightly to absorb the impact, and she straightened up without a single hair falling out of place.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Behind her, four shadows followed suit. Her party members—rangers clad in light leather armor and cloaked in forest green—landed in a protective semi-circle behind her. They moved with a synchronized fluidity that spoke of countless hours in the field. They were thieves, scouts, and assassins; people who specialized in being heard only when it was too late.
Anthierin's hand instinctively went to the hammer at her belt. Her knuckles turned white. She took a half-step in front of Lexel, her eyes darting between the rangers' daggers and Cresty's confident smile.
The CrossInn, previously alive with the roar of drunkards and the clatter of plates, died instantly.
The silence was absolute. It started near the reception desk and spread outward like a contagion until even the kitchen staff stopped chopping carrots. Adventurers lowered their tankards. Merchants swallowed the wine they had been holding in their mouths with nervous gulps.
Then, the whispers started. Low, reverent, and terrified.
"That's Cresty..." a man whispered, shielding his mouth with his hand. "From the Emperor's Eye Guild."
"The Human Radar?" his companion hissed back. "They say she can smell a goblin's intent from three miles away."
"I heard the second floor had big names, but I never thought it would be her. That's the Rising Star."
Lexel ignored the whispers. He looked at the entourage behind the brunette.
Four of them, he noted calmly. Light armor. Short blades. No heavy plate. A band of Rangers... or high-level Thieves.
They were posturing, trying to intimidate him with numbers and reputation. It was a classic tactic.
Cresty crossed her arms, pushing her chest up slightly—a movement that Lexel's eyes tracked with shameless dedication. Her smile shifted from a polite greeting to a smirk of predatory interest. She looked him up and down, not like a woman looking at a man, but like a merchant appraising a particularly violent looking sword.
"What's your name?" asked Cresty, her voice carrying easily across the silent room.
"Lexel," he replied, his tone flat. Then, with the casual politeness of a tourist, he asked, "What's yours?"
The crowd gasped. A few people flinched.
"You can hear the others speaking my name already," Cresty said, gesturing vaguely to the terrified room. Her smirk widened. "Or are you simply ignoring them to hear it from my lips?"
"I must be deaf then," Lexel shrugged. "Or maybe they're just mumbling."
Anthierin choked on her own spit, coughing violently into her fist. He just insulted the Rising Star of the Emperor's Eye. We are going to die. We haven't even ordered dinner yet, and we are going to die.
The party behind Cresty bristled. One of the rangers reached for a dagger, but Cresty held up a hand. Her face, however, had turned a shade of pink that clashed with her red sash. She was used to fear. She was used to awe. She was not used to indifference.
"Hahaha!"
A rich, booming laughter broke the tension, descending from the staircase.
Kael, the Blonde Knight, walked down the steps one by one, clapping his hands. He looked delighted by the show.
"Lexel, my friend!" Kael grinned, leaning against the banister. "Allow me to salvage the introduction. This is indeed the Rising Star of the Emperor's Eye Guild, Cresty—well, at least the only one who matters in this region. Oh, and the name is Kael, by the way. I'm the handsome one."
"Don't meddle in this, Kael," Cresty snapped, not looking away from Lexel.
She took a step forward, invading Lexel's personal space. Her eyes locked onto his lava-colored irises. She felt that shiver again—the terrifying, overwhelming sense of power rolling off him. She needed that power. She needed to bind it to her guild before Journ or Kael could get their claws on him.
She pointed a finger directly at Lexel's chest.
"You," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "I want you."
The world stopped.
Even the sun seemed to pause its descent, unwilling to miss what happened next. The number of dropped jaws in the CrossInn set a new regional record.
"W-What?!" Anthierin splurted out, slapping both hands over her mouth. Her eyes went wide, darting between the beautiful, high-class adventurer and her ragged, dirty "husband."
Lexel stood frozen for a millisecond. His bangs shadowed his eyes, hiding his expression.
Then, a smirk slowly curled his lips.
"Heh," Lexel chuckled darkly. "Finally! A woman with direct taste!"
Zip.
His fingers moved with a speed that defied the laws of physics. Buttons flew off his shirt like shrapnel. In a move that would have made a stripper weep with envy, he tore his vest open and shrugged the white shirt off his shoulders.
The fabric hit the floor before anyone could blink.
Lexel stood there, shirtless, in the middle of the lobby. His body was chiseled from marble, scarred from a thousand battles in the Three Realms, muscles rippling under skin that seemed to hum with latent energy. He flexed his pecs, striking a pose that was equal parts magnificent and incredibly stupid.
"W-What are you doing!?" Cresty shrieked.
Her composure shattered. Her face turned crimson, matching the deepest red of her sash. She took a step back, her hands coming up to shield her eyes—though her fingers remained parted just enough to peek.
"Oh?" Lexel paused mid-flex. He looked at her flustered face. "You want it with the cloth on? A mystery type? Fine by me."
Zip.
With the same terrifying speed, he snatched the shirt from the floor and put it back on. It was so fast it looked like the footage had been reversed. He buttoned it up, smoothed the collar, and looked at her expectantly.
"W-W... Wha..." Cresty stammered, her brain short-circuiting.
"Why do you look so stunned?!" Lexel furrowed his brows, genuinely confused. "This is what you asked for! You said 'I want you'! I am merely facilitating the transaction!"
"NO!"
Cresty stomped her foot, the vibration rattling the floorboards.
"I want you to join the Emperor's Eye Guild!" she screamed.
Her voice echoed through the hall, bouncing off the rafters. The silence that followed was profound. You could have heard a needle drop in the hay of the stables outside.
Anthierin slowly raised her hand and covered her face. She dragged her palm down her skin, groaning into her fingers.
Dad... she prayed internally. I know it's been less than a day since I said goodbye at your grave. But please, if you have any influence in the afterlife, strike me down with lightning right now. Help me get through this embarrassment. I cannot believe this is my life now.
Lexel blinked. The seductive smirk vanished, replaced by a look of utter disappointment.
"Join the guild?" Lexel repeated, the excitement draining from his voice.
"Yes!" Cresty huffed, straightening her sash and trying to regain her dignity. "We are the premier intelligence and scouting guild in the Kingdom. The pay is substantial. The fame is guaranteed."
She extended her hand, expecting him to kiss it, or at least shake it gratefully. No one refused the Emperor's Eye.
"What? Nah," said Lexel.
He turned around and waved at the bartender. "Two ales and a roast chicken. And send it to a room. I'm tired."
The crowd stared in pure disbelief.
He had just rejected the Emperor's Eye. And worse... he looked bored doing it.
"Woah, woah."
The voice came from behind Cresty. It was sharp, incredulous, and laced with the specific kind of arrogance that comes from being young, talented, and belonging to a top-tier guild.
One of the rangers—a lithe man with a scar running through his eyebrow—stepped out of the formation. His leather armor creaked as he clenched his fists. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. The Emperor's Eye didn't get rejected. And certainly not by a half-naked man who looked like he had rolled out of a dumpster.
"Are you seriously disregarding that invitation?" the ranger asked, his voice rising in volume. "Do you have any idea who just offered you a hand?"
"You heard me," said Lexel.
He didn't turn around. He didn't stop walking. He kept his hand raised, lazily waving at the bartender as if ordering ale was infinitely more important than the wounded pride of the Kingdom's elite scouts.
"Two ales," Lexel called out. "And make them cold."
The dismissal was absolute. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
"You arrogant little..." The ranger's face twisted into a snarl. "Let me teach you a lesson then!"
Whoosh.
The air cracked.
The ranger moved. He didn't just run; he vanished. Using a movement skill—likely [Wind Step] or [Shadow Dash]—he crossed the twenty feet between the floors and the reception desk in a single, blurring heartbeat. To the merchants and low-level adventurers watching, he was nothing more than a green smear of motion.
He wasn't aiming to kill. He was aiming to humiliate. He reached out, intending to grab Lexel by the shoulder and slam him into the floorboards, forcing him to kneel before Cresty.
"Don't do it!" Cresty screamed.
Her voice tore through the inn, desperate and shrill. She didn't see a subordinate teaching a lesson. She saw a moth flying into a blast furnace.
"Hm?"
Lexel's head tilted slightly to the side.
Time seemed to warp.
To the ranger, his hand was inches away from Lexel's shoulder. He was grinning, anticipating the impact.
Then, Lexel moved.
He didn't pivot. He didn't brace himself. He simply... snapped.
The hand that had been lazily waving in the air stopped mid-motion. The fingers curled inward, the tendons in his forearm bulging like steel cables. It wasn't a human hand anymore; it was the paw of a beast. A predator's claw.
He spun on his heel, the movement so violent it created a vacuum of air that blew the napkins off the nearby tables.
SNAP.
There was no struggle. There was no parry.
Lexel's hand shot out like a viper striking. It bypassed the ranger's guard, bypassed his armor, and clamped directly onto his throat.
The ranger's momentum—all the speed and force of his [Wind Step]—was halted instantly. It was like watching a sprinting horse hit a stone wall.
"Guhk—!"
The ranger's feet left the ground. He was lifted into the air, his legs kicking uselessly at nothing.
Lexel stood there, arm fully extended, holding a grown man off the floor by his neck as if he weighed no more than a wet towel. His fingers dug into the ranger's flesh, threatening to crush the windpipe with a casual squeeze.
"You talk too loud," Lexel said softly.
On the balcony, Cresty's knees buckled.
Her [Alert] didn't just tingle this time. It screamed.
To her eyes, there was no monster, no phantom image, no aura. Lexel looked exactly the same as he did a moment ago. But her skill told a different story. The feedback from [Alert] hit her like a physical blow, a tidal wave of red warning signals drowning out every other sense.
Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. Her breath hitched in her throat.
It was the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff in a hurricane. It was the biological certainty of death.
"Let... go..." the ranger choked, clawing desperately at Lexel's wrist. But it was like clawing at a statue. Lexel's arm didn't even tremble.
Lexel tilted his head, his lava-colored eyes boring into the ranger's terrified soul.
"You said you wanted to teach me a lesson," Lexel whispered, his voice low enough that only the ranger—and the magically enhanced ears of the guild members—could hear.
"So teach me," Lexel smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "What is the lesson? Is it gravity? Because you seem to be defying it right now."
He squeezed a fraction harder.
The ranger's eyes rolled back. His face turned a dangerous shade of purple. The [Wind Step] had faded, leaving him just a fragile bag of meat in the grip of a monster.
"Lexel!" Anthierin shouted, breaking her paralysis. She stepped forward, reaching for his other arm. "Don't kill him! Not here!"
Lexel paused. He looked at Anthierin, the red glow in his eyes dimming slightly.