Lexel held the man like a chicken.
There was no leverage, no technique, just the raw, terrifying application of Strength that defied the ranger's level. The ranger's feet kicked helplessly in the air, his face turning a mottled shade of violet as his windpipe was compressed by fingers that felt like steel clamps.
Lexel's eyes turned cold. It wasn't the anger of a tavern brawler; it was the glacial indifference of a higher being. This act, this arrogance, was born in a Cultivation World, not a tabletop RPG. He was the son of the Zodiac Emperor. In the Three Realms, a scowl from his father could shatter a mountain range. Here, all Lexel needed was a sneer to end a subject's life.
"Release him."
The voice didn't shout. It didn't need to. It rumbled through the tavern like the shifting of tectonic plates—deep, resonant, and heavy with authority.
Lexel didn't let go. He simply turned his head, furrowing his brows slightly as he traced the source of the command.
The bald man, Journ, was stepping down the stairs.
He moved with a deceptive ease for a man of his mass. He was, without exaggeration, the largest human Lexel had seen in this world. He was the tallest in the tavern, his head nearly brushing the timber beams of the ceiling. His shoulders were broad enough to block a hallway, and his back was a landscape of muscle encased in battered steel plate.
He approached Lexel with the calmness of a still lake, his grey eyes sharp as a executioner's blade.
"T-That's Journ!" a whisper rippled through the frozen adventurers.
"Journ The Warrior Giant," another hissed, clutching his tankard.
"Having the Rising Star of the Emperor's Eye is one thing, but Journ is another! He's a fucking walking inspiration!"
Lexel looked like a child in front of him.
The size difference was comical. Lexel's head barely reached the center of Journ's chest. If Journ were to cross his arms, he might as well rest his elbows on Lexel's head. The physical disparity was enough to make anyone back down.
Anyone except Lexel.
Anthierin, standing behind Lexel, staggered back a step. Her fingers curled into her palms, seeking warmth, seeking a weapon, seeking anything to ground her as her instinct whispered flight.
This is Journ, her mind screamed. The Warrior Giant.
His name had waved through the sea of crowds two years ago after he soloed a Level 15 Armored Bear with a broken arm and a shattered shield. He was a living legend in this region. A pillar of the Adventurer community.
She gulped, her throat dry.
However, Cresty's reaction was different.
She gripped the railing, her knuckles white. Her [Alert] skill was still humming, though it had quieted down from a scream to a dull roar. Her brows furrowed as she observed the standoff.
Even with such a towering figure looming over him... he doesn't even flinch once, Cresty realized.
Most men, even brave ones, would unconsciously shift their weight or step back when Journ approached. It was biological instinct to yield to greater mass. But Lexel stood rooted, his posture relaxed, his grip on the ranger's throat unyielding.
Is he ignorant? Cresty wondered. Or... no... he must be strong. Otherwise, my passive wouldn't have tried to stop my heart earlier.
Is this the reason why Cresty suddenly invited him to join the Emperor's Eye? Kael thought, rubbing his chin as he watched from the stairs.
The Blonde Knight's eyes narrowed, calculating the variables. Cresty, you're talented, but you're still too inexperienced. If you want to recruit a monster, you don't demand it in public. You seduce them with gold, or power, or favors. Now... I could recruit him instead.
Journ stopped three feet from Lexel. His shadow completely engulfed the smaller man.
"I hope you comply," Journ rumbled, his voice vibrating in Lexel's chest. "Because we still need him for our raid. And I dislike wasted resources."
Lexel looked up. He didn't look impressed. He looked bored.
"Oh? A raid?" Lexel said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Sounds fun."
Thud.
He tossed the ranger aside with one hand, discarding him like a crumpled tissue. The ranger hit the floorboards, gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat as he scrambled away from the monster in human skin.
"That's right," Kael stepped in, descending the final stairs smoothly. He placed himself between the giants, acting as the bridge. "We are about to run a raid on a forgotten ruin. Treasures abound, and dust to be collected."
"Lexel, I think we sh—" Anthierin started, reaching for his sleeve to pull him away.
"There are rare ores as well," Cresty interrupted. She was desperate now to salvage the situation. She had seen the Blacksmith. She knew the leverage. "I've heard rumors of a single Mythril Ore residing within the ruins."
The crowd gasped. The word 'Mythril' carried a weight heavier than gold.
"Also," Cresty added, her voice softening as she glared at her gasping party member. "I would like to apologize for my... subordinate's rude behavior. And as a reward, I would like to extend my personal hand to you to join our raid. Under my party, of course."
"A Mythril Ore, you say?!" Anthierin asked, her voice cracking.
The fear of Journ vanished instantly, replaced by the primal greed of a craftsman.
"Indeed," Cresty smiled, seeing the hook sink in. "For a blacksmith, that's something you need, right?"
Lexel glanced over his shoulder at Anthierin. He saw the way her pupils dilated, the way her breath hitched.
"Is that true?" Lexel asked calmly. "Do you need it?"
"Yes!" Anthierin blurted out. Then, realizing she sounded desperate, she coughed and straightened her posture. "I-I mean... no, of course not! I could do with standard Iron Ore or Steel. But... a Mythril Ore would be nice. It's a step above Platinum Ore. It's the Seventh Tier Ore."
She looked at her feet, twiddling her thumbs. "I-I mean, of course I don't need it... though it would help my crafting level tremendously. And the durability of your weapons..."
"Alright," said Lexel.
He didn't need to hear more. He saw the brightness in Anthierin's eyes. That was enough.
He darted his lava-colored eyes back to the three party leaders. The playfulness was gone. This was now a transaction.
"However, I have a condition."
"A-A condition?" Cresty blinked. She was expecting a yes, perhaps a thank you. She wasn't expecting a negotiation from a man wearing rags.
"I will keep the treasures that I find," said Lexel, crossing his arms. "That includes that I want the ultimate prize."
The inn went silent again. The audacity was staggering.
"Sorry to say, but that is impossible," Journ said, his tone final. "You don't have a say in the final treasure. That belongs to us."
He stepped closer, looming again. "But... we three have agreed to keep the treasures we find individually in the expedition. Whatever you kill, you keep. Whatever you find in a chest is yours. But the final treasure... that is ours."
Cresty bit her lip. I could give him the option, she thought. We can buy it from Journ and Kael if it drops, but... I don't think he is worth that much capital... at least not yet. Damn it, I couldn't decide. Should I win his favor? Or protect the guild's profits?
"Is the Mythril Ore the final treasure?" asked Lexel.
Kael laughed, a bright, melodic sound. "I can personally say that I won't be here if that was the case! It's too much work for a single ore, even if it's the 7th Tier. No, the treasure is rumored to be an artifact. The ore is likely just embedded in the walls."
"Indeed," Cresty nodded. "The value of such ore is exclusively reserved for blacksmiths or merchants. We have no use for it."
"So if I find the ore, I keep it?" Lexel clarified.
"If you can mine it," Journ grunted. "Yes."
"Alright then," said Lexel, his grin returning. "I will join your expedition."
"Great!" Cresty clapped her hands, relief washing over her. "Meet me first thing in the morning. I need to further discuss the strategy with Journ and Kael."
"Alright," said Lexel.
He didn't bow. He didn't shake hands. He simply turned around, gesturing for Anthierin to follow him.
They walked up the stairs, passing the stunned crowd, passing the humiliated ranger who was still nursing his throat.
In the corridor of the second floor, the sounds of the tavern faded to a dull hum.
"Hey..." Anthierin whispered, tugging on his sleeve. She looked at the floorboards. "You don't need to do this for me. A Raid is dangerous. Journ is dangerous."
Lexel stopped in front of the door to his room—Room 202. He turned to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening.
"I need you, Anthierin," said Lexel.
The words hung in the narrow hallway.
"W-What?" Anthierin stammered. She stepped back, her back hitting her own doorframe. "W-Where did that come from?"
She was taken aback, but a slight, traitorous blush emerged on her cheeks, heating her ears.
Lexel leaned in, closing the distance just enough to make her heart stutter.
"My mouth," Lexel grinned.
Before she could process the retort, he turned the handle and entered his room in haste, closing the door with a soft click.
Anthierin stood there in the hallway for a full five seconds, staring at the wood grain of his door.
"Hah?"
Her brain finally caught up.
"Oh, you piece of crap!"
She spun around, threw open her own door, and slammed it shut with the energy of a flustered maiden, the bang echoing through the inn.