Chapter 105: Chapter 104 - A Minor Disturbance
Teclos spent the next day hunting again.
Same as yesterday, he repeated the same rhythm. The northern forest had many beasts, and by the time the sun began to sink behind the clouds and mountains, fewer of them remained alive.
By evening, the blood orb inside his dark dimension had grown twice as large as yesterday.
And so had his strength.
Still, the wyvern remained on the mountain, unaware of what was happening below it. Teclos made sure of that. He took only enough from the forest to grow stronger, but not enough to make the change noticeable.
When the day was over, he stepped through the darkness beneath a dead pine and emerged near the village boundary.
The first thing he noticed was the missing guards.
The gate stood unattended.
Those two "brave" gatekeepers wouldn’t be pestering him today, it seemed.
Teclos shook his head beneath the tree and slowly walked toward the village, hoping that he could at least eat in peace... although it was unlikely now.
The village felt scared.
The usual evening commotion was gone. No firewood chopping. No women calling for their children. Shutters were closed across every house, with the doors barred from inside. The only signs of life were the thin trails of smoke rising from chimneys and the eyes peeking from behind the shutters, as if the whole village had decided to hide inside their homes.
Not that the wooden walls would be of any help.
Teclos walked toward the Frosted Ram without changing his pace.
The tavern was the only house that still had light inside, but the warm atmosphere that usually spilled through its door and windows had vanished. No laughter or roaring came from the drunken men inside.
When Teclos opened the door, everyone inside froze and looked at him.
The Frosted Ram seemed to be occupied.
Men filled the tavern, but not one familiar face was among them from the night before. These were not villagers or hunters drinking away the cold. They wore mismatched leather, furs, dented and still-bloody pieces of armor, and were armed to the teeth.
Their boots were still dripping mud, a sign that they had just arrived.
They seemed to be bandits by the look of it.
Several sat at the tables with their feet propped up, drinking from mugs they definitely had not paid for. Others stood near the walls, hands resting on their weapons and guarding the place. A few had been going through the shelves behind the counter, stuffing coin and bottles into big sacks.
Teclos looked down to the left and saw Bruno lying there, near the wall.
The boy was a bloody mess, half-curled on the floor, one eye swollen shut, blood running from his nose and mouth. His arms trembled as he tried to push himself up, but his body failed him. He was barely conscious, though his eyes still burned with stubborn hatred.
Fred stood behind the counter with a knife pressed to his throat.
His face was pale, but his expression remained controlled. One of the bandits held him from behind, grinning against his ear while the blade rested just beneath his jaw.
And Selma was pinned up against a wall in a corner by two bandits. Almost every man in the room kept glancing at her as if she were already part of the loot. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, her face pale with fear and rage, but she couldn’t do anything about this. If she mouthed off now, worse things could await her.
The whole tavern was frozen, and nobody moved. Teclos gave off a feeling of dread, so nobody approached him yet.
Teclos scanned over the room once.
The broken tables, spilled ale, blood on the floor, and the mean stares directed at him.
Then he casually walked to an empty table.
The bandits closest to him instinctively moved aside.
No one stopped him.
And Teclos just sat down, unbothered.
The chair creaked softly beneath the weight of his armor. He rested one arm on the table, calm as if nothing unusual was happening here, and waited.
The silence that followed became unbearable for everyone... except him.
Most of the bandits did not want to be the first to confront him. Even fools had instincts, and theirs were screaming at them now. The man who had just entered did not look surprised, frightened, or angry. He looked as if he had stepped into a room full of insects and was deciding whether they were worth crushing.
Unfortunately, their leader did not appreciate being ignored.
He was a burly man with a shaved head, a thick black beard, and a scar running from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. Unlike the others, he carried himself with real confidence. Mana clung to him faintly, not enough to make him a knight, but enough to make ordinary men lower their eyes. He wore a fur-lined coat over chainmail and had an axe strapped across his back.
He stared at Teclos and smiled while also somehow frowning.
"Well now," the man said, stepping away from Fred and gesturing for one of his men to keep the knife in place. "Look what wandered in."
Teclos did not respond and just looked bored... waiting for this commotion to be over.
The boss walked over, grabbed a chair from another table, and dragged it across the floor until it scraped loudly through the room. He turned it around and sat across from Teclos, resting his arms over the back of it like he owned the place.
His eyes moved over Teclos’s armor, his sword, and lastly the wolf fur around his neck.
His crooked smile widened.
"Mister, I don’t know if you are dull or just stupid," the boss said. "But can’t you see we have this place occupied?"
A few of his men chuckled nervously, because most likely, that man would slaughter a few of them before he was brought down.
The boss leaned forward.
"But since you’re here, I guess you’re offering that armor and sword up as tribute to us. Haha."
Teclos finally looked at him, and the tavern seemed to lose its warmth.
The boss’s smile faltered, and Teclos sighed.
It was the kind of sigh a tired man made when something mildly inconvenient had interrupted his evening.
Then the world suddenly went black.
Darkness flooded the tavern in an instant, swallowing the walls, the windows, the doors, the ceiling, and the floor. The fire vanished behind it. The candlelight died. The Frosted Ram disappeared from the world as if a curtain had been pulled between it and reality itself.
Beyond this barrier, nothing could be felt, sensed, or heard. The wyvern on the mountain wouldn’t know anything.
Shock and panic struck the bandits.
"What the hell—"
"Where’s the door?!"
"I can’t see!"
Weapons scraped from their sheaths. Chairs toppled. Men shouted and stumbled into one another. But their fear lasted less than a moment.
Dark hands bloomed from the shadows and snapped everyone’s necks.
One after another, around the entire tavern, heads twisted at impossible angles with dry, sharp cracks. The bandits collapsed where they stood.
It happened so quickly that no one had time to even scream properly.
Only the boss remained alive, for now.
He sat unmoving in front of Teclos, bound by the shadows, his face emptied of all color.
Then Teclos released just enough of his aura for him to feel it.
The boss’s eyes bulged.
What pressed down on him was not ordinary killing intent. It was deep, cold, endless, and rotten with blood. It felt like standing before death itself. His heart stuttered in his chest, and for one terrible second, he forgot how to breathe.
Teclos released his shadow bindings, and the boss threw himself backward from the chair and screamed.
He sounded pathetic and scared shitless.
The boss tried to run, stumbling over the corpse of one of his own men, but Teclos was already behind him.
A pale hand closed around his neck, and he froze.
Teclos lifted him off the ground with one hand and carried him across the tavern like he weighed nothing. The man kicked weakly, clawing at Teclos’s wrist, but his fingers might as well have been scraping against stone.
Teclos stopped in front of Fred.
Fred stood perfectly still behind the counter, the knife gone from his throat, with his eyes fixed on the man being held before him.
"Apologize," Teclos said.
The boss wheezed, and Teclos tightened his grip slightly.
"I’m sorry!" the boss choked out, eyes bulging. "I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I didn’t know this place was—"
"Not to me."
He looked at Fred, shaking violently.
"I’m sorry," he gasped. "I’m sorry, tavern keeper. I’m sorry for everything. Take it all. Take the coin. Take whatever you want. Just please—"
"Where is it?" Teclos asked.
The boss blinked through tears. "W-what?"
"The money."
With trembling hands, the boss pointed toward the sacks near the counter. "There. There, all of it. Mine too. Belt pouch. Inside coat. Please, I gave you everything. I apologized. Please let me go."
Teclos took the pouch from his belt and tossed it onto the counter. Then the shadows dragged the other sacks over, spilling coin, rings, stolen trinkets, and folded notes across it.
For one fragile moment, the boss seemed to believe he would live, and his shoulders sagged in relief.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank—"
Then Teclos casually snapped his neck and dropped the body to the floor.
The darkness remained still for a moment afterward.
Then Teclos turned toward Fred.
"Tavern keep," he said, with a calm voice, "I hope I can still stay here. Also, the money from those men is yours. I don’t need it."
Fred just stared at him.
He was utterly pale now, more frightened than he had been with the knife at his throat. This man had just killed a room full of bandits without moving from his seat, had sealed the tavern away from the world, had dragged a grown man around like a child being scolded, and yet he was still asking permission to stay.
Asking.
Not taking.
Fred’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Teclos waited patiently, understanding that he was just an ordinary man.
But that patience and silence only made it worse for Fred.
Eventually, though, he manned up and nodded.
"Y-yes," he said, then cleared his throat. "You can stay."
Teclos gave him a faint smile, but his fangs remained hidden.
He had learned to hide them well. Luther had insisted on it. The world would tolerate strange eyes, scars, pale skin, even unnatural strength. But fangs were different. Fangs made him "a monster" in a way, and made people turn against him.
Although he was vastly stronger, if enough people banded together, he would just be hunted.
Teclos did not want to kill Fred if he did not have to, so he kept them hidden.
Teclos raised one hand, and one by one, the corpses in the tavern sank into the darkness. Everything disappeared, from bodies to blood, to equipment. The only things left were the property of the tavern: mugs, chairs, and tables.
In less than a minute, the tavern was empty and clean.
Then the darkness dissipated, and the light returned to the tavern.
The windows, the door, the tables, and the walls were visible again. The Frosted Ram wasn’t cut off from the world anymore.
Teclos walked back to his table and sat down as if nothing had happened.
Selma stood frozen in the corner, one hand pressed to her chest, her face pale and flushed at the same time. Bruno, still bleeding and swaying, managed to push himself upright with her help. His legs trembled under him, but he refused to fall again.
Teclos looked at him.
A small glass vial appeared in his hand, and he tossed it across the room.
Selma caught it clumsily against her chest.
"It’s a potion. Drink it," Teclos said.
Bruno just stared at him through his one good eye in disbelief... potions were expensive.
Selma looked between the vial and Teclos, then quickly uncorked it and pushed it toward Bruno’s mouth.
Teclos turned his gaze back to her.
"I’ll take the usual stew when you are ready, please."
They all just stood there, stunned for a while.
Then Selma swallowed, nodded, and hurried toward the kitchen.
Teclos leaned back in his chair and waited for his meal.
