Chapter 6: Between the Fangs of Beasts [1]
"Low-grade energy stones for ten gold coins!"
"Level-seven beast meat for only two gold coins!"
"Ice Flower—just one gold!"
The voices of the merchants rolled through the bustling Lawrence Market like waves crashing endlessly against each other. Prices were shouted with passion, people flowed through the narrow alleys, and the air danced with the scents of herbs, grilled meat, and freshly cured leather.
The market that morning was a living painting: stalls overflowing with faintly glowing stones, wooden tables stacked with jars filled with shimmering energy pills, bunches of blue and green herbs hanging like strands of hair, and weapons of strange shapes reflecting the sunlight. Adventurers, farmers, and traveling merchants blended into a chaotic yet perfectly functioning human tide.
Amid all that clamor, James walked with a calm that drew attention. His white clothes, trimmed with silver, made him look like a streak of light cutting through the noise, and the twin swords at his waist—Mark and Edward—cast an unspoken intimidation around him. He moved as if the ground itself cleared a path just for him.
Passing by stalls selling energy pills and massive hammers, he didn't spare them a glance.
"Hmm… I should look for a quest," he murmured, picking up his pace toward the mission board.
The board was enormous, built into a thick metal frame and plastered with countless papers—some stained with dried blood, others stamped by the Adventurers' Guild. Each sheet held information about targets, warnings, or rewards.
The moment James approached, the reactions around him shifted.
A tall young man in light armor clenched his jaw. "Damn it… James is here. He'll take the best mission again."
Another adventurer gripped his sword hilt in frustration. "This guy leaves nothing for the rest of us!"
Their anger wasn't surprising. In the past weeks, James had become a storm sweeping through the guild: appearing suddenly, taking the hardest mission, disappearing for a day or two, then returning with only one outcome—complete success, delivered with brutal precision.
Everyone remembered the job that changed their view of him forever: eliminating the den of a notorious group of bandits led by the fearsome "Red Wolf," a ninth-rank knight. They thought James would fail—or return barely alive. Instead, he came back at sunset, soaked in blood, walking calmly. In his left hand, he carried the bandit leader's severed head. In his right, a large sack that later revealed the heads of the entire gang.
That day, silence consumed the guild. Even the guards watched him with the wary eyes of men facing a beast wearing human skin. Nicknames spread afterward—"The Terminator," "Head-Taker," "White Blade of the City"… all pointing to one truth:
James was not someone you wanted to face.
With apathetic eyes, he scanned the mission board. The papers fluttered in the wind as if repeating the same complaint he already knew. The stares around him—resentment, envy, unease—slid off him like water; he'd become numb to them.
But the quests were the same as always: guarding caravans, gathering herbs, killing weak beasts.
"Tch… boring," he muttered. "Same nonsense every day. Caravans, herbs, weak monsters I can kill in my sleep. Annoying."
Before he could complain further, a voice called from behind.
"Sir James."
He turned slowly to find a man standing firmly, radiating authority. Polished iron armor shone like a mirror, a heavy sword hung at his waist, and under his arm he carried a helmet bearing the crest of Baron Lorin.
"What do you want?" James asked coldly, as if the man were just another adventurer, not an official knight.
The knight didn't seem offended—in fact, he smiled knowingly. "As expected, Sir James… anyway, I have something that will cure your boredom—and leave the other adventurers some work for once."
James lifted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his expression. "Hmm? A mission?"
The knight stepped closer and lowered his voice. "A mission from Baron Lorin himself. He wants you to join the city's knights temporarily. We have a massive beast wave approaching… and we need someone of your caliber before it reaches us."
This time, James's eyes widened—just a little. Genuine interest, even a hint of excitement, sparked within him.
"What are the rewards?" he asked immediately.
The knight chuckled. "One thousand gold coins… and a house inside the city. Yours alone."
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
A thousand gold coins—enough to buy rare gear and live like a noble. Even if the system made wealth less essential for him, the idea of suddenly becoming rich sent a surge of thrill through his chest.
"I accept. When do we leave, Sir Robin?"
Robin grinned, gripping his helmet with pride. "Right now. We're short on time—follow me."
As they walked past the adventurers, the mood shifted sharply. Conversation died. Breaths lowered. Eyes followed them with a mix of shock, jealousy, and disbelief.
Not every day does the Baron summon someone personally.
And certainly not every day does the Captain of the Knights come in person.
"Did you see that!? Robin came to pick him up… unbelievable," someone whispered.
Another hissed through his teeth, "What kind of rank does this guy even have…?"
But the truth was simple:
To receive that honor…
To stand before the captain with respect…
To be chosen by the Baron himself…
You had to be James.
No one else.
James didn't look back. His steps were steady, sharp, carving the path ahead.
...…
"Oh, James… I'm glad you came," Baron Lorin said warmly as he approached from between the knight ranks. His eyes carried the interest of a man who had heard too many rumors—and was now seeing the legend in person.
James bowed slightly. "My respects, Baron Lorin."
Gasps echoed quietly among the knights. James was not known to bow for anyone. But nobles… were a different matter.
The Baron waved casually. "No need for formalities. A man of your strength doesn't bow to anyone."
James blinked once. "As you wish."
"Come inside," the Baron gestured toward the large military tent. "We need to review the plan before the wave arrives."
...…
Inside, the atmosphere grew heavier.
A massive map occupied the center of the wooden table, marked with colored stones. Melted candles dripped slowly beside it, and the walls were lined with armor. The smell of iron blended with tension, making the air thick.
Baron Lorin sat with his chin resting on his hand, four of the strongest knights at his side—Robin and three others, all mid-rank knights.
Pointing at the map, he sighed. "This beast wave isn't normal… it's a potential disaster."
His finger tapped the northern section. "Ghouls, level five… not ten, not a hundred… thousands, James. Thousands."
Silence swallowed the tent.
"And lower-tier beasts among them. Something is driving all these creatures together—like they're running from something worse."
He then asked the question weighing on his mind. "Robin, how many knights available?"
Robin bowed. "About five hundred knights, and twenty-seven hundred soldiers."
The Baron nodded, thinking rapidly. "Good… to avoid dragging the citizens into this tragedy, I propose we march out first and strike them before they reach us."
A knight stepped forward, armor clinking. "Yes, a single overwhelming strike. The more their numbers grow, the more confused they become—and the easier it is to break their formation."
Others voiced their agreement.
Then all eyes turned to James.
He wasn't expecting it. But after a second of surprise, his expression froze back into its usual cold stillness.
"Hmmm… I suggest the six of us—me, the Baron, Robin, and the three knights here—go ahead. We're the strongest. We scout the situation first. If we can cut down a portion of them on the way, even better."
His words hit like lightning.
Shock rippled through the tent.
Five knights stared as if he had proposed marching into hell with bare hands.
"Are you certain?" the Baron asked, concern tightening his voice.
"Absolutely," James replied with the calm of a man stating a fact. "You're all mid-rank knights. What exactly are you afraid of?"
Whispers and uneasy glances fluttered.
"But there are many level-five ghouls," one knight said nervously. "And their leader might be level seven…"
James didn't blink.
"Hmmm. Then we kill the leader first. And learn why so many beasts gathered there."
The knights exchanged looks, tension giving way to reluctant confidence.
The Baron finally nodded. "Prepare yourselves. We leave in minutes."
He briskly turned. "Robin—prepare a strong warhorse for James. A gift from me."
Robin bowed. James only cast the Baron a brief, unreadable look—neither gratitude nor refusal, merely steady acceptance, as if such a gift was nothing more than payment for a fraction of his time.
The Baron added sharply, "Felix, Philip, Kaiser—get ready, and send men to recruit adventurers in the city. Any additional strength might change everything."
With that, he pushed aside the heavy tent curtain and strode out.