Knox finally managed to calm himself down.
Well.
Mostly.
A few stray chuckles still escaped every now and then whenever his gaze accidentally drifted toward the mercenary.
Unfortunately for the poor man, his current ballerina pose made looking away surprisingly difficult.
The mercenary himself had already given up trying to understand why his life had come to this.
All he wanted was to intimidate a suspicious-looking stranger.
Now he was standing on one foot in the middle of a tavern while half the customers struggled not to laugh.
Life was cruel.
Meanwhile, Knox's gaze slowly shifted away from the ballerina.
Then toward the mercenaries behind him.
Then back to the ballerina.
Then toward the mercenaries again.
A grin slowly formed beneath the mask.
The remaining mercenaries immediately felt a chill run down their spines.
That expression.
That was not the expression of someone who had run out of ideas.
That was the expression of someone who had just gotten another one.
"...Uh, boss?"
One of them cautiously spoke.
The ballerina mercenary looked just as confused.
"What?!"
"I think he's looking at us."
The mercenary turned.
The moment their eyes met, Knox casually raised a hand and gave them a small wave.
"Hello~"
The mercenaries collectively took a step backward.
A terrible feeling washed over them.
Knox, meanwhile, finally placed his drink down.
"Alright."
His fingers moved slightly.
The ballerina immediately straightened up.
The entire tavern suddenly became quiet.
Even the laughter began dying down.
Something about the masked man's tone had changed.
"Since the warm-up is over..."
His hand swept lightly through the air.
"...let's begin the main part of the puppet show."
The mercenaries immediately shouted.
"RUN!"
Unfortunately, they were too late.
The ballerina mercenary suddenly spun around with surprising elegance before charging directly toward his own companions.
The contrast was absurd.
One second, he looked like he belonged on a stage.
The next second, he looked like a runaway siege weapon.
"WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT—!"
BAM!
His fist connected squarely with the nearest mercenary's face.
The unlucky man flew backward, crashed through two chairs, and disappeared beneath a table.
The tavern instantly erupted into chaos.
Customers scattered in every direction. Some leaped aside, others climbed onto tables, while a handful enthusiastically cheered from the sidelines.
Apparently, free fights were still considered premium entertainment in the Neutral Zone.
Meanwhile, the controlled mercenary showed no signs of stopping.
Knox's fingers moved again.
The giant man spun once, then twice, before launching an absurdly well-timed kick into another companion's stomach.
The unfortunate victim folded like a sheet of paper and crumpled to the floor.
For a brief moment, it was genuinely difficult to tell who the real enemy was.
Hamiel stared at the scene for a moment before blinking twice.
"...I think I liked the dance version better."
Meanwhile, Moses continued observing the threads.
The longer he watched, the stranger the scene became.
Every movement was clean and precise. There wasn't a single wasted motion, nor any visible strain or hesitation. It looked less like someone controlling another person and more like the mercenary's body had become an extra pair of limbs for the masked man.
That level of control should have required immense concentration.
Yet the masked man remained completely relaxed, as though he were simply passing the time.
Moses narrowed his eyes.
Interesting. Very interesting.
Beside him, Lethe clicked her tongue.
"What's so interesting about it?"
"His control."
Moses didn't take his eyes off the fight.
"The technique itself isn't what surprises me."
"Then what does?"
"The fact that he's fooling around."
"..."
For a moment, Lethe didn't understand.
Then she looked back at the fight.
The mercenary currently being controlled had just grabbed another mercenary by the shoulders.
Instead of punching him immediately, however, Knox somehow made both men perform a brief ballroom dance spin.
Only after the spin ended did the punch arrive.
BAM!
Then, the victim flew across the room.
"..."
"...Okay."
Even Lethe had to admit it was ridiculous.
The masked idiot wasn't taking this seriously at all.
Somehow, that was even more unsettling than the threads themselves.
Then, another mercenary was sent crashing across the tavern floor, smashing straight through a table. A chair sacrificed itself for a cause nobody understood.
The tavern owner was probably going to have a very bad day.
Meanwhile, somewhere inside the tavern, several customers had apparently started taking bets on how many mercenaries would still be conscious by the end of the night.
Business, as usual, in the Neutral Zone.
The controlled mercenary continued rampaging through his own group like a one-man natural disaster.
Or rather...
A one-man natural disaster with an occasional dance break.
The contrast was so absurd that it almost looked intentional.
One moment, he would throw a devastating punch that sent someone flying across the room. The next, Knox's fingers would twitch, causing the giant man to spin gracefully across the floor before immediately returning to beating up his companions.
The whole thing looked less like a fight and more like an extremely abstract stage performance.
For a brief moment, Knox found himself staring at the threads stretching from his fingertips. Watching people move according to his will gave him a strange sense of déjà vu.
Then it hit him.
...Wait.
Why did this suddenly remind him of the Herrscher of Domination?
A ridiculous image immediately popped into his head. He imagined himself standing dramatically in the middle of the tavern with both arms spread wide before loudly declaring, "Welcome to the Theatre of Domination!"
"..."
Knox stared blankly into space for a second before rubbing his forehead.
No.
Absolutely not.
That was way too embarrassing.
Not even a million gold could make him say something that cringe.
I'd rather watch BanG Dream! It's MyGO!!!!! one hundred times than say that!
What?
You're saying you want to dare me to actually watch MyGO!!!!! one hundred times?
You think I'm scared?!
...
Never mind then!
I'd rather shout "Welcome to the Theater of Domination!"
Meanwhile, the mercenaries continued suffering.
One of them attempted to charge from behind, only to volunteer himself as the next victim.
A thread wrapped around the controlled mercenary's arm, and the giant man immediately spun around before grabbing the attacker by the collar.
For a brief moment, both men simply stared at each other.
The entire tavern watched in silence.
Even the attacker looked completely confused.
Then, for absolutely no tactical reason whatsoever, Knox made them perform a short ballroom dance turn.
"..."
"..."
"..."
The silence somehow made it funnier.
The dance lasted less than two seconds.
Then the punch arrived.
BAM!
The unfortunate mercenary disappeared into a pile of broken furniture.
The tavern erupted into laughter and cheers, as though everyone had completely forgotten a fight was taking place and started treating it like tonight's entertainment.
Meanwhile, Hamiel had completely stopped pretending to focus on her drink. Instead, her fingers began tapping lightly against the counter in a steady rhythm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Moses slowly turned toward her, his eyes lingering on the rhythmic tapping for a moment before shifting to her face.
"...What are you doing?"
"Hm?" Hamiel blinked innocently. "Nothing~."
The tapping didn't stop.
Moses continued staring at her in silence, while Hamiel simply smiled back as if nothing was unusual. After a long pause, he finally let out a quiet sigh.
"...You're imagining background music, aren't you?"
Hamiel's smile widened ever so slightly.
"Hehe."
"...Don't."
The response came so quickly that even Lethe glanced toward him.
Hamiel looked genuinely disappointed.
"But it'd fit perfectly."
"It absolutely would not."
"It would."
"It wouldn't."
The argument lasted exactly three seconds before both of them turned back toward the fight.
Meanwhile, Lethe's eye twitched.
For some reason, the fact that the masked idiot was treating a fight like a performance annoyed her far more than the threads themselves.
Who looked at a perfectly good punch and thought:
*You know what this needs?*
*A dance sequence.*
The answer, apparently, was sitting ten meters away wearing a mask.
And somehow...
That answer irritated her more than she cared to admit.
Meanwhile, Knox had begun discovering a dangerous truth.
This was fun.
Far more fun than it had any right to be.
A terrible realization.
Because every time he got another idea, the remaining mercenaries suffered.
And judging from the grin hidden beneath the mask...
He was getting plenty of ideas.
The fight ended much faster than anyone had expected.
It wasn't because the mercenaries were weak. In fact, most of them looked fairly experienced. The real problem was that fighting a giant mercenary was already difficult enough. Fighting that same giant mercenary while a masked lunatic controlled his entire body from the comfort of a bar stool was something else entirely.
One after another, the mercenaries were knocked off their feet. Some crashed through tables, others disappeared beneath piles of broken chairs, and one particularly unlucky man somehow got knocked unconscious by his own companion's flying body.
Nobody was quite sure how that happened.
Eventually, the chaos died down.
A few groans still echoed throughout the tavern, but the fight itself was over. The only person left standing in the middle of the room was the unfortunate mercenary who had spent the last several minutes being promoted from "thug" to "lead performer."
For a moment, Knox simply looked at him.
Then he released the threads.
The giant mercenary froze before slowly lowering his raised leg. As realization dawned on him, his face turned bright red. Without saying a word, he glanced around the tavern, saw dozens of people staring back at him, and immediately chose the wisest decision of the evening.
Retreat!
The man limped toward the exit.
The remaining survivors followed right behind him.
Nobody tried to save face.
Nobody made threats.
Nobody even looked back.
They simply wanted to leave.
As quickly as possible.
The tavern watched the group disappear through the doorway before all eyes slowly returned to a certain masked troublemaker sitting at the counter.
Knox, meanwhile, stood up as though nothing unusual had happened.
Before anyone could figure out what he was doing, he lightly grabbed the edge of his coat and gave a small bow.
The movement was elegant.
Refined.
Almost noble-like.
As though he had just finished performing on stage rather than using a grown man as a living weapon.
For a second, the tavern fell silent.
Then somebody started clapping.
Another person joined in.
Then another.
Within moments, applause spread throughout the room.
Several customers even whistled.
Someone near the back shouted, "Encore!"
The response came immediately from outside the tavern.
"NO ENCORE!"
Judging by the voice, one of the mercenaries was still conscious.
Unfortunately for him, that only made the entire tavern laugh even harder.
Knox gave a casual wave before sitting back down.
Across from him, Lethe silently watched the entire scene.
The white-haired girl still hadn't figured out what to make of this masked stranger.
At first, she thought he was suspicious.
Then she thought he was annoying.
Then she thought he was an idiot.
Now?
She wasn't entirely sure anymore.
The masked man was still suspicious.
Still annoying.
Still weird.
Yet beneath all that nonsense was someone with absurd control and combat ability.
The contradiction bothered her.
Eventually, curiosity began winning the battle.
Lethe opened her mouth.
"You—"
The door behind the counter suddenly opened.
Her words stopped halfway.
A middle-aged man emerged from the back room carrying a thick envelope under one arm.
Unlike the bartender who served drinks, this man carried himself differently. His appearance was plain enough to disappear into a crowd, yet the moment he appeared, several customers instinctively looked away.
The information broker walked directly toward Lethe's table before placing the envelope in front of her.
"Everything we currently have."
His voice was calm and businesslike.
"The usual conditions apply."
Lethe nodded.
Beside her, Moses immediately reached for the envelope while Hamiel leaned forward curiously.
Meanwhile, Knox quietly resumed eating his snacks.
At least on the surface, none of this concerned him.
Unfortunately, not everyone in the tavern shared that opinion.
Near the far corner of the room sat a man wearing a worn brown cloak. There was nothing remarkable about him. His face was ordinary, his clothes forgettable, and his presence so unnoticeable that most customers probably hadn't realized he was there in the first place.
Yet the moment he saw the broker hand over the envelope, something changed.
His eyes narrowed.
A bad feeling crept up his spine.
It wasn't because he recognized the students.
It wasn't because of the masked man either.
The broker was the problem.
More specifically, the fact that the broker had just handed over information to people who clearly weren't here for sightseeing.
The cloaked man's gaze lingered on the envelope for only a moment before he quietly rose from his seat.
There was no panic, no rushing, nor even the slightest suspicious movement. Every action was calm, deliberate, and perfectly controlled.
He placed a few coins on the table, adjusted his cloak, and headed toward the exit like any other customer leaving after finishing a drink.
To everyone else, he looked completely normal.
Inside his head, however, alarm bells were ringing loudly, painfully, and without end.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Years of surviving in the Neutral Zone had taught him one simple lesson.
When your instincts tell you to run, you run first and ask questions later!
So he did.
A few moments later, the cloaked man disappeared into the crowded streets outside, moving with increasing speed as he put distance between himself and the tavern.