The doors of the Timid Hog Inn slammed open.
A squad of knights stormed in—massive men, armor glinting with a crimson fire crest on their chests. Their presence alone silenced the room. The light chatter of patrons died instantly, replaced by the heavy clink of steel boots striking wooden floors.
They ignored everyone. Their target was clear.
Straight to the corner table they went, where the mysterious woman sat sipping tea as if nothing in the world could touch her. Each knight bowed deeply, voices low as they delivered reports.
The inn's air grew tense, brittle. Patrons held their breath.
And then—
The woman's eyes flicked toward Blake. Her finger extended, sharp as a sword.
Blake froze. His legs buckled. Why me… again?!
The knights turned, their gazes like blades cutting through him. Their expressions were cold, full of judgment. Every step they took toward him echoed in his chest like thunder.
No… not good. This is bad. Very, very bad!
Before he could even stammer out a word, two knights grabbed his arms, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. Blake squirmed, but it was useless. He dangled like a sack of potatoes, carried across the inn.
The woman's grin widened. Her voice was soft, but it struck like a hammer.
"I'm Ferolina."A pause. Then, with cruel amusement: "Take him."
The room went still. No one moved. No one spoke. Not a single soul dared interfere. Patrons averted their eyes, pretending they saw nothing.
Blake didn't fight. Couldn't fight. He let out a broken sigh. That's it. I'm finished. Fate's punching bag, served up again.
Dragged outside, he disappeared into the night.
Meanwhile, far away in the capital of the Olura Kingdom…
A hidden chamber in a vast mansion burned with frustration. Four cloaked figures sat around a massive table meant for twelve.
"Why can't you find one man?" one snarled.
"Why is he still alive? You dare call yourselves assassins? Pathetic!" another spat.
The room trembled as the leader slammed his palm onto the table. Silence swallowed their anger. His voice was low, but filled with venom.
"No more excuses. No more failures. Use every means. End it."
The others bowed their heads, eyes glowing faintly in the shadows like predators preparing to hunt. The order was given. Blake's life was now the most expensive bounty in the kingdom.
On the road out of town—
Blake lay curled in a rattling carriage, tossed in with a handful of scowling hooligans. His arms ached from the knights' grip, his stomach twisted from hunger.
Why me? Why always me?
Outside, Ferolina and her knights rode white stallions, their formation strict and unshakable.
The second-in-command, Gareth, leaned closer to her. "Ms. Ferolina. We've scoured every corner. No signs of a black magician. No evidence of demon summoning. Are we… missing something?"
Ferolina's eyes narrowed, her voice quiet and sharp."One place remains. Redfront. We search it thoroughly—then we report to the Grand Inquisitor."
The knights spurred their horses. The caravan rolled eastward.
Inside the carriage, Blake's thoughts spiraled into despair.
The useless system screen… that damned truck-kun… my so-called colleague… even Pabel, who couldn't save me… the old hag who robbed me blind, the innkeeper, and now this crazy inquisitor woman…
His curses went on and on, each one bitterer than the last. Tears stung his eyes, but no one cared.
The carriage rattled onward, carrying him toward a fate he never chose.