In the inn closest to the Adventurers' Guild, Lock sat alone at a round table, holding a freshly ordered mug of crude ale. He didn't drink it, but merely brought it to his nose, sniffing lightly, his eyes slightly closed as if immersed in the aroma of the alcohol.
People around him would occasionally glance over.
Because it was very strange!
The ground floor of the inn was a hall, which served as the dining area. At the far end was a counter, behind which stood a two-tiered cabinet filled with bottles of liquor. To the left, a door led to the kitchen, and to the right, a winding staircase ascended.
Since it was daytime, there weren't many people in the hall, sitting in small groups at scattered round tables.
The floor was covered with food scraps and unidentified liquids, and in the corners were mysterious, moldy lumps.
Such a terrible environment would probably only attract fierce and crude Adventurers, yet Lock, sitting to the side, was a complete exception.
He wore white clothes, clearly tailored from expensive fabric, adorned with small pendants made of rare metals and diamonds. Each of his ten fingers, encased in black gloves, bore a gem-encrusted ring. A sheathed sword lay on the table, its guard embellished with a strange python decoration featuring clawed limbs and antlers.
He looked every bit like a nobleman of extraordinary status, completely unlike an Adventurer.
And the fellow who had deliberately picked a fight earlier was now clutching his cheek, the extensive swelling making his right face look like a pig's head. His furtive glances at Lock also carried a hint of fear.
Lock was completely unfazed by this.
What a choking, low-quality brew!
Although he wasn't a person who particularly enjoyed alcohol, Lock's castle had a special wine cellar, where he stored a considerable amount of both the world's finest wines and various Yggdrasil alcohol-based items with special effects.
Fine wines carried a fragrant bouquet, but this obviously watered-down ale only had a strong, sour smell of fermented grains.
However, Lock hadn't come here to drink. Occasionally sniffing the terrible ale to stimulate his poison resistance was also a good option, even though his poison resistance was already maxed out through item effects.
According to the original flow of events, after the battle at Carne Village, Ainz Ooal Gown, too gather more information about this world, would definitely come to this city—the closest large settlement to Nazarick—to register as an Adventurer.
With time to spare during this waiting period, Lock chose to linger here, quietly observing, hoping to encounter Ainz under an assumed identity.
For two consecutive days, Lock spent most of his time here, only returning to a high-class inn at night.
Occasionally, listening to Adventurers boast and exaggerate their exploits was unexpectedly entertaining.
It was almost lunchtime.
Lock opened his eyes, set down the poor-quality ale, and was about to leave.
Suddenly, the inn's door was pushed open, and two figures walked in.
No way… did I actually run into them?
Lock's eyes immediately lit up. Seeing the Adventurers Fifee and Nabe enter, a faint smile curved at the corner of his mouth, and the step he was about to take halted.
The reason he could recognize them at a glance lay entirely in their appearance.
Not only Lock, but nearly everyone in the hall turned to look the moment they entered.
One wore magnificent black armor; the other possessed a beauty unlike anything commonly seen in the Kingdom. When the copper-rank Adventurer plates around their necks became visible, the curious gazes grew even bolder.
Ignoring the stares, Fifee walked straight to the counter.
"Lodging. How many nights?"
The bald innkeeper, wiping the counter with a rag, looked them over with a rude expression.
His scarred face appeared fierce, and both exposed arms bore old wounds—whether from beasts or blades was unclear.
Facing this oppressive presence, Fifee remained calm. From prior observation—especially after seeing Gazef Stronoff in action—he already had a rough grasp of his own strength.
"We'd like to stay one night."
"…Copper plates. Bunk beds are five copper coins a day. Meals are oatmeal and greens. Meat costs extra."
"If possible, we'd like a double room."
The innkeeper raised his brows. "There are three Adventurer inns in this city. Mine is the worst. Do you know why the Guild sends people here?"
"I'm listening."
Most who stay here are copper and iron ranks. Similar strength makes it easier to form teams. Adventuring alone gets people killed."
"If you take a private room and keep to yourself, you won't find companions. So—bunks or private room?"
"I understand. A double room. No meals."
"Tch. Presumptuous."
"Seven copper coins. Pay first."
Fifee paid, took the key, and headed for the stairs with Nabe.
A foot suddenly stretched out to block his path.
A man with a smug smile looked up at him. His companions watched eagerly.
No one intervened.
Fifee lightly kicked the foot aside.
"Hey—!"
The man stood, an iron-rank plate visible.
"My apologies," Fifee said evenly. "I didn't see something that low."
The man laughed. "Lend me the woman for a night, and I'll forgive you."
A cold smile formed beneath Fifee's helmet. He stopped Nabe with a hand.
"Before I act," he asked calmly, "are you stronger than Gazef Stronoff?"
"Huh?"
In the next instant, Fifee grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him off the ground with one hand.
"Then you're nothing."
He flung the man aside. The body smashed through a table, wood exploding outward.
Silence fell.
Painful screams echoed.
At another table, a swordsman dressed in white slowly stood, hand resting on his sword.
As he turned, his gaze locked onto the black-armored warrior.
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A/N: A New Fanfic Is Out "Bleach: Reborn As Ishida Uryuu"
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