Sights of people being beaten up, stabbed, or even burned to a crisp on the streets were normal.
So when the surrounding traders saw a fight about to begin, most didn't bother picking up their goods and they scurried aside.
As this happened, Karl Morrows twirled once in the air before landing hard on his face.
Gritting his teeth, he sat up painfully and raised a hand to his nose.
Of course, it was broken.
Placing a finger under his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his lips.
One, two…
Crack!
He twisted it right back into place and squeezed his eyes tighter as the pain shot straight to his head, nearly driving him insane.
"Bastard, you did a good job hiding from me until now. But that doesn't mean my desire to kill you has lessened!" a growl sounded behind him.
Peeking his eyes open, he turned his head to look at his opponent.
The man was three times the size of Karl's buffest friend and as tall as all three of them stacked on top of each other.
An ugly headcover sat low on his head, black markings scattered across his rough face.
It was basic human instinct to tremble before a stronger foe, so Aeron wasn't surprised to know Karl Morrows' body was too paralyzed with fear to move.
Pointing a rusty axe at Karl, the man yelled indignantly, "Hitting on my wife while I'm away? Unless the King himself intervenes, I'll be taking your head as a gift for her!"
Karl paused.
The previous owner of this body did that?
He had been bold enough to go after someone's wife, yet too spineless to take care of his rickety body? How disgusting.
Though he was displeased with the former owner's action which probably deserved death, how could he tell this person the previous owner was dead?
Massaging the space between his brows, he fell deep into thought.
But the next second, the man suddenly began sprinting toward him, axe raised high.
At this, Karl panicked.
His knees already gave out, so scrambling backward, he began crawling away.
Crawling, of course, wasn't as fast as running so it only took some seconds for the man to ger into throwing distance.
Hence, Karl grabbed a handful of mud and flung it at the man's eyes.
It hit its mark, buying him a few precious seconds.
This time, the sheer urge to live overcame the crippling Mana Shroud pressing him down, and he sprang to his feet.
His friends followed close behind, but they'd barely gotten far when the mud's effect wore off and the man charged after them.
Glancing behind their shoulders, they added more momentum, but it was no use.
For a man his size, he was fast and easily reached them in a few strides.
He shoved the two men on either side aside and grabbed Karl by the collar, lifting him effortlessly with one hand.
Then he raised his axe, ready to bring it down in a single swing when…
"From chitter, swarm, and sting… come forth!" a shrill scream pierced the cold night, reverberating through the silent night.
Everyone instinctively froze, eyes darting toward the source.
Seeing saw it was Karl's lanky friend standing there with outstretched hands, he burst into laughter.
"Was that supposed to be a summoning? Usually, when people summon anything, it comes with a bang. What did you summon—ants?"
To his surprise and that of Karl's, the man only nodded, dead serious.
The brute opened his mouth for another jab but suddenly paused when he felt a sting on his ankle.
A second later, his eyelids began twitching. A moment after that, his whole body started to tremble.
The next thing Karl knew, he was thrown aside.
Landing on his rear, he raised his eyes to see the man frantically clawing at his own skin.
"Wh-what did you do to me, you bastard?! What did you do?!" He screamed painfully, clawing harder at his arm until the skin reddened.
Karl's lanky man smirked and raised his head proudly.
"My magic lets me summon insects. Any living insect you can think of, I can call it and unless I call them off, they'll keep coming. They'll keep eating into you… until there's nothing left. That's what you get for trying to axe my friend!"
Hearing him, Karl was astonished.
As the former Warhound of Eldwyn, he'd have scoffed at such magic. But as Karl Morrows, a man whose life had just been saved by a not-so-impressive magic, he was impressed.
"Come on, Karl. Let's get out of here." The buffy man called out to him, already sprinting forward.
He scrambled up and followed after them.
They ran for a while until they arrived in front of a rundown place with Dunk's Tarvan carved into a wooden sign.
Strutting inside, the thick, sweaty air hit their noses before the ale did.
Seeing a crowd gathered in the middle of the room, his friends rushed toward it and Karl naturally went along.
They arrived just in time to see the dealer start the next round of a game Karl recognized: Knucklebones.
It was a game played with real animal knucklebones. The bone were tossed up, and a winner was declared if it landed upright.
Glancing at the luscious blonde hairs of the three highborns at the center of it all, Karl quietly scratched his jaw.
Highborns.
Besides preparing for the Mage Academy or chasing the next pretty woman they laid eyes on, most of them had little else to do, so they busied themselves mastering every game under the sun.
If they were slumming it in a place like this, they'd probably run out of worthy opponents and figured it'd be fun to toy with the locals.
"The highborns wins again!" He snapped out of his thoughts at the dealer's ecstatic shout and the crowd's jubilant cheers.
Watching the smug looks on the young highborns' faces, Karl almost sneered.
"Tibion, I've been practicing all week. Do you have any coin on you?" He heard his buff man ask the lanky one, who immediately began digging through his pockets.
After almost a minute, all he produced was seven iron coins and a single silver.
Ron pushed Tibion's hand down with a clenched jaw.
"Iron coins are worthless. These highborns won't take us seriously if all we have is one silver."
"I didn't think they'd show today… What do we do, Ron?" Tibion whispered back.
Ron thought for a moment before his eyes drifted toward Karl.
Tibion followed his gaze and his eyes lit up. "Karl… you wouldn't happen to have any coin, would you?"
The question was barely out when Ron huffed.
"He doesn't. If he did, he wouldn't be without a mug of ale."
"Aye, you're right… So what do we do? I've got nothing valuable to offer really…"
He was still talking when one of the highborns glanced over at Karl and immediately sat up, intrigued.
"That's an interesting necklace you have there. Your friend can play three rounds of Knucklebones with me. If I win, you give me the necklace."
Hearing him, Karl's brows shot up in surprise and he glanced down at himself.
Sure enough, there was a necklace hanging around his neck.
"He can't do that," While he was yet to take a proper look at it, Ron refused sharply.
Tibion also nodded in agreement. "The necklace has sentimental value to my friend."
Karl's pupils dilated.
Sentimental value?
He reached for the necklace, pausing when he saw the crest engraved on it.
Something about it tugged at the edge of his memory.
It was familiar, too unfamiliar.
Where had he seen it before? He had seen so many crests his memory was all jumbled.
Seeing Karl handle the necklace so longingly only fueled the highborn's desire to have it and he leaned back with a shrug, "Well, if you won't stake the necklace, I won't play. Not today, not any other day. And I'll make sure no other highborn plays with you either."
At those words, the dealer paled and the crowd, those who'd won fortunes betting on the two men, erupted into angry shouts.
"It's just a stupid necklace! What's so sentimental about it?"
"If it was worth anything, he'd have sold it long ago!"
"If highborns stop coming here because of you, I assure you your safety won't be guaranteed!"
Despite the uproar, neither Ron nor Tibion budged.
The younger of the highborns, who sat in the middle, chuckled and leaned against the table, his eyes twinkling wickedly.
"Think about it. You've been practicing all week. Compared to him, who only shows up here twice a week before running off to train for the Mage Academy, you have a higher chance. Don't throw away a chance to win big just because you doubt yourself."
"Respectfully, I can't decide what my friend does with his…" Ron was on the edge of refusing again when Karl silently took off the necklace and held it out to him with a straight face.
"I trust you."
The highborns smirked and motioned for the dealer to prepare.
"Don't worry, Karl. I'll make sure not to lose this," Ron promised, though hesitation flickered in his eyes as he took the necklace.
But he wanted this. Badly. He'd spent a week perfecting his Knucklebone toss. He was certain this would be a piece of cake.
Karl crossed his arms.
He'd only known Ron for a few minutes, but he could tell the man wasn't the type to joke about things like this.
However… there was no way he'd beat these sly highborns.
Ron had barely sat down when the dealer placed two extra knucklebones in front of him, making the bones three.
"What… is this?" Tibion voiced out his confusion before anyone else.
Taking his seat again, the dealer glanced at the highborns briefly before going ahead to explain.
"This noble master always sets a minimum bet based on the game's stakes. Since this is a high-stakes match, the wager's risen to ten coins."
"So you'll be playing the advanced Knucklebones game… where you have to stand all three bones instead of one."