Chapter 24
Zen had just made his entrance into the lower levels of the SilverFall Clan, the section that housed mostly F rank to C rank Reavers.
It was a buzzing place, filled with constant movement, chatter, and the occasional clash of weapons. But what he didn't expect was the bizarre "welcome ritual" he was about to face.
It left him completely stunned as he stared at the incoming wave of projectiles flying straight toward him. Chairs, mugs, boots, and even a barrel spun through the air like angry birds on a mission.
'The fuck?! How the hell am I supposed to dodge all these? What kind of people have I found myself with?' Zen thought, frozen in place, the air around him practically vibrating from the incoming chaos.
"You lower-level trash are all so noisy, damn it! Must I always come down here to protect a newbie?!" A thunderous voice boomed from above.
In an instant, the projectiles stopped mid-flight and clattered harmlessly to the ground. Zen stood there unharmed, his heart pounding like a drum.
"Keep your noises low, and if you accidentally kill a newbie, not even the clan master would stop me from executing you all. Tch!" The voice roared again, dripping with warning. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the presence was gone.
"He is such a spoilsport." Thorne clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes as if this kind of thing happened daily.
"Spoilsport? He just saved my life!" Zen snapped back, glaring at Thorne like he was the crazy one.
"Oh relax! No one had any intention of killing you. You would have just gotten slightly injur..." Thorne stopped mid-sentence as his gaze fell downward. He bent over and picked up a sharp dagger lying casually on the floor.
"Oh! Wonder how that got there. Someone could have gotten badly hurt," he muttered.
"Huh?!" Zen almost shouted, throwing his arms up in disbelief as Thorne simply shrugged and tossed the dagger backward without looking.
"Ouch! My shoulder! Who the hell threw a dagger at me?! My love, come and heal me now so I can teach them a lesson!"
The voice belonged to a young man in his early twenties, who now stood clutching his shoulder with a mix of pain and outrage. The dagger had embedded itself deep, and his piercing brown eyes seemed to glisten—not from tears, of course, but from pure indignation.
"Oops," Thorne muttered under his breath, pretending to be completely innocent.
The injured man's blue hair caught the lantern light as he shifted uncomfortably. Just then, a beautiful feminine voice cut through the commotion.
"Relax, you crybaby. I'm here to patch it up."
Zen turned to see a stunning young woman walking over with an effortless grace. Her purple hair flowed gently as if touched by an unseen breeze, and her bright pink eyes seemed to carry a playful sparkle.
"What took you so long, Rina?" the man—Zarin asked with mock impatience, pointing dramatically at the dagger in his shoulder.
"It's just a minor injury, Zarin. No need to panic and cry over it," Rina replied with a teasing smile. She pulled the dagger out in one smooth motion, then placed her softly glowing hands over the wound.
A warm white light spread across the puncture, knitting the skin back together as if the injury had never been there.
"I love you," Zarin said suddenly, his grin returning in full force.
"And I have a boyfriend, dumbass," Rina chuckled, finishing the healing process.
"Who is he? I will fight him to the death if I have to!" Zarin puffed up his chest, only for the sound of heavy footsteps to approach from behind her.
"What were you saying?" asked a deep, menacing voice.
A bulky figure stepped into view, leaning over Rina's shoulder. Renzo, a man who stood only about 5'7" but had the build of a professional bodybuilder, glared down at Zarin with eyes as dark and sharp as obsidian. The sheer intensity of his stare seemed to reach into Zarin's soul.
"Me? Say something? How could I say anything? Renzo, nah! I didn't say anything," Zarin laughed nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.
"Good boy," Renzo replied with a faint smirk before turning away.
"Coward," Rina chuckled, shaking her head as she walked off.
"As if! If it were you and you saw a bulky female, you'd stand your ground? Especially if she's a C rank? Tch!" Zarin scoffed before glancing back up.
"Now which one of you fuckers threw a dagger at me?!" he thundered. His voice boomed across the hall, but not a single person even turned to acknowledge him. The complete disregard seemed to ignite him further.
"Curse you all!" he roared, but the clan members simply went on with their arguments, games, and random chaos.
Meanwhile, Zen was still rooted to the spot, wide-eyed, as if his brain was trying to process three conversations, two fights, and a food smell all at the same time.
The sheer mismatch of personalities around him was dizzying. And somewhere in the back of his mind, his thoughts circled back to that "welcome ritual" that had nearly ended his life before it had even begun.
"Don't look at them like that. They are good people deep down… I hope," Thorne mumbled, his voice trailing into a sly chuckle. He cleared his throat as if that would erase the last part.
"I know that look," Thorne went on, eyeing Zen knowingly. "You're already getting annoyed, maybe even hating on this place, right? Don't worry. You'll grow to warm up to us soon enough."
"Quick one," Zen said, spinning sharply to glare at Thorne. "How did you get them to keep quiet and pay attention to you so easily? I thought only higher-ranked members or the clan master could calm this chaos."
"That's easy," Thorne replied, puffing out his chest with mock pride. "It's probably because I'm the oldest low rank here. I've been stuck at D rank for… longer than I care to count.
For some reason, I just can't get past it. So, I'm forced to watch all the younger ones grow stronger while I remain here. They respect me for it, though not just for my age, but for my experience." He grinned, flashing a thumbs-up before turning away.
"Feel at home, newbie," he added with a casual wave.
'Feel at home? Like hell I can feel at home,' Zen thought, his inner voice already dripping with exasperation. 'This place looks like a mental asylum back in reality. How am I supposed to survive in the midst of lunatics?!'
"I feel hot in here, damn it!" a young lad suddenly thundered, and before anyone could stop him, his clothes were off in one swift motion. Down to nothing but his underwear, he slumped into a chair with a long, satisfied sigh. "Much better."
"Put your damn clothes back on, Kael!" a female shouted, her cheeks flushed crimson as she averted her gaze but still managed to glare daggers at him.
"Tch! Make me," Kael scoffed, spinning halfway around to grab a drink. He tipped it back without a care in the world, letting the liquid slosh over the rim.
Zen could only stand there, his mouth hanging open like a door unlatched.
"Yeah. Lunatics," he muttered with a resigned sigh.