The banquet had ended, but the echoes of it followed Damian through the streets of the royal capital. Everywhere he walked, he felt the weight of gazes. Merchants, adventurers, even knights they all turned to whisper. His battle with the Wyvern Lord had spread like wildfire.
Rowan whistled.
"Man, you'd think you just killed a god with the way people are staring."
Elara smirked, arms crossed as she walked beside him.
"They're not staring at you, Rowan. They're staring at him." She tilted her head toward Damian.
Damian kept his eyes forward, expression unreadable.
"Attention is a nuisance."
"Careful, big guy," Elara teased. "In this city, being noticed can be just as dangerous as being ignored."
That night, back at the inn, Damian sat alone in his room. He had removed his cloak and leaned his spear against the wall. The glow of a single candle flickered across his weapons the spear, the blades, the sword. His arsenal.
"Analysis complete. Probability suggests multiple factions are now monitoring your movements."
The AI's voice hummed in his head, cool and calculated.
"Factions?" Damian muttered.
"Yes. Estimated 72% chance the royal court is investigating your origin. 65% chance the guild will request further proof of your strength. 40% chance foreign powers will attempt recruitment… or elimination."
Damian's grip tightened. "Tch… so the shadows finally move."
He glanced at the weapons. His power was growing—but so was the world's awareness of him.
The next day, the summons came.
Not from the guild.
Not from the merchants.
But from the king himself.
A knight in golden armor appeared at the inn, bowing deeply before Damian.
"Sir Damian Arkwright. His Majesty requests your presence in the inner court tomorrow at dawn."
Rowan's jaw dropped. "Holy, straight to the top, huh?"
Elara whistled low. "Careful, Damian. Kings don't invite strangers without reason."
Damian only nodded, though his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Looks like the game just changed."
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city
In a dimly lit hall, three figures stood around a table.
The nobleman in robes tapped the wooden surface, his eyes narrowing.
"So, even the throne has noticed him."
The thief girl smirked, her hood shadowing her crimson eyes.
"Good. That means when he falls, the whole world will watch."
The third figure tall, cloaked, silentsaid nothing. But the faint hum of killing intent filled the room.
The hunt had begun.