As usual, Xzavier, (the man on whom every set of eyes was fixed on in wonder) ignored completely the happenings around him.
The same apathetic attitude he had in the beginning manifested as he dusted his arm and made his way towards the waitress to collect his prize. He collected the two silver coins and took a closer look at the coins to make sure that there wasn't any foul play.
He held it up to the nearest light source and checked them properly. When he was satisfied, He thanked the waitress. The time and effort he put into observing the coins showed that they were more important to him than the man squealing like a pig behind him.
He didn't even as much as glance in the direction of the man he had completely broken. His mission here was done. That was all that mattered to him. It wasn't that he hated the man or harbored any ill will towards him, the fact was that Xzavier just did not care.
The others had been very slow in their reaction. In fact, by Xzavier's standards, their recovery rate was abysmal. It had all happened way too quickly for them. First off, the cold and oddly impressive manner with which the stranger had decimated their champion disturbed their simple minds.
Their ordinary thought process could not comprehend how an ordinary youth like Xzavier could crush the arm of their champion. They didn't know how exactly to respond to the chilling embarrassing cries of the middle aged man.
Xzavier took no notice of any of them. He had already gauged the situation as well as the characters in the exchange room, they were all far beneath him- intellectually, physically and otherwise. He knew that they had the mentality of an animal herd.
They were all comfortable hiding in the anonymity that came with being the member of a gang, consequently, they had real trouble distinguishing themselves as separate individuals. He also took into account their penchant for hostility and knew that they were definitely going to try to make a move on him as one.
Primarily because they were cowards, but also because they desperately wanted to punish him for robbing them of the entertainment and drama they had been hoping for.
With his mission complete here, and having received no further directives from the system, Xzavier dusted himself and headed towards the exit. His stride had the confidence of one who was teeming with self-esteem. Others often mistook this for pride and haughtiness.
His sudden departure was the wakeup call they needed. The anger in the whole room swelled like a tide, and like an invisible wave, it rose above the initial shock and engulfed the room like an invisible halo.
Xzavier smiled as he thought to himself;
"Fine, the clichés must come up at once…"
They hadn't uttered a word yet, and yet he could almost taste their anger. It charged the air like an electromagnetic force field. He observed them taking formations already as they slowly circled him.
"Gentlemen," he began in an indifferent tone,
"I suggest you look to your comrade and ask yourself; do you also want to have your wrist shattered?"
The question hit home. The same folks (who only a few moments ago had looked so determined to deal with him), now looked hesitant. Xzavier caught some of them stealing glances at the middle aged muscular man who was still reeling in pain on the ground.
His cries had reduced to mere whimpering now, but the lesson was still very fresh in the minds of the punks.
Xzavier wasn't one who typically gave himself to wanton violence, but he was very much a killer. He tried his best to avoid trouble, but when it became unavoidable, he welcomed it with open arms. Right now was one of those times.
Like the ominous calm that pervades the seas before a storm, the unsettling quietness that prevailed was just a pointer to the disaster that could potentially break out.
Not wanting to make the first move, both sides lingered in an awkward silence. Then suddenly, a figure stepped into the situation and changed the dynamic of the room.
This time it wasn't a tall, middle aged, muscular man that emerged, it was the charismatic figure of an elderly man that was clad in a blue robe. His appearance resembled that of a sage. Xzavier watched intently as the old man's arrival completed altered the dynamic of the room.
The tension that had been threatening to spiral into an all-out altercation had been nipped at the bud by this strange elderly man.
Like a dignified personality, the other stubborn punks made way for him as he passed. He entered the middle of the circle that surrounded Xzavier and demanded to know the cause of the ruckus. One of the more chatty ones responded immediately and filled him in on the recent happenings.
As an elderly man, he listened and was able to discern the situation. His tufty eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as he looked at Xzavier.
Xzavier noticed that the old man's gaze wasn't as intense as the others. The way he looked at Xzavier was suggested the fact that he was looking beyond the physical. It was almost as if he could see into the young man's soul.
The old man observed the young stranger carefully and thought to himself;
"That's strange, he doesn't have a shred of mana in him and yet, there is this horrifying blood-red aura all over him."
The old man was well advanced in years and was brimming with knowledge and experience. And yet, nothing he had seen in his lifetime came close to the true sight of the young stranger before him. He was both intrigued and a little disturbed.
Not wanting to be thought of as a creep by the stranger, he didn't allow his gaze to linger too long. He looked at the muscular man whom Xzavier had destroyed and barked orders at one of the other punks;
"Take him to the clinic at once! See to it that he receives proper medical attention!"
Then, turning to the main subject of fascination in the room, he beckoned Xzavier and offered him an invitation in a kind tone;
"Would you mind stepping into my office for a chat?"
Now Xzavier was an extremely distrustful person. His reluctance to follow the old man showed on his face. The perceptive old man smiled and said;
"Come on son, look around, it's the least you could do after inciting a ruckus here."
Xzavier wanted to chip in the fact that it was in fact the punks' fault. But he restrained himself from committing himself to an argument with the old man. It was obvious that he wielded an impressive amount of authority here. Also, he seemed reasonable. So Xzavier weighed the odds and decided to indulge him;
"Sure."
The old man chuckled to himself. He knew the younger man was being cautious. He respected that in a youth. But it also meant that he wasn't going to be easy to read. He had spoken only one word and the old man could tell from his accent that he definitely wasn't from around here.
He gestured to the younger man to follow him. Xzavier simply nodded and walked behind the old man, but he made sure to keep a decent distance behind him.