The day before.
Like lightning, Nick rushed into the Mercenary Guild building. Even faster, he appeared in front of the counter, where a charming receptionist was standing.
The sun was sinking inexorably toward the horizon, heralding the coming of night, so there weren't many petitioners here at this hour.
Even if there was a line, I sincerely doubt that any of the people would dare to stand in Nick's way. Even the receptionist, accustomed to Dantean scenes, gasped in surprise at the sight of him.
The man looked as if he had just emerged from hell.
The blond man's armor bore heavy signs of wear and was missing key components, such as the chest guard and shoulder pads. His blond hair was mangled and had turned a mixture of scarlet and intense green.
Fresh entrails could be seen in places, and a disgusting gash ran down his right shoulder, oozing fresh blood. It is worth mentioning that he stank mercilessly.
