As the man's hand inched closer to the hilt of his sword, Oasis's demeanor shifted.
The air around him seemed to grow colder, and a faint, ominous aura began to radiate from him, a stark contrast to the calm exterior he had maintained moments ago.
The intensity in his eyes pierced through the man, who suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
"Is that for threatening or for killing?" Oasis asked, his voice now icy and devoid of any warmth.
The man hesitated, his bravado faltering under the weight of Oasis's aura.
"We just want the gold, no blood must be spilled, kid," he stammered, his tone now softer, almost pleading, as if he himself wasn't sure why he felt compelled to back down.
Oasis observed the man, noting his sudden change in demeanor.
"So these people make their earnings by robbing others," Oasis thought, his disdain for the group growing.
"Don't even think of screaming. The moment you scream, you die," the man threatened, but there was a noticeable tremor in his voice.
His eyes were locked with Oasis's, and the longer they held his gaze, the more the man felt his confidence crumble.
It was as if Oasis's gaze was not just meeting his eyes but piercing directly into his very soul.
The man's thoughts raced, and his hand, still resting on the hilt of his sword, began to shake uncontrollably.
"This brat... it's like he's looking directly into my conscious realm, as if he could destroy my soul at any moment,"
the man thought, his face now slick with sweat, his expression betraying his inner turmoil.
Realizing he was outmatched, the man quickly changed his tune.
"Anyway, forget about it, kid," he muttered, raising his hand in a gesture for his companions to back off.
"Ah, boss, are we just gonna leave this kid be?" one of the lackeys, who had been trailing Oasis around the town, blurted out in frustration.
Without a second thought, the man smacked the lackey on the head, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
"Fool! Are you tired of living?" he hissed, the fear in his eyes clear as he glanced back at Oasis, who remained motionless, his cold gaze still locked on them.
The lackey, now nursing his bruised head, quickly realized the gravity of the situation and nodded,
understanding that they were dealing with something far more dangerous than they had anticipated.
As the group reluctantly turned to leave, a figure hidden in the shadows, perched on a nearby tree, watched the entire scene unfold.
The shadowy figure's eyes narrowed with intrigue as they observed the interaction.
"Interesting... What a sight. What did that kid just pull off?" the figure thought, a slight smirk forming on their lips. "I think I've found a lead."
The shadow figure moved swiftly, disappearing into the treetops as silently as they had arrived, blending seamlessly with the surroundings.
Just as the shadow vanished, Oasis glanced toward the spot where the figure had been, sensing something was off.
"It felt like I was being watched," Oasis mused, his eyes scanning the area, but finding nothing out of the ordinary.
"Maybe it's just me," he concluded, shaking off the feeling. "Anyway, time to head back to town."
As Oasis turned to make his way back, the shadow figure, now a good distance away, couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern.
"Did that brat just sense my presence?Fascinating" they wondered, their thoughts racing with both curiosity and a hint of unease.
"This is going to be more interesting than I thought."
As Oasis made his way back into the town, weaving through the bustling crowd, he could sense a shift in the atmosphere.
The constant, watchful gaze that had plagued him for days was now conspicuously absent.
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he thought, "What a relief."
But just as he allowed himself a moment of ease, something unexpected happened.
An old man sitting on the side of the street, seemingly begging for alms, extended his leg in an attempt to trip Oasis.
The movement was so sudden that it nearly caught him off guard.
Instinctively, Oasis looked down, his hand ready, only to see the frail figure of the old man, his bony hand extended not in aggression but in need.
"Was that intentional?" Oasis wondered, his mind racing.
But as he scanned the old man's aura, he sensed no mana—no hidden strength.
"He really is a beggar," Oasis realized, his guard lowering.
The old man's face was a canvas of hardship, his skin stretched thin over his bones, and his eyes dull with hunger.
It was clear he had not tasted a proper meal in days, perhaps even weeks.
Moved by the sight, Oasis knelt beside him, lowering himself to the man's eye level.
"This young one greets the elder," Oasis said with respect, his voice soft but clear.
"Would you accompany me to that place?" he asked, pointing toward a nearby restaurant.
The old man looked at Oasis with weary eyes but nodded slowly.
With gentle hands, Oasis helped him to his feet, and together they made their way to the restaurant.
The two of them, a well-dressed young boy and a ragged old man, drew curious and suspicious looks as they entered the establishment.
The staff hesitated, unsure if they should allow them to dine there, but a quick exchange of coin from Oasis alleviated their concerns.
Oasis paid upfront, ensuring they would be left in peace.
They were led to a private room in the back, away from the prying eyes of other patrons.
The room was modest, with wooden walls and simple furnishings, but it offered the privacy Oasis desired.
The food arrived shortly after, a simple yet hearty meal, and the two began eating in silence.
Oasis glanced at the old man from time to time, his mind filled with questions, but he remained silent, respecting the man's dignity.
After a while, the old man broke the silence, his voice weak but audible. "Thank you, young one."
Oasis looked up, surprised to hear the man speak. "Huh... he can speak," Oasis thought, his curiosity piqued.
The old man continued, "The name is Cedric, 'Cedric Sandborn of Avaloria'."
!!!