As the unknown figure emerged from the smoke, Victor's sharp eyes quickly scanned him for details. The first thing he noticed was the large, glaringly red handprint on the man's cheek, as though he'd been slapped by an ogre. It wasn't just the size of the mark but the sheer intensity of it that caught Victor's attention—it was fresh, and it looked painful.
Beyond that, the man's most striking feature was his bright green hair, a vivid contrast to the dust and smoke clinging to him. He staggered forward, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated, falling to his knees only to struggle back up, only to fall again. Each step looked like a monumental effort, and Victor found himself narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"What's your deal?" Victor muttered under his breath, moving cautiously closer to the man.
Before Victor could close the distance, a sudden blur shot past him, moving with incredible speed. Instinctively, Victor stepped back. The blur barreled straight into the green-haired man, tackling him to the ground with enough force to shake the debris around them.
"What the—" Victor began, but as he approached, he recognized the blur for what—or rather, who—it was.
Pinning the green-haired man to the ground was a striking woman. Her name was Kiera. Her voluptuous figure and flowing brunette hair were the first things Victor noticed, but her most defining features were her sun-kissed, tanned skin, a hallmark of her Amazonian heritage, and her fierce, fiery expression. Her movements were lithe but powerful, a predator that had just caught its prey. Her piercing amber eyes radiated both intensity and focus, and the way she held herself spoke of unmatched confidence and strength. This was juxtaposed against the green dress, white apron, and white hair tie that bound her hair into a loose ponytail.
Victor raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he approached. "Well, this just got interesting."
The woman's voice was as sharp as her glare. "Hey, you bastard! Don't ever come here again, you got it?!" she snarled, her voice carrying both rage and a surprising amount of control. Her grip on the man's collar tightened as she pulled him closer.
"Yes, yes, I will! Please just let me go!" the man slurred, his words a jumbled mess that reeked of drunkenness. Kiera, seeing the pathetic state of the man, scoffed and threw him to the ground.
"You better. Because if you ever come near here again, I'll make sure the only thing you're drinking is your own blood," Kiera said in a menacing tone. The threat seemed to sober the man up instantly as he scrambled to his feet and ran away as fast as his shaky legs could carry him.
Victor clapped slowly, his tone lighthearted. "Ain't that a little extreme, Kiera?"
Kiera shot him a sharp look. "The bastard deserved it."
"What did he do, anyway?" Victor asked, genuinely curious.
"The bastard asked how much for one night," Kiera said, her voice dripping with disgust.
Victor winced. "Oh, that's... really stupid of him."
"Exactly," Kiera replied, crossing her arms. "So, what do you want?"
"Is that how you greet me? First time I've seen you in a month, and I don't even get a 'welcome'?" Victor said, faking a hurt expression.
"So what? If you're just here to annoy me, get out," Kiera retorted.
Victor laughed. "Alright, alright. I'm here to eat. Just bring me the usual."
"Fine," Kiera muttered as she led him into the inn. Above them, the inn's sign hung slightly askew, the name painted in bold letters: "The Stumbling Boar."
Victor chuckled. "Still a weird name for an inn."
"Just take a seat and wait for your food," Kiera said, rolling her eyes.
"Alright," Victor said, plopping down at a table.
Moments later, a petite bunny girl with white hair and red eyes bounded over, carrying a tray. Her cheerful energy was infectious as she placed a steaming plate in front of him. "Here you go, big bro!" Belle said brightly.
"Thanks, Belle. Still as cute as ever," Victor said, grinning.
Belle giggled. "Thanks!
Is it just you two today?" Victor asked.
"Yeah, the others are out buying ingredients," Belle replied.
"Oh, alright. Just put this on my tab," Victor said sheepishly.
"Oki-doki!" Belle responded, speeding off to another table.
Victor turned his focus to the food in front of him. The dish was a hearty stew with tender chunks of beef, potatoes, and carrots, seasoned to perfection with herbs and spices. A side of freshly baked bread accompanied it, still warm and soft.
Victor took a bite, savoring the rich flavors. "Ahh, after a month, I can finally taste this again," he said with a satisfied sigh.
Scene Change
Victor walked out of the inn, a hand resting on his stomach. "Ahh, that was so good," he said contentedly. He strolled carefree through the streets until his eyes caught sight of a group of twenty men blocking the road ahead. Leading them was none other than the green-haired man from earlier.
"Oh, aren't you the guy who got sent flying by Kiera?" Victor said, stopping in front of the group.
"Get out of my way! I'm gonna make that bitch pay!" the green-haired man snarled, his face twisted with anger.
Victor tilted his head, his tone mocking. "Oh, don't do that. She's gonna make you drink your own blood. I've seen it happen."
"Get out of my way, asshole, or you're first!" the green-haired man shouted, his patience wearing thin.
"Oh, sorry. I'm just trying to save you guys," Victor said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"One last chance, asshole. Move!" the green-haired man demanded.
Victor sighed, tossing his sword to the ground. "Guess we'll have to do this the hard way, then."
The men laughed. "You think you can fight us without your sword?" one of them sneered.
Victor smirked. "Yeah, I can." He dropped into a fighting stance, his body loose but with the energy of a well fed man.
The fight was swift and brutal. Victor moved like a whirlwind, his fists and feet striking with precision and devastating power. He ducked a punch from one man, retaliating with an elbow to the ribs that sent him sprawling. Another lunged at him with a dagger, but Victor sidestepped and delivered a spinning kick to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Two more men charged together, but Victor grabbed one by the wrist, using his momentum to throw him into the other. The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed through the street.
"Come on, is that all you've got?" Victor taunted, his smirk never leaving his face.
The green-haired man, now visibly shaking, watched as his comrades fell one by one. Victor was a blur of movement, his strikes landing with precision and power that left no room for retaliation. Within minutes, all twenty men were lying on the ground, groaning or unconscious.
Victor walked over to his sword, picking it up and sliding it back into his hip. The green-haired man, the last one standing, stared at him with wide eyes.
"Who... who are you?" he stammered.
Victor smirked and pulled out a silver necklace from under his shirt. Etched into the surface were the words "Victor Fare."