Paladin conveyed Kino's orders to the Guild of Painters, gathering fifteen sketch artists to secretly take turns standing guard at the city gates, using their most concise and skillful strokes to record the faces of every individual entering the city.
The payment in silver moons thrilled the sketch artists, and their efficiency soared, as if fueled by alchemical potions, rendering them unstoppable.
On his way back from completing official business, Paladin remembered that the sugar supply at the Governor's residence was running low and decided to buy some for Kino. He took a detour and entered a confectionery shop to purchase a large bag of strawberry-flavored hard candies.
As soon as he paid, a commotion erupted outside, filled with the shouts of men and the cries of a child.
Paladin furrowed his brow and strode outside.
The rain that had just passed had left the ground damp, the dirt now muddied and murky with the mix of rainwater and dust.
There, a boy of about ten lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes filled with fear and terror, his skin marred by visible bruises, and one wound had been struck open, blood pouring freely.
The boy's face was streaked with tears, and a muscular man with a hulking physique stomped on him mercilessly, kicking him with ruthless force, while a well-dressed youth stood nearby, sneering.
The muscular man rolled up his sleeves, revealing powerful muscles, and slapped the boy across the face, leaving a red, swollen mark. He cursed, "Damn bastard, don't watch where you're going, daring to bump into Young Master Fick? You filthy dog, stay in the gutter where you belong!"
The growing crowd of onlookers seemed to shrink back in fear, cowed by the man's formidable physique and the sword hanging from his waist, but no one dared intervene. Instead, they peered curiously, watching the spectacle unfold.
A few, with twisted minds, jeered and cheered, relishing the torment, shouting:
"Beat him! If you're a man, beat him to death!"
"Why not just chop him up? Can't you be quicker? Hack off his filthy paws!"
"I can't wait to see him cry like a baby!"
...
Paladin cast a cold glance at the crowd of jeering bystanders. If they were the ones being beaten, how would they feel if they saw a crowd watching them like animals in a circus, urging the violence on?
The boy, unable to endure any longer, cried out, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bump into him, please, let me go!"
Young Master Fick ignored the boy's desperate pleas, his eyes scanning the jeering onlookers as he spread his arms wide, like an emperor commanding life and death, and shouted, "Such lowly vermin, should we chop off one of his legs as a warning? Which leg should we take?"
The crowd's roars surged, and the majority shouted for his right leg.
"Then it's settled, right leg it is!" Fick sneered at the boy, as though he were a stray dog unworthy of a second thought.
The muscular man grasped the hilt of his sword, and the boy, terrified, screamed, his eyes squeezed shut in desperate anticipation.
However, moments later, the boy felt no pain.
He fearfully opened his eyes...
Who was this?
A tall figure stood before him, an experienced hand gripping the muscular man's wrist with a strength that defied resistance. The insignia of the Captain of Twilight City was clearly visible on his uniform.
Paladin looked at Fick and spoke coldly, "He is just a child. Why must you torment him?"
"To hell with you!" The muscular man flung Paladin's hand aside, and with a brutal swing, punched him in the face.
Caught off guard, Paladin staggered back, instinctively touching his nose, only to find it covered in blood.
Furious, Paladin drew his own sword. "You dare attack the Captain of Twilight City? Surrender now, or I will be forced to execute you!"
But to his surprise, the muscular man showed no fear of Paladin's rank. With a curse, he unsheathed his own blade and charged at Paladin, wielding it with wild abandon.
The two clashed fiercely, the sound of blades ringing in the air, each combatant trading strikes in a whirlwind of steel.
Many onlookers had already scattered, unwilling to be caught up in the chaos.
Some, however, twisted in their perverse curiosity, remained, cheering for a bloodier conclusion, eager for a life to be taken.
Paladin, skilled in combat, quickly found his rhythm. After a few rounds, he seized an opportunity, smashing the hilt of his sword into the muscular man's mouth, knocking out two of his teeth. The man staggered back, blood spraying from his mouth.
Fick, enraged, tossed his own sword to the muscular man, ordering, "Finish him!"
The muscular man spat blood and grabbed the new sword, replacing his previous weapon.
The moment the new blade was drawn, an invisible force surged in the street, the wind whipping violently. The onlookers fell silent, staring in stunned disbelief at the weapon in the man's hands.
Though the sword appeared unremarkable, it radiated an unsettling, sinister aura that sent chills down one's spine.
Suddenly, the muscular man swung the sword, and a bloodthirsty gleam flashed through the air, cutting toward Paladin.
The blade itself hadn't reached him, but the aura of the strike did!
The sword's length was just under a meter, yet when swung, Paladin, standing three meters away, felt an overwhelming sense of impending death. He rolled to the side just in time.
The blade's aura swept past him, cutting his own military sword in half as though it were mere tofu.
It grazed his side, ripping a gash along his arm, blood pouring out in torrents.
Paladin's face drained of color as he recognized the weapon: a rune-forged blade!
Rune-forged weapons were no ordinary items. Crafted through alchemical methods, they required rare metals as their base and were infused with soul energy by soul mages during the forging process, making them immensely powerful.
These weapons were extraordinarily expensive, often traded for hundreds or even thousands of silver moons, with high-quality ones requiring payment in golden moons.
Though the sword appeared plain, each strike unleashed a flood of floating carvings—runic symbols that marked its enchanted nature!
While the muscular man's fighting skill was inferior to Paladin's, with the rune blade in hand, the balance of power shifted instantly.
The blade's deadly aura slashed through the air relentlessly, slicing through anything it touched, leaving deep cuts in the street. A bystander who failed to dodge in time had their arm severed, collapsing in a pool of blood, unconscious from the pain.
Paladin dodged yet another strike, and, desperate, shouted, "Where did you get such a weapon? Which family do you belong to?!"
"A dead dog doesn't need to know such things!" the muscular man spat, continuing his assault, intent on killing Paladin.
The pressure of impending death left no room for thought. Paladin's instincts screamed that fighting against such a weapon from a distance was futile—he needed to close the gap and dive into the blind spot of the attack!
No longer retreating, Paladin surged forward, colliding with the muscular man, aiming to disarm him.
But the muscular man was no slouch.
The two grappled, and the muscular man took advantage of the struggle, twisting his blade to target Paladin's side, aiming to pierce his lungs.
At the brink of death, Paladin's adrenaline spiked, and his mind went blank. He fumbled blindly for the short dagger on the man's lower back, yanking it out without a second thought. With a furious cry, he thrust it into the man's temple.
A sickening squelch sounded as the dagger buried itself deep.
The muscular man went limp, his body crumpling to the ground in a pool of blood, his final tremor the only sign of life before he fell silent.
Paladin gasped for breath, his heart racing as his body suddenly relaxed. Darkness clouded his vision, and flashes of white noise danced before his eyes.
"You killed my retainer..." came Fick's voice, cold and filled with rage.
Fick showed no sign of panic at the death of his servant; instead, his eyes blazed with fury as he screamed at Paladin, "I am Fick Troy, son of a warrior from the 'Kingdom Family' Sword and Shield division. How dare you kill my retainer?!"
At the sound of his name, Paladin froze, his face ashen.