Roland’s eyes narrowed slightly as he saw the glint of greed in the burly man’s gaze.

Before setting off for Songmu Town, he had already heard about the reputation of these Mercenaries and Adventurers.

Driven by fame and fortune, unscrupulous, fierce, and violent...

But amid all the varied descriptions, one point was surprisingly consistent.

They were all bullies who preyed on the weak and feared the strong.

Show the slightest hint of fear, and they would swarm you like jackals that had scented blood.

Therefore, Roland had anticipated this situation and had already prepared a countermeasure.

"New here, kid? Let me tell you..."

The bald brute advanced, a menacing sneer twisting his scarred face into a terrifying mask.

Just as the man’s rough hand was about to land on his shoulder, Roland lowered his stance.

His right fist struck out like a viper.

THUD!

The heavy impact cut the bald man’s words short, lodging them in his throat.

As his opponent doubled over in pain, Roland landed a precise whip kick to the side of his knee.

With a sharp CRACK, the brute staggered and fell to his knees.

Staring at the vulnerable neck now exposed before him, Roland’s right hand instinctively slid toward the Dagger at his waist.

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps approached.

Roland’s eyes flickered, and he pulled his hand back from his weapon.

Instead, he formed his fingers into a spearhead and, with lightning speed, struck for the man’s throat.

"Gack... Ptui..."

Before the onlookers could even react, the brute’s eyes bulged. He stumbled back several steps before collapsing heavily into the mud.

He landed right next to the tall man he had been beating moments before.

Muddy water splattered everywhere, making the two wretched figures look even more pathetic.

Just then, a thunderous roar erupted.

"Stop this at once!"

A squad of fully-armed Guards approached, marching in lockstep.

The man in the lead had short brown hair and a formidable build. His polished Armor glinted coldly in the dim light.

His sharp gaze swept over the chaotic scene, and he opened his mouth to reprimand them.

"Cyan Scar Hayden! I warned you..."

His words died in his throat.

The short-haired man’s pupils contracted as he stared in disbelief at the bald brute collapsed on the ground.

The once arrogant and domineering "Cyan Scar" was now curled up in agony.

He feebly clawed at his throat, his entire face swelling to a horrifying shade of purple.

After a few hoarse, choking coughs, the infamous Mercenary’s eyes rolled back, and he passed out in the mud.

The short-haired man’s brow twitched violently.

Cyan Scar Hayden.

He was Songmu Town’s most notorious ruffian, a man who ran rampant using his brawn and vicious tactics.

His habit of preying on the weak, combined with his beast-like ferocity, made the Mercenary the most troublesome scoundrel in all of Songmu Town.

But now...

With a CLANG of Armor, the short-haired man’s sharp gaze locked onto the only stranger left standing.

As he strode forward, his tall frame cast a Shadow that nearly engulfed Roland completely.

"I am Sheriff Whiteman."

He flicked the guard of his sword with his thumb, his voice colder than steel.

"These two..."

He nudged the unconscious bald man with the tip of his boot.

"Did you do this?"

Hearing the man state his title, Roland simply raised an eyebrow. He silently lifted a corner of his linen robe, revealing the Dagger Dalko had given him.

The silver sheath of the Dagger glinted in the dim light.

Whiteman’s expression froze instantly, and he respectfully lowered his gaze.

"Sir..."

"I’m here on private business."

Roland’s tone was impassive.

"My apologies. I have overstepped."

Whiteman bowed immediately, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Leave this to me. I’ll handle it."

The moment he finished speaking, he straightened up, turned, and barked at the Guards behind him.

"What are you standing around for?"

His thick finger pointed at the two men in the mud.

"Throw these two idiots in the dungeon and let them reflect on what they’ve done!"

"Yes, sir!"

At his command, the Guards scrambled to drag away the unconscious brute.

Just then, another commotion arose in the distance.

Whiteman wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose and hesitated before speaking.

"My apologies, er... My lord, I don’t know how I should address you..."

"Roland."

Roland said as he tied his reins to a wooden post.

"There’s no need for titles."

"Of course, Mr. Roland."

Seeing Roland’s easygoing attitude, Whiteman visibly relaxed.

"I have some other business to attend to. If you need any assistance..."

He pointed to the north side of the town.

A tall watchtower stood there.

"You can find me there."

"Thank you, Mr. Whiteman."

"Not at all, not at all..."

Whiteman waved his hands dismissively, gave a quick bow, and then rushed off with his Guards toward the commotion.

The clanking of Armor gradually faded into the noisy hubbub of the crowd.

Meanwhile, whispers rippled through the surrounding Mercenaries.

"Who is this kid? Even that mad dog Whiteman was bowing and scraping to him..."

A Mercenary with a face full of scars lowered his voice.

"Who cares who he is!"

His tall, thin companion took a swig of ale, his eyes glinting.

"Did you see how he fought? That bastard Hayden didn’t even have a chance to fight back!"

"Tsk, he looks so refined, but his methods are vicious..."

Roland paid the discussions no mind.

He raised a hand to gently stroke Black Wind’s forehead, using his [Animal Companion] Trait to whisper a few words into the warhorse’s ear.

Black Wind snorted and meekly nuzzled his palm.

Once he was sure his mount was settled, Roland straightened his robes and walked into the Adventurer’s Guild under the crowd’s probing gazes.

Instantly, a wave of clamor washed over him.

The cloying smell of stale ale and sweat fermented in the air. Greasy torches cast flickering shadows across the hall.

Rusted Armor and worn-out weapons were piled in a corner, while leftover food lay strewn across several moth-eaten wooden tables.

It was less an Adventurer’s Guild and more a common tavern.

Behind the counter, a fleshy-faced bartender wiped a grimy wooden mug.

A few drunken Adventurers were snoring at a table, while more figures lurked in the shadows.

Some sharpened daggers, others counted coins. All eyes fixed on Roland the moment he entered, only to dart away when he met their gaze.

Clearly, the sight of Roland defeating Hayden had left a deep impression on the Mercenaries and Adventurers.

"New face?"

The bartender lazily sized Roland up and gestured toward the wall plastered with quest notices.

"Go see for yourself."

His rough finger left a wet streak on the grimy mug.

"If you find one you like, bring it here to register."

Roland gave a slight nod and walked toward the mottled oak wall.

Yellowed parchments, stained with dried ale, were tacked densely across its entire surface.

His long fingers brushed across the papers, and he noticed that the bottom-right corner of each notice was marked with red dots made from a cinnabar ink pad.

’They must be a Level indicator for the quest’s difficulty,’ he thought.

Furthermore, each quest notice detailed the time limit, required number of people, and the quest’s specific location.

Surprisingly, there were very few quests to slay Demons.

Roland had no choice but to read through them one by one.

"Escort a merchant caravan to Chenxi Territory. Time limit: twenty days. Reward: sixty Copper Coins. Difficulty: one..."

"Recover stolen property. Time limit: three days. Reward: thirty Copper Coins. Difficulty: one..."

"Seeking five complete deer hides. Time limit: five days. Reward: fifty Copper Coins. Difficulty: one..."

After scanning for some time, Roland finally found the kind of quests he was looking for.

"Cull the goblin camp. Time limit: fifteen days. Reward: based on number of goblins killed. Difficulty: three..."

"Clear the Dogman Lair. Time limit: fifteen days. Reward: based on number of Kobolds killed. Difficulty: three..."

"Investigate unusual Demon activity around Songmu Town. Time limit: thirty days. Reward: two silver and fifteen copper coins. Difficulty: five..."

On this last, curl-edged notice, five bright red dots were particularly jarring, and the ink looked much fresher than the others.

’Unusual Demon activity to the southeast?’

Roland filed that information away and then carefully read the first two quest notices.

After confirming there was no mention of fully scale-covered Kobolds or non-green-skinned goblins, he weighed his own capabilities.

Confident that he could handle them and had plenty of time, he reached out and pulled the first two notices from the wall.

Turning back to the counter, he placed the parchments on the bartop and slid them toward the yawning bartender.

The bartender squinted, studying Roland carefully, his brow furrowing.

"Two quests, and just you?"

he asked gruffly, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the counter.

Roland gave a calm nod.

"Another one who doesn’t know his own limits..."

The bartender muttered under his breath, but his hands moved deftly, copying the quest details.

As the ink bled onto the paper, he spoke without looking up.

"Listen, kid, you’ll have to pay a fine if you exceed the time limit... assuming you come back alive, of course."

He pushed the transcribed copy and an ink pad toward Roland with a dull thud.

"Sign your name, leave a thumbprint, and the jobs are yours."

"Thank you."

After his brief reply, Roland took the quill and signed the parchment with an elegant script.

He folded one of the copies, tucked it into his robe, and turned toward the door.

Just as he was about to push the door open, a figure cloaked in a wide, black robe entered, silhouetted against the light.

The newcomer was slender. Only a pair of brilliant blue eyes were visible, with a glimpse of pale skin beneath a face covering.

As they brushed past each other, the thick stench of blood assaulted Roland’s senses.

The smell was so potent it was almost tangible, forcing an involuntary frown from Roland.

"It’s the Executioner! What’s that lunatic doing back now?"

"Damn it, what bad luck! Let’s get out of here!"

The once-boisterous Guild hall fell silent in an instant. Adventurers scrambled for the exit, the sounds of toppling tables and chairs echoing in their wake.

In a matter of moments, only Roland and the mysterious figure known as the Executioner remained in the vast hall.

’Executioner...’

Roland repeated the name in his mind but didn’t linger.

He pushed open the door and walked over to Black Wind, who was munching on some feed.

After untying the reins, he led his warhorse through the town before finally settling on a reasonably clean inn for the night.

At dawn the next day, before the morning mist had fully dissipated, Roland was already on horseback, riding toward the location mentioned in the quest notice.

Black Wind’s hooves trod across the dew-covered mud, leaving a clear trail of prints in their wake.