The Psychopathic Beast Emperor-Chapter 93: Getting an Inn

The field was wide and quiet, a deliberately cleared path cutting through tall grass like a promise of civilization. Two kilometers ahead, Asonvale rested against the horizon, stone walls, tiled roofs, and a watchtower rising just high enough.

They walked, drawing closer to the town.

As they drew close, the sounds of the bustling and thriving town entered their ears. Distant voices, metal striking metal... the hum of life doing what life always did, continuously. Guards stood at the open gates, their spears resting casually against their shoulders. They gave the group a brief glance, assessed them, and waved them through without much interest.

Inside, Asonvale unfolded in familiar patterns.

Stone-paved roads branched neatly through the town, lined with shops and homes stacked close together. Merchants called out half-heartedly, selling dried meat, charms (not sure if they work), simple weapons, and travel gear. Children darted between adults, laughter cutting through the steady rhythm of footsteps and chatter. The scent of baked bread mixed with oil and iron, grounding the place in their contrasting presences.

Bahamut took it all in quietly, admiring the change of environment for a moment.

Apollonia moved like she already knew the place, leading them through the main street before drifting into narrower roads. They passed a blacksmith hammering away at a glowing blade, a clothier adjusting robes on a wooden mannequin, and a notice board cluttered with faded requests and poorly drawn warnings.

It was ordinary, and that somehow made Bahamut more alert. He didn’t know why, but he felt like the town wasn’t as simple as it looked.

As the sun dipped lower, Apollonia slowed and stopped in front of a modest two-story building. A wooden sign creaked gently above the door, painted with simple lettering.

The Wayfarer’s Rest.

"This will do," she said.

The inn’s windows glowed warmly from within, light spilling onto the street in soft pools. Laughter and the clink of mugs filtered through the door, promising food, beds, and at least a few hours without blood or explosions... hopefully.

...

The door to the inn creaked open.

For half a heartbeat, the noise inside The Wayfarer’s Rest died.

Conversation thinned to murmurs, and mugs paused mid-air. A few people turned fully in their chairs, their eyes lingering longer than politeness allowed. Adventurers were common enough, but this group didn’t fit neatly into any familiar shape.

Bahamut drew the most immediate stares.

A blindfold wrapped around his eyes, dark and almost deliberate, and perched casually atop his head was a small bunny, Ren. His ears twitched as he surveyed the room like he owned it. Some people frowned at that. Others leaned in to whisper. One man snorted into his drink, unsure whether to laugh or feel uneasy.

The attention then shifted...

Apollonia stepped in with quiet authority, her white wings folding neatly behind her back, the golden tips catching the firelight. Her blouse and skirt were simple, but the way she carried herself made the room feel smaller.

Rakia followed, her green dress modest, her presence calm and steady. Exildra came last among the women, her shirt and trousers fitting her frame cleanly, while her boots pressed firmly against the floor.

The men stared... too much.

Their eyes tracked their hips, shoulders, wings. Some didn’t even bother pretending otherwise. A few leaned back in their chairs with lazy grins. The women in the inn noticed too... Their tight smiles, narrowed eyes, and the quick, instinctive measuring that came with envy and comparison. They were envious of the pure beauty and presence the girls radiated naturally without even trying.

Sel walked in behind them, as silent as always. No one even looked twice... Some didn’t even notice him at all. Their attention had been fully captured by the girl.

They took a table near the center of the room. Bahamut sat in the chair lazily, almost sloping on it with Ren settling comfortably atop his head. Exildra took the seat beside him, Rakia across, Sel slightly to the side.

Apollonia didn’t sit... yet. She moved straight to the counter, exchanging quiet words with the innkeeper.

The room slowly returned to life, but not fully.

A few minutes passed, and it looked like everyone was minding their business again, when a chair scraped loudly, causing people to turn to look at the source.

A man stood.

He was broad, thick-necked, and clearly drunk enough to feel brave and stupid at the same time. His steps were unsteady as he approached their table, his ale sloshing dangerously close to spilling.

"Well now," he slurred, stopping too close. "That’s a fine group you’ve got here."

Bahamut didn’t move."Stay back," he said calmly.

The man laughed. "Blindfolded and ordering people around? That’s rich. Can you even see me?"

He leaned closer, his breath sour, and his lecherous eyes fixed on Exildra. Then, with the confidence of someone who had never been punished for crossing a line, he slung an arm around her neck.

The room went silent again.

Bahamut turned his head.

That was all.

The next sound was a scream, high, raw, and immediate. The man stumbled backward, staring in disbelief at the stump where his hand should have been. He collapsed onto the floor, clutching it, shrieking as pain finally caught up with reality.

Bahamut stood, holding the severed arm like it weighed nothing.

Blood dripped cleanly from it as he walked towards the man who had pissed his pants in pain. He held the stump, trying to stop the flowing blood.

People recoiled. Chairs scraped back. A few patrons stood instinctively, unsure whether to run or kneel. The earlier leering gazes were gone, replaced by something colder and far more respectful.

Fear.

The man crawled away, sobbing, dragging himself toward the door. Bahamut followed him without urgency. Outside, he tossed the arm forward. It landed near the man with a dull thud.

"I regret not killing you," Bahamut said coldly, chilling the man’s soul to the extent that he instantly became sober. All the drunkenness had disappeared without a trace, but it had caused him an arm.

Bahamut turned, walked inside, and sat back down.

Ren adjusted himself atop his head. Exildra straightened her collar, her expression unreadable, but her ears were red. Rakia exhaled slowly as if she expected it. Sel just stared at the table as if it had suddenly become an interesting thing.

Apollonia returned moments later, setting down a key.

"We have rooms," she said calmly, as if nothing had happened.

Around them, the inn slowly breathed again, but no one looked at their table the same way.