The silence that Kael left behind was heavier than his unconscious body.
The crowd of onlookers, who had gathered for a spectacle of brute force, had just witnessed something else entirely. Something quieter, stranger, and far more unsettling.
They weren't looking at Zane with the awe they'd give a champion, but with the wary respect one gives a snake in the grass.
Zane stepped over Kael's prone form without a second glance.
The thud of the Vanguard's head hitting the cobblestone was already a fading echo in his mind, replaced by the far more pressing matter of the boar sausage he had been promised by his own stomach.
He glanced back at Elara.
She was still standing there, a statue carved from marble and disbelief.
Her entire worldview, built on the sacred calculus of Ranks and Skills, had just been sucker-punched by a boot and a loose rock.
"Are you coming?" Zane asked, his tone casual. "The Guild master won't pay us if we just stand here all night."
His voice broke the spell.
Elara blinked, her gaze snapping from Kael's body to Zane's face.
She saw no triumph there. No arrogance. Just a placid, almost bored, impatience.
That, more than anything, was what terrified her.
He hadn't just beaten a B-ranker; he had treated the entire affair as a trivial, annoying delay.
She followed him into the Hunter's Guild, her steps stiff.
The inside of the Guild was a cacophony of noise and smells. The air was thick with the scent of spilled ale, sweat, and sawdust.
Hunters of all shapes and sizes were clustered around rough-hewn tables, boasting, arguing, and drowning their sorrows or celebrating their victories.
The news of what had just transpired outside had already spread like wildfire, carried on hushed whispers.
As Zane and Elara walked toward the counter, conversations died, and heads turned.
The Guild master, a grizzled old man named Borin with a prosthetic arm made of dark, polished iron, looked up from his ledger. His one good eye narrowed, first at Elara, then at Zane.
"I heard there was some trouble," Borin grunted, his voice like grinding stones.
"It's been handled," Elara said, her voice clipped.
Borin's eye shifted back to Zane. "Handled it with a rock, I hear. You. F-rank. You got a name?"
"Zane."
"Zane," Borin repeated, chewing on the name. "The Ashen Crypt. Clean clear. No casualties."
He made a notation in his ledger, then slid two small, heavy pouches across the counter. "Your pay."
Elara took hers silently.
Zane picked his up, weighing it in his hand.
It felt... light.
AURA's voice was immediate.
[Analysis: The weight of the pouch corresponds to the standard pay for a two-person E-rank mission, minus a 30% 'hazard fee' and a 15% 'administrative surcharge'. This is a predatory, but not uncommon, practice in remote guilds.]
Zane sighed.
*Of course.*
He looked at Borin. "It seems a little light."
Borin leaned forward, his prosthetic arm clanking on the wooden counter. His expression was one of friendly condescension, the kind a wolf gives a lamb.
"Is that so? Well, son, running a guild out here ain't cheap. There are... operational costs. Besides, an F-rank like you should just be happy to get paid at all."
He was testing him. The entire guild was watching.
They had seen him take down Kael with a trick, but that didn't earn him respect. It earned him suspicion.
In their world, strength was loud. It was flashy skills and overwhelming power.
A clever trick was just that—a trick. It wasn't real power.
Elara opened her mouth to protest.
This was against Guild regulations. It was a clear abuse of power.
It was wrong. Her principles demanded she intervene.
But before she could speak, Zane held up a hand, stopping her.
He looked at the pouch, then back at Borin, and a slow smile spread across his face. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a smile that said, *Oh, so this is the game we're playing.*
"You're right," Zane said, his voice cheerful. "My mistake. It's just... I'm new to this. I'm still trying to figure out how everything works. For example," he leaned in, his voice dropping slightly, "I'm curious about the weight of things."
He placed his pouch back on the counter.
Then, he took the single gold coin he'd won from Kael and placed it beside the pouch.
"A pouch of silver and copper for clearing a nest of wraiths," he mused. "And a single gold coin for... winning a bet."
He tapped the gold coin with his finger. "It just feels like the world's values are a little... skewed. Don't you think?"
Borin's eye twitched. The friendly facade began to crack.
He knew this wasn't about the money anymore.
Zane continued, his voice still light. "It makes a man wonder. What's the real weight of things? What's the weight of a B-ranker's pride? Or the weight of a Guild master's reputation?"
He pushed the single gold coin across the counter towards Borin.
"What's the weight of silence?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and sharp.
It was a bribe and a threat, delivered with a smile.
Zane was offering one coin to make up for the 'shortfall,' but the implication was clear: You can take this coin and we can pretend this never happened, or you can find out what other 'tricks' an F-rank with nothing to lose is capable of.
Elara stared, horrified and fascinated.
This was not how justice worked. This was coercion. It was blackmail.
And yet... it was working.
She could see the calculations flickering in Borin's eye.
The old Guild master looked at the coin.
He looked at Zane's smiling, inscrutable face.
He looked at the silent, watchful guild members.
Finally, he let out a long, slow breath.
He pushed the coin back, and with his iron hand, he slid another, much heavier pouch from under the counter and placed it next to Zane's. The "surcharges."
"Looks like I made an administrative error," Borin grumbled, not meeting Zane's eyes. "My apologies."
Zane scooped up both his pouches and the coin. "No problem at all. We all make mistakes." He turned to Elara. "See? Everything can be resolved with a calm, reasonable discussion."
He walked away towards the exit, leaving Elara and a guild full of suddenly very quiet hunters in his wake.
She watched him go, a single, maddening thought echoing in her mind:
He had just defeated a B-rank Vanguard and a corrupt Guild Master without using a single skill, and his greatest display of effort had been spent on a loose cobblestone.