"That's him, boss! The kid with the magic tricks! He cheated me!" Grimgor peeked out from behind Vex, pointing a shaking finger at Khan.
"...This one thought you're unable to cast spells, Khan?" Miriel glances sideway to her profusely sweating tour guide.
"...Is my tricks what you people called 'magic'? I'm genuinely confused about this world's standard of evaluation now, your Highne—"
Khan couldn't finish his sentence.
CRASH!!!
A hand, clad in an iron glove as big as a pot, slammed down on the table, splitting the thick oak wood in two. Khan's recently won silver coins bounced and scattered across the floor.
A deathly silence immediately enveloped The Iron Tooth. Vex the Ironfist hunched over, his enormous shadow devouring the oil lamp's light, enveloping both of them. The smell of rusty metal and dried blood assaulted Khan's senses.
"You think you're funny, brat?" Vex snarled, his voice hoarse like grinding stones.
His eyes swept the table, then landed on the figure standing beside Khan. Her hood had slipped just enough to reveal a glimpse of bright crimson hair and the lower half of a breathtaking face — flawless snow-white skin that stood out sharply against the grimy tavern.
Vex's scowl deepened into something uglier.
"You got two options, kid. Hand over the pouch and the girl... or we break your legs and take them anyway." He rumbled.
The forced smile on Khan's lips vanished completely. He swallowed, heart pounding in his chest so hard as if it would shatter his ribs. The room suddenly became suffocating with the smell of sweat, sour beer and a thick, palpable aura of hostility. Khan glanced out at the corner of his eyes: Three henchmen had drawn half their blades from scabbards, silently blocking all escape routes.
[Name: Vex the Ironfist]
[Race: Human]
[Level: 64]
[Status: Greedy, Violent — Runs protection rackets through fear and broken bones. Enjoys doing the breaking himself.]
[Note: Fragile Ego — Hates being talked down to or made to look weak in front of his men.]
The system flashed Vex's statuses before Khan's vision, but he didn't need a system to know the giant before him could easily snap his neck like a dry twig.
"Please calm down, Mr. Ironfist..." Khan slowly began, trying to keep his voice from trembling. He raised both hands to his chest to show he wasn't resisting.
"We all came to this place for money, yes? So, no need for knives and hard feelings. How about I leave half, we call it a generous tip for the entertainment, and the lady and I walk out the back like civilized people?" Khan tried to maintain a steady gaze, but a cold sweat trickled down his temple.
"Money stays," Vex's expression didn't change. "And the lady stays too. Pretty thing like that doesn't belong with a scrawny boy like you. Hand both over nice and slow, or we take them."
One of the thugs — a wiry man with bloodshot eyes and the jittery energy of someone deep into 'dreamweed' — shifted impatiently beside him, gripping a nailed club so tightly his knuckles were white.
"Look, I get it. Your guy lost. Badly. But dragging the whole crew down here over a few silver coins and a misunderstanding feels like overkill even for slum standards. How about—"
The dreamweed thug snapped.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" He snarled, lunging forward without waiting for Vex's order, nailed club raised high as he charged straight at Khan.
Miriel moved.
Her delicate hand shot out with impossible grace. A thread of violet mana wrapped around the club as it exploded with raw aura, sending the thug backward like a rag doll. He crashed through a playing table in a spray of cards, coins and ale, screaming as every bone in his right arm shattered.
"MY COINS!!!" A drunkard screamed, flipping his table.
"YOU LOOKED AT ME FUNNY!" another roared, punching the man next to him.
The tension in the room snapped. The gamblers, fueled by cheap alcohol and losing streaks, turned the place into a free-for-all.
Chairs flew. Bottles shattered. Old grudges that had been simmering for hours erupted as everyone in the room decided tonight was the night to vent. Fists, knives, and the occasional boot connected with satisfying crunches.
Miriel was a vision of deadly elegance.
Four blades wrapped in pure violet mana orbited around her like loyal satellites. She didn't run. She danced. Each step was precise, royal, almost lazy.
A thug swung at her — the blade stopped an inch from her face, instantly got wrapped in mana, and reversed direction to slam into its owner's forehead with a CLANG. Another tried to grab her from behind; two orbiting blades spun out and slapped his hands away so hard his fingers broke like dry twigs.
While the demon princess stood in the center of the storm, dodging a chair with effortless grace and roundhouse-kicking another thug through a window, Khan dropped.
He hit the floor, rolling smoothly under the nearest table.
"Excuse me, coming through," Khan muttered, crawling on his elbows.
Above him, bodies were flying. Wood splintered. Vex was roaring, trying to grab Miriel, but she was dancing around him, using his own momentum to make him punch his henchmen. She looked bored, majestic but lethal.
Below the table, Khan's eyes were glowing with greed.
[Item: Silver Coin] - [Dropped by Player 2.]
Yoink. Khan snatched it.
[Item: Gold Tooth] - [Dislodged from Thug 3.]
'Gross. But valuable.' Khan pocketed it.
He scrambled to the next table, crab-walking while a body crashed onto the surface above him. He saw a pile of copper coins scattered near an unconscious dwarf.
"Don't mind if I do," Khan whispered, sweeping all the coins into his pouch.
[When a demon princess turns a bar fight into a floating-weapon ballet, the correct response is clearly "time to go full goblin."]
[Truly inspirational. I'm taking notes on this masterclass in priorities.]
"This one finds your manners lacking," she told him before one of her blades gently impaled a charging brute's boot to the floor.
"Aw, spare me the detail, your Highness. Gotta give a high-liquidity market your maximum effort, right?!" Khan tying another fat, jingling pouch onto his strap under the table beside her foot.
THWEEEEETTTT
Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the chaos.
"GUARDS! CITY WATCH! EVERYONE FREEZE!"
The heavy doors burst open. Lanterns and armored boots thundered down the stairs.
"Time to cash out!" Khan yelled, popping out from under a table near the back.
Miriel was in the middle of holding Vex in a headlock. She looked disappointed at the interruption.
"We are leaving!" Khan barked, grabbing her hand.
"But this one haven't finished—"
He yanked the princess toward the kitchen door. They burst through the swinging doors, past a terrified cook, and spilled out into the cool, fresh air of the back alley.
Khan slammed the door shut and wedged a crate against it just as heavy fists began to pound on the other side.
They escaped the slum. Khan leaned against the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the cobblestones, clutching his chest. He was out of breath, covered in dust and stale beer.
Miriel stood over him. Her cloak was pristine. Her breathing remained perfectly composed, as if she had simply taken a leisurely stroll through the palace gardens.
"You loot like a common goblin, Khan," she observed, voice carrying that elegant royal lilt.
"Ten silver clear from the dagger, another forty-plus from the table, plus whatever I scooped off the floor," he panted between laughs. "And I think I found someone's wedding ring under a stool."
Khan glanced at the ring on his left pinky finger and laughed harder.
"Still got it."