The air in front of the Hunter's Guild grew thick and heavy, charged with the promise of violence. Kael's challenge hung between them, a gauntlet thrown not with grace, but with the subtlety of a thrown boulder. The crowd of onlookers, sensing blood in the water, had formed a silent, expectant circle.
Elara's posture was a study in rigid control. Her hand rested on the pommel of her rapier, not out of aggression, but as an anchor in a storm of indignation.
To accept this brute's challenge was beneath her. To refuse was to show weakness. The Sanctum's teachings offered no clean solution for a situation so... vulgar.
"I have no time for this," she stated, her voice like chipped ice.
It was a dismissal, an attempt to rise above the fray.
"You'll make time," Kael grunted, taking another step.
The ground seemed to groan under his weight. He was enjoying this, basking in the power to force an A-ranker into his dirty little arena.
"Or are the Sanctum's chosen too scared to fight without a scripted mission plan?"
Elara's knuckles went white. The insult had found its mark. Her pride, forged in the competitive crucibles of the capital, was a weapon he now wielded against her.
And Zane?
Zane was looking at a nearby food stall. The smell of grilled boar sausage with sizzling onions was starting to make his stomach rumble. He wondered if they used pepper from the Southern Reach. It had a distinct, smoky flavor.
The Ashen Crypt job had paid decently, enough for a proper meal and maybe a new whetstone for his sword. This one was practically useless.
AURA's voice cut through his culinary musings, crisp and analytical.
[Analysis: Subject Kael's aggression is escalating. Physiological indicators suggest he is preparing to activate a physical enhancement skill. A public duel would result in a 78% probability of Subject Elara sustaining minor injuries and a 100% probability of our dinner being delayed.]
That last part caught his attention.
Elara, pushed to her limit, finally snapped. "Fine. If a public humiliation is what you seek, I will oblige."
The crowd murmured, excited. Kael's grin was a slash of predatory triumph. He had won. He had dragged her down to his level.
He began to roll his thick shoulders, the plates of his armor grinding together.
"That's more like it, princess—"
"Wait."
The voice was quiet, almost bored. It was Zane.
Every head turned to him. Kael squinted as if just noticing the speck of dust on his boot. "What did you say, F-rank?"
Zane finally tore his gaze away from the food stall, a look of mild annoyance on his face. He gestured vaguely at the space between Elara and Kael. "This is... inefficient. You want her reward pouch, right?"
"Yeah? And I'm gonna take it," Kael sneered.
Zane nodded slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "Right. But a duel involves effort. Swinging that axe around must be tiring. And what if you lose? Public humiliation, medical fees... it's a high-risk, low-reward investment."
He met Kael's glare with an expression of utter placidity. "I have a better offer."
He reached into his worn leather pouch and pulled out a single gold coin. It wasn't the mission reward; it was his own money. He held it up, letting it catch the light of the setting sun.
"One coin," Zane said. "We place it on the ground. You try to pick it up. If you can grab it before I do, you win. You can have her pouch, and mine too."
"If I get it first, you walk away and we all go get dinner. Separately, of course."
The crowd went dead silent, then erupted in laughter. Kael's face went from smug to purple with rage.
"Are you mocking me, you worthless piece of—"
"It's a serious offer," Zane interrupted, his tone unchanged. "Think about it. Minimal effort, same reward. It's just smart business."
Elara stared at Zane, her mind reeling. Was this his plan? To defuse the situation with... a ridiculous children's game?
It was insulting. It was absurd. It was—
"You're on," Kael roared, his fury overriding his sense.
He thought Zane was a fool, offering him an easy way out while trying to save face. He would humor this F-rank idiot, take his money, and then beat him to a pulp for the insult.
Zane smiled faintly. He tossed the coin into the dirt between them. It landed with a soft thud. "You can go first."
Kael smirked, cracking his knuckles. He took a ponderous step forward, his massive frame looming over the coin. He was going to draw this out, savor the humiliation.
He bent down, his thick, gauntleted fingers reaching for the prize.
The moment his fingers were an inch from the coin, Zane moved.
He didn't lunge. He didn't dash. He simply... shifted his weight.
His foot, clad in a worn-out leather boot, came down hard on the edge of a large, slightly uneven cobblestone right next to Kael's hand.
It wasn't a skill. It wasn't magic. It was physics. Simple, brutal, and completely outside the System.
The cobblestone acted as a lever. The far end, where Kael's hand was, shot upwards with startling velocity.
CRACK.
The sound was sickeningly loud. It was the sound of a two-hundred-pound slab of rock, propelled by a simple pivot, smashing into the side of Kael's helmeted head.
The B-rank Vanguard didn't even have time to grunt. His eyes rolled back into his skull, and his mountain of a body crashed to the ground like a felled tree, unconscious. The silence that followed was absolute.
Zane bent down, plucked the gold coin from the undisturbed dirt, and slipped it back into his pouch. He looked down at Kael's motionless form, then at the stunned crowd.
"See?" he said to no one in particular. "Inefficient. He could have just walked away."
He then turned to the still-frozen Elara, whose perfect, principled world had just been shattered by a man, a boot, and a fundamental lesson in gravity.
"Right," Zane said, his mind already back on the sizzling sausage. "Dinner?"