In a back alley within the Slums southwest of the Royal Capital, tucked away in the basement of an inconspicuous building, sat a secret bar known as the "Blue Eye."

The interior was dim, and two figures lingered at the far end of the counter. One was a man with an eye patch. The other was a young woman with black hair cascading over a lithe, alluring frame.

The woman set a small pouch on the bar. It landed with the heavy, metallic clink of gold. The one-eyed man picked it up and peered inside.

"Well now, that’s a fair amount. Don't tell me that rookie pulled this off...?"

"He did. He took care of the target all by himself. The client was thrilled, apparently, saying the beast was put down before it could cause a scene. Tell me, Lizard, where did you find that man?"

The man addressed as "Lizard" widened his single eye.

"Where did I find him? He just wandered in off the street. Still, for him to make someone like you say all that, he must be a hell of a [Swordsman]. This Walt fellow."

Sasha shook her head.

"He’s no [Swordsman]. He’s something else entirely—some job I can’t identify."

"Not a [Swordsman]?"

"No. He took a direct hit from a giant snake’s fangs with his bare hands and didn't have a scratch to show for it. He must have a skill like [Iron Skin], the high-level [Martial Artist] ability."

The one-eyed man tilted his head skeptically.

"Doesn't [Iron Skin] take a talented [Martial Artist] ten years of training to master? That’s not a skill a brat who isn’t even twenty yet should be able to use. Are you sure you didn’t just misread the situation, Sasha?"

"Hardly. I saw what I saw. On top of that, he was carrying explosives with unbelievable power. I’ve never heard of a [Swordsman] using demolition to kill monsters. To put it simply, his fighting style was utter madness."

As Sasha spoke with mounting excitement, the one-eyed man still seemed unconvinced.

"Well, there’s no doubt he’s someone who couldn't join the Adventurer's Guild for some reason and drifted into the underworld. I’ll make sure to prioritize Walt for future requests."

"Please do. With him around, we might actually be able to clear the difficult jobs without any hiccups."

"You’re certainly fired up about him."

A smirk played across the man's face.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm talking strictly business."

"Sure, sure."

Stowing the pouch, the one-eyed man drained his glass and left the Blue Eye. Left alone, Sasha—perhaps a bit lightheaded from the alcohol—stared into the void with a feverish intensity in her eyes, lost in thought.

A few days later.

I was out at a tavern in the Royal Capital, a single gold coin—my payout from the Lizard’s Tail—clutched in my hand.

Back when I worked in my home fishing village, a full day’s labor barely netted me a single silver. By comparison, a gold coin for one night’s work was a staggering fortune. As long as I didn't live extravagantly, I could survive on this for quite a while.

I’d actually hesitated about coming to a tavern at all, but I decided to splurge. I wanted to reward myself, to celebrate the success of my first job.

I sat alone at a round table meant for two. Before me sat the house specialty stew, a salad, and a well-chilled ale.

I had been in the depths of despair when I failed every single interview at the Adventurer's Guild, but now I was actually enjoying a decent meal and a drink. My circumstances were changing at a dizzying pace, but I was starting to feel a glimmer of hope that things might just work out.

"Phew..."

I took a long pull of ale and scanned the room. Between the knives tucked into belts and the swords leaning against chairs, it was clear this was a popular haunt for adventurers.

I wondered what the Adventurer's Guild was really like. I listened intently as I ate, picking out threads of conversation from the noisy bustle of the crowd.

"Man, we really lucked out. I still can’t believe we got into the Shield of the Sky."

"Yeah. Once you're in an S-rank guild, you're set for life."

The voices belonged to two men sitting at a table just ahead of mine. One was massive; the other was slender with a sharp, piercing gaze.

Both of them wore the "shield" emblem on their shoulders. It was the same one I’d seen on that interviewer’s uniform. It seemed they were members of the Shield of the Sky—and judging by the conversation, they were recent recruits.

"I wonder how those losers in the C-rank guilds even survive?"

"I heard they only get the dangerous scraps for pathetic pay, so they end up crippled in no time. They don't have any real training programs either, so they never learn new skills. They’re stuck at the bottom forever."

A few other patrons in the tavern scowled at their words. They were likely members of those very guilds.

"Well, we already had our skills before we even signed up. We’re on a different level than these local nobodies. That’s why we were the ones who got picked for the Shield of the Sky, after all."

"Exactly."

The two laughed and clinked their glasses. The glares from the surrounding tables grew sharper, but the pair didn't care. They were clearly feeling bold thanks to the alcohol. They snorted in derision, looking down on everyone who dared to look their way.

"You two, that’s enough. You know where you are, don't you? This is an adventurer's tavern."

A middle-aged man nearby stood up, finally speaking out against them.

"Heh. We can talk about whatever we want while we drink. Don't get salty just because you were eavesdropping on your betters, you bottom-feeder."

"He’s right. The fact that your life is a dead end isn’t our fault—it’s yours. You’re a pathetic old man."

The middle-aged man’s face flushed a deep crimson. He stepped forward, his fists clenched. No one in the room moved to stop him.

"Hah!"

The larger of the two men stood up with surprising speed and drove a fist into the middle-aged man’s gut. The man’s back suddenly filled my vision as he staggered toward me.

Wait, crap. He’s going to—

I stood up and lurched backward just in time, but I couldn't save my dinner. The man slammed into my table, sending my warm stew and half-finished ale crashing onto the floor.

"...Ugh..."

The middle-aged man collapsed, clutching his stomach and groaning.

"Hmph. Garbage..."

The man from the Shield of the Sky spat out the insult and turned back to his seat.

No. No, no, no. Where was the apology for my food? That was the dinner I’d earned with my first real paycheck. They’d ruined it and didn't even have a single word to say for themselves? Were these guys insane? I wasn't going to let this slide.

I walked over to the table where the two men were sitting.

"Hey. My meal is all over the floor."

"The hell do I care? Talk to the old man who ran into it."

The large man pointed at the guy still huddled on the ground.

"If you throw a rock at someone, do you tell them it’s the rock’s fault, not yours?"

"Stop with the stupid metaphors! You want to get hit too?"

That was it. I was done being patient.

"Both of you. Outside. Now."

"Hey now. We’re with the Shield of the Sky. Do you even understand who you’re talking to?" the slender man sneered.

"I said get outside."

"Hmph. A Crestless acting tough. Fine. I’ll make you regret this."

As I started walking toward the door, the other customers moved aside, the crowd parting like a wave. The three of us stepped out of the tavern and disappeared into the darkness of the night.