Kael walked through the doors of the Freedom Guild as if he were entering any other tavern, ignoring the bewildered looks that still followed him from the street. His heavy feet treaded the waxed wooden floor with the calmness of someone who owed no explanations to anyone—and, in fact, he didn't.

Inside, the guild was everything one would expect: spacious, noisy, and smelly. A large hall with a high ceiling supported by enchanted oak beams, coats of arms on the walls, and stuffed heads of monsters that had seen better days. Past adventures whispered in every corner, mixed with the smell of sweat, warm beer, and ancient scrolls.

But the noise ceased for a brief second when he entered.

An uncomfortable pause, like the silence in a room when the candle goes out and everyone waits for the darkness to say something.

Kael ignored it.

He walked to the registration desk with his staff on his back, his eyes lazy as if he had just woken up from a nap. The clerk was a young human woman with her hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing glasses and dark blue robes with the Guild's crest embroidered on her chest. She organized papers with the typical efficiency of someone who dealt with sweaty, lying, armed people on a daily basis.

But at that moment... she was trembling.

Her eyes were fixed on the window next to her, where she could still see, blurred by the glass, a shadow of ashes on the square's floor. A faint trail of smoke still curled up into the sky. And if the scene she had witnessed wasn't enough, now he was there... in front of her.

"Hi," Kael said, with an almost sarcastic tone, leaning slightly over the counter. "I came to get my license."

It took her a few seconds to respond.

Her eyes slowly turned to him. There was terror in them—not the irrational kind, but instinctive, like that of a gazelle realizing it is alone with a lion.

Kael frowned, shaking his head slightly.

"Hello? Are you listening?"

The girl blinked. Her physical shock was almost comical — as if she had been pulled back to reality with an invisible slap.

"Ah! S-sorry, yes, yes! You're... Kael, right? Yes, of course! I'll... I'll get your license!"

She ran to a door behind the counter, almost tripping over her own feet. Papers flew off her desk. A feather fell to the floor.

Kael let out a long sigh and turned around, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He looked around the hall.

The normal buzz of the Guild began to return, as if people were trying to pretend they hadn't seen what had just happened outside. Some adventurers whispered as they glanced at him sideways. Others stared at him openly with suspicion or curiosity. There was a half-orc in silver armor in the corner, clutching a mug of mead too tightly. A frail bard tuned his lute with trembling hands. And a group of beginners murmured nervously, looking out the window at the ashes, then at the staff on Kael's back.

The uncomfortable tranquility was like a poorly folded blanket.

Kael let out another sigh.

An old warrior—bald, with deep scars and an expression of someone who had lost more friends than fingers—approached slowly. He wore a silver insignia on his chest, indicating that he was one of the Guild's group masters.

"You won't have any trouble... with that out there?" the old man asked in a hoarse but calm voice.

Kael didn't answer right away. He just looked up lazily at him, then pointed to the window with his thumb.

"Did you see what he was going to do to the girl?"

The old man nodded slowly.

"Then no." Kael shrugged. "I just sped up the learning process for him. Too bad he was too dumb to learn."

The veteran let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Hah. You'll make friends fast that way."

"I didn't come here to make friends," Kael replied seriously.

The silence between the two lasted for a moment. Then the old man just nodded with a murmur and walked away, returning to his group of recruits, who looked at him with renewed respect for daring to exchange words with the newcomer.

A few more minutes passed.

Kael drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter. He began to mentally count the poorly polished wood on the ceiling, the repeated coats of arms on the flags, the poorly washed armor of some of those present.

Finally, the back door burst open, and the attendant appeared, still visibly out of breath. In her hands, she held a scroll sealed with the emblem of the Freedom Guild—a broken chain surrounded by golden flames.

"O-okay! Here it is! Your Adventurer's License!" She placed the scroll on the counter as if handing a sacred sword to an unstable king.

Kael took it with one hand, twirling it between his fingers as if it were just a piece of paper. He opened it, read it briefly, then tucked it into his cloak.

"Is that it?" he asked.

She just nodded quickly.

"You are registered as Mixed Class—offensive and support. Undefined magical specialty. Entry level: C... temporarily. After the... situation out there, the Guild Master wants to observe you personally before raising that."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Great. Let the show begin, then."

He turned, adjusted his staff on his back, and walked calmly across the hall. Each step echoed like a silent warning. Like distant thunder.

As he disappeared down the stairs leading to the mission board corridor, a murmur spread among the adventurers present.

"Who is he?"

"Did you see what he did to that guy?"

"Is he a real wizard?"

"I thought only heroes could do that..."

"Or monsters."

But Kael didn't care about any of them.

He had a piece of paper in his hands, a staff on his back... and finally, a world to show who he was.

But of course...

"WHO KILLED MY BROTHER?!"

A thunderous voice tore through the Freedom Guild hall like a war blade, sucking the air out of the room and leaving only a heavy, threatening echo hanging in the air.

Kael had just stepped onto the first step of the staircase when he stopped. The sound came from the entrance—the same one he had passed through minutes ago. He turned slowly, his eyes half-closed, as if someone had asked him to interrupt a nap.

The crowd made way without question, like the sea fleeing a storm.

And there he was.

A gigantic man, even bigger than the brute who had died minutes earlier, with the same broad chin and deep forehead. But where the other had muscles, this one carried real weight — arms like tree trunks, tribal tattoos snaking across his bare chest, and scars that looked like they had been carved with a hammer. His eyes were bloodshot, red, and fixed on Kael like two embers about to explode.

Behind him were four men—all armed, all dressed in the same dirty armor and leather adornments as the deceased.

The attendant gasped, instinctively retreating behind the counter. The old warrior rose from his chair in one swift motion, but did not take a step. Neither did anyone else. Even the frail bard forgot the lute in his hands, letting the last note vibrate until it died on its own.

"WAS IT YOU?" the brute repeated, his nostrils flaring like a bull's.

Kael crossed his arms.

"It depends. Was your brother a hothead with quick fists and a slow brain?"

"HE WAS MY BLOOD!"

Kael nodded slowly. "Then it was him."

One of the brute's companions stepped forward, drawing a curved dagger. But before he could even point it, Kael raised his staff. A sharp crack filled the air—no magic, no light. Just wood against wood.

The staff struck the floor hard. The energy that spread was like an ancient vibration, something that made the floor creak and the lamps sway. Discreet runes on the staff lit up with an amber glow, as if awakening from a deep sleep. And everyone stopped.

"I don't have time to discuss the inheritance of idiots," Kael said, his voice low but sharp as a razor. "But since you shouted and made a point of interrupting my day... I'll give you a chance."

He descended the steps calmly, one at a time.

"Come on. Alone."

The brute hesitated for half a second. Then he growled.

"You three, don't move. He's mine."

The creature advanced like an avalanche. The ground shook with every step. Veins bulged in his neck, his fist raised like a living sledgehammer. Kael didn't move. He didn't breathe. He just waited.

At the last moment, the staff rose in a short, precise movement—as quick as a snake's strike.

The impact was brutal.

But not on Kael's body.

The staff struck the thug's jaw with devastating force, breaking teeth and sending blood flying into the air. The man spun around, his feet leaving the ground—and before he fell, Kael was already behind him. He grabbed him by the hair and muttered something in a forgotten language.

A flash appeared between his fingers.

The thug tried to struggle, but his body froze. Kael pushed him to his knees with a sharp tug. The entire room could hear the bones crack as he forced the man's arm back.

"Your brother tried to destroy a healer because she was afraid of dying. Fear. Something you're probably feeling yourself right now."

Kael touched the tip of his staff to the back of the giant's neck.

"You can continue this tradition of stupidity. Or you can live to try to be someone different from him."

The entire Guild watched in absolute silence.

The brute, now panting and with a swollen face, let out a low grunt. There was no more hatred in his eyes—just a confused mixture of pain and... fear.

Kael let go of him.

The man fell to the side, spitting blood and trying to compose himself. The three companions did not move. None of them dared to.

Kael wiped his hands, as if he had just dealt with ordinary dirt, and walked back to the staircase.

Before climbing up, he turned around.

"If anyone else wants to collect something... bring flowers for the coffin first."

...Everyone fell silent again...

"Ah, what a fucking waste of time. I want to sleep." Kael said and walked away, "What has killing idiots become? A daily quest?" Kael wondered...