The Runesmith

Chapter 649: Making A Scene.

Roland arrived inside of the adventurer stronghold. While he had observed it through the eyes of his golemic creations, it wasn’t the same as looking at everything with his own two eyes.

‘Looks rough around the edges…’

That was the first thought that came to mind as the gates closed behind them with a heavy thud. The inside of the stronghold felt less like a city and more like a fortress that had grown into a town through sheer necessity. Buildings pressed close together, constructed from thick timber, rough stone, and salvaged monster parts. Lesser dragonbone beams reinforced tavern roofs, wyvern hide had been stretched into weatherproof awnings, and unlit magic lamps were scattered throughout the area.

The streets were wide enough for wagons, and the grooves worn into the stone suggested they had been there for a long time. Every part of the place bore the mark of adventurers. What had once likely been bare dirt was now paved with stone slabs meant to prevent the dungeon from reclaiming the ground. That also explained why all of the buildings were slightly elevated and set on stone foundations.

Adventurers in battered armor argued loudly over contracts. Porters strained beneath crates of monster materials. Blacksmith forges roared openly beside the road, their heat washing over passersby as sparks danced in the air. The scent of sweat, cooked meat, and alchemical reagents blended into it all. This was truly a city created by adventurers for adventurers, and it showed.

‘There is even a small cloister here, probably just for the healing services of the clerics inside and not as a proper site of worship.’

There weren’t many children around this place, nor were there any specific areas for them to play. No farmers, as most of the food was imported from the outside, though monster meat was probably on the menu. There was no mill or any bakeries that he could see, something most towns needed to exist. Instead, everything was brought in through storage items like the ones their porters had brought along. Even Varek had brought some tradables with himself despite the mission being mostly about adventurers trying to get here.

There was no noble district, no plaza with statues, just a general marketplace and guild facilities to trade. Power here was measured in levels, scars, and reputation. Anyone weak learned quickly to keep their head down.

Banners of the Adventurer Guild hung from tall poles near the center of the stronghold, marking the heart of the settlement. The main guild building rose above the others, standing three stories high while most buildings ended at two. It was not much different from the adventurer guilds in other cities, and the craftsmanship looked solid.

This was the central building of the stronghold, and it also housed its leader, the third layer guild master. While he was recorded as an active adventurer, he had not left the stronghold even once since Roland began monitoring the area. He was said to be the most powerful adventurer around, though Roland had not yet had the chance to confirm that.

Even though nobles were not an issue here, that did not mean a leader treated like one did not exist. In the stronghold, there was not just a single figure of authority, but several factions involved.

First was the aforementioned guild master, though he was far from the only one. Next came the leader of the Craftsman Guild, a master craftsman for whom Ermes worked. As the one responsible for providing most of the tier three equipment and handling repairs, he was seen as an equal to the guild master in a city centered on adventurers.

After that came the various merchants who sold necessities such as potions, rations, and even alcohol. Alchemists were also important, but due to the constant imports from outside, their role was less critical. Clerics could provide healing, and in this environment, having enchanted weapons or armor repaired was often more essential.

‘That’s a lot of Inns and Taverns.’

As the group passed through the area, Roland noticed a staggering number of nearly identical buildings. Even though it was the middle of the day, people were already outside drinking and enjoying themselves. There were no permanent homes here. Everyone lived in temporary lodging, as life in this place was fleeting. From what he could tell, if an adventurer did not return within two weeks, their room could be opened, and any belongings left behind could be sold after an additional two-week waiting period at the nearby auction house.

‘Even though people die constantly, they are always replaced by new adventurers trying to leave their mark on the world.’

Roland was not truly an adventurous person. If he did not believe this path was necessary to achieve his goal of full independence, he would have remained at home, crafting and spending time with his wife and friends. He had never wanted to be an adventurer or a glory-seeking knight. He longed for a quieter, more reserved life, but by now it was already too late. He had taken on too many responsibilities during his journey, and there was far too much at stake to turn back.

“Hey, where are you touching, you creep!”

“Oops. My hand just has a mind of its own, but what of it?”

One of the so-called responsibilities he had picked up through his actions was waiting for him there as well. They were in the area where a certain inn called the Red Dragon Inn was located. Despite its grand name, it was no different from the others. It was connected to the blacksmith he had once saved and was run by the man’s wife and their only daughter. That same daughter now appeared to be assaulted by a man he recognized.

“Millie?”

Ermes whispered as he came to a halt. Varek paid him little attention, and neither did the other adventurers. Only Roland stopped as well, turning to see what the commotion was about.

The inn’s front yard was bustling with activity. A few patrons lounged near the entrance, wagons were parked along the road, and the clatter of armor echoed from passing adventurers. Most paid no attention to the commotion, though some began to notice when some voices got louder.

‘Isn’t that one of those men?’

The person holding Millie resembled an orc to some extent. He was large and muscular, but not quite like most of the half orcs Roland had encountered before. His blood must have been far thinner, yet he still retained much of the physicality of that race of humanoids.

“Heh, don’t be like that. Hasn’t it been difficult for you and your mother since that useless father of yours got himself eaten by some monsters?”

“What did you say about Papa?”

The two were being quite loud and had started to draw the attention of more onlookers who seemed to enjoy the scene unfolding before them. However, not many knew that the man was responsible for the young girl’s father’s disappearance.

“Papa? I do like the sound of that. How about you introduce me to your mother? I’m sure she has been lonely… It’s time for her to meet a real man!”

The man licked his lips as he shot glances at the young girl. His intentions were obvious and made Roland frown behind his helmet. Despite the crude remarks, the other adventurers nearby did not seem to care. There was, however, one person who did.

“What are you doing? That’s my daughter! Get your hands off her!”

This time, Ermes shouted and charged forward. His fatherly instincts clearly told him to intervene as the man drew dangerously close to his daughter, gripping her wrist and holding her back while she struggled.

Millie’s head snapped toward the sound of a familiar voice. It was her father, Ermes. She did not notice the adventurers behind him or the strange man clad in black draconic armor. Her gaze was fixed solely on the man she believed to be dead. Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to run toward him, only to be stopped by the man still gripping her wrist.

“You… you are supposed to be dead…”

The orc-like man was stunned at the sight of Ermes, whom he and an accomplice had left for dead in a forest filled with deadly spores and poison. The shock caused him to loosen his grip, and Millie tore herself free and ran straight into her father’s arms.

“Papa, is that really you?”

Ermes dropped to one knee as Millie collided with him, his arms wrapping around her with a force that made his breath hitch. For a moment, the noise of the stronghold seemed to fade into nothing as they clung to each other, their breathing uneven as they held on tightly.

“I am here. Your Papa is here. Everything is going to be fine. I am sorry. I should have come back sooner, I should have…”

His voice was hoarse, one hand trembling as it pressed against the back of her head. Millie shook her head hard, her fingers clutching his tunic as if he might vanish again the moment she loosened her grip.

“I thought you were dead. They said, everyone said… but I knew. I knew you were alive.”

She did not cry loudly; instead sobbed softly as she buried herself against her father, who had gone missing. Behind them, the man with orc blood took a step back, eyes wide as his face twisted from shock into something far uglier.

“That is impossible…”

The man muttered, bewilderment giving way to open animosity. Roland stood watching, his frown deepening behind his helmet with every passing second. He had hoped to avoid such a scene in the open and hoped to investigate the situation more thoroughly, but as always, things did not go according to plan A.

“Harphon.”

As the scene unfolded, he posed a question to the gnome.

“Yes, Siegfried?”

“Until we arrive at the guild, the mission isn’t fully over, right?”

“Um… technically that’s true. But why are you asking?”

“For no particular reason.”

It was clear the situation was about to escalate. The orcish man did not look too intelligent. Otherwise, this would have been the moment to leave and report back to whoever had ordered him to dispose of Ermes. Instead, he moved in to confront the blacksmith while everyone else was watching.

“So you survived…”

The orc-blooded man snarled as he stepped forward, interrupting the family reunion.

“You shouldn’t have come back… But that will be your last mistake.”

Before Ermes could fully rise, a massive hand shot out and clamped around his throat. The grip was brutal, fingers digging in as the man lifted him clean off the ground. Ermes’s feet kicked uselessly. One hand instinctively clawed at the arm crushing his windpipe, while the other tried to shield Millie as she cried out in terror.

“Papa! Let him go, you brute!”

Millie began striking the man’s side, though his height was well over two meters. Her fists did no damage at all. Instead, she seemed to be the one getting hurt, as the orcish man was as hard as a boulder.

“Stay b-back.”

Ermes rasped, his voice barely a whisper as his vision began to blur. The surrounding adventurers finally reacted, but not in the way one might hope. Some leaned back with their arms crossed. Others watched with mild interest, as if this were nothing more than a tavern brawl.

“Isn’t that one of Agthak’s men?”

“Yeah. Better not get involved.”

The orcish man grinned, his misshapen mouth stretching wide. The grin did not last long. A moment later, someone’s hand closed around his wrist.

“Who?”

He asked, but no reply came. Instead, there was a surge of pain. The black gauntlet gripping his wrist clenched down, and the man let out a painful shout as he felt his hand being crushed by Roland’s arrival.

“Wait, who is that?”

“No idea. He seems to have some expensive armor on. Maybe someone new?”

Roland was instantly drawing attention from everyone around him. Although he had put his robe back on to hide most of his gear, his gauntlet and armored head were hard to conceal with so many eyes on him. He had not planned on standing out, but this might have been an opportunity in itself. Displaying one’s might was not always a bad thing. If he presented himself as a dominant figure, other adventurers would likely leave him alone.

In this case, though, it was more about his disgust toward the individual in front of him. The way the man looked at and behaved around the teenage girl was revolting, and not something Roland could simply ignore.

His grip tightened, and finally his opponent released the blacksmith, letting him drop to the ground. Ermes landed on his backside, coughing as he clutched his neck and struggled to breathe. His daughter rushed in to pull him away, her eyes flicking toward the newcomer who had stepped in to help them for some reason.

“Gah!”

The orcish man snapped his hand back and retreated several steps as Roland moved to place himself between father and daughter.

“Who are you? Do you know what you just did? Do you know who you are messing with?”

The large man immediately began threatening Roland, but he showed no fear. He knew well enough that this person held no real power and was nothing more than a disposable pawn.

“A fool, it seems.”

Roland responded, and his words made some of the other adventurers laugh.

“Leave now if you do not wish to be hurt.”

“Hurt? Me?!”

It was clear the man was ruled by negative emotions as his eyes turned red. Some kind of enhancement skill activated, and he charged forward with his fists swinging wildly. Roland sidestepped, carefully drawing him farther away from Ermes and his daughter.

The swings were wide and heavily telegraphed. Each one pushed the air to make wind, and it was obvious the man possessed enough strength to shatter stone or bend magical metal. Yet he clearly lacked proper fist-fighting technique. Every punch met nothing but air until one was suddenly caught in Roland’s grasp.

“You want to compare strength?”

The opponent lashed out again with his free hand, only for that punch to be caught as well. Soon, both of them were locked together, fingers interlaced, locked in a contest of raw power. Other adventurers gathered nearby, watching and cheering, some even placing bets on the outcome. Roland could have ended it immediately, but he wanted to send a message, one that made it clear he was not someone to be challenged lightly.

“I am going to crush your fingers, armor or not!”

The man shouted as his muscles swelled violently. He seemed to grow taller, his eyes bloodshot. For a brief moment, Roland felt himself being pushed back, but it did not last. Once he began to resist in earnest, the outcome was decided. Bones cracked as Roland crushed the man’s fingers, his strength slightly enhanced by a buffing spell. Even that was not enough. He needed to show complete dominance.

“Argh! M-my hands?!”

Fingers snapped, followed by the wrists, and the man dropped to one knee. Suddenly, a field of gravitational magic erupted around him, forcing him deeper and deeper into the ground. The earth shook as nearby adventurers recoiled in horror.

Before them, the once loud hoodlum was being crushed. Bones throughout his body shattered as he was pressed into the ground, which caved inward under invisible pressure. Roland continued without mercy, allowing the man to experience true pain and fear. Only when he was certain the man had lost consciousness did he relent and step back.

“Is he dead?”

“Damn. Who is that stranger?”

The gathered adventurers stared in fascination. Some were shocked, others impressed. While violence in the streets of the stronghold was not unusual, displays like this were rare.

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the groan of strained stone as the ground slowly collapsed beneath the orcish man he had broken. Dust drifted through the air, catching the light as Roland straightened and withdrew his hand. The gravitational field faded as if it had never existed, leaving behind a shallow crater and a shattered, unmoving body at its center.

Roland did not look at the man again. Instead, he turned slightly, his helm angling toward the blacksmith and his daughter. She still looked on edge, one hand gripping her father as he struggled to catch his breath.

“What is this nonsense? Do you idiots not have better things to do?”

The shout came suddenly from behind the crowd. Several voices followed, and a few figures pushed their way forward. Roland recognized them, at least in part, and the looks they gave him made it clear they were far from pleased.