"With the authority given to me I, Zatu Rainfall, condemn to summary execution everyone of these guards… except that young one over there."
Silence takes over the restaurant as his words fall down, the shieldbearer on the ground stops his struggle, the customers eyes grow wide in shock and the guards side eye him in skepticism.
Though his words were firm and serious only two people truly took them to heart, the timid young guard with his back glued to a wall and the quiet assassin merged in shadows with daggers in hand.
In contrast, the head guard raises an eyebrow at Zatu as a small smirk plays on his lips.
He is oblivious to the mana coated dagger silently rising from his shadow.
"And how do you plan to do that? Are you naive enough to think this order of yours won't be overturned at the city's tower?" The guard scoffed before a small grimace took over his face.
He felt something nick his calves and a strange burn started to spread from there.
With a glance down he saw nothing, only his cut pants and a small but growing bloodstain.
Suddenly dread fills his chest, the vague notion his end is near leaves him both flabbergasted and confused.
The next second he closes his eyes and connects his mind to his mana sense.
A move that left him vulnerable but in his head he was the only tier 3 in the room, this idea made him feel so safe that even the dread blooming inside his body hadn't been processed as an enemy attack but as a weird feeling.
In such a case a self scan would be a perfect response.
Needless to say, he is wrong.
Since merged in shadows there is an assassin with similar level and far greater strength.
And as his eyes open back up in panic and poison spreads fast through his veins a dagger plunges deep within his throat.
He couldn't even coat his body in mana before he hit ground, his body unresponsive as poison mana ate away through flesh and muscle.
His mouth opens to scream one last time, but no sound comes out as life fades from his eyes.
Night Fang took mere seconds before merging back into the shadows, appearing and disappearing like a mirage for most in the restaurant.
With the priority target dealt she didn't emerge fully anymore, the only sign she wasn't gone was the series of thuds produced as more bodies hit the marble floor.
Tier three poison mana filled each guard, their heat seeping down to the floor then the ground.
Complete and utter silence filled the Inn and numerous eyes locked into Zatu.
Most in the restaurant agreed with Zatu's decision, at the end of the day no one likes injustices, doubly so when the perpetrators did so little to hide it.
Even so, the sight of a dozen guards falling to the floor like ripened apples filled their hearts with caution.
And Zatu quietly staring at the head guard's body did nothing to shift the tension out of the situation.
'How could someone grow so bold and unchecked inside Unbreon?' He wondered.
To think they could antagonize a council token holder without consequences was a laughable amount of hubris.
'Well… If instead of today this had happened a month ago when I wasn't awakened and had yet to meet Illya what would have happened?'
Knowing himself he probably would have been more passive, maybe let them win the argument and even take the girl to whoever they served, before contacting Arbo to punish the responsible.
And yes, I say whoever because Zatu completely ignored the guard's words and hints towards the identity of their master.
With Arbo as a backer so any name the guard pompously spoke would hold the exact same weight in his mind, zero.
Thinking he had solved things without having to go cry to his Grandpa, a small satisfaction sneaked its way into Zatu's heart.
Granted he still relied heavily on Illya to solve things, but for some reason he just felt such an outcome was much better than having to call Arbo.
For a moment his lips almost curve into a smile before he scoffs at himself and smothers the satisfaction back down.
'I'll still need Grandpa's help to clean things up.' He thought, as he stared silently at the dozen or so bodies spread around at his friend's Inn.
As the quietness settled a few customers started to gather themselves, the first ones to finally move though were the leader of the combatants and the shield bearer.
Both rose from the ground carefully as if worried in awakening a beast, the shield bearer hesitated in whether to thank Zatu before he moved to the bloodied girl to help her find her teeth on the floor.
Reattaching bones with her healing magic was simple, growing them back though… took much time and effort.
In contrast the leader hesitated whether to help the girl, before walking to Zatu with a grateful look in his eyes.
But just as he was about to call out Zatu's attention a rage filled voice echoed from upstairs.
"Why the fuck are you taking so long wastrels!?"
With thunderous steps the man stomps his way downstairs.
He is dressed in white clothes made of scales and leather that strained against his protruding belly.
His bright green eyes drip rage from having to wait more than a few minutes and ragged breaths pour from his mouth from having to walk down a few flights of stairs.
With his heavy weight his knees would like a lower floored room, but in Blue Dream Inn the best rooms are higher up and in his mind anything that isn't the best is below his station.
He is THE son of Viscount Darkglade after all.
"Where are my royal guards?!" Kyle screamed once he failed to locate his guard's faces.
Needless to say the 'royal' title was self imposed, an act that could get him executed for treason in the capital, but the emperor lived far away and in Unbreon his father was the law… or at least Kyle believed his father to be the ultimate law.
Zatu eyes him up and down and feels no threat from his senses, pegging the green eyed man in an instant as a non-combatant.
"There ain't no royal family here in Unbreon." He scoffs and points at the bodies. "I imagine you meant these ex city officials."
The man's fat cheeks bristled in rage.
"Which peasant had the gall to do such a thing?!"
"I did." Zatu answered with a poker face.
But inside he was flabbergasted that someone actually used a term such as peasants in Unbreon.
That word referred to every single individual in the city apart from the viscount and his family, a detail which should give Zatu some insight… but didn't.
'He must be a traveling noble.' Zatu concluded erroneously.
Rejecting the idea he was a Darkglade, after all how could the city he loved be led by someone that kidnapped their own citizens? IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!
A part of him almost reached for his blade, but a detail stopped his action.
The angry noble had just walked into a scene where a dozen of his men were dead, one of which was a tier 3, yet the noble showed no fear.
This told Zatu that either the noble was playing the pig like he did against the head guard or he was a retard.
'Even with a dogshit temper this man was able to embolden the guards to act like criminals so he must be at least competent… right?'
Zatu didn't have time to find his answer because the noble man huffed his way down the rest of the stairs.
With his fat finger he points and shouts at Zatu's face.
"You will pay for this mongrel! Do you know who I am?!!!!"
Zatu frowns, clearing a bit of saliva that just flew into his face.
"No, why the fuck would I know who you are?"
At that quiet gasps echo in the bar.
While Zatu might not know or fear who Kyle is, the customers knew it very well.
In a world where a man could best an army and the wrong affiliation meant death, knowing who to not offend is as important in a social setting as knowing your enemy's tier was in the battlefield.
A social skill Zatu and Kyle lacked after being raised by their respective top level awakened.
Kyle's face goes red once he processes the answer, in a moment of rage he raises his hand in a deliberate slow motion, to make sure Zatu knows he is about to slap his face.
Being a combat class Zatu could stop it if he wanted, but his hand doesn't move up in preparation and instead lowers to his sword handle.
If this fucker was truly playing the pig things might get dicy, but he believed Illya would bail him out.
That was an arrogant decision, though not without its merits since below Tier 4 almost nothing could survive under her daggers.
Time seems to slow down as the crowd's eyes glue to the scene.
One pair of those eyes grows wide in panic.
The young guard knows the Viscount loves the young master deeply, to the point his the guard's life and family might end if the noble died.
The young guard's feet moved before his mind could even process his fear.
And as the fat hand reached its peak and Zatu's grip tightened on the handle, the young guard jumped in a crazed tackle towards the young master.