Chapter 622 - 532: Allen Collins

Chapter 622: Chapter 532: Allen Collins

The golden-haired youth was surrounded by several Mercenaries, panting heavily. His back was pressed against a stall selling crude pottery, leaving him with no escape.

He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen, with a slender, almost lanky build.

Bright blond hair, damp with sweat, was plastered to his forehead. His brilliant blue eyes held no pleas, but instead burned with defiant anger.

His clothes were simple but clean, making him seem out of place in the rugged surroundings.

"Run! Why’d you stop running, you little whelp!"

The lead Mercenary was a burly man with a fleshy face and a scruffy, unkempt beard.

He cracked his knuckles, spittle flying from his lips and nearly hitting the young man’s face.

"You’ve got a death wish, messing with us from Blood Fang!"

"I didn’t trick you!"

The golden-haired youth straightened his spine. His voice trembled with emotion, but it was exceptionally clear.

"I promised that old gentleman that I would deliver this Warm Sun Stone to Lady Lina at the Silver Star Potion Shop! That was my promise!"

He clutched a plain, old cloth pouch at his chest, his knuckles white from the force of his grip.

"A promise? Hah!"

Another Mercenary, a lanky man with cunning eyes, scoffed.

"Old Qiaosen’s been dead for three days! You’re actually taking a dead man’s words seriously? Hand over the stone. Our boss needs it to temper a new blade he just acquired. Sell it to us, we’ll pay you, and you might get to walk away without a beating!"

"Yeah!"

A third, stocky Mercenary chimed in, closing in menacingly.

"Be smart, kid. In Gray Rock City, nothing Blood Fang wants is out of our reach. What’s some bullshit promise? You think it’s tougher than your bones?"

The golden-haired youth’s face flushed red with anger and Fear, but he didn’t back down in the slightest. Instead, he held the pouch even more tightly against his chest.

"Mister Qiaosen entrusted this to me on his deathbed, and I gave him my word! I keep my promises—it’s my creed! As long as I’m still standing and this stone is in my hand, I will get it where it needs to go! This is my promise to a dying man. It has nothing to do with you!"

"Damn it! You’re gonna do this the hard way, then!"

The bearded ruffian finally lost his patience. Grinning savagely, he lunged forward, his massive hand reaching for the golden-haired youth’s collar.

"Looks like I’ll have to break a few of your bones to teach you a lesson about ’flexibility’!"

The youth tried to dodge, but the tight space and the surrounding Mercenaries left him no room to escape.

Just as the coarse, massive hand was about to touch his neck...

A dark figure abruptly inserted itself between them.

Roland, who had appeared from nowhere, was now standing at the golden-haired youth’s side.

He made no dramatic move, simply raising an arm and casually intercepting the bearded ruffian’s wrist.

"THUD!"

A dull thud echoed.

The bearded ruffian felt his wrist slam into an iron post. His forward momentum died instantly, and the rebound even forced him to stumble back half a step.

He looked up, stunned, and met a pair of calm, profound dark eyes.

"Gentlemen..."

Roland’s voice was not loud, yet it cut clearly through the surrounding noise.

"Harassing a young man for keeping his word doesn’t seem like a particularly honorable thing to do."

Just as Roland finished speaking, Holland finally dragged Ellis through the crowd of onlookers.

Seeing their leader confronting several menacing Mercenaries, Holland couldn’t help but click his tongue, shaking his head and muttering.

’Rudolph, that guy... Didn’t I just tell him not to cause trouble in a motley place like Gray Rock City? Seriously...’

Despite his grumbling, he acted without hesitation.

He deftly swung the Shield from his back to his front, simultaneously drawing the Nail Head Hammer from his hip. Lowering his voice, he gave a rapid instruction to the young Mage beside him.

"Listen, Ellis, those guys across from us might be small fry, but judging by how arrogant they are, the Mercenary Corps or Adventurer Group they belong to is probably trouble. When things start, don’t rush in. Just stay in the crowd and look for an opening..."

He paused, a cunning glint appearing in his eyes that seemed out of place with his rugged appearance.

"...and ’take care’ of them with your Magic, understand? Pick the best, most unexpected moment."

"Huh?"

Ellis froze, pointing at himself in disbelief, his voice filled with astonishment.

"You mean... you want me... to launch a sneak attack?"

"Exactly!"

Holland slapped the young Mage on his slender shoulder, a look of approval on his face as he gave him a thumbs-up.

Without another word, he used his Shield to gently part the crowd and moved steadily toward Roland.

"But... you... I... Agh..."

Ellis watched Holland’s broad back disappear into the crowd. The color drained from his face, only to be replaced by a flush of red from either embarrassment or excitement.

He stood there, torn between moving forward and retreating. His academy had certainly never taught him how to be a "Secret Spellcaster" in a street brawl.

Finally, as if resigned to his fate, he lowered his head with a nearly inaudible sigh and took half a step back, melting into the Shadow of the crowd.

Hidden within his wide sleeves, however, his fingers had already begun to subconsciously flex and twitch.

Invisible Magic Power, guided by his turbulent emotions and focused Spirit, began to silently gather and weave at his fingertips.

And while Holland and Ellis had their brief exchange, the atmosphere at the center of the confrontation had grown as taut as a drawn Bowstring.

Having been so casually pushed back by Roland, the bearded ruffian’s initial shock was quickly replaced by the shame and brutal anger of being stopped in public.