Unlocking the Codex

On the other side of the bar.

Hakon, drunk and bleary-eyed, casually swept his gaze over the corner.

When he clearly saw Lance sitting there quietly eating meat, an annoyed expression immediately appeared on his face.

He recognized Lance—the guy mocked in this tavern as the "pretty-boy scribe."

"Tch, pretty boy..."

He tipped back a mouthful of ale. The sting of alcohol gradually caused the image of that foreign adventurer who had stolen his sweetheart to overlap with the clean-cut scribe before him.

Then he remembered hearing that this brat even received special treatment from Amber.

The nameless fire in his heart instantly became impossible to suppress.

Hakon swayed to his feet and, emboldened by the alcohol, strode straight toward Lance.

Bang!

A dull thud rang out.

Hakon viciously slammed the heavy wooden mug in his hand onto the table before Lance, and the splashed beer nearly landed in Lance's plate.

"Hey, pretty boy."

Hakon looked down at Lance, reeking of alcohol, his eyes full of provocation.

"These seats are for adventurers. A guy like you who lives off women should get lost."

The surrounding noise instantly quieted, and quite a few people turned to watch with the air of spectators enjoying a show.

Lance stopped using his knife and fork.

He raised his head, calmly glanced at Hakon, then looked toward Amber, who was busy in the distance.

There was no benefit in fighting here. It would only cause trouble for Amber.

Besides, tangling with drunken trash like this would not only lower his standing, but could also expose his strength.

"Fine."

Lance did not argue. He picked up his plate and silently moved two seats over.

Seeing how "sensible" he was, Hakon felt the resentment in his chest instantly clear.

"Hahahahaha!"

He let out a harsh laugh and pointed at Lance as he loudly mocked him.

"Look! Everyone, look at this pretty boy! What a spineless little chick!"

Apparently still unsatisfied, he even leaned his face close to Lance's, intending to continue humiliating the weak young man.

But the very next second—

Splash!

A full mug of cold, foaming ale was viciously thrown across Hakon's disgusting face.

Hakon's arrogant laughter abruptly stopped.

Icy beer dripped from his hair and beard, making him look utterly ridiculous.

"You..."

Hakon was just about to curse, but suddenly shut his mouth.

What greeted him was Amber's furious face.

"Watch your filthy mouth!"

The young girl stood with her hands on her hips like a lioness protecting her cub.

Hakon was just about to lose his temper and teach this little brat who did not know her place a lesson.

At that moment, the half-drawn curtain to the kitchen was lifted by a thick hand.

A middle-aged man built like a brown bear walked out.

He wore an apron stained with grease, and his exposed arms were covered in crisscrossing old scars.

He lazily leaned against the doorframe, idly twirling a boning knife in his hand as he stared coldly at Hakon.

Though he did not say a single word.

The pressure radiating from someone who had crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood instantly sobered Hakon up, and cold sweat poured down his back.

This man was a genuine monster.

The anger that had just surged up in Hakon was instantly extinguished.

He swallowed hard, then could only wipe his face with his sleeve in humiliation before turning to leave this troublesome place.

"Stop."

Amber's cold voice sounded behind him.

"Pay for the beer."

Hakon halted, his expression as ugly as if he had swallowed a fly.

"I... I already paid."

His voice sounded like a duck with its throat gripped, full of guilt.

"I mean the mug on your face."

Amber remained expressionless. Her cold gaze was practically identical to her father's.

Hakon trembled with rage, his clenched fists cracking.

But after glancing at the burly man by the kitchen door, who was using the boning knife to clean his nails, he ultimately chickened out.

Fuming, he pulled out two copper coins from his pocket and heavily slapped them onto the counter.

Then he rushed out of the tavern without looking back.

Lance sat nearby, watching Hakon's figure disappear into the night. A barely noticeable cold glint flashed through his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Amber turned around, and the coldness on her face instantly melted as she looked at Lance with concern.

Lance withdrew his gaze and gave her a bright smile, revealing a mouthful of white teeth.

"I'm fine. Just a drunk."

He noticed that, seeing the matter had settled, the burly man leaning against the doorframe silently put away his knife and returned to the kitchen.

A true unsung hero.

Amber pulled over a barstool and sat directly across from Lance, resting her chin in her hands as she eagerly began sharing the gossip she had heard today.

This was her unique way of relieving stress.

"Hey, hey, did you know? I heard Aunt Morwenna from the potion shop seems to have fallen in love recently!"

"Someone saw her getting all handsy with an adventurer uncle in the back alley. Ahhh..."

Lance cut his steak while nodding along in agreement.

Normally, after finishing dinner, he would chat with Amber for a while longer and enjoy this rare leisure time.

But today.

Lance ate noticeably faster than usual.

As soon as he stuffed the last piece of beef into his mouth, he quickly wiped his mouth and placed the meal money on the table.

"Amber, I suddenly remembered there's something urgent at home."

Lance stood and spoke apologetically.

"Let's not talk today. I'll come tomorrow to hear the rest."

After saying that, he quickly walked out of the tavern without waiting for Amber to react.

Amber watched his hurriedly departing back, her face filled with disappointment. The gossip she had only half finished telling caught in her throat.

A passing waitress saw her young boss looking like that, then glanced in the direction Lance had disappeared.

She could not help muttering under her breath.

"Jerk."

In the shadows of the tavern's back alley, the air was filled with a nauseating stench of urine.

Hakon hummed an unknown tune as he swayed against the wall, freely relieving the pressure in his bladder.

The cold night wind did not sober him up. Instead, it fed the wicked fire in his heart.

Amber, that damned little brat, had humiliated him in public at the tavern and cost him money for beer. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

He had no intention of going home. Instead, he planned to visit the brothel at the end of town, which specialized in the flesh trade, and find a woman to properly vent all this pent-up anger.

With a shudder, Hakon contentedly pulled up his pants.

However.

Just as he fastened his belt, the light above him suddenly dimmed.

A coarse burlap sack reeking of mildew fell over his head without warning like a massive hunting net.

"Who is it?!"

After all, he was an adventurer who had lived by the blade. Even drunk, his body's instincts remained.

Hakon roared and instinctively reached for his waist with his right hand, intending to draw the short dagger he kept close.

As long as he had a weapon in hand, he was confident he could stab this suicidal ambusher right through.

But he had clearly underestimated his attacker's methods.

The instant his fingers touched the cold hilt, a fierce pain exploded in his abdomen.

"Urgh!"

Lance did not hold back this punch in the slightest.

He used the force-generating technique of a thrust from Castro Swordsmanship, twisting all the strength in his body into one force and driving it through Hakon's weak abdominal muscles with his fist.

Hakon felt as if his intestines were about to be pulverized by the blow. His smooth motion of drawing his dagger instantly stiffened, and he bent over like a cooked shrimp.

Lance's eyes were cold, his movements swift as lightning.

Taking advantage of the moment Hakon stiffened, he grabbed Hakon's wrist, twisted it against the joint, and the short dagger fell into his hand.

Then.

Lance drove forward sharply with the momentum.

This was not a simple body check, but an elbow strike derived from shield-bashing techniques.

The massive force slammed Hakon violently into the rough stone wall with a dull thud.

The dagger in Lance's hand spun deftly in his palm, shifting from a reverse grip to a forward grip. The hilt whistled through the air as it smashed heavily into Hakon's carotid artery.

"Urgh..."

Hakon rolled his eyes and slid down the wall like a pile of mud before he could even beg for mercy.

Plop.

His face landed perfectly in the warm puddle he had just made himself.

[The opponent you defeated has a certain degree of social notoriety in the area. You have unlocked the Codex function.]

Watching the disgusting scene, Lance stepped back two paces in revulsion and even shook his clothes, though not a speck of dust had gotten on them.

He had goosebumps all over.

If this had happened a few months ago, when he had just crossed over, then faced with the provocation of a seasoned thug like this, the powerless him might truly have had no choice but to swallow his anger and even force a smile.

But things were different now.

He had swung swords, drawn bows, and trained day and night until he had eight-pack abs and calluses all over his hands—not to become a coward who hid his head in the sand.

He had backed down in the tavern only to avoid dragging Amber into it.

Since there was a grudge, it had to be settled.

Now, only heaven and earth knew.

Only after venting this resentment could he truly feel at peace.

But Lance quickly remembered that, at the moment he knocked Hakon down, a special notification had seemed to flash across his vision.

The Codex?