In a dark, cramp room with only enough space for one small table and a pair of chairs, a man was crossing his arms, eyes closed, listening to the sound of a flickering flame, which was the only light source around. As you might have expected, he had nothing to do. He was leisurely using his free time at hand by wasting his time in this gloomy place with a man who was shouting words at him for a while.

“Answer my question! What is your business in this town?”

He ignored him, despite this being the fifth or so times he was asked. Except the first, he had splendidly ignored him. He thought there was nothing else for him to say to the man before him for it was meaningless and useless. That was he took his current stance.

The other man’s patience was approaching its limit. He couldn’t care less about the majestic horn sticking on his head or the clothes not native to this land. But, his uncooperative attitude was unacceptable.

It was his job to interview the people coming to this independent town and judge whether they were a threat or not. And it was among his duties to be skeptical and strict. Letting someone bad in might cause the balance of the town to crumble down. He has no wish for it to happen. So, he will ask questions until he was satisfied before he judged them.

Once again, it was his duty, one that he was proud of.

“It’s your final warning. Talk!”

The shout coming out from the deep of his lung didn’t even cause the man’s eyebrows to twitch. Finally reaching his limit, he took it the hard way. Swinging his hand in the air, he took out a sword from what seemed to appear out of thin air, pointing it at the man’s throat.

“You leave me no choice. If you have no intention to talk, I make you even if I have to use force!”

He said, commanding the man with a physical threat on his neck.

The man finally decided to open his eyes. He looked at the sword, almost touching his skin, with disinterest look and followed it to its user. From the daring look he sent him, it was clear he was buying his threat and moving for a different reason.

His calm stare sent goosebumps to his back, but he could not back down.

“Finally feeling like to talk?”

He put up a brave front, except it was not fooling anyone with his trembling voice. It was further proven by the man’s calm reply.

“Is it this town’s policy to threat its guest with fear to make them confess?” He said, locking gaze with his, probing his thoughts.

“W-why do you ask?”

Great. Their position had changed. He was now the one being interrogated and feeling weak from the pressure behind his indifferent words.

“No reason. It’s just too sloppy with that’s true.”

At the same time the man finished his words, he disappeared from his eyes. Not giving him enough to wonder about that, he knocked his sword hard that it flew and stabbed the wall, got up from his seat to the table, and grabbed him by the throat. It was so fast that the pain came with a delay.

“To inflict fear to someone, you don’t need to use a sharp weapon. Moreover, only showing it. Using the inborn strength every creature earned since birth is more than enough. What comes next is creativity.”

He went and put a miniscule strength to his grip, driving his sharp nails to his skin, adding sharp pain to the mix.

All pains were on his throat. He tried to claw himself free, but he only wasted his strength with no result.

“Like this, slowly give them new stimulant when they caught up on the situation, just enough to wake their eyes. Of course, this much won’t inflict fear. No, definitely not. They might even start to harbor to resist from this lukewarm violence, instead.”

But, he added, slamming him down the table.

“It’s just perfect to crush their will when they least expect it.”

The slam forced air out of his body. His face was rubbing the cold table, eyes no longer held the will to resist just as the man had said. He sensed it with his guts that he was hopeless before the man. No matter what he does, the man would still overwhelm him. The difference in strength was so apparent that it was bold of him to think he could force the man to comply with his. He learned of it with his body as fear began to dwell on his eyes.

But, the man was not done with his lesson.

“Things could be even more simple when they bring out the weapons they’re used to,” he said, thrusting his hand toward the sword on the wall. As if responding to his will, the sword moved by itself, out from the wall, to the man’s hand.

Unbelievable! It was as if the sword was alive!

He stared at the sword from the corner of his vision. It was the sword he had used for years and he was certain that it held no such feature in it. So, it couldn’t magically answer to the man’s call, wouldn’t it?

While he was thinking of such, the man stabbed the sword to the table, close enough for him to see his own reflection. His own face had gone pale and miserable.

“The thing about weapons is that the users know very well of its usefulness, dangers, and potentials. More the reason the skillful they are. Which means if I turn the table, took it on my hand, face it to them, just like this, they should be more than aware of what kind of horrible things I could and might do to them. Don’t you agree?”

The soft whisper stabbed him right into the brain, changing the word fear into dread. He was now in a situation where the other party was holding to his dear life. Until a few minutes ago, he had thought he was at safety within the secure wall of his hometown. No. He was at a battleground where he could lose his life even from one stupid mistake. Just losing his life was on the bright side.

Triggered by the man’s words, he imagined several dreadful situations that could become a reality right this moment. Diced starting from his limbs. Stabbed and left him to die from bleeding. Cut open his skull for the world to see his brain while still alive. Bones crushed using the sword’s handle. Intentionally half-cutting him until the bone for him to see.

There were many, far too many, for him to even think about.

He saw the reaper’s shadow from the man, eerily laughing with a huge scythe on his hand. There was no escaping from this reaper. He knew his time had come to meet his maker. That was what the man’s cold eyes declared to him.

Knock. Knock

Interrupting them was a knock, informing them of another person’s presence behind the door.

I had been saved. He thought with tears on his eyes.

The man gave him no more than a disappointed look before returning to his seat as if nothing ever happened.

“Excuse me, sir. I’ve come bringing the person you asked.”

He was thinking of shouting for help. But, an invisible force grabbed his heart tight, suppressing his voice and will.

“C-come in!”

Answering back meekly was his best and safest action available. Knowing the person who was coming, he prayed in his heart that he would do something about this dangerous person. He might be unable to since his life was already in his grip, but surely, that person will be able to take care of this threat. He had the utmost confidence that he will because he loved the town as much or more than him

So, once the person from the other door came in, he left his duty to his dependable hand.