The way back to the starting line (part 1)

A lone hooded rider arrived at Startinton in the middle of the night.

During the nearly seven years of his absence, the place grew exponentially, now more deserving of the title of a full-fledged city.

New inns and even proper restaurants have popped up all over the place – but the traveler had one destination – a certain inn that, at least in his memory, was open regardless of the time of the day.

On his way there, the roof of a house belonging to the certain potion master entered his vision, but the traveler expected that his late visit would cause the copper-haired fellow to have a heart attack, so he just went for the inn.

As he expected, the first floor of the building was dimly lit from the inside, which meant that the place was open, but there were no guests.

"Good job."

The hooded traveler got off his horse and gratefully patted the animal's neck as he led it towards the stable by connecting with the inn.

The stable was empty and silent, but the traveler knocked on the wall with a particular rhythm and allowed himself to enter and poured his horse water and was rather generous with the feed.

The animal neighed gratefully and proceeded to have a meal before the much-deserved rest, while its owner didn't return to the front door of the inn and instead entered through the back.

The door was seemingly locked, but there was a rather simple trick that allowed them to bypass it, known to the selected few who were in good relation with the owner.

*rustle*

But, as he took a few steps inside and was about to enter the main room from behind the counter, someone stood in the passage brandishing a dagger.

"If you know what's good for you, get the fuck away from....!"

A blond-haired teenager trying to act way tougher than he was – and who definitely wasn't Mister Connor, the innkeeper – reached out the weapon provocatively towards the traveler...

*whosh* *STAB*

We raised his hand towards his hood – during that motion, a knife dropped from his sleeve into his hand and was smoothly thrown, embedding itself in the teenager's shoulder.

*thump*

"ARGH-OOOOOOWWWWWW...!"

*WHAM* *crunch*

The blond-haired youth dropped the knife and yelped in pain, reaching his hand towards the wound, but the hooded man was faster – he grabbed the teenager's wrist and twisted it strongly and greeted his face with the knee, breaking the unfortunate fellow's nose.

As if that was not enough...

*squelch*

"GHAAAH...!"

*THUNK*

"?!?!?!?!"

...the hooded man pulled out the knife from the youth's shoulder, forced the blond-haired boy's hand to the wall, and then pierced his wrist, pinning the sobbing teenager in a very painful position.

"Do not pull out a blade on me."

The traveler took off his hood, revealing himself to be a twenty-something with very uncommon black hair... smiling in a friendly manner as if his actions from now were the most curious way of greeting a very good acquaintance.

"Gran... graaandpaaa...! Graaandpaaaaa...!"

The boy fell to his knees and cried pitifully, unable to catch a proper breath because of the mixture of shock and more pain than he had felt in his whole life as the dull knife side of the blade dug into his flesh because of the movement.

"..."

Still, no one called out or arrived in response to the call for help, making the black-haired man's smile subside and turn into his default serious expression.

*THUNK*

"UHUEEEEE..!"

The black-haired man picked up the dagger that the boy teenager dropped and proceeded to stab his other hand, pinning it down to the floor for a change, which caused the poor victim to jolt and let out a voice that was a mixture of sobbing, crying, and yelping.

"..."

The black-haired man breathed out and passed the immobilized opponent, walking into the inn and casually taking a seat behind the counter.

With the hushed wailes of mystery from coming from the back, the weary traveler leaned back into the chair and stared at the ceiling.

*rustle*

"...?"

It took a while, but there was some kind of sound of movement coming from the upper floor as someone opened the door of one of the rooms and began to descend the staircase.

"...!"

After a few seconds, a wrinkled gray-haired man with a bartender mustache showed up, freezing in utter shock at the sight of the black-haired man.

"B-boss Medea...?!"

"Hello, mister Connor. Long time no see."

The old man gasped, and the black-haired guest nodded at him with a serious expression...

"I left you a present in the back~"

"!!!"

That blossomed into a friendly smile, causing Connor's face to turn ghastly pale and rush down the stairs and behind the counter, as there could be only one reason for that expression and tone of voice.

"Mathew!"

"G-grandpaaa...!"

Connor disappeared from Medea's sight, but the black-haired man could still hear the exchange that followed.

"Bless the heavens! The Boss didn't kill you!" *rustle*

The old innkeeper cheered out, and judging by the sound, he fell to his knees and hugged the miserable teenager, barely able to sob.

"It's all my fault, Mathew... Grandpa is so sorry...! I didn't expect the young Boss to return!"

"..."

The old man's voice turned apologetic while Medea began to smile in a friendly manner.

|Age eventually gets even the most careful and prepared ones...|

The black-haired man thought to himself, standing up and moving towards the voices.

As Medea re-entered the passage, the second knife was already in his hand and the next moment that he confirmed the visuals of the elderly man and the teenager...

*whoosh* *STAB*

"...ah...!"

The knife flew through the air and stabbed pierced through Connor's heart from the back, causing the man to let out a short, pained groan and fall forward, ending up against his trapped grandson.

"Gran... Grandpa?! GRANDPA!"

*CRUNCH*

Mathew called out in panic, so worried and enraged that he actually managed to forget about his pain, but Medea had already closed the distance and confirmed the kill by twisting the knife in Connor's back.

"You...! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU...!"

The youngster howled at the black-haired man, with tears streaming down his eyes filled with pure hatred.

"...?"

The smile never left Medea's face, but he did raise his brow at the challenge.