It was dusk in Bayar City, and the twilight, like a gentle veil, softly enveloped this small border town.
Inside the "Old Oak Barrel" tavern in the west of the city, however, lights flickered, and the "Full" sign at the entrance swayed gently in the evening breeze, as if narrating the lively scene within.
Behind the misted glass windows, a dense crowd packed the place, everyone holding their breath, their gazes like torches focused on the small stage in the corner.
"Let ears attend alone, while eyes choose to sleep…"
A stout man in a faded plaid shirt sat on a high stool, eyes closed, humming softly.
His features were squeezed together, stubble on his chin uneven, and the little finger of his left hand was missing half a joint—this was Arad, Bayar City's best folk singer, currently performing his hit song, "Curtain Call for Sound."
"…Prejudice then melts away, letting darkness become soft as cotton…"
Strangely, when his song began, the sporadic coughing and clinking of glasses in the tavern ceased.
Even the most boisterous drunkards quieted down, their eyes gradually softening.
Arad's voice was not exceptional, yet it possessed a peculiar rhythm, like invisible hands gently stroking the listeners' temples.
On stage, Arad reached the climax of his song, his stout body swaying slightly with the rhythm.
"Close your eyes, and you will lose one thing: prejudice!"
As the last note faded, thunderous applause erupted in the tavern.
Arad clumsily stood up and bowed, sweat beads on his forehead glistening under the kerosene lamp.
"One more song!"
"Mr. Arad, please sing 'The Windmill Ballad'!"
The audience shouted enthusiastically, with a few drunkards even tossing silver coins onto the stage.
Arad smiled somewhat shyly, his ordinary, even slightly ugly face looking a bit comical. He was about to respond when the tavern door was suddenly forced open by an immense force.
Cold night wind, carrying withered leaves, gusted indoors, extinguishing half the candles.
Over thirty figures in dark green cloaks filed in, each with the Eisenwald Guild's emblem—a withered tree entwined with chains—embroidered on their chests.
Every one of them looked menacing; even from their appearance, it was highly probable they were not good people.
The man leading them had an exaggerated pineapple hairstyle, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
"Lord Kageyama, it's that fat man," a minion said, pointing at the stage with a fawning tone.
The tavern instantly became eerily silent.
The ordinary people turned pale, some beginning to quietly retreat.
Dark Guilds were universally reviled across the continent; the Magic Council had issued wanted posters for virtually all known Dark Guild members, including their names, appearances, and a public awareness campaign about their guild emblems.
Any ordinary person with a bit of common sense could recognize the emblems of Dark Guilds.
Eisenwald was a subordinate guild of Oración Seis, and it was notoriously infamous within the Kingdom of Fiore.
Kageyama smiled cruelly: "Eisenwald will cover everyone's drinks. However—"
He slammed his fist heavily on the bar, making the bottles clatter, "—after ten heartbeats, anyone still here shouldn't blame magic for being blind."
Before he finished speaking, the patrons were already scrambling for the side door.
Glasses were knocked over, chairs overturned; within mere seconds, only Arad remained on the stage.
Arad stood bewildered under the spotlight, his greasy hair plastered to his forehead: "G-gentlemen, I'm just a singer…"
Kageyama ignored him, pulling a strange wooden flute from his pocket.
The flute was as black as ink, with a grotesque skull carved at its tip. Of the ten tone holes on its body, nine were emitting a dark green gas, with only the last hole covered by a thin membrane.
"Folk singer Arad," Kageyama tapped his palm lightly with the flute, "your voice is very special; it can reach deep into the soul. It's perfect to be the last sacrifice for Lord Lullaby."
Arad's plump cheeks trembled: "I… I don't understand…"
"You don't need to understand." Kageyama suddenly dropped his smile, a fierce glint in his eyes, "Attack!"
Over twenty Eisenwald Mages simultaneously raised their staffs, and a dark green magic circle lit up beneath Arad's feet.
Just as the magic was about to activate, the singer's shadow beneath his feet suddenly twisted and expanded, a fierce and chilling wolf howl rang out, followed by a dense burst of black smoke, filling the stage with churning black smoke.
Under the onslaught of the black smoke, the magic circle beneath Arad's feet directly dissipated, while the Eisenwald members, who were about to advance, instinctively paused, looking at the black smoke on the stage with surprise and uncertainty.
Arad was also stunned; he looked back with some fear, the black smoke behind him almost solidifying, and a terrifying, violent killing intent emanated from within it.
Arad was frozen, "This…"
The Eisenwald members below the stage also hesitated, unsure whether to advance, looking at each other.
Kageyama's face darkened, "What is it?"
Before he finished speaking, a shrill, ferocious wolf howl erupted from the black smoke, and a pair of blood-red eyes opened deep within the smoke.
Arad, being the closest, was instantly terrified and about to collapse to the ground.
Immediately after, a hand covered by a golden gauntlet emerged from the black smoke, resting steadily on Arad's shoulder, supporting his slightly plump body.
In Arad's line of sight, a handsome blonde youth with a gentle smile emerged from the black smoke, dressed as an adventurer, with old copper goggles adorning his head.
Behind the blonde youth stood a cherry-haired woman in a white kimono, with a tachi at her waist. Her gentle face held a soft, faint smile, but her eyes were as sharp as blades.
Arad was spellbound, and in that moment of distraction, the wildly churning black smoke on the stage gathered and transformed.
Hundreds of wolf heads formed from black smoke flew around the stage, pair after pair of blood-red beast eyes filled with violent killing intent.
The Eisenwald members below the stage were instantly dumbfounded, instinctively retreating a short distance.
The blonde youth placed his left hand on Arad's trembling shoulder, the metal gauntlet gleaming in the tavern's light.
"It seems I've arrived just in time." Ezreal grinned at Kageyama.
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