"P-Please," she said, her voice barely holding together. "Don't do this. My grandpa is sick. I swear I'll pay. Just give me one more week."
"Enough of your bullshit," another man snapped. "We already gave you a month."
The first thug's grin widened, stretching into something twisted and manic.
"You're coming with us. Now."
A step echoed across the floor.
"Gentlemen," Aiden said calmly, "don't you think you're going a bit far? Scaring a little girl like that."
All three men turned.
One of them blinked, then burst out laughing. "What the hell? Someone actually stays at this dump?"
He looked Aiden up and down, then waved a hand dismissively. "Beat it. This doesn't concern you. Unless you want to get hurt."
Aiden sighed.
"Why is it always like this…"
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't threaten them. He simply spoke.
"Kill them."
The undead stepped forward.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
The three thugs reacted instantly, hands flying to their weapons, short blades and clubs drawn in a rush of steel and wood.
"Get him!" one of them shouted.
They charged.
The undead moved.
It didn't draw a weapon. It didn't roar. It stepped in, calm and precise, its movements clean and efficient. A fist shot forward and crushed into the first man's throat. There was a dull crack, and the thug collapsed without a sound.
The second swung his club wildly. The undead slipped inside the arc, elbow snapping up into the man's jaw. Teeth flew. He went down screaming, then went silent as another strike landed on his temple.
The third tried to run.
He made it two steps.
The undead grabbed the back of his head and drove it into the floor. Once. Twice. The body went limp.
Silence returned to the inn.
Lira stared at the scene, frozen in shock. Then her knees gave out, and she caught herself on the counter, breathing hard.
Aiden looked at the dead men sprawled across the floor.
He turned to Lira. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "N-No… thank you. Thank you so much…"
Lira remained behind the counter, her hands still trembling. Her gaze drifted to the bodies on the floor, and her lips pressed into a thin line as if she were already thinking several steps ahead.
"…Sir," she said quietly, "now that this has happened, they'll probably retaliate."
Aiden turned to look at her. For a moment, he studied her expression. Fear was there, yes, but beneath it lay something else. Relief. Even satisfaction. The quiet happiness of knowing that the people who had bullied him for years were finally dead.
"Don't think about that," he said. "Since I decided to step in, I'll see this through. I won't leave you to deal with it alone."
Lira's eyes widened. She bowed deeply, almost too quickly.
"Thank you, sir. Really… thank you."
She then glanced at the three motionless men sprawled across the floor.
"Don't worry about the bodies," she added after a brief hesitation. "I'll take care of them."
Aiden blinked. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, her jaw set with surprising firmness. "Yes. This isn't the first time I've had to clean up dead bodies in this inn."
For a second, Aiden didn't know what to say. In the end, he simply nodded.
"Alright."
A faint dizziness washed over him, and he frowned. The connection to his undead felt thin, like a thread stretched too far.
Tch… I've kept him summoned too long.
"I need to go back to my room," he said. "Rest. Lock the doors once you're done."
"I will," Lira replied.
Aiden turned and headed up the stairs, the undead following silently behind him. With each step, the drain on his mana grew heavier, a dull ache settling behind his eyes.
By the time he reached his room, his breathing had slowed, and his vision blurred just slightly.
"Hold on a bit longer," he muttered.
He closed the door behind him, leaned against it for a moment, and finally raised his hand.
"Unsummon."
The undead dissolved into faint motes of gray light, vanishing without a sound.
Aiden exhaled deeply and rubbed his temples.
"…That was close."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Aiden stared at the transparent screen floating quietly in front of him. Its pale light reflected in his eyes, steady and cold.
'Killing those three thugs gave me two levels…' he thought. 'That was better than I expected.'
He leaned back slightly, letting the tension drain from his shoulders as he read through the familiar lines.
[Name: Aiden (Level: 5)]
Class: Necromancer (Death God — Locked)
Basic-Grade Summon: 2
Bronze-Grade Summon: 1
Iron-Grade Summon: 0
Silver-Grade Summon: 0
Gold-Grade Summon: 0
Legendary-Grade Summon: 0
Mythical-Grade Summon: 0
Summon Slot Available: 3 / 7
Skills: Lord of the Dead, Bone Shield, Bone Spear
Aiden let out a slow breath.
"Level five already…" he murmured.
His gaze lingered on the number of available summon slots. Seven in total now. The growth was subtle, but undeniable.