Talent Awakening: I, the Weakest Awakened, Start with Dragonfire Spell

"It seems I haven't come to the wrong place," the middle-aged man glanced at Enforcer Number Two, "Aren't you going to help your companion up?"

Enforcer Number Two hesitated for a few seconds before hastily stepping aside and bending down to assist the dazed young man to his feet.

The middle-aged man stood in front of Carlotte.

"My guest has gone missing. Was it your doing?"

Facing the middle-aged man, who wore a smile on his face, Carlotte felt a sense of familiarity with that visage.

However, this slight recognition wasn't enough to sway Carlotte's decision; he had no intention of letting the middle-aged man leave the tavern.

So what if he was a magus?

At most, he'd be a preparatory-level; the likelihood of a certified magus appearing here was as low as finding real barley beer in this place.

As long as he wasn't a certified magus, Carlotte was confident he could handle the situation.

Besides, he himself was a preparatory-level magus.

"Won't you introduce yourself?"

Instead of answering Carlotte's question, the middle-aged man countered with his own.

"There's no need to waste words on a dead man," Carlotte's voice was cold, his gaze slowly turning solemn.

One by one, men armed with blades entered from the yard behind the tavern.

The middle-aged man quickly counted them; including the tavern owner, there were thirteen in total.

The number wasn't large, but he suspected there was more than one preparatory-level magus among them.

Touching his chin, the middle-aged man continued, "Perhaps I should introduce myself first?"

Scared? Or still bluffing?

Carlotte observed the middle-aged man's demeanor and movements but could discern nothing.

He wasn't one for intellectual battles; his preferred method of conflict resolution was swinging a war hammer and cracking skulls.

Thus, he tilted his chin upwards, curious to see what sort of story this man would spin.

The middle-aged man smiled, extending one hand to reveal his palm from which pale, bluish mana erupted, forming a swiftly spinning vortex that emitted a deep, whirring sound.

With his other hand, he swept across his face, and a semi-transparent mask fell into his hand.

"Windwolf, Sorovo."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

...

A deathly silence fell over Blossom Pub.

If Red Eye was a name that could stop children's cries in Breeze City, then Sorovo was the nightmare of thieves.

Sorovo and Red Eye were quite similar, except the former hailed from an executioner's background while the latter came from minor nobility.

Yes, Red Eye was originally a noble.

Just as no one knew why Red Eye became Red Eye, few understood how Sorovo became Sorovo.

However, a well-known fact about both was the blood on their hands—their reputations were built upon mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

According to those who kept count, after Sorovo took over as the chief officer of the city guard, the number of bandits around Breeze City decreased by more than a third, most of whom died by his hand, amounting to hundreds of lives.

Facing that smile, which seemed to belong only in nightmares, Carlotte suddenly found himself voiceless.

Fear gripped his throat.

"Don't be nervous. I don't wish to resort to violence today, understand?"

Sorovo, still relatively young, smiled gently, appearing benign but with a deep-seated cruelty and bloodlust swirling in his eyes.

"I'm here just to ask some questions today. You should know what I want to find out, right?"

"A person who knows nothing is of no value."

The last sentence was whispered by Sorovo, close to Carlotte's ear, his warm breath causing Carlotte's body to tremble.

No need for anyone else to act; with just Sorovo alone, two-thirds of the people here wouldn't stand a chance to escape.

So, who would be among that lucky one-third?

In the blind spot of Sorovo's gaze, eyes within the crowd exchanged silent communication.

No one dared to make the first move, for those who do often die the quickest.

Although fear shackled their ankles, resigning themselves to fate was not something they were prepared to do.

"So, let's begin the questioning," Sorovo stood up straight, his smile unchanged, "Where is Red Eye?"

...

Lorinda, Splash Street, Silver Flower Inn.

A tall man wearing a half mask pushed open the door and stepped into the lobby, walking up to the counter in a few strides.

"Hello, are you here for a meal? Or lodging? A single room with three meals is only two silver coins per day…"

The innkeeper's buoyant and cheerful voice lost its warmth under the tall man's icy gaze, plummeting all the way down.

"I'm looking for someone."

The man's voice was hoarse, sounding almost like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together, sending shivers down one's spine.

"Has this person been here?" The man placed a piece of paper on the counter.

Glancing at it, the innkeeper immediately recalled the group that had checked in some time ago with a half-orc, regretting her decision to let them stay.

If only she had known, she wouldn't have allowed it—orc-kind never brought good fortune!

Cursing inwardly, the innkeeper's face remained impassive as her gaze shifted back to the tall man.

"What do you want with him? Who are you to him?"

The innkeeper received no verbal response; instead, a short dagger was placed on the counter.

She hadn't caught the tall man's movement, her field of vision only capturing a flash of silver light before the dagger was "thud" embedded in the countertop with a dull sound!

"Tell me, which floor is he on?"

The tall man scrutinized the plump innkeeper, his gaze akin to assessing a piece of pork laid out on a chopping board.

"My patience is thin, do not try to wear it out."

The innkeeper's plump body began to tremble, certainly not from the cold.

"Third, the third floor. An inner room on the third floor! You're not going to kill him, are you?"

The tall man smiled, "Of course, we're old friends who've known each other for a long time."

At the Silver Flower Inn, on the third floor, Greg, Ali, and Howard's room.

Some time had passed since nightfall, Greg had lit the fireplace.

The charcoal burned brightly in the hearth, casting warm light that danced in shadows across Jelia's face.

"This is today's medicine, the last dose." Vivia entered the room, carrying a bowl of soup that looked quite unappetizing.

Sitting on the bed, Greg lifted his gaze, his eyes twitching as he brought his hands together in supplication, "My dear lady! My dear lady, what on earth have you put in this medicine? After drinking it yesterday, I spent the entire half-day in the restroom! And now you bring it again, I fear I might have to spend tonight in there as well!"

Vivia set the medicine on the table, without sparing Greg a glance, and waved her hand dismissively, "Drink it or not, it's up to you, but don't blame me for any consequences later!"

Saying this, Vivia stood behind Jelia, reaching out to touch Jelia's cascading hair, "Jelia, shall I comb your hair for you?"

"Mhm." Jelia nodded.

Vivia smiled, pulling out a small wooden comb from her belongings and tapped Jelia's hair with it.

"Come, let's go in front of the mirror."

Jelia rose from her chair and obediently sat in front of the mirror, ready for Vivia to begin.

Seeing Vivia ignoring him, Greg could only sigh, put down the book he was holding, get off the bed, and walk over to the table to pick up the bowl of medicine.

As soon as he lifted the bowl, a sour and astringent strange smell invaded his nostrils.

His eye twitched, and a troubled expression appeared on Greg's face.

"Vivia... do I really have to drink this?"

"You've been unconscious for so long. Although your body was preserved by mana, you still fell into a weakened state, and many toxins and waste products from metabolism weren't expelled from your body. The last dose of medicine was to clear those out all at once. It might have been a bit harsh, but the effect was good," Vivia explained as she combed Jelia's hair, speaking to the reflection in the mirror.

"This dose is to repair any damage to the stomach and intestines that the last medicine might have caused. The taste might be strange, but it's all mild herbs."

"So, it won't cause diarrhea?" Greg asked cautiously.contemporary romance

"The method isn't as intense as before because it mostly contains mild herbs."

Unfortunately, Vivia didn't give a direct answer.

"If you don't want to drink it, just leave it there. I'll pour it out for the innkeeper's dog downstairs later; its stomach hasn't been well these past few days," Vivia said with a cold laugh, her hands not stopping as she skillfully tied Jelia's braids.

Typically, Howard was the one who did this job, somehow managing to tie braids better than both Antalya and Vivia, despite being a man.

But today, since Antalya had sent Howard and Ali out early, and Jelia hadn't woken up yet, he hadn't been around to do her hair.

Greg opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.

Although Vivia was a pharmacist, she wasn't actually a member of the adventure group.

She helped prepare medicines out of friendship, but she wasn't obligated to ensure he took them.

Greg believed that if he truly decided not to drink it, Vivia would indeed give the medicine to the dog, and the dog would surely recover from its ailment.

However, getting Vivia to prepare medicine for him in the future would become a challenge.

done.co