Once again, Zi-Cheng sat in solitude among the low shrubs, unmoving for what felt like an eternity.

The storm had finally passed, but it left him in the same wretched state as when he first arrived at the riverbank—homeless, with nothing to his name but the clothes on his back. By saving Julia, he had once again lost everything, including Hana, the little white flower that had been his only source of comfort during those lonely days in the wild.

Yet, sitting there in the dark, the weight of his loss felt strangely distant. Zi-Cheng stared into the darkened horizon, his mind strangely clear, as though the storm had washed away his despair, leaving only his father’s words to echo in his ears.

“You chose your own path. If you fall, don’t cry and complain about it."

Those mocking words, once a sharp sting, now served as a reminder that no amount of lamenting would bring back what he’d lost. Besides, there were far more pressing matters demanding his attention.

By this time, the rumors about beastmen had already swept through Hazelton, stirring the city into a frenzy. It was only a matter of time before the City Guard intensified their patrols along the riverbank and tightened security at the city gates.

(Which mean, camping by the river and sneaking into Hazelton for food was longer an option.)

Zi-Cheng’s gaze shifted toward the dense woods, their shadows an impenetrable black under the faint light of the moon. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. Heading into the forest empty-handed would be as good as suicide.

“So there wasn’t much of an option to begin with….”

Letting out a long sigh, the cool night air filled Zi-Cheng’s lungs, steadying his nerves. With only a few hours until dawn, it was time to make his next move.

Under the cover of darkness, he made his way back to Hazelton, timing his entry perfectly with the guards’ shift change at the city gates.

(This was where Chris and I first entered the city… The stone bridge where we parted shouldn’t be far from here….)

Zi-Cheng spent many sleepless nights mulling over how to survive the coming winter in Hazelton. There were other options he could attempt, but none held the same promise of success as Chris Coleman’s mysterious “commission work.” However, the thought of trailing the man who had betrayed and publicly humiliated him was enough to ignite a bitter fear that stopped him from making such an attempt.

Until now.

With his back against the wall, Zi-Cheng steel himself to take the risk. Moving stealthily in the shadows, with every guard patrol route and blind spot etched into his memory, he navigated the maze-like alleys with cat-like grace, and reached the destination without incident.

Then, there it was, the stone bridge where Chris had once shown him kindness and warmth, only to strip it all away with cruelty and humiliation.

Zi-Cheng clenched his fists. This wasn’t the time to succumb to the weight of those memories. The sky was beginning to lighten, faint hues of gray and orange creeping over the horizon. Chris should appear at any moment, but the area around the stone bridge was completely exposed. Its ends were clearly visible, with no cover or hiding spots to speak of.

(Even a child could spot someone lurking nearby from a distance.)

Just then, two voices echoed from the distance.

“Ugh—It’s finally dawn. I thought this shift would never end.”

“At least there weren’t any new victims last night.”

The voices grew closer. Zi-Cheng cursed under his breath, then climbed over the railing to hide beneath the stone bridge.

“I can’t take this anymore! Working overtime night after night.”

“I know, right? First, we had that Outsider Crimson Plume, and now they’re saying beastmen are in the area?!”

Zi-Cheng’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Crimson Plume. He recalled what Candace had told him about these so-called “Outsiders”.

It was a term used for those cast out of humanity, deemed unworthy of the kingdom’s protection. Whether they were traitors conspiring to overthrow the kingdom or serial killers leaving bloody trails in their wake, anyone branded an “Outsider” would lose their status as a human being.

In a world teeming with monsters, losing the protection of humanity meant becoming nothing more than prey for bounty hunters in the city or wild beasts beyond the city walls. It was a fate far worse than death.

(Yet, some still dared to tread this path, driven by reasons only they could understand.)

Zi-Cheng couldn’t understand why Crimson Plume had spared him. But now, knowing the man bore the brand of an Outsider, the mystery only deepened. What kind of force could drive someone to embrace such a cursed existence? For a moment, the question gnawed at the edges of his curiosity, tempting him to dig deeper.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

But he quickly shook it off. This was a riddle best left unsolved. Dwelling on it any further would be no different from playing with fire—or worse, inviting death itself to the dance.

Besides, the rattling sound of a wooden cart was drawing closer to the bridge.

“Morning, Cap! Out early again today?”

(He’s here!)

Zi-Cheng’s entire body tensed as he clung tighter to the underside of the bridge, holding his breath and straining to catch every word from above.

“Don’t call me that,” Chris’s gravelly voice carried a hint of bitterness. “I’m not your captain anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter, Cap. You’ll always be our captain, no matter what.”

Chris snorted at the remark. “Yeah? Then do me a favor and keep that crap to yourselves. If Rupert Shave catches wind, he’ll have you scrubbing the privies till your boots rot.”

“Cap, if you hadn’t busted your wrist, that bastard wouldn’t be wearing your badge right now.”

“Well, badges aren’t worth two coppers up my arse. We serve the people; that’s what we do,” Chris said bluntly. “So stop running your mouth about hot cases while you’re out here.”

“Y-yeah, got it, Cap. Sorry.”

“And for God’s sake stop calling me that,” Chris sighed, the weariness in his voice plain. “You’re the damn face of order in this city. Last thing we need is folk losing sleep over something they can’t do jack about.”

Zi-Cheng couldn’t see their faces, but the silence that followed spoke volumes. Even now, Chris Coleman had the presence to command respect with just a few words. This wasn’t the man who had laughed and joked during their cart ride into Hazelton. For the first time, Zi-Cheng saw a different side of him — a man who had earned unwavering admiration, living up to the title of "the Silver Axe."

Clack-clack-clack-clack…

The wooden cart slowly rolled away as Zi-Cheng pulled himself out from beneath the bridge. Keeping a safe distance, he began following Chris through the awakening streets of Hazelton.

By now, the city was stirring to life. Early risers filled the cobblestone streets with soft hum of activity as merchants opened their shutters and vendors set up their wares.

Zi-Cheng had been restless all night, deliberately leaving himself exhausted to dull his presence among the crowd. Despite Chris’s keen observation, the former captain couldn’t notice the weary figure amidst the city’s hustle and bustle.

At last, Chris stopped in front of a towering, five-story building in the heart of Hazelton’s commercial district. Zi-Cheng paused at a distance, quietly watching as Chris parked his cart outside, ascended the stone steps, and pushed open the heavy wooden door without a glance back.

(So this must be the place.)

Curiosity burned as Zi-Cheng approached. Who in Hazelton had the resources to hire the former captain of the City Guard? What kind of client would send the Silver Axe beyond Hazelton’s safety, into the monster-infested wilds?

As he drew closer, his eyes caught the words etched on the iron plaque beside the stairs: Dreslam Merchant Guild.

(The Dreslam Merchant Guild? That’s the name the skewer vendor mentioned—the biggest merchant guild in all of Hazelton!)

Zi-Cheng stepped back, properly taking in the building’s impressive facade for the first time.

The guild headquarters loomed over its surroundings, its red-brick exterior split perfectly down the middle, flanked by stately, decorated columns. The symmetry was flawless, with identical, ornate windows and doors on either side. On the fourth floor, a gleaming white balcony jutted out, offering a view of the entire commercial district. Above it all, the guild’s flag fluttered in the wind, its golden emblem gleaming against the deep blue fabric.

image [https://i.imgur.com/FACYPgt.png]

It was certainly a fitting headquarters for Hazelton’s most powerful merchant guild. Yet, Zi-Cheng didn’t follow Chris inside. Instead, he chose to roam the lively district, stopping passersby in his search for information.

“Excuse me, sir! Do you know if there are any other merchant guilds around here besides the Dreslam Merchant Guild?”

Where there’s profit, there’s always competition. Even Hazelton’s king of commerce couldn’t operate without rivals. If Chris had aligned himself with the Dreslam Merchant Guild, then Zi-Cheng’s plan was simple: join their opposition.

It was a perfect plan—in theory.

However, reality had other ideas.

“We’re sorry, but we don’t hire minors.” the clerk said with an indifferent tone, barely looking up from her ledger.

“Minors? Come on, look at me, I’m an adult!” Zi-Cheng retorted, but his words were clearly unconvincing.

“Oh, sure you are.” the clerk said with a smirk. “And I’m the queen of Izanich. Look, no combat rank, no hire. Come back when you’ve registered.”

As the merchant guild’s door slammed shut behind him, Zi-Cheng clenched his jaw.

Combat rank.

That was the part Zi-Cheng hadn’t accounted for — the unique system of this world.

Outside on the cobblestone street, the sun above cast a long shadow behind him. It was noon, and by now, he had knocked on the doors of eight different merchant guilds, but the results were always the same. No one wanted to hire an “unregistered minor” with no combat rank or verifiable background. To them, he might as well have been a ghost.

With nothing to show for his efforts, Zi-Cheng slumped onto the curb, his head hanging low.

“What kind of ridiculous system demands combat rank for a junior position? Damn it! Why don’t they ask for AAA game production experience and Unreal Engine visual scripting skills while they’re at it?”

In typical isekai stories, the protagonists either possess overpowered abilities capable of defying fate or gain convenient leverage over a “game system” to amass wealth, status, and power. But here? Zi-Cheng had neither. Sure, he knew game design like the back of his hand, but that skill might as well be completely useless!

The gap between his expectations and the harsh reality made him mutter his frustrations aloud. Unfortunately, that single complaint summoned the last person he wanted to see.

“Ridiculous? The only thing that’s ridiculous is trash like you thinkin’ you’ve got a shot at surviving here.”

Zi-Cheng froze, his stomach sinking like a stone. The all-too-familiar venomous sneer sent a chill down his spine as he turned to face the source of his dread.

“Ca… Carl Murray….”