Three days slipped by in the blink of an eye.

On the morning of the fourth day, Busca instructed the groom to prepare his carriage. After a short ride of two blocks, he arrived at the prestigious Stardust Avenue in Stan City. This avenue, located at the heart of the city, was exclusively reserved for noble vehicles; no ordinary carriage could traverse its well-paved roads. As Busca parked at the end of the street, he gazed at the grand houses and upscale shops lining the avenue, envy flickering in his eyes.

"When will I have a home on Stardust Avenue?" he mused, thinking of his son, Kerry. "Kerry's become the guard of the city's main house, a fourth-order swordsman. With his talents, who knows? He might even reach seventh-order status one day. If that happens, he could earn a noble title, and establishing a family business here wouldn't be out of reach..."

As the morning breeze caressed his face, Busca entertained his dreams. But then his thoughts shifted to Anthony's magical shop, and a sneer crept across his lips.

"What does that little shop even amount to? My son is on the city council, and I have a transfer contract penned by that little girl. Even if he demolishes his magic shop, he won’t face any repercussions. Let’s see what they do today!"

Just then, Busca spotted a tall figure approaching down Stardust Avenue. Clad in black iron armor etched with magical runes, it was unmistakably his son, Kerry. The armor was the standard issue for the defenders of the city’s government, equipped with protective charms created by skilled magicians. Such armor was not available on the market for less than dozens of silver coins.

"Kerry!" Busca called out, a smile spreading across his face.

"Father!" Kerry replied, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"Get in the carriage. We need to talk," Busca urged, ushering his son inside. He instructed the groom to head straight to Anthony’s magical shop.

Once inside the carriage, Busca recounted the events of the past few days, concluding with, "Locke and Quinn couldn’t handle those two children. They ended up getting hurt because of a foolish magician. This time, I want you to teach them a lesson. With that contract in hand, we can do whatever we want with his shop."

"Dealing with those two brats will be a cinch," Kerry said with a smirk. But then he paused, looking thoughtful. "But I remember that magician is only a second-level mage. I’ve heard he isn’t keen on offensive spells—just some life curses. How did he manage to hurt Quinn?"

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"I’m not sure. Something must have provoked that little brat into casting an attack spell. It’s a shame about the crystal guardian charm I bought for thirty silver coins!" Busca replied, his frustration evident.

Kerry grinned, his confidence growing. "Well, that makes it easier for me. As a fourth-level swordsman, this will be a walk in the park. Just watch how I handle them!"

---

Meanwhile, outside Anthony's magical shop, Debbie sat on the steps, her expression serious.

Her youthful face was a mix of determination and anxiety. She wore a simple suit of armor—her birthday gift from old George on her fourteenth birthday. Though its defensive capabilities were minimal, it seemed more like a costume than practical gear on her 15-year-old frame. The armor fit her snugly, accentuating her petite figure, while her oversized sword rested beside her, a stark contrast to her appearance.

Debbie's poised demeanor drew the attention of passersby, many stopping to steal glances at the unusual sight.

Martin approached, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked uneasy about the impending confrontation. Leaning down, he whispered to her, "Can’t we find another way? Maybe talk to the city council?”

Debbie bit her lip, shaking her head. "We’re just a small shop. The city government wouldn’t bother with us. Besides," she continued, her voice low, "the magic shop is technically under Busca’s ownership now. Unless we can find a way to nullify that contract, there’s nothing we can do."

She turned to Martin, concern etched in her features. "Martin, the wind is picking up. You should head back inside."

Martin hesitated, feeling the wind chill prick at his skin. "I’m fine," he insisted, although a sneeze betrayed him moments later. "Maybe I need to work on my stamina," he admitted sheepishly.

He sat beside Debbie, trying to muster some courage. "This magic shop belongs to both of us, and so does this challenge. We face it together."

Debbie’s stern expression softened slightly, warmth breaking through her concern. But then she looked at him with curiosity. "Martin, you seem... different lately. Why do you suddenly feel so much more confident?"

Martin felt a flush creep up his cheeks. He had wanted to impress Debbie but hadn’t expected her to notice. "Well, I’ve just realized that I have to step up. The old George entrusted me with you, and I can’t let you down," he replied, trying to sound more self-assured than he felt.

"Ha! Who said I wanted you to take care of me?" she retorted, her cheeks reddening. Just then, she spotted a carriage approaching, her brow knitting in concentration. She instinctively gripped the hilt of her giant sword, a weapon that was almost as large as she was. "They’re here! Martin, stay behind me and be careful."

Martin could only shake his head at her fierce resolve. The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the shop, and the door swung open. Kerry, clad in his menacing black armor, leaped out. His eyes narrowed as he looked over Debbie and Martin, a contemptuous smirk curling his lips. "You two really think you can stand up to us? How foolish."

Debbie straightened, her determination unwavering. "We won’t back down, Kerry!"

Just then, Busca clambered out of the carriage, slightly off-balance due to his weight. After regaining his composure, he addressed the pair with a commanding tone. "I’m giving you one last chance, Debbie. Hand over the magic shop, and I might let you go unharmed. Otherwise..." He paused, casting a glance at Kerry, "... my son won’t hold back."

The tension in the air thickened, and the confrontation was set.