The Return Of The Exiled Villain

For a moment, there was only silence.

The kind that stretches long and tense, where even the wind forgets to blow.

Gray stood there, battered and blood-soaked, his chest rising and falling like he was dragging air from the depths of hell itself.

The taste of iron coated his tongue. His vision swam.

And then...

"GRAY!!!"

"FINGERCRUSHER!!!"

"FINGERCRUSHER!! FINGERCRUSHER!!"

The roar of the crowd came like a wave.

Thousands of voices screaming, fists raised in the air, stomping and howling as if they'd witnessed a devil's ascension.

The arena trembled under the weight of it.

Flowers were thrown, countless silver and bronze coins hit the sand, and strangely, some people wept from sheer emotion.

Even the noble balconies stood, reluctantly clapping, unable to deny what they'd just seen.

Gray didn't smile.

He simply turned his back, not even sparing the dead Kael a second glance.

His feet dragged slightly, the pain was everywhere now. His shoulder felt dislocated, his ribs might've cracked again, and his ankle was a mess.

Still, he walked on.

[They're obsessed with you now.]

Jasmine purred, her voice sultry and soaked in amusement.

[Even the nobles are whispering your name~ "That boy with the black eyes…" Mmm, it's just delicious watching you ruin expectations.]

"...."

Gray gave no response. His blood was dripping onto the stone steps as he climbed out of the arena.

A few attendants tried to run up and offer him towels, water, a healing spell, but he waved them off like flies.

"Fuck off."

The path to the gladiator's resting area was long and shadowed. Every step felt heavier than the last.

But as he finally pushed open the old wooden doors to the outside corridor, the light hit his eyes, and so did the silhouette standing ahead.

Gray stopped.

"...Tsk."

That familiar voice echoed out.

"Well, well, well…"

From the shadows stepped a figure.

Smirking.

That fucker from before.

Same smug grin.

Same pretty-boy attitude that made Gray want to punch something.

He even clapped slowly, mockingly.

Clap, clap, clap!

"Quite the performance you put on, Gray. Or should I say... 'FingerCrusher' now?"

Gray's eyes narrowed dangerously, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"...You've got three seconds to disappear," he growled.

The man just chuckled... and took a step closer, his smirk widening just a little more, and he tilted his chin upward with an arrogance that made Gray's skin crawl.

"You should think before you act," he said smugly, adjusting the golden badge clipped to his cloak.

"I'm protected by the Count of Virelia himself. He owns half this city. One word from me and you'll be scrubbing blood off the dungeon walls with your face, gladiator."

He paused, stepping closer—far too close.

"But lucky for you… The Count's been keeping an eye on your performance. And me? Well…" he spread his arms wide, still smiling like a showman.

"I'm here to offer you a place. As a Knight under the Count's banner."

He even produced a silver-inlaid token, the Knight's Assessment Token, letting it gleam in the sunlight like a prize, like bait.

"You get your title, a little mansion, servants, money, women, hell, maybe even protection from the little shits you've been picking fights with."

And still… that grin.

Smug, proud, and mocking.

Gray didn't even blink.

He just stared at the man in silence, his body aching, blood still trickling down the side of his head from the previous match.

His right eye was still darkened with a bruise, his ribs screamed, his ankle throbbed with every heartbeat, but none of that mattered now.

Because something was building inside his chest.

A low-burning, cold fury that made everything else seem far, far away.

So... his lips curled up devilishly...

[Gray... don't you FUCKING dare! A count is too much for someone as weak as you to handle!]

Jasmine desperately warned him... but of course, Gray ignored her.

CRACK!

Gray's fist smashed directly into the man's nose.

[Fucking hell...]

Jasmine sighed.

The crunch of cartilage and bone was sharp, wet, and final, a red mist bursting out in all directions as the man's head snapped back violently.

"GGHHUUHHK—!"

He dropped like a sack of flour, landing hard on the stone, his hands scrambling toward his shattered face, blood pouring between his fingers like a broken faucet.

But Gray didn't stop; instead, his bloodied boot came down on the man's gut.

THUD!!

And then his knee.

CRACK!!

A second punch to the mouth sent teeth flying across the hallway.

"G-Ggh! W-WAIT—!!" The man tried to scream through the blood, but his jaw wouldn't move properly anymore.

His words came out as choking, wet slurs.

"I basically offered you everything…" he gurgled, tears now mixing with the blood on his face.

Gray crouched down slowly, his eyes dull, flat, uncaring, dead.

"No one offers me a leash," he whispered, barely above a growl.

SMASH!

Another blow, this time to the side of the face, his knuckles splitting open against cheekbone.

"AAHH—!!"

The man whimpered like a kicked dog, but Gray grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up just enough to whisper in his ear.

"I don't need your Count. I don't need your riches. And I sure as fuck don't need you."

He slammed the guy's head against the wall.

CRACK!!

Blood smeared across the stone like paint. The man's body slumped, twitching weakly now.

[Ohhh~ That was extremely satisfying...]

Jasmine's desperate voice turned into pure delight.

[But now, you should be extremely careful of that Count... Maybe that little stalker of yours can help ya~]

Gray simply nodded.

Then he crouched down one last time, and with slow, calm fingers, he reached into the man's robes… and pulled the Knight Assessment Token from his pocket.

It was soaked in the guy's blood.

Just perfect.

Gray pocketed it, wiped his hand off on the man's cloak without a hint of care, and stood up.

He looked down at the barely breathing bastard, now unconscious and twitching in a pool of red.

Then Gray turned his back on the unconscious bastard, the blood still warm on his knuckles, and walked away without a word. 

[...Where are we going now?]

Jasmine asked lazily, though a strange note of satisfaction still curled in her voice.

"An inn," Gray muttered. "I need to rest before the Knight Assessment. My body's still a mess... And I need to at least get a Silver Class if I want to travel for free."

[Silver Class...? You said Kael was Silver Class, something... What does that even mean? Is that important?]

Gray let out a low sigh, his tone irritated but patient enough to answer.

"In this world, there are two kinds of ranks," he began, turning down a narrow stone path as his fingers rubbed the dried blood on his sleeve.

"The power rank and the title rank. They're both important, but different."

[...Go on.]

"Power rank is what really shows your actual strength. It's split into stages: Trainee, Elementary, Intermediate, Advanced... and from there, it moves to Master, Grandmaster, Great Grandmaster, and then some higher levels people rarely talk about."

[So that's what you meant when you said Kael was strong...]

"Yeah. Kael was a Silver Class fighter, but his power rank was probably Peak Elementary. High-end for someone his age, but not unbeatable."

[And the title ranks...?]

"They're more about reputation, fame, and recognition. Titles. You earn them by completing missions, getting achievements, or being officially tested. It shows you've proven yourself in real battles, not just that you can fight, but that you have."

He paused as they passed under a quiet archway, his voice lowering a little as his eyes tracked a group of armored knights walking by.

"The title ranks go like this: Bronze Class is the lowest, for beginners and nobodies. Then comes Silver Class, which shows you're at least experienced enough to be trusted. After that, there's Gold, Platinum, Diamond... and then, at the very top, Obsidian Class."

[Obsidian...?]

"Yeah. Obsidian means you're at the peak. You get access to everything. Money, power, territory... an Obsidian-ranked Knight can be a Grand Duke, with armies under their name and kingdoms offering alliances."

[Hmph… sounds annoying. So political.]

"It is," Gray muttered. "But that's how this world works. No one cares how strong you are if you don't have a title to back it up."

He stopped as they reached the edge of a plaza, the flickering torches ahead showing the shape of an old inn tucked between two stone towers.

"And I'm going to need that title. Silver Class at least... to move across the continent. Especially if I want to get to Gloria Academy without selling my soul to some noble."

He rubbed his neck slowly, that usual, tired look flickering in his eyes.

"...And you'll want me to stay alive long enough to get there, right?"

[Of course, Gray~]

Jasmine purred playfully.

[You're far too fun to lose this early.]

Gray didn't reply.

He just pushed the door open and stepped inside the inn.

Phew~

The scent of aged wood and cheap oil lanterns filled the air the moment he stepped into the inn.

It was small and cozy, even, but had clearly seen better days.

Faded red curtains hung limp by the windows, and the old wooden floor creaked with every step like it was whispering secrets from a hundred years ago.

A sleepy innkeeper sat behind the counter, an older man with thin white hair and a bored expression.

Gray walked straight up without hesitation.

"One night," he said flatly.

"Single room."

The innkeeper didn't ask questions. Just blinked, took one look at Gray's bloodied, dust-covered clothes, and nodded slowly.

"That'll be 8 bronze."

Gray reached into his pocket and threw down a silver coin.

The innkeeper blinked again, this time a bit more awake. He handed over a rusty bronze key.

"Upstairs. Second door on the left."

Gray took it without a word.

The climb upstairs felt heavier than it should have, his limbs sore and skin still stinging from Kael's strikes.

His ribs throbbed with every step, and the dull ache in his leg refused to let him forget about the fight.

[You're quiet…] Jasmine hummed, her voice was a little softer now.

"I'm tired."

[Aw~ poor little devil... all tuckered out from breaking bones and dodging death.]

Gray didn't respond.

He just opened the door to his room and stepped inside.

It was as simple as he expected, an old wooden bed with scratchy sheets, a single oil lantern flickering on the wall, and a bucket of stale water in the corner.

There was no window or sound.

Just perfect for him to relax.

He threw his coat off, dropped the belt with his rapier onto the nearby table, and sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.

Every bone complained.

Every muscle twitched.

Blood still clung to parts of his shirt, dried and dark. His left hand trembled faintly, not from fear or cold… just exhaustion.

He pulled his boots off, fell backward onto the bed with a slow exhale, and let his eyes close.

[Sleep well, Gray~]

Jasmine whispered in his mind.

[You'll need all your strength for tomorrow.]

He didn't reply to her words once again.

Instead, he pretended to sleep until he fell asleep.