Legacy Of The Extra-Chapter 46: Seven Days.

The snow was gone—melted by the heat of late spring. The flowers bloomed, shining in the bright light of the sun.

The Blackthorne forest's withered trees were now filled with lush green leaves. The chirping of birds and the smell of fresh earth lingered.

But the same could not be said for the cursed entrance.

Frost still clung to its cave-like entrance, sealed by an iron door that held back whatever creatures loomed inside. Cold air seeps through the small spaces of the hinges.

Few wooden houses were constructed besides it, as a registry—to keep track of the people that headed inside.

A man stood inside the house, facing the open window counter. He had jet-black hair, dark green eyes, and fair skin covered by a white formal uniform with a Raven emblem at the right side of his chest.

His name was Norman, an employee who had previously worked as a referee for combat practicals.

He was before posted at the Ravenspire Guild's Eisenmarche Branch, a town in Edelstein, but later was transferred to the Frostholm Duchy's branch to manage the registry for Frostcove Maze.

The registry staff was short on people. So, he was chosen.

Now, far from his family, he stood inside a wooden house with a window open for taking people's names for entering one of the most dangerous mazes.

Frostcove Maze—A Maze in the northern parts of the Blackthorn forest. No matter what the season is, be it blissful spring, scorching summer or hailing monsoon. It always remains frozen.

The ice inside it never melts.

And it is one of the reasons why it is considered one of the dangerous mazes. The ice inside the maze can go below 0 degrees, making it a harsh environment to survive for mazekins.

The other reason—the beasts and the undead.

But even if it was dangerous, human greed can still slip itself in.

"Please form a straight line!" Norman shouted, looking at the number of people crowding the registry.

A few people just stood by, waiting for the crowd to die down. The Mazekin season was back.

People who had left for their homes over the winter were now coming back to get a piece of the action.

The date was 10th April, 3E 199. Almost 200 years had passed since the start of the 3rd Era of Dawn. An Era of light and victory.

But that did not matter shit to Norman, as he was still busy calming down the crowd. A clipboard in his hands as wrote down the name of the parties that entered one by one.

"The hell, you are a D-Ranked? I am sorry, but this maze is only for people above the rank of D."

The man grumbled to himself as he stepped aside. Norman sighed in relief. One less headache...

"Next!" He shouted, looking at the clipboard. Grabbing the ink pen tightly.

But this time, no one stepped forward, and no voice came to announce their party's name. Everything just went silent.

Norman frowned; his eyes were still on the clipboard. He shouted again, "Next, please!"

But again he was treated as if he was a whisper, his brows twitched further. He was already having a exhausting day but now these numbskulls wanted to make it worse.

Fucking bastards.

His eyes shot up from the clipboard, looking forward, his mouth opening to yell again. But this time, he stopped. His maw came to a halt as he looked at the crowd of people standing before the counter.

But their gazes were directed to something else—Something that had managed to steal their words and breaths.

What? Norman's brows furrowed as he looked in the direction of the crowd's gaze. And then he saw him.

Blue hair that cascaded down till his shoulder framed a face sharp as a blade. His eyes were that of fire—Orange, red and yellow. Burning with sheer intent and confidence. Tiny strands of facial hair hung from his sharp chin.

Giving the man a mature look.

As for his physique, he was most definitely over 6 feet. His shoulders were broad, but his waist was rather slim. Giving him a lean look.

He wore gauntlets and shins of black. His chest was covered by a plate of dark steel—an expensive and rare metal. And his whole frame was covered by a long black overcoat. A sword with a crucifix guard was stepped to his waist.

Its blade covered by a black leather scabbard.

But that was not what drew the other's attention to him.

No.

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

It was the way the man carried himself. His every step that sounded against the pavement, his every small movement. It all seemed like they were made with purpose.

The way he carried himself so confidently—His shoulder straight, his eyes locked ahead. He did not seem like a vagrant but rather an elegant knight out on his duty. And the Aura that he exuded.

It's as if walls of iron and steel have been constructed around him, separating him from the others—no, from the lesser beings that surrounded him. He seemed like he would kill anyone who dared to approach him.

Who could that be?

Norman thought to himself. A mazekin carrying himself like a disciplined knight? Pretty rare sight for someone like him. The man seemed experienced, and no matter how little one's combat experience was.

They would still be able to tell that this man—No, this elegant knight was a formidable warrior.

The crowd parted both ways as the man approached with slow and controlled steps. It was as if the waves parted as Moses guided the people to safety.

A ripple echoed through the crowd—both men and women, old and young, were now doing nothing but gossiping among themselves.

Some were of recognition...

"That's him, isn't it?"

"Yep, I heard he killed 20 bandits all by himself."

"They call him The Unseen Fang."

"I heard he is B+ Rank now?"

Some were of admiration...

"Oh my, he is very handsome~"

"He indeed is~"

"Maybe I should shoot my shot, waddya say?"

Some were of fear...

"Do you not see how intimidating his gaze is?"

"Yeah, I heard that wherever he goes, corpses of beasts will be found littered around..."

"No, no, he may seem like it, but he is a really nice guy. He even helped in rescuing my party from the pack of frostwolfs last week."

Some were of ignorance...

"Eh, fake tales. He does not even look that strong." A tall man blurted.

"True, he is just a pretty boy who had it easy because of his looks..." His friend followed him.

"Maybe I should mess with?"

"Yeah! Go for it, Tony."

The tall man named Tony moved from beside his friend. A long steel axe rested at his back. His gaze remained focused on the man as his steps quickened.

"Hey, scrub, where are you going?" Tony said, placing his hands on the man's shoulder. His grip tightened as the seconds passed.

The man did not even look at him, his gaze remained focused on the counter—on the registry. He lifted his hand and slapped Tony's hand in a single, swift motion. Without sparing any words, he stepped forward, ignoring Tony's existence.

Norman watched everything alongside the crowd with dripping intent. Tony, the tall man, his face twisted. Veins bulging at his temples.

"You bastard!" His fist swung, but the man just lowered his head, dodging it by inches. He did not even turn around or look at Tony, who was clearly embarrassed.

"Hey, Tony!" His friend shouted. "The hell are you doing? Teach him a lesson already!"

Tony reached for his long axe, unseathing it from his back. Carrying it with both hands he ran towards the man—who was still calmly walking as if it was a normal walk in the garden.

"Hey, you! Attacking fello—" Norman tried to say, but it was too late.

"Take this, you fucker!" Tony grumbled, swinging his axe in a long and devastating arc.

The axe cut through the air, heading towards the man, but before it could land a proper hit on him. Something beneath the man's feet twisted.

Clang!

His shadow moved, creating a tendrill of darkness that looped itself around the axe's handle. Halting the heavy blade's movement completely.

"The hell is this?!" Tony shouted, his hands trying to free the axe from the grip of the darkness that held it like a snake held its prey.

The man turned his head enough to glance over his shoulder. His fire eyes meeting that of Tony's shocked gaze. A lazy smirk appeared on his lips.

"I gave you a chance to walk away," The man sighed, his smirk disappearing. His amber eyes sharpened on Tony, observing his very soul.

"But I guess inbred trash like you still need to be taught a lesson."