Chapter 265: The Traveller (2)

Another laughed and stepped closer, voice low and teasing. “You always walk past so fast. Stay a little, handsome~”

Flirtatious words followed him like loose feathers, inviting glances, playful gestures, hands that lingered just a second too long. Bruce didn’t respond. He didn’t even slow his pace. He walked straight through them as if they weren’t there, pushing open the heavy doors at the exit.

The noise cut off instantly.

Outside, the air was cooler, quieter. The city breathed differently beyond the guild’s walls. Bruce let out a slow sigh, tension easing just slightly as he stepped into the open street.

If he released even a fraction of the SS-rank aura he kept tightly restrained, those same people wouldn’t be laughing or flirting. They’d be frozen in place, terrified, breath stolen from their lungs, some of them possibly traumatized for life. He wasn’t cruel enough to do that.

Not yet.

He was holding back deliberately these days. For a reason.

Still… maybe next time, he’d give them a small shock. Just enough to remind them that restraint wasn’t optional in a place filled with monsters pretending to be people.

With that thought, Bruce leaned forward.

And vanished.

The city blurred as he accelerated, his body slicing through the air effortlessly. Streets collapsed into lines, buildings streaked past as light and shadow fused together, distance folding beneath his movement. Tens of kilometers disappeared in moments, the familiar skyline shrinking behind him as he cut a direct path toward home.

It didn’t take long.

But while he was still far out, tens of kilometers away, Bruce slowed.

His brow furrowed.

He felt it. An aura.

Close. Unfamiliar. And distinctly out of place.

Bruce’s speed dropped further as his senses locked onto the source, his expression sharpening, instincts sliding seamlessly into readiness. The air itself felt wrong, tension threading through it like a warning pulled taut.

Something, or someone, was waiting. By the time Bruce reached his house, he already knew.

The aura he’d sensed was here.

Standing just beyond the outer wall of his compound was an old man, leaning casually as if he’d been there for hours rather than moments.

His hair was completely white, stark against skin that was smooth and unlined in a way that felt almost unnatural, as though time itself had failed to leave its mark. Despite his age, there was nothing frail about him.

His posture was loose, balanced, the stance of someone who could move in any direction at a moment’s notice. He wore rugged, travel-worn clothes and a slightly tilted cowboy-style cap, an outfit that looked wildly out of place in Valkrin’s streets.

And yet, somehow, it suited him perfectly.

The man had his hands tucked into his pockets, weight resting comfortably against the wall, gaze unfocused as though he were simply passing the time. Bruce slowed to a stop several paces away, eyes narrowing slightly as his senses swept over the stranger again.

There was no hostility.

No killing intent. No malice. No pressure. And yet the presence itself was… strange.

It wasn’t heavy, nor sharp, nor oppressive. It simply was. Like a wandering variable the world hadn’t quite figured out how to categorize. Something that didn’t slot neatly into place.

Given everything Bruce had just discussed at the guild, a name surfaced naturally in his mind.

The Traveler. But Bale had only contacted him moments ago.

And yet, this man was already here. Fast wasn’t enough to describe it.

The old man noticed Bruce at the same time Bruce fully registered him. He straightened slightly, pushing off the wall with lazy ease, and looked Bruce over with open curiosity. Sharp eyes gleamed beneath the brim of his cap, bright with interest rather than caution.

“So,” the man said, voice rough but lively, carrying an amused edge. “You’re Bruce. Bruce Ackerman?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied, nodding once.

The man’s lips curved upward, smile widening as if that single confirmation had been all he needed. He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Traveler.”

Bruce accepted the handshake.

The grip was firm, but not forceful. Casual. Confident. The kind of grip that didn’t test strength, because it didn’t need to.

As their hands met, Bruce’s thoughts sharpened instinctively.

“He really is the Traveler… And he’s insanely fast. It’s barely been five minutes.”

There had been no ripple of space, no distortion, no telltale fluctuation of mana that accompanied teleportation. One moment he hadn’t been here. The next, he had been leaning against Bruce’s wall like an old acquaintance.

He was simply… here.

The Traveler released his hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out a single gold coin. He flicked it upward with a practiced motion, letting it spin through the air before catching it cleanly between his fingers.

“Let’s go grab a drink,” the Traveler said, grin widening as if the suggestion were entirely casual. “Interesting things shouldn’t be discussed standing outside someone’s house.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with mischief beneath the brim of his cap.

“Good coffee helps the conversation flow.”

The coin flashed once more between his fingers, catching the light as it spun.

And just like that,

The wild, eccentric legend stood there waiting, relaxed, unhurried, as if the next move was entirely up to Bruce.

Bruce shrugged.

That was all it took.

The Traveler vanished.

There was no warning, no ripple of mana, no distortion of space. One moment he was leaning lazily against the wall, and the next he was a blur ripping through the street, reality lagging a heartbeat behind him. His voice echoed faintly through the rushing wind, stretched thin by speed.

“Come, I know a good place…”

Bruce stepped forward and followed.

They tore through the city at an absurd pace, weaving through streets and alleys with effortless precision. Corners bent away from them as if anticipating their path, buildings flashing by in streaks of stone and light. Bruce kept up without difficulty, his movements controlled, efficient, but even so, he couldn’t help but notice the difference.

The Traveler wasn’t just fast.

He was comfortable at that speed.

Despite the wind screaming past them, despite the sheer velocity that should have torn fabric and balance apart, the Traveler’s cowboy hat never shifted. Not a tilt. Not a flutter. It sat perfectly on his head, brim steady, as if the world itself had decided not to argue with him.

Then, suddenly,

The Traveler stopped instantly.

Bruce, who had been following close behind, halted just as abruptly, boots scraping lightly against the stone. No sound. No shockwave followed. No displaced air crashed outward. The motion was so clean it felt unnatural, as though speed had simply ceased to exist at his command.

The Traveler turned his head slightly, gaze settling on a modest coffee shop tucked between two older buildings.

Warm light spilled through its windows, soft and golden, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee and tea drifted out into the street, rich and inviting. It was the kind of smell that didn’t just linger in the air, it settled somewhere deeper, in the chest.

He grinned. “This is it.”

He flicked the gold coin again, letting it spin lazily through the air before catching it with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s go. Pay’s on me.”

They stepped inside together.

A soft chime rang as the door opened, and the atmosphere changed immediately. The chaos of the city fell away, replaced by warmth and calm. Low conversations murmured around small tables, cups clinked gently against saucers, and the air inside was thick with comfort.

The smell of coffee here was deeper, layered with hints of roasted beans and sweet cream, the kind that made even hardened adventurers unconsciously slow their breathing.

The moment the Traveler crossed the threshold, one of the attendants looked up.

Her eyes widened.

“Sir!” she exclaimed, surprise giving way to delight. “Its good to see you back.”

The Traveler tipped his hat slightly, flashing a charming, entirely unapologetic smile. “Couldn’t stay away.”

Another attendant leaned over from behind the counter, laughing softly. “Your usual spot is still open.”

Bruce noticed it immediately. They weren’t just familiar with him.

They adored him.

A woman stepped forward then, elegant and composed, her presence calm in a way that grounded the space around her. Her apron was neatly tied, movements practiced and unhurried, as though she’d long mastered the rhythm of this place.

“Welcome back,” she said warmly. “What will you be having today?”

The Traveler’s grin widened as he looked at her.

“Lady Ann,” he said smoothly. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

She laughed softly, clearly immune to the words but entertained nonetheless.

“With a figure like that and coffee-making skills like yours,” he continued shamelessly, “how could I not sponsor you every time I visit East Valkrin?”

“Sir,” Lady Ann replied, covering her mouth slightly as she chuckled, “you’re making me blush.”

“Don’t be shy,” the Traveler said easily. “I know I’m handsome.”

He leaned in just a little, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret with fate itself. “I’ll definitely marry you in the future.”

Lady Ann shook her head, smiling despite herself.

“Your regular?” she asked.

“Of course,” the Traveler replied, already turning away. “Don’t keep destiny waiting.”

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