I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

Chapter 38 Siver King

The young man surveying the crowd around him with a calm, measured gaze. He lingered there, silent and unhurried, before finally stepping forward. His attire was a simple, rugged ensemble of black, the kind one might pick up at the first outfitter's store they stumbled upon—practical, durable, yet lacking any particular flair.

It was the look of a newcomer, someone unfamiliar with the world he was now entering. Indeed, anyone watching could easily mistake him for a novice, and in a way, they would be right.

This was Siver King. Though he had never been a Hunter in the conventional sense, he was something close to it, and in his own World, he was an expert in his domain. His expertise was renowned, and he wielded it with a natural, almost frightening ease.

There was a reason Siver King was considered a Major Antagonist in the novel from which he hailed; some even regarded him as more dangerous than the Main Antagonist himself.

With a casual air that bordered on insolence, King made his way to the reception desk, disregarding the queue entirely, as though lines were a mere suggestion that did not apply to him. His azure eyes darted briefly between the left line, where a stocky, gruff-looking man was waiting, and the right line, where a rather pretty young woman was observing him with surprise.

He decided instantly, striding toward the woman's line without a second thought.

"Excuse me, sir," King murmured in a soft voice, gently but firmly pushing the man currently conversing with the receptionist aside as he took his place at the desk.

The young woman behind the counter, who had been watching with mild confusion, stammered, "Um..."

King's gaze drifted downwards for a moment, noting the small name tag pinned neatly above her chest. "Celine, is it? A lovely name," he said, his lips curving in a disarming smile as he leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting casually on the desk. "It's an honor to meet you, Miss Celine."

The receptionist looked taken aback but managed a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too, um, ..." She hesitated, clearly a bit thrown off by his audacity. "But... there was someone before you, and, well, the others... You're supposed to wait in line, sir."

"Oh, please," King waved a dismissive hand. "Not 'sir.' Just King. Siver King or King Siver."

The receptionist's eyebrows arched. "King? That's... quite the name."

"Fitting, wouldn't you say?" King chuckled.

Before Celine could respond, a low, angry voice interrupted. "Hey, you."

The man whom King had brushed aside had finally recovered from his initial shock and stepped up, his hand gripping King's shoulder. "I was here first. Get back in line if you don't want any trouble."

King merely sighed, turning slightly as if annoyed by an insect. In a swift, fluid motion, his hand closed over the man's fingers on his shoulder. With a precise twist, he bent them backward instantly.

"Agh—Arrghhh!" The man's face contorted in pain, a strangled groan escaping him as he fell to his knees, clutching his hand in agony.

The men surrounding them watched in stunned silence, jaws agape as they observed this exchange. Celine—usually shy and reserved, immune to every attempt at charm for the two years she'd been there—was suddenly flustered, responding to this man's every word.

"I think you've held her hand long enough, Mr. Siver King."

A new voice rang out as a tall figure descended the stairs.

"It's him!"

"The Guildmaster!"

"Ferdinand Ruther!"

The murmurs filled the room; Ferdinand's presence was rare, and seeing him in the guild hall was practically unheard of.

"Oh! My apologies," Celine exclaimed, quickly pulling her hand from the King's grasp, bowing her head in embarrassment.

For a brief moment, a flicker of annoyance crossed King's eyes, but he turned smoothly toward Ferdinand. "So, you must be the one Hubert mentioned to me—Ferdinand Ruthern, correct? A pleasure to meet you..." King's attention shifted almost immediately, his gaze lingering on the poised woman standing behind Ferdinand.

With her glasses and pristine appearance, she looked the picture of an elegant professional.

"Cecil is married," Ferdinand said, a touch of humor lacing his voice as he cut off the King's appraisal.

"A shame. All the finest women seem to be spoken for," the King sighed. "Not everyone fortunately." He added casting a playful glance at Celine, who flushed and averted her gaze awkwardly.

"Follow me upstairs," Ferdinand said, aware they were gathering far too much attention on the guild floor.

King smiled and waved at Celine. "Until next time, Celine."

As they moved, King paused briefly by the man still kneeling, cradling his broken fingers with a pained expression. He placed a hand on the man's bald head and smiled gently. "Don't weep over such a small injury."

"Y–You!" The man seethed, but King was already following Ferdinand up the stairs, unconcerned. It wasn't the first time hated his guts and it wouldn't be the last one either.

At last, his life as a Hunter was truly beginning.