Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 130: Meeting the Giant

Amidst Sylas’s meticulous instructions, Rocco caught the firm voice of his father, who was nearby, adding his own directives.

It seemed the others were busy handling their own precautions and tensions.

Rocco resolved to stay quiet and not cause any trouble.

"Finally, a war, huh? Damn, I’ve been waiting for this," a gruff, unfamiliar voice suddenly said right behind him.

"Eek!" Rocco yelped in an embarrassingly high-pitched tone, startled out of his wits.

Great start to being cool, he thought bitterly.

Whoever had just scared the ultra-cool Rocco was about to get a serious glare.

Turning around with a narrowed gaze, he found himself looking up—way up—at a man built like a wall.

Rocco instantly surrendered.

This guy was massive.

And terrifying.

"Wh-who? Who are you?" he stammered, stepping back.

"Huh? What’s this little shortie? Oh, wait—you’re that famous little runt, aren’t ya?" fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

The giant figure loomed over him, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow Rocco whole.

Even crouching down to meet Rocco’s eye level, the man still towered over him.

The height difference was humiliating, and Rocco’s body quivered—not from fear, but from sheer indignation, of course.

This wasn’t fear.

Not at all.

It was frustration.

Yes, frustration.

Who is this guy?

And why does he keep calling me names? "Little shorthie," "runt"—how rude!

"Hey, I’m not short!" Rocco retorted, stomping his feet angrily.

Before he could rant further, the man grabbed him effortlessly with one hand and hoisted him into the air.

"What the—! Put me down! Put me dooown!" Rocco shrieked, flailing his arms and legs.

Tears welled up in his eyes, betraying his bravado.

"Whoa, whoa, why’re you crying? I haven’t even done anything yet," the man said, looking amused.

"I’m not crying! There’s just—there’s just something in my eye!" Rocco sniffled loudly, struggling against the grip.

The man had spiky gray hair, piercing silver-red eyes, and a chiseled, muscular physique.

His face was sharp and striking, but not in a traditionally handsome way—it was more rugged and wild, with a rock-and-roll edge that screamed danger.

This man, who seemed to be the complete opposite of Rocco in every way—towering, muscular, and imposing—was definitely not someone Rocco wanted to get acquainted with.

"Brother! Help meee! Hug meee! Pick me uuuup!" Rocco cried out desperately, stretching his arms toward Sylas while still held captive by the intimidating man.

Sylas wasted no time.

He swiftly plucked Rocco away from the man’s grasp and pulled him into a protective embrace.

Clinging tightly to Sylas, Rocco buried his face in his brother’s neck, nuzzling it with a mix of relief and lingering fear.

No matter how terrifying the situation, Sylas’s arms always felt like a safe haven.

"...Mahmoud," Sylas said in a low, exasperated tone, "I warned you not to touch Luca. And this isn’t a war—it’s a meeting."

Sylas’s voice carried its usual coldness, but it was softened slightly, a detail Rocco noticed with curiosity.

Wait... Does that mean Sylas knows this scary guy?

Rocco stole a cautious glance over his shoulder, peeking at the giant man called Mahmoud.

He stared intently, trying to make sense of the familiarity.

Mahmoud... Mahmoud...

Sylas had just mentioned that name.

Seconds later, realization struck.

Rocco’s eyes widened, and he froze in place.

"What’s wrong, Rocco?" Sylas asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

"N-no, it’s nothing. Really," Rocco replied quickly, forcing a nervous laugh.

Whew, that was close—I almost said it out loud!

Rocco stole another glance at Mahmoud, sighing heavily as unease bubbled up within him.

This was Mahmoud Kazari, one of Sylas’s two personal aides.

While Sylas’s other aide, Philip, was widely known in the public sphere, Mahmoud operated more discreetly, almost like a shadow.

Only a few people who are aware of his existence, making him a secret weapon of sorts in Sylas’s arsenal.

And now, here he was.

In the original story, Mahmoud was known for clashing with Sylas’s other subordinate, Georgio.

Their relationship was infamous, like cats and dogs.

While Mahmoud didn’t play a particularly critical role in the story, his exceptional strength left a strong impression, even as a side character.

Mahmoud possessed a human body but wielded strength comparable to Beastman.

Rumors swirled about his origins—some claimed he was a half-breed between a human and a Beastman, while others whispered he might be a chimera of man and beast.

Yet, in the version of the original story Rocco had read, no definitive answer was ever revealed about these speculations.

"It must’ve been frightening to have this terrifying giant suddenly appear," Sylas said, his tone calm as he gestured toward Mahmoud. "But don’t worry. This is Mahmoud—he’s one of my subordinates. He won’t harm you."

"Yeah, yeah, subordinate, got it," Mahmoud replied with a grin. "Don’t be scared, Rocco. Let’s get along, eh, little master?"

Mahmoud extended a hand so large it could probably cover Rocco’s entire face.

Nervously, Rocco reached out and returned the handshake, albeit hesitantly.

"Y-yeah... nice to meet you," Rocco managed, trying to maintain some semblance of coolness.

Mahmoud responded with a wide, toothy smile, his demeanor surprisingly friendly.

Rocco exhaled a small sigh of relief.

Maybe this guy wasn’t as intimidating as he’d seemed.

"Mahmoud will be joining Rocco’s security detail today," Sylas announced, his voice carrying an air of finality. "Make sure there’s no infighting among yourselves."

Rocco’s jaw nearly dropped.

Sylas was assigning his own aide as part of Rocco’s protection?

Wow, Sylas must really think I’m helpless, Rocco thought, his eyes growing teary with a mix of embarrassment and exasperation.

Mahmoud, Ragar, and Georgio exchanged greetings, but despite their polite words, the tension in the air was palpable.

Rocco couldn’t help but notice the faint edge of hostility beneath their cordiality.

No, no, it’s fine.

It’s just my imagination, he reassured himself.

Look at how they’re smiling—definitely getting along.

Yeah, that’s it.

Totally friendly.

As Rocco nodded to himself in approval, he heard his father calling from behind.

Turning around, he instinctively tightened his grip on Sylas’s hand and walked toward his father in small, determined steps.