The guild hall fell into a tense hush as everyone turned toward the entrance.

A group of adventurers strode in, their boots clattering against the wooden floorboards. At their head walked a tall swordsman, his chest puffed with pride, the polished B-rank badge gleaming on his tunic. Behind him came five teammates—bloodied and scratched, two hauling bulging sacks across their backs. The faint glimmer of metal and crystal poked through the canvas: artifacts, or at least something close.

The crowd stirred with hushed voices.

"That's Thunderbolt…"

"Look at those packs—don't tell me they actually got loot from the crack?"

"If not them, then who? They're C-rankers… and their leader, he's B-rank. Makes sense."

The swordsman let their whispers feed him. He stepped deeper into the hall, eyes sweeping over the injured like a lord looking down on beggars.

"I'll say it again—whose mutt is lying around in here, wagging its tail like it owns the place? And a maid stretched out on the benches like some jungle princess—who the fuck let that happen?"

The crowd stiffened. All eyes shifted toward Ethan.

"They're mine," Ethan said flatly, his voice carrying like a strike of iron. "Got a problem with that?"

The swordsman turned, his sneer widening. One of his companions piped up before he could speak.

"Karl, look—it's them. The same ungrateful bastards from before. Remember? We saved their skins and they didn't even bother to thank us."

Karl's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with recognition.

"Yeah… it's definitely him. Not only ungrateful, but reckless. Letting a beast run loose in a guild hall, parading maids around like trophies. Looks like this junior here needs to be taught a lesson."

Another teammate laughed, voice oozing sleaze.

"While we're at it, we should teach those maids of his some proper manners too. He's got another one now, huh? Gotta admit, though, his taste's not bad."

The words barely left his mouth before Ethan let out a low exhale, his tone dry and cutting.

"Haaah… I'm tired of speaking sense to deaf dogs."

"What the hell did you—" Karl began, but the words never finished.

In an instant Ethan blurred. The next is, he was directly before Karl.

"What was that you were saying?" Ethan's voice was quite.

Karl stiffened, his hand flying instinctively toward his sword. "W-what do you think you're doing? I'm a B—"

CRACK.

Ethan's hand clamped down on Karl's head, fingers digging into his scalp. With terrifying force he slammed the man's skull into the guild's stone wall. The impact shook dust loose from the mortar. Gasps erupted around the hall.

Karl's nose exploded in a spray of blood. He groaned, one hand clawing at Ethan's wrist, the other fumbling for the hilt of his blade.

"Y-you bastard—!"

Before the word could finish, Ethan lifted his head back and smashed it into the wall again.

Thud.

The stone cracked this time. Blood ran down Karl's face, dripping onto his collar and badge.

Ethan's expression never changed. Cold and bored. He jerked Karl upright, slammed him once more, this time harder, until teeth rattled free and clinked onto the floorboards.

By now Karl's teammates had jolted forward, but none moved closer. The sheer speed of Ethan's assault had turned their pride into hesitation.

The guild hall was silent but for the crunch of skull on stone and the wet drip of blood.

Ethan's grip tightened on Karl's hair, forcing his head back. His voice was calm.

"What did you say again?"

Before Karl could respond, Ethan slammed his head against the stone.

CRACK.

Blood spattered across the wall.

"W-wha—" Karl choked, dazed.

Ethan didn't let him finish. THUD. His skull hit again.

"I didn't ask that, did I?"

Karl's breath shuddered. This time he stayed silent, too terrified to speak.

"What I asked…" Ethan leaned in, his breath hot against Karl's bloodied ear, "…was what you said about my wolf and about my maid. Something about a mutt? A… what was it again—'fucking maid?'"

The swordsman's pride cracked under the pressure of Ethan's grip. His lips trembled, his eyes wide.

"I-I am sorr—"

CRACK. Ethan smashed his head again, cutting the words off in a spray of blood.

"Are you deaf? I asked what they are."

Karl's face was a ruin, blood streaming down his nose and chin. His voice rasped.

"A-a wolf… and… a mai—"

CRUNCH. His skull hit stone once more. Ethan's tone sharpened.

"She is maid but only to me. What is she to you?"

Karl's voice broke into a whimper.

"A… a lady. A kind… lady. Please… f-forgive me."

Ethan smashed him one final time before letting go. Karl crumpled to the floor like a sack of meat, blood pooling beneath his cheek. Ethan's words fell like a verdict.

"Remember that. Because next time… it might be the only thing that saves your life."

He turned then, his eyes sweeping over Karl's five companions. Their earlier arrogance had drained away, leaving only terror. Their bodies stiffened as Ethan's gaze pinned them down.

"W-we're sorry," one stammered. "Please—"

Ethan's lips curved into something cold.

"Lirael. They said my maids lacked manners. Why don't you teach them what proper manners look like?"

A small, elegant smile touched Lirael's face. She bowed her head slightly.

"With pleasure, Master."

She moved with graceful brutality. One man took a fist to the gut, doubling over before a swift kick dropped him. Another staggered back clutching his nose as blood poured from it. A third was struck across the jaw so hard he spun, crashing into a table. And the one who had joked about "teaching the maids some manners"—he received a sharp, merciless kick to the groin that left him howling on the floor.

Ethan watched with mild amusement.

"Good. Now they know proper manners."

Sylvie, roused by the commotion, blinked blearily before her eyes widened at the scene unfolding—Lirael calmly dismantling grown men, Ethan standing over Karl's broken body.

When the last of them lay groaning on the floor, Ethan spoke again. His voice was quiet but it carried to every corner of the hall.

"So? Tell me. Who saved who before? Who came in last minute and stomped the mutts you mistook for wolves?"

The men, Karl included, his face unrecognizable, scrambled to low bow, blood dripping from their wounds.

"W-we are sorry! We won't repeat such mistakes again! We were wrong!"

Ethan let the silence hang for a moment, then reached into his coat and pulled out his badge.

The silver gleam of the A-rank insignia caught the torchlight.

Gasps rippled through the guild hall. Karl's swollen eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

"And what about this 'junior' needing a beating?" Ethan asked, his tone deceptively mild. He tilted his head. "Was that lesson… sufficient? Or should I continue?"

The men flinched, bowing lower.

"We—we learned our lesson! Please, spare us!"

From the corner, the C-rank adventurer who had earlier lashed out at Ethan stood frozen, eyes wide. A tremor ran through him as he realized—his anger had stirred the hornet's nest that destroyed others instead.

The receptionist let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. She gave a helpless shake of her head.

Low-rank adventurers being punished for disrespecting seniors was common enough. And it was even expected.

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