Hollow Crown: SSS-Ranked Godslayer’s Rise

Ethan and Lirael slipped out of the commotion as if nothing had happened—like the clash with Veyron was just another casual argument in the streets. Passersby whispered and stared, but Ethan's relaxed stride and Lirael's icy glare dared anyone to approach.

On their way to the guild's front desk, Ethan's voice slid smoothly into her mind.

'Aahh… now I feel like I should've punched him a few more times. Might've squeezed a platinum coin out of him. Who knew nobles carried so much gold?'

Lirael's lips twitched, her face still flushed crimson from earlier. 'You think you're sly, changing the topic? Do you realize what you shouted in front of everyone?! You shameless—'

Ethan tilted his head, smirking. 'Hmm? I don't remember saying anything wrong. You do make the best body pillow. Wait—were you thinking about last night? Well, I won't deny it… that was pretty amazing.'

Her cheeks burned hotter. She clenched her fists. "Y-you—!"

Ethan leaned closer, his voice teasing. 'If you're that eager, we could always do it tonight too—'

"Shut up, you shameless idiot!" Lirael burst out, her voice cracking in a mix of fury and embarrassment. Then, in a venomous whisper meant only for him: "Just wait until we're in private—then—"

"—then you'll sleep in my arms again," he interrupted smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief.

"…B-bastard." She turned away, puffing her cheeks like an offended cat.

Ethan only laughed, as if the death threat from Veyron minutes ago had already slipped from memory.

---

The guild reception hall was busier than usual. Adventurers crowded around quest boards, clerks stamped forms behind counters, and the smell of old parchment mixed with the faint tang of metal oil from newly registered weapons.

The receptionist, a cheerful young woman with neatly tied hair, greeted them with a bright smile.

"Congratulations! Sir Ethan Cross, you are now officially a B-ranked adventurer. Lady Lirael, you have advanced to C-rank. Well done, both of you."

Ethan accepted the gleaming new badge, its silver edges catching the lamplight. He nodded with quiet satisfaction, slipping it onto his chest strap. Lirael, though still a little sulky, couldn't hide the small flicker of pride in her eyes as she fastened her own.

Just as they turned to leave, Ethan suddenly paused.

"Oh, right. What about registering a party name? How do I do that?"

The receptionist blinked, then chuckled softly. "Ah, for that, you'll need at least three members in your party. Additionally, there is a fee—one gold coin—for the registration. A party name carries prestige, after all. It will be printed in records and guild postings."

Ethan stared. "…One gold coin. For a name?"

The woman smiled politely, clearly used to this reaction.

Inside his mind, Lirael's laughter rang like silver bells. 'Look who's shocked. The man who just ripped five hundred gold from a noble is complaining about one coin. Really?'

Ethan gritted his teeth. 'That was different! Ripping off nobles is justice. This—this is daylight robbery.'

'Call it what you like. It's still hilarious', Lirael shot back with a smug grin.

The receptionist leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "That's why only established groups bother with names. Most adventurers skip it entirely. You'll need another member anyway, so perhaps it's best to wait."

Ethan sighed, waving off the thought. "Fine, fine. Forget it for now."

With a courteous nod, the pair stepped away from the counter.

As they walked out, Lirael smirked. "So… 'Sir Justice Against Scams,' what's your grand plan for finding a third member?"

Ethan only grinned wider. "Oh, don't worry. I've got a feeling fate's going to throw someone at us soon."

Ethan stretched his arms as they stepped out of the guild doors, the afternoon sunlight washing over them. His grin had that dangerous glint Lirael had come to recognize all too well.

"More than fate," he said lightly, "I'll weave my own. Come on, let's go buy you a new sister."

Lirael froze mid-step. Her violet eyes cut sideways at him, sharp as blades. "…Sister?"

"You did say I could get another pillow," Ethan teased, tone deliberately casual.

Her face turned pink as she remembered her slip during the argument with Veyron. She huffed, crossing her arms and quickening her pace. "Idiot…"

Ethan's laughter followed her as they disappeared into the busy streets, blending with the sound of merchants shouting prices and horses clattering over cobblestone. Their destination clear—a slave trader.

---

Meanwhile, at a nearby inn—

Crash! The chair splintered against the floorboards as Veyron's fury reached its peak. His emerald eyes burned with unrestrained rage, his long green hair clinging wildly to his sweat-dampened face.

"Just who the fuck is that bastard?!" His roar rattled the room.

No one dared to answer. His servants pressed their backs against the walls, trembling, their faces pale with terror.

"No one… no one has ever spoken to me like that," Veyron growled, chest heaving. "A filthy commoner—humiliating me in public? Humiliating my name? Even mocking my family?" His voice broke into bitter laughter, sharp and unhinged.

He paced back and forth like a caged beast, nails digging into his palms until blood welled.

"Is he some high noble's son? A prince in disguise? Who else would dare?"

But then came the thought that twisted the knife deeper—Lirael.

His lips pulled back into a snarl. "And that girl… his slave? How?! How in the hells is she bound to him?"

He stopped abruptly, turning on his servants with a mad gleam.

"You have two weeks," he spat. "Two weeks to dig out everything about him. His name. His family. His background. I don't care if he hides behind false records or buries his bloodline in the deepest pit—tear it all out for me!"

The servants bolted, tripping over themselves in their desperation to escape the storm of his wrath.

Left alone, Veyron pressed a trembling hand to his face. The shadows in the room seemed to grow darker as his breath came in ragged bursts. Then, slowly, his fingers curled away, revealing a wide, manic grin stretching across his features.

"…Good luck hiding from me, fool. When I get my hands on you…" His laugh rang hollow, echoing off the wooden walls. "And that Lirael…"

His grin twisted further, eyes gleaming with madness.

"She'll beg for daylight before I'm finished."