NOVEL NEXT Chapter 80: Weighing the Hunt
The adventurer guild's hall buzzed with the usual evening noise—mugs clinking, laughter, the scrape of boots against stone floors, and the low rumble of mercenaries comparing scars and boasts.
At the far side, behind a long, polished counter, sat a line of receptionists in the guild's formal dress: crisp white blouses tucked into deep-blue vests stitched with golden trim, paired with skirts cut just above the knee, with black stockings and polished leather shoes. The woman Ethan and Lirael approached looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her chestnut hair was tied neatly into a side braid, her round spectacles framing intelligent hazel eyes. She had the calm, composed aura of someone used to dealing with both rowdy adventurers and high-stakes paperwork.
She glanced up from her ledger as the pair stopped before her desk. Her lips curved into a professional smile.
"Good evening, adventurers. How may I assist you today?"
Ethan leaned one elbow against the counter, voice calm but direct.
"We're here to report the completion of our escort mission, submit monster subjugation proofs, and sell mana crystals."
The receptionist's gaze flicked toward the packs they carried—Ethan's especially, the weight of it straining the seams. Her brows lifted, though her tone remained neutral.
"…Very well. Please, come to the appraisal counter."
At the sturdier oak counter, Ethan handed her the parchment stamped with Darian's seal. She smoothed it flat, scanning quickly—until her eyes lingered on the origin point.
"…Velkarth Village?" she repeated softly, before glancing up at him again.
"That's right," Ethan confirmed.
Her lips pressed together in faint disbelief, but the merchant's stamp was genuine, as was the revised payment line.
"…Reward updated to two gold. Accepted." She tucked the parchment aside.
"Next, the subjugation proofs."
Ethan set his pack down and untied it.
From within, he began placing trophies on the counter. Severed goblin ears, sorted by pairs. Wolf jaws, each still bearing the left canine. Broken orc tusks, insect chitin, scattered claws—each one a grim token, the guild's required evidence of a kill.
The sight drew murmurs. Adventurers at the nearby tables craned their necks. The sheer volume was startling—more than many full parties brought back in a week.
"…By the gods…" a man muttered, low but audible.
The receptionist's composure cracked for an instant, eyes widening before she snapped her mask back in place. "Please wait while these are tallied."
She gestured sharply, and a pair of junior clerks hurried over, weighing, sorting, and scratching quills across parchment. The clatter of bones and chitin against the wooden scales echoed across the suddenly hushed hall.
Minutes later, the figures were confirmed.
"For monster subjugation, the bounty comes to four gold and fifty-seven silver."
Gasps rippled through the room. A few adventurers exchanged looks, some envious, some skeptical.
Ethan only gave a faint, satisfied nod.
"Next—the crystals."
He glanced at Lirael.
She stepped forward, her smaller satchel clutched close. With a small motion, she tipped it, spilling its contents onto the counter.
Dozens of mana crystals clattered out, scattering across the oak surface. Red, blue, green, violet—their glow caught the lamplight and cast colored shimmers across the clerk's face.
The guild hall stilled. Eyes fixed greedily on the pile.
The receptionist froze for half a heartbeat, then forced herself into motion. "W-We'll begin appraising these immediately."
More clerks arrived, measuring size, clarity, and mana density. The room buzzed with whispers—fragments of words like "mana haul" and "impossible for their rank."
At last, the receptionist looked up.
"…The crystals are valued at five gold and seventy-one silver. Combined with your bounty, that makes ten gold and twenty-eight silver."
Ethan smiled faintly. "More than I expected."
Lirael's shoulders eased, her lips curving with quiet pride.
The receptionist then reached for the badges they slid across the counter—only to freeze mid-motion. Her eyes darted between the polished tokens and the heavy pouch of coin.
"…C-rank… and D-rank?" Her tone was caught between disbelief and suspicion. She glanced back at the counter piled with proof and crystals. "This is… unusually large for—"
Ethan cut in smoothly.
"We had the support of soldiers. They'll receive their shares. This isn't all ours."
The explanation seemed to settle her. She gave a slow nod, carefully stacking coins into neat piles before sliding a bulging pouch across the counter.
"Escort fee included, your total comes to twelve gold and twenty-eight silver. Verified and recorded."
Her polite smile returned, but her eyes lingered on them with thinly veiled curiosity.
Ethan pocketed the pouch, Lirael gathered her satchel, and together they turned toward the door.
Dozens of eyes followed them. Some greedy. Some wary. Some openly hostile. The air in the guild felt heavier with every step, like sharpened blades waiting for the chance to strike.
Yet Ethan's stride never faltered. He walked as though none of them mattered.
---
By the time Ethan and Lirael stepped out of the guild hall, night had already draped itself across the city. Lanterns flickered along the cobbled streets, their glow throwing long, trembling shadows against the walls. The bustle of the market had dimmed, replaced with the quieter hum of taverns and the occasional clatter of wagon wheels.
Ethan stretched, rolling his shoulders as though shedding the weight of the guild hall's hungry stares. A grin tugged at his lips.
"See? What did I tell you? Money flows wherever I go. Becoming rich is just a matter of time if you stay by the side of your 'master'"
Lirael rolled her eyes, tugging her cloak tighter around herself.
"Yeah, yeah… whatever you say, Master." Her voice carried a faint laugh, though she tried to hide it.
But then her tone shifted, softer and edged with caution.
"…So. How many?"
Ethan tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something only he could hear. His eyes swept over the dark street without ever turning his head.
"Mm. Eight? No, maybe ten. Hard to say. Who even forms such large groups to tail someone? Either a party… or a pack of friends with the same rotten idea."
Behind them, boots scraped faintly against stone. A group of silhouettes lingered half a street back, trying to blend with the crowd. Their voices were hushed, but the greed in their movements was unmistakable. They thought themselves unnoticed.
But Ethan and Lirael's sharpened senses told them otherwise.
"So? What do we do?" Lirael asked, her voice carefully neutral, but the flick of her eyes betrayed unease.
Ethan chuckled under his breath.
"Heh. Normally, I'd teach them a lesson. But…" He gave a faint sigh, as though disappointed. "I don't feel like fighting tonight. Let's see…"
His eyes drifted along the street until he caught sight of a narrow alley, half-hidden in shadow. With a sharp turn, he guided Lirael into it.
The pursuers followed, eager for their chance.
But before they could step fully into the alley, Ethan raised his hand. In a shimmer of light, six armored soldiers materialized at his side—towering, faceless figures clad in steel, their weapons gleaming under the lantern glow. Their presence filled the narrow street like a wall of death.
The adventurers skidded to a halt.
"—!" Their words caught in their throats. Before them stood not just two adventurers, but six fully armed soldiers, all staring straight into their souls with unblinking, merciless eyes.
One of the men gulped loudly, his hand slipping from the hilt of his dagger.
"W-We… uh… we must've taken a wrong turn."
"Y-yeah! Our mistake! We won't bother you again!" another stammered.
Without waiting for a reply, the group spun on their heels and scattered back into the crowd, disappearing as quickly as rats flushed from a cellar.
Silence settled over the alley, broken only by Lirael's soft laugh. She covered her mouth, giggling despite herself.
"Hehehe… You should've seen their faces. That was brilliant, Master."
Ethan smirked, dismissing the soldiers with a flick of his hand.
"Of course it was. Sometimes, power speaks louder than fists."
Lirael's laughter lingered—until Ethan suddenly leaned closer, his voice low and teasing.
"Besides… I wouldn't want any disturbances tonight. Not when I'm due a reward from my stingy elf maid."
The smile froze on her face. Her body stiffened, heat rushing to her cheeks.
"H-he… remembers?!" she stammered in her mind, eyes darting away as if the shadows could hide her fluster.
Ethan's smirk widened, satisfaction glinting in his eyes as the night air swallowed their footsteps.