NOVEL NEXT Chapter 96: The Weight of Recognition
The receptionist gave them a polite smile before rising from her seat.
"I'll report your request for a rank promotion," she said, voice professional but with a trace of curiosity. "Please wait a moment."
She slipped into the back office, leaving Ethan and Lirael standing in the guild hall.
The usual bustle filled the space—boots scraping against the floor, mugs clattering as adventurers laughed or argued, the faint tang of ale and iron hanging in the air. Yet in that noise, Ethan felt it: a prickle at the back of his neck.
His eyes sharpened. Someone was watching.
He turned sharply toward the corner of the hall, but the space was empty save for a pair of low-ranked adventurers rolling dice.
"…Strange," he muttered under his breath.
Lirael tilted her head. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he lied with a small shake of his head. But his shoulders remained tense until the receptionist returned.
A few minutes later, she reappeared with a neatly folded sheet of parchment and a small pouch clinking faintly with coin. She set them on the counter with a soft thump.
"Your promotion request has been approved." Her voice carried a faintly formal tone now, as though the matter demanded ceremony. She slid the paper toward them. "Tomorrow morning, report to the field just beside the guild. A B-ranked adventurer appointed by the guild will oversee your test, Ethan. As for your servant…" Her eyes flickered briefly to Lirael, a trace of curiosity slipping through. "…a C-ranked adventurer will conduct hers."
Ethan took the parchment, scanning the official seal before tucking it away. He nodded once, satisfied. "Understood."
"Good." The receptionist then offered the pouch. "As for your reward: two gold for the misinformation you encountered, and two gold, fifty silver for eliminating the Venomfang Serpent."
The soft jingle of coins was pleasant, but not nearly as satisfying as the weight of recognition in her words. Ethan accepted it with a small grin. "Fair enough."
Lirael leaned in slightly, peeking at the pouch before looking back up at him with a faint smile. "Not bad for a day's work."
"Not bad at all," he agreed, tying the pouch securely at his belt.
As they turned to leave, the receptionist's gaze lingered on Lirael. The girl's attire, her manner of standing just a step behind Ethan, the way he'd casually spoken of using rare consumables in the earlier report… A maid? No… more than that. He's either a noble's son, or someone with backing strong enough to play the part.
Ethan and Lirael stepped out into the fading evening light, the heavy oak doors of the guild closing behind them. Somewhere, unseen, that same prickling sensation brushed Ethan's awareness again. A watcher's eyes, hidden in the crowd.
He didn't turn this time. He only smiled faintly.
"Tomorrow, then," he murmured, voice low, as though the words were for both Lirael and whoever lurked in the shadows.
---
"Lord… we found them."
The servant's voice was hushed, respectful, as he bowed low before Veyron.
Veyron lounged in a chair inside his rented inn room, one boot propped on the edge of a small table. The dim glow of a single oil lamp cast his features in flickering shadow. At those words, a slow grin crept across his face.
"Finally…" His tone was almost a whisper, the grin curling wider as he leaned forward. "My little songbird… hehehe."
But the servant hesitated. His lips parted, then closed again as if weighing the risk of speaking further.
Veyron's eyes narrowed. "Hmm? You have something more to say?" His voice carried a dangerous softness, like a blade pressed against the throat.
The servant swallowed. "T-they… the Goblin Slayer and Lady Lirael… they are scheduled to undergo a rank promotion test tomorrow."
Veyron's grin twitched, fading into a look of mild surprise. "Rank promotion? Didn't that Ethan—whatever his name was—only just jump to C-rank not long ago? So soon again?"
The servant shifted uneasily but continued. "The report claims… they slew a peak B-rank monster. Alone. The both of them."
Veyron sat upright at that. "A peak B-rank?"
The servant nodded, his voice more hesitant now. "Yes… and it was also noted that he used expensive consumables during the fight. Even so, the guild deemed it impressive enough to warrant immediate advancement testing."
For a moment, silence lingered in the room, broken only by the faint creak of wood from Veyron's chair. Then, slowly, his grin returned.
"Interesting…" His tone dripped with amusement. "So the boy has strength enough to reach B-rank. And that girl, Lirael…" He tilted his head. "What was her rank again?"
"D-rank, my lord."
"So her test is for C-rank…" Veyron's eyes gleamed with faint mockery. "Was it her awakening that pushed her forward? Even so, such progress is… meager. Twenty-two years from the moment she fled and only just clawing to C-rank? Weak."
His grin broadened, sharp as a knife. "But Ethan…" He chuckled darkly. "The guild calls it the work of consumables, yet I see the truth. No common sellsword could squander such resources. No—he reeks of noble blood. Lower B-rank at best, even if he managed to slay that serpent. And me? I stand higher still."
He leaned back in his chair, the lamp's glow tracing the cruel confidence etched into his features.
One had to understand—the higher the ranks climbed, the wider the gulf became. A peak B-ranker could toy with a mid-B as if it were a game. Likewise, a mid-B could dismantle a lower-B without effort. The closer one rose toward the summit, the greater the disparity loomed.
Veyron's chuckle deepened into a low, satisfied laugh.
"He's still a child playing adventurer. When the time comes… I'll show him the difference."
The servant shivered, keeping his head bowed low, as the room filled with the sound of Veyron's laughter echoing against the inn's wooden walls.
Veyron's grin lingered as he tapped a finger lazily against the armrest of his chair.
"And when, exactly, is their rank advancement test?"
The servant's voice quivered. "T-tomorrow morning, my lord. At the field beside the guild."
"Tomorrow…" Veyron repeated, tasting the word as though savoring fine wine. His grin stretched into something feral. "Hehe… then perhaps it's time we pay them a little visit."
The servant dared not lift his eyes, but he felt the weight of his master's amusement seep through the air, heavy and suffocating.
Veyron rose from his chair with deliberate ease, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots. He reached for his cloak draped across the bedpost, sweeping it over his shoulders in one fluid motion. The lamp's glow caught on the edges of his armor, gleaming faintly like a predator's eyes in the dark.
"They believe tomorrow is their chance to rise…" he said softly, almost to himself, "…but for me, it shall be entertainment."
The servant pressed his forehead to the floor, his own breath shallow.
A low chuckle rolled out of Veyron's chest, filling the cramped inn room until it seemed to seep into the very walls.
With that, the scene shifted—
The night air outside the guild was cool, touched with the faint scent of rain yet to fall. Ethan and Lirael walked together along the cobbled street, unaware of the shadow that had just decided to follow them into tomorrow.