The World Is Mine For The Taking

Artemis moved around the pub with practiced ease, her tray balanced steadily in one hand while she weaved between tables. The clinking of mugs, the smell of ale, and the loud chatter of mercenaries filled the air. She was constantly on her feet, shifting from one table to another, placing down mugs of beer with her usual calm grace.

But then, one of the mercenaries, already flushed with drink and arrogance, reached out boldly, his hand snaking toward her butt.

Before his filthy fingers could even brush against her, Artemis reacted. Her body moved like a gust of wind. Her movements were very quick, fluid, and she was practically untouchable. His hand sliced through nothing but air.

"Huh?" he muttered, clearly not expecting her to dodge so effortlessly.

Artemis straightened, her expression calm but her tone firm. "I'm sorry, sir, but behavior like that is not welcome in this establishment. I suggest you take that kind of inappropriateness elsewhere before we kick you out."

The mercenary gave a low chuckle, his lips curling into a disgusting smirk. "Oi, come on now. What's the harm in a single butt touch, eh? Nobody's gonna get hurt. Why don't you just give me that little ass and let me have a feel? I bet you'd end up enjoying it more than you think—even if you tried to avoid it."

The way he said it, with that vile grin plastered across his face, sent an ugly ripple of laughter through the group of mercenaries sitting near him. They banged their mugs on the table, egging him on, treating it like some crude joke.

But Artemis's eyes stayed sharp. She didn't flinch and didn't back down. She stood tall and firm.

"This is the last warning I'll give you," she said, her voice colder now. "Put that filth away and take it somewhere else. Otherwise, I'll personally throw you out of this pub."

She wasn't bluffing. She wasn't saying "we" would kick him out. Now, she was making it very clear that it would be her.

The drunken idiots kept laughing, but the shift in the room was obvious. I could see the other mercenaries, the ones not part of his little group, watching quietly. Their faces weren't amused. No, they looked more like they were waiting, curious to see how badly this man's arrogance would backfire on him.

I could see that Artemis had built a reputation here. She wasn't just some barmaid to them—she was someone who had earned their respect.

The mercenary leaned back in his chair, laughing louder now, almost manic. "Hahahaha! And what the fuck do you think you can do, huh? Maybe you don't know who we are, missy. We're a famous mercenary group! The Empire's already considering us for knighthood! We've been to war, invaded countries, pillaged villages, taken whatever we wanted. We've fucked around with luxury, lived like emperors while the weak begged for mercy! You think stopping me from touching your ass would be hard? It'd be the easiest thing in the world! So quit talking big and let me have it!"

His voice carried across the pub, arrogant and loud. He was too drunk on his own pride to realize how heavy the air around him had become.

Without hesitation, his filthy hand darted toward her ass again.

That was it. That was the last straw.

Artemis's expression sharpened, and in the blink of an eye, she acted.

She tossed the plate and mugs from her hand straight into the air. Before anyone could even react, her body spun in a graceful arc. Her legs snapped upward, locking his arm tightly between her thighs. With perfect control, she hooked her foot against his shoulder, trapping his head. Then, with a fluid midair twist, she wrenched his arm brutally to the side.

The entire move was so fast and so clean that everyone watching froze in stunned silence.

And before the mugs she'd tossed could even fall, she caught the plate back in her hand—beer inside untouched with not a single drop spilled.

Then came the sound.

CRACK!

The sharp noise cut through the laughter like a blade, echoing off the pub's wooden walls.

"Graaaaaaaa!!!" The mercenary's scream ripped out of his throat, high and raw, as pain contorted his face into something almost monstrous. His earlier smugness was gone, replaced by pure despair and terror.

It was obvious. He regretted everything in that moment.

The others in his group scrambled to move, chairs screeching against the floor. But the instant they even looked like they might draw weapons, a chorus of metallic clicks filled the room. Blades shifted in sheaths. Crossbows cocked. Axes were lifted. Even guns were readied.

They froze.

Slowly, their eyes darted around, realizing they were surrounded. Every other mercenary in the pub had drawn steel, their expressions deadly serious. There was no laughter now and no joking. If the group moved a single muscle, they'd be cut down instantly. In a tight space like this, their small numbers wouldn't stand a chance.

"Didn't I already tell you?" Artemis's voice rang out, colder than before. "Take your inappropriateness somewhere else—or I'll kick you out myself."

The man trapped between her thighs started foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling back. His breath grew ragged, fading fast. Artemis finally released him, unclamping her thighs. He slumped over like a broken doll, gasping desperately for air.

From the looks on the faces around us, though, I could tell one thing that plenty of them weren't focused on his suffering. No, they were jealous. Jealous of the fact that he'd been trapped between Artemis's thighs, even if it nearly killed him. She really was famous here.

The punks were dragged outside and tossed onto the street like trash.

The tension in the pub shattered into cheers.

"As expected, he didn't stand a chance!"

"You try that kind of shit around here, she'll choke you out without hesitation!"

"I wish I was the one caught between her thighs…"

"Dude…"

It was honestly a sight to behold.