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SEC [Arc 1] Chapter 11 – Good Drinks, Bad Decisions, and the wrong Person to annoy...
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 20:01:00 +0000 UTCEventually, after my discussion with Aska about what we had just learned about the System, we reached the Adventurers' Guild.
I was relieved to finally be off the streets—it was simply too crowded for my taste. As we walked, I listened in on passing conversations. Apparently, the road we were using was called the eastern road and ran through the Eastern District. This area was filled with guilds, taverns, shops, and more expensive inns. I also overheard mentions of a large barracks, warehouses, and the middle-class residential area. Many successful shop owners, higher-ranked adventurers, and mercenaries lived here.
That was about the most useful information I picked up. Most of what people talked about was shockingly personal. It was fascinating to hear what people casually discussed when they assumed no one was listening—or that their words were drowned out by the roar of the masses.
Take Ralph, for example. He was sitting outside a the bar we had just passed. Apparently, he had slept with his best friend’s wife… and his best friend. Neither of them knew about the other. And Ralph himself? Completely unaware that his wife was having an affair with the baker’s wife, who was currently gossiping about it with her friends in a pastry shop across the street. I had no idea which bakery she was talking about, but from the way she spoke, it was highly possible she was sleeping with multiple women.
Amusing.
As we continued, I noticed a diverse mix of people in the district. Among the humans and elves, dwarves were well-represented… and so, unfortunately, were enslaved beast-kin. I shuddered as I spotted many of them dressed in… questionable clothing. A few people mentioned the red-light district located further inward, but that wasn’t relevant to me. At least, not right now.
I also spotted a group of four youths heading in the same direction as us. The one in front had a smug expression, exuding overconfidence. Behind him, a figure in fancy white armor followed, wearing a polite smile. Two others trailed after them, cloaked in long robes that concealed their features. Their stature didn’t give away whether they were male, female, or something else entirely—not that it mattered.
They were clearly adventurers. And with how packed the road was, it made sense to follow them.
Actually, I was surprised by just how busy this street was. One reason, I realized, was that most of the residential buildings weren’t directly on the main road. Instead, they were set back by a row or two, reducing noise pollution for the people living here while still ensuring that the shops remained highly visible. Clever design for humans.
Even though this wasn’t the craftsmen’s district, which was where Marika would be, many blacksmiths, weapon, and armor shops lined the road. Alongside them, I saw herbal stores, pharmacies, magic tool shops, and other specialized workshops.
I really hoped those four ahead of us would reach their destination soon. I disliked being in crowds like this—it had never been my strong suit. A wave of nausea crept over me. Was it the System trying something again? Or just my distaste for tight masses of people?
Yet what truly surprised me was how much I blended in. With the sheer number of oddly dressed people around, I didn’t stand out at all. Adventurers walked alongside me, wielding massive axes, broadswords, swords embedded with glowing gems, and armor crafted from materials I had—once again—never seen before.
Maybe I should visit one of those shops later and see what was worth buying with the money I had gained.
Eventually, the group of four finally reached their destination—a massive, luxurious yet oddly shabby-looking building. A well-crafted sign hung above the entryway, decorated with an emblem of a sword, shield, and wand. Beneath it, in golden letters, the words ‘Adventurers' Guild’ gleamed.
So here we were.
From within the guildhall, melodic music and rowdy voices spilled out. A steady flow of people came and went—mostly in groups of three or four.
The four I had been following walked in.
So did we.
- - - - - -
We stepped through the threshold of the Adventurers' Guild, and immediately, the air thickened with the scents of roasted meat, ale, sweat, and ambition—a concoction that was both repulsive and mildly amusing.
The interior was a crude attempt at grandeur.
To the left, the hall mimicked a tavern, filled with mercenaries, bounty hunters, and would-be heroes slumped over their wooden tables. Mugs clinked, and hushed conversations carried an air of conspiracy. The dim light from the crystal wall sconces barely illuminated their grime-covered faces, yet their souls burned with a reckless hunger.
At the far end, a bar stretched across the wall, manned by a beast-kin bartender with deadened eyes, pouring drink after drink with mechanical precision.
A bard strummed a tune in the corner, singing of old human kings and lost empires—as if such tales were worth remembering. How quaint.
To my right, a massive bulletin board loomed, its surface layered with parchments. Each one carried a promise of coin—bounties, commissions, trade requests, and odd jobs.
A spiral staircase at the far side ascended upward to what I assumed was a second floor. I would check that out later.
My gaze drifted to the grand central countera massive, 33-foot-long stretch of wood, serving as the bureaucratic throne of the guild. Four workers stood behind it, stamping documents, answering inquiries, and assigning contracts.
The queue moved somewhat quickly, which was a relief.
Smug-Face—the one I had followed here—lined up, while the rest of his group settled into a shadowed corner of the tavern area.
I also stepped into the line, choosing the fastest-moving queue.
The receptionist at my station exuded authority. Unlike the adventurers she served, she bore no battle scars, no weapons clinking at her side—yet the mana she radiated was impressive for a human in this kind of job.
There were a few stronger presences in the room, but it was clear that receptionists here were trained to hold their ground against brash adventurers or overly ambitious fools.
Her uniform was immaculate—a fitted navy-blue jacket embroidered with silver insignia, its high collar lending her an air of professional discipline. A delicate chain, adorned with the official guild emblem, rested across her chest.
Her long, chestnut-brown hair was pinned into a tight bun, not a strand out of place—though a few stubborn locks framed her face, softening the otherwise severe look. Her sapphire-blue eyes were sharp, calculating, carrying a quiet storm behind them, ready to deal with troublemakers.
As expected, this line moved the quickest.
When I finally stepped up to the counter, a glint of recognition flared in her eyes.
She inclined her head in a measured bow—deep enough to acknowledge my status, but not so much as to grovel.
"Welcome to the Grand Adventurers' Guild, King’s Garden, honored guest," the receptionist greeted, her voice smooth, professional, and carefully neutral. "Captain Bensin informed us of your arrival. Thanks to his distinct description of you and your tamed beast, no further identification is required."
Her tone never wavered. No fear, no hesitation. Even Bensin, the guard captain, had shown a hint of unease upon realizing I was a Matriarch, but this woman? Completely composed. A true professional.
"Unfortunately, due to an accounting error, your bounty money was mistakenly sent to the vault. We are currently retrieving it," she continued. "As an apology for the inconvenience, we will include extra gold as compensation and extend an invitation for you to eat and drink at our expense, Madam Asche."
I narrowed my eyes slightly but didn’t argue. At least they were handling it quickly.
"Fine. Just bring the money to my table once it’s here," I said, my tone sharper than necessary. I had no interest in lingering in a place like this longer than I had to.
She bowed again, unfazed, and I turned on my heel, heading toward the tavern area.
- - - - - -
Luckily, a small table for two was still unoccupied near the group of adventurers I had followed earlier. It was also far from the stage, which was a bonus—I had no interest in listening to whatever dramatic ballad was being sung tonight.
I sat down, leaned back, and listened in.
They didn’t seem to notice me or Aska who had perched on the opposite side of the table—, too focused on their own conversation.
The one in white armor spoke first her voice casual as she asked, "What do you think we’ll get for those extra parts? We had, like, twenty, right?"
"Maybe ten or fifteen gold, plus some silver," answered a feminine voice. "Would’ve been way more if this idiot—" she jabbed a finger at the hooded figure across from her "—didn’t keep using fucking explosion spells. Seriously, what is it with you and blowing things up?"
A small, shy voice mumbled from beneath the hood, barely audible. "B-but… e-explosions are great…"
"Really? Now you're acting all meek? You literally screamed at the top of your lungs a few hours ago, 'WUAHAHA! DIE, DIE, DIE, YOU INSIGNIFICANT ANTS! FEEL THE POWER OF—'"
She suddenly jumped up, pressing both hands over her teammate’s mouth before she could continue. "Pleeease stooop!" she whined, her face flushing.
The one in white armor, clearly amused, chuckled. "Come on, Fara, don’t tease her so much."
"Okay, okay, I’ll stop," Fara relented, waving dismissively before grinning. "Let’s get some ale!"
"Finally, something I can agree with," Whitey said, relieved.
"Y-yeah…" mumbled the tiny one—pipsqueak, I decided. She was relatively small, possibly a dwarf?
They placed their order, and soon, a serving wench arrived with four mugs filled with something that looked like beer but smelled like mead.
As they took their first sips, the conversation shifted.
"Have you heard about the sightings near the Black Forest?" Fara asked, taking a large gulp of her drink.
"Ah, yeah…" Whitey frowned, tapping his fingers against the table. "Something about wendigos."
"Wendigos? Plural?" the pipsqueak asked, her voice uneasy. "Is that even possible?"
"Think those are our wendigos?" Aska mused, gloating.
"Could be. Or it might have nothing to do with us. Maybe an Emperor's roaming nearby?" I replied, turning my attention back.
"Dunno," Whitey admitted, her tone grim. "But honestly, it creeps the shit out of me. Best to play it safe and avoid any quests near that area."
"Forewarned is forearmed," mumbled the definitely-not-a-dwarf girl.
"Totally right, Mai!” her peers chorused, laughing as they raised their mugs again.
Fara was the first to slam her drink down, already looking a little tipsy. "Aaaah—I love this shit!" she declared, then lifted her mug again with an overly dramatic flourish. "A toast to being adventurers! Let’s make a ton of gold and live the good life!"
"Aye!" her party and others around her cheered, clinking their mugs together.
I leaned back slightly, watching them, calculating.
Wendigos near the Black Forest, huh? Could be a quick coin, if needed.
- - - - - -
The girls praised their drinks so much that I decided to order a mug as well, along with something they called a Roaster Borg. It was the most expensive dish on the menu, and the moment I mentioned it, a few people actually turned to look at me.
Not long after my order was taken—just in time for Mr. Smugface to return, looking even smuggier than before as the bag of coins clinked in front of him. I didn’t know why, but I had the sudden and overwhelming urge to kill him.
"Woah, rude! You didn’t wait for me!" he blurted.
"Whoever comes too late is punished by life," Mai replied curtly.
Smuggy shot her a glare. "Ha-ha, very funny, Mai. Don’t forget your own words when we’re at the inn later."
Mai’s face flushed deep red. Fara just rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her brew in a single gulp.
Now that their hoods were off, I could finally see the two women’s faces. Or rather, girls—they looked no older than eighteen, though appearances could be deceiving. Given that neither were human, they could be younger or far older than their looks suggested.
Fara, the elf, was from the moon tribe—long, pointed ears, silver hair, and pale skin. A surprise, considering what Marika had told me.
Smuggy leered at her. "You know… maybe it’s time for you to join our evening fun."
She stiffened, her disgust evident, but she said nothing.
"Thought so." He grinned and reached out, dragging his fingers along her smooth skin.
Fara shuddered in fear.
He leaned closer, his lips at her ear, and whispered, "You're just an elven slave. You'll never be anything else."
“Yeah, that figures…” Aska muttered in disgust. And I had to agree.
For a moment, her gaze met mine—pleading, desperate.
Gone was the lively girl who had just been laughing and drinking. In her place was someone who wanted nothing more than freedom.
Smugface noticed my stare and turned his head towards me.
"Mmhh, who do we have here?" he sneered. "Another bitch? You eavesdropped on our conversation, didn’t ya? Maybe you should join us too. I’m good, ya know~"
I tried to stifle my laughter but failed.
What started as amusement quickly escalated—louder, wilder, until it morphed into maniacal howling.
Aska burst into laughter as well, her usual voice echoing in my mind while her harpyja form shrieked through the guild. A bird cackling like a madwoman only made it funnier.
By the time we regained our composure, nearly everyone in the guildhall had turned to stare. Concerned. Annoyed. Even the bard had stopped playing.
The smug bastard stood frozen, his mouth agape, his expression one of pure shock.
"G-gods, oh gods…" I wiped a tear from my eye. "You humans are so ridiculous—haa, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard."
His face twisted in rage. "You insolent whore! Do you know who I am?! Who my father is?!"
I tilted my head. "Do you know who I am?"
His cheeks burned red. "How dare a lowly wo—"
Before he could finish, Aska struck.
With blinding speed, she launched herself at him. In an instant, her massive talons slammed into his chest, and with a sickening crunch, he was sent flying—straight into the wall.
The stone cracked upon impact, dust and debris raining down. The boy slumped to the floor, coughing blood.
To my surprise, he stood up—slowly, but he did. His armor, however, was badly damaged.
"Huh. I thought I hit him harder…" Aska sounded genuinely disappointed.
"I kinda wish I could just make him explode, but that seems like too much effort right now," I lamented.
While Smuggy was struggling to breathe, the wench arrived with my order—completely unbothered by the ongoing chaos. She placed the food down gracefully, as if this were just another night at the guild.
Others, however, were starting to back away, realizing that this wasn’t over yet.
I took a sip of the ale, mildly surprised by how good it actually was, and watched as the boy stumbled towards me, muttering curses under his breath.
He looked around at the silent crowd.
"What the fuck are you all looking at?!" he spat.
"You," I said, taking another sip. "Making a fool of yourself."
"You lowborn bitch!" he snarled, his hand curling into a fist—
Aska shrieked again.
He flinched, stepping back instinctively.
"WHY THE FUCK IS A BEAST LIKE THAT ALLOWED IN HERE?!" he bellowed. "Someone, call the receptionist!"
As if on cue, the receptionist from earlier arrived, balancing a silver tray with my reward.
"Madam Asche," she said, her voice polite, unwavering. "We have retrieved your funds. The Guild Leader also asks that you minimize property damage during your stay."
Her gaze flickered toward the boy, unimpressed. Then back to me. "If there’s anything else, please let us know."
With his flabbergasted expression still fresh in my mind, the receptionist turned and walked away.
I could hear the whispers around us. Speculation. Fear. Recognition.
I glanced at the pouch of gold, casually counting the coins, completely ignoring the seething presence behind me.
"Let’s go," Smuggy muttered to his group.
They began to stand up.
"Did I allow you to leave?" I said, my voice low, still focused on my gold.
The girls froze.
The boy, however, scoffed. "Hey, I said we’re leaving! Stand up!"
I sighed.
For the first time since the fight started, I stood.
Silence fell.
Even the whispers died out.
Smuggy was taller than me, which seemed to restore some of his confidence. His smug smirk returned, his face so wonderfully smashable.
"You’re just some beast tamer. Without your bird, you’re nothing," he sneered.
"This boy isn’t learning," Aska muttered.
"Yeah, he isn’t," I agreed. "And I’m really not in the mood to be treated like this."
I ignored him, walking past him towards Fara. His anger flared as he watched me.
"You know," I said to the frightened girl, "I came into town with a group of moon elves. They’re under the protection of Marika the Alchemist. If you want, I can take you to her."
Fara’s eyes lit up at Marika’s name, only to dim once more as the idiot opened his mouth.
"Hahaha, more moon elves? Where can I buy them? I bet they ar—"
I snapped.
With a single flick of my wrist, he was sent flying across the guildhall—straight into the bulletin board on the opposite wall.
The force shattered the wooden frame. Parchments flew everywhere.
The people at the tables barely dodged in time. The scent of sweet mouthwatering iron filled the air.
Then I noticed—his arm had landed on the other side of the room.
None of the girls dared to move. Neither did anyone else. The room was frozen in silence, the weight of my raw power still lingering in the air like lightning, coiled and waiting to strike.
A loud clap shattered the tension.
All eyes turned upwards.
On the second floor, standing where he could see everything, was an elderly man—though ‘elderly’ was a stretch. He looked to be in his fifties, but there was nothing frail about him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of a man who had survived many battles. His slicked-back black hair was streaked with silver, giving him an air of seasoned authority.
His face was severe, chiseled, marked by sharp, angular features. But what stood out the most were his piercing golden eyes, glowing with a dangerous intensity as he scanned the room.
His white military-style coat contrasted against the simple but well-tailored shirt beneath, which did little to hide his well-built frame.
I didn’t sense mana from him. No, what he radiated was something else entirely—an aura.
A sword-master. A real one.
His gaze landed on me, unwavering. Measured. Calculating.
“Madam Asche,” he said, voice steady and authoritative. Not a trace of fear.
"I would request that you stop dirtying your hands with the likes of him. I am certain you have more important matters to attend to."
I studied him for a moment—the obvious guild leader.
"Fine," I said, lifting my hand in mock surrender. "I won’t do anything more… unless he provokes me again."
I turned to the girls. "I’m taking this one with me." My gaze settled on Fara. "She’s under my protection now. Any objections?"
The guild master didn’t even hesitate. "I am in no position to deny a request from you, Madam Asche." His tone was level, almost bored, as if he had already expected this outcome. "Frankly, I am relieved that this is the only damage done today. I would rather not have to rebuild my guild."
Murmurs swept through the crowd. Now, every eye in the room was locked on me, whispering, wondering: Who was she, exactly, to receive such treatment?
I didn’t care.
"I appreciate your cooperation," I said simply, then turned to Fara. "You’re coming with me. I’ll take you to your people."
Then, to the other two. "You’re free to follow her. Probably the smartest choice."
They hesitated but nodded. Without a word.
I grabbed my reward, storing it away effortlessly into my subspace storage—and that alone was enough to send another wave of shock through the room.
Gasps. Muttered disbelief.
I was about to step out the door when—
"Did I allow you bitches to leave?" A blood-choked voice spat from behind.
I turned.
Smugface was still alive… barely.
I sighed. "Asche," I murmured. "You know what to do."
But she was already moving. The moment the door swung shut behind us, the screaming began—gruesome, prolonged. The distinct wet tearing of flesh. A gurgling cry for mercy. A final, choking gasp. None came.
I stepped onto the stone streets, exhaling in satisfaction. A crowd had already gathered outside—guards and soldiers pushing through the curious onlookers. No one stopped me. No one even tried. A happy smile spread across my face.
One might think that I had utterly destroyed my attempt at staying incognito, but I didn’t care.
I turned to the three girls, their expressions unreadable.
Only Fara didn’t look afraid. "Say," I said lightly. "I want to go shopping. Looking for rare ores, gems, and magic tools. Where can I find them?"
"I-I can show you a place," Fara offered quickly.
I smiled. "That would be wonderful."
Aska returned to my side, landing effortlessly.
Her plumage was spotless. Not a drop of blood—what a shame.
"Job’s done," she said simply.
I beamed at her. "Good job~ Wanna go shopping?"
"Oh yeah, why not."
"Perfect." I turned on my heel. "Let’s go."
I stopped abruptly and cursed under my breath.
Aska tilted her head. "What’s wrong?"
I exhaled through my nose, feeling a mix of annoyance and regret.
“…I never ate my food.”
Comments
Edward Ravenbear
Food. All about what is truly important.
