The burly man’s voice was hoarse and unpleasant, and the contempt in his words was like a thorn, stabbing out without mercy.
The surrounding adventurers immediately burst into a chorus of laughter, their gazes toward Helos and her two companions filled with the anticipation of a brewing spectacle.
Such occurrences were all too common in the Adventurer’s Guild.
After all, among this lot of adventurers, very few were wealthy kids out for a bit of fun. Naturally, their manners were nothing to write home about.
Under her mask, Helos’s brows instantly knit together.
She was just about to snap back and show this fellow what the “art of language” truly meant when a hand pressed down on her shoulder. Julius had somehow already stepped in front of her.
“Who are you calling a brat?”
The boy’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried a bone-chilling coldness. His black eyes, which usually appeared somewhat gentle, were now as dark as the sky before a storm, locking onto the burly man with a death stare.
“Ha? What about you?”
The burly man clearly didn’t think much of the seemingly green youth.
He even intentionally puffed out his chest, looking down at Julius from a height. “Kid, I suggest you stay out of trouble and scurry back home to drink your milk!”
Before he could finish his sentence, his vision blurred.
*Bang!*
A dull sound of a fist hitting flesh suddenly echoed through the hall!
Julius didn’t waste another word. A crisp, clean straight punch slammed hard into the man’s fleshy face.
The boy didn’t hold back — or rather, he hadn’t expected his strength to have reached such a level after a whole winter of tempering and changing into the equipment gifted by the duke.
The power of that punch was staggering.
The burly man’s massive frame looked as though it had been struck by a charging rhino. He staggered back several steps, finally landing hard on his backside and knocking over a nearby table.
Wine glasses and plates shattered across the floor in a cacophony of noise.
The entire Adventurer’s Guild hall fell into a deathly silence in that instant. Everyone stared at the scene in a daze, even forgetting to breathe.
“You… you damn well dared to hit me?!”
The man shook his dizzy head and scrambled up from the ground. He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, glaring at Julius in a fit of humiliated rage.
He hadn’t expected this weak-looking brat to actually strike him first, nor that he would possess such monstrous strength!
“You’re dead!”
With a roar and a string of curses, he prepared to charge. His massive, shovel-like hand was already raised, ready to teach Julius a lesson.
However, just as he took his first step, a blast of icy wind suddenly struck from behind him.
Before he could react, a hand — not particularly thick but as powerful as iron pincers — silently seized the back of his neck.
Gavi had moved behind the man at some unknown point, her movements as light as a phantom. Her gloved fingers seemed slender, but the strength contained within them was terrifying to the extreme.
The burly man felt an irresistible force surge through him. The strength he took such pride in was as weak as a child’s before Gavi.
“Ugh — !”
He didn’t even have time to let out a proper cry of surprise before Gavi lifted him with a single hand and threw him out like a tattered sack!
*Crash!*
The man’s body traced a parabola through the air, slamming heavily against the wall on the other side of the hall with a loud boom.
The wooden planks on the wall even showed several cracks. He slid down the wall in a pathetic heap, unable to crawl back up for a long time.
“Tsk, tsk.”
Helos’s voice sounded exceptionally clear in the silent hall. She stood with her arms crossed, stepping out from behind Julius. From behind her mask, she spoke in a tone dripping with mockery.
“I thought you were something special. It turns out a C-rank adventurer is nothing more than this.”
Her words were undoubtedly adding fuel to the fire.
How could the burly man stand such an insult? He roared as he scrambled up, grabbing the massive battle axe from his back.
“You brat! I’m going to make sure you see how powerful Master Barton is today!”
He slammed the battle axe onto the ground, causing the floor to shudder.
The blade of the axe shimmered with a cold, menacing light. The atmosphere in the hall instantly became tense, as if swords were drawn.
The surrounding adventurers hurriedly scattered, fearing they would be caught in the crossfire.
After all, adventurers of C-rank and above possessed a certain degree of strength; the level of most adventurers topped out at D-rank.
Just as a chaotic brawl was about to erupt, a steady and powerful voice suddenly rang out from behind the counter.
“Barton, stop.”
Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. A tall, cold-faced middle-aged man emerged from the room behind the counter.
He wore a suit of high-quality leather armor, with an ancient-looking longsword hanging at his waist. There was an air of natural authority in the space between his brows.
“Morse?”
Among the onlookers, someone recognized him and let out a surprised whisper.
“Is that ‘Immovable Rock’ Morse? But why would he be here?”
“Don’t be stupid. Master Morse is a professional adventurer of our Guild. Isn’t it normal for him to be here?”
“Ah? He’s a professional adventurer?”
“Keep it down! Don’t tell anyone you’ve been an adventurer for a year; it’s too embarrassing.”
Morse, an A-rank adventurer, was a professional adventurer belonging to the Guild itself — in other words, he was a formal employee, while the other non-professional adventurers were merely contractors.
His status was nearly equal to that of the Branch President of the Olivius City Adventurer’s Guild.
His appearance caused the once-arrogant Barton to look as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water, his aggression instantly halving.
“Mr… Mr. Morse…”
Barton’s momentum significantly weakened, though the resentment in his eyes wouldn’t fade easily.
Morse ignored him, casting his sharp gaze toward Helos and her two companions.
His eyes lingered for a moment on Julius’s mithril light armor and Gavi’s inscrutable figure, a faint, indiscernible glint flashing in his eyes.
“I heard everything from the back,” his voice said, devoid of any ripples. “You want to quickly promote to D-rank to hunt magical beasts, correct?”
Helos nodded.
Looking at the three youngsters who, despite their youth, possessed an extraordinary presence, Morse felt a slight stir in his heart.
After a moment of contemplation, he made a suggestion that caught everyone off guard.
“In that case, how about this?” His gaze shifted to Barton, then to the two other teammates stepping out from behind him.
“Barton’s team happens to have three people as well. You will have a three-on-three team match.”
He paused, his voice echoing in the silent hall.
“If you can win, then I can make an exception and directly promote your team to D-rank. How about it?”