"—A-Attack!!"

The blaring alarm echoed throughout the entire building. In most places, such an alert would instantly incite panic, but…

"Again?"

"Attacks have been unusually frequent this month."

"So, who’s attacking this time?"

"I heard it’s a knight?"

"Hmm, I wonder if a knight’s body would fetch a good price with an alchemist?"

Most of those present sat around playing cards, not a hint of urgency on their faces, as if they were thoroughly accustomed to this.

And, to an extent, they were. They belonged to one of the most hated organizations in the kingdom.

The Guild Consortium.

They were the official representatives of all the guilds gathered in the capital.

"Let’s not bother. Just get back to work."

Simon, head of the Pendragon Guild Consortium branch, dismissed the attack report with indifference. He treated it as a trivial, daily occurrence.

"It’s probably another thug sent by some noble we’ve crossed. Could even be the knight of that baron we kicked off his land yesterday."

"There’s no shortage of people who’d want to send someone our way, huh? Who should we send?"

"Send some of the boys. It’s a knight, so he should be decently strong, right?"

"Understood, Simon."

Their attitude was undeniably arrogant. Even with news that a knight had directly invaded, they remained completely unfazed. This wasn’t mere arrogance, though—it was confidence.

Only a few knew, but the Guild possessed a number of powerful fighters. Their principle was to bring in anyone, as long as they weren’t complete scum. They even recruited those with dubious pasts, often in uneasy cooperation with certain nobles who looked the other way for a bribe.

As a result, the Guild had many capable fighters in their ranks.

Some of them could rival even the captains of knightly orders, so it was understandable they weren’t concerned about an invader.

Even if assassins stormed the building, they wouldn’t be troubled; they’d simply go about their work as usual.

"I heard a guild in the production sector asked us to look for someone who’s gone missing?"

"A blacksmith named Hans, quite high-ranked. There’s concern he was abducted by an illegal mage, and he’s been missing for over ten years."

"Then he’s probably dead. No point in searching for him."

"But still…."

"I know, we’ll pretend to search, at least."

Simon was the head of the guild responsible for Pendragon Kingdom. He ran one of the continent’s largest guilds, ranking third in size out of 101 guilds scattered across the land.

Swift, efficient, and calculated.

That was Simon’s style.

"All right. I’ll just tell them we tried our best but came up short."

"Good, now about this matter with the Marquess of Genemia…."

Boom! Boom!

"If it’s about the Marquess of Genemia, I believe it’s already being handled, so you don’t need to worry about—"

Crash!

"Though, I did notice something odd in these files…."

Crash!

"…Why is it so loud out there?"

"Hmm, could the invader be stronger than we thought?"

"They’re not showing any sign of quieting down. Tsk."

"I’ll take care of it."

"Very well, Rem. Do your best."

Rem, though thin, was Simon’s right-hand man within the Guild. He was formerly from a prestigious knightly order and possessed skills on par with a vice-commander.

With him stepping outside, Simon expected things to settle quickly.

And they did, as expected.

"Finally, some peace."

Satisfied, Simon smiled and returned to the meeting with his assistant—

Boom!!

"?!?"

Both Simon and his assistant’s eyes went wide as saucers.

If something had simply crashed through the door, they might not have been so shocked, but…

"R-Rem?"

It was Rem who came crashing through the wall.

Or rather—

"Ugh…!"

He’d been used to smash through the wall, his body bruised and bloodied beyond recognition. Just minutes ago, he’d been a composed and competent knight, but now he looked like a wreck, blood dripping from his battered form.

Simon swore under his breath, "Damn it!"

Swiftly assessing the situation, Simon decided to throw himself toward the window to escape. If he could just get through, he’d have a clear route to the emergency exit.

With his contingency plans in place, he felt confident he’d get away—

"Are you the Guildmaster?"

Crash!!

—until he was met with a violent blow.

"—!!"

A throwing knife sliced past his ear, embedding itself deep in the wall, demonstrating its lethal force.

He could sense it wasn’t aimed to hit him—yet.

Just as he began to turn around, he saw—

"Wooaaaah!"

A barbarian mercenary appeared, stepping through the broken wall as though it were a door!

‘Vent!’

A fierce warrior from the mysterious barbarian tribe. His skills were renowned, said to have slain two hundred bandits single-handedly.

Although he wasn’t formally part of the Guild, he was a top mercenary hired with a hefty sum and long negotiations.

‘Yes!’

Seeing Vent unharmed, Simon realized he’d likely been drinking himself silly, which was typical for him, but that was unimportant. What mattered was that Vent was now here to handle the intruder.

With anticipation, Simon watched as Vent swung his powerful fist.

A blow strong enough to crumple steel shields.

And the invader…

Clang!

"…?"

"You done?"

…took the punch, and it sounded like hitting solid armor instead of flesh.

Even with a direct hit to his face, the intruder didn’t flinch; he stood there as calm as ever.

"…Iron boulder?"

Vent recalled a massive rock found only in his homeland, the Serpent’s Forest. Only the greatest warriors could crack it, known for its legendary toughness. The sensation of hitting this man was exactly like striking that rock.

It was as though the intruder’s body was crafted of iron—a strange technique known as [Adamantine Body].

With a calm, effortless movement, the intruder struck back at Vent, his fist landing hard.

Boom!

The punch landed in Vent’s gut, releasing a deafening explosion, and Vent, though not dead, collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed by agony.

In a single blow, the top-ranked mercenary had fallen. It was quick, brutal, but his survival proved his skill.

Because this intruder, this knight, was nothing short of—

"Hey, anyone else want to step in?"

"…"

—a monster.

"Bring anyone else forward now, so we don’t have to go through this again later."

"N-No, sir."

"Really? Then sit down. We’re going to have a little talk."

"…Why, yes, of course!"

Gulp.

Once more, Simon’s sharp instincts kicked in. He realized that if he’d hesitated even for a second…

‘This man would have killed me.’

Without a hint of remorse.

Simon, staking his position as Guildmaster, knew with certainty.

 

Crack!

The intruder sat on a ruined chair, idly tossing a hatchet onto the table.

Simon flinched, fearing it would come flying his way, but the hatchet landed on the table, embedding itself in the center.

"That’s… an expensive table…"

"Pay attention, you fool."

"Y-Yes."

Simon scowled at his assistant, who’d failed to read the room, then glanced at the hatchet, now a menacing warning as it stuck straight up from the center of the table.

And just as he expected—

"I’m going to ask you a question. If you hesitate in your answer, this hatchet will land on your forehead, your chest, or, if you’re unlucky, somewhere lower."

"…"

"Answer."

"Y-Yes, I understand."

In all his years as Guildmaster, no one had ever treated him with such disdain.

Even high-ranking nobles and esteemed merchants treated him with respect, if begrudgingly. But this man before him—he felt nothing but unfiltered malice.

‘Who is he? When did I ever provoke someone like this?’

His thoughts raced even as he sensed his life flashing before his eyes. As if proving he’d earned his rank through more than just luck, Simon continued to analyze and think.

The intruder smirked.

"Your mind’s racing. Curious who I am, aren’t you?"

"Y-Yes, I am curious."

Simon asked without pretense. If a chance was given, he would seize it. Better to remain humble than to be crushed.

Despite the intense sweat rolling down his back, Simon asked, and the man replied.

"I’m Ihan, the demoted knight."

"…"

He revealed his name plainly, and Simon froze, finally placing the name in his mind.

Ihan.

The very knight who had made a name for himself repelling a monster invasion just days ago.

The notion that this might be someone with the same name was too foolish even to consider.

‘—!’

Simon’s brain quickly pieced together the information and deduced why Ihan had come.

"S-Sir! I’d like to clear up any misunderstandings. I assure you, our dealings with Lady Revi Folt were conducted under lawful contracts. But, sir, if you proceed this way, it will only trouble Lady Revi Folt herself…."

"You’re quick. You figured out in three seconds why I’m here?"

"Haha…"

Once again, Simon proved he hadn’t gained his position on luck alone.

‘Damn it! I knew it would come to this!’

As soon as he heard Ihan’s name, Simon instantly recalled Revi Folt’s and deduced the reason for his presence.

‘His disciple….’

The Guild Consortium had classified Ihan as a top-level threat since witnessing his devastating power against the monsters.

Knowing Lady Revi Folt was one of his disciples had made them apprehensive, but the higher-ups had remained confident.

Even if she were his disciple, they believed Ihan wouldn’t interfere in noble affairs.

Surely, even a powerful knight would understand the boundaries of his duty.

That had been the Consortium’s reasoning, and Simon had agreed.

Thus, as Guildmaster, Simon asserted himself.

"I-I must clarify. The Guild’s role is merely that of an intermediary. I admit our dealings aren’t entirely spotless, but I see no reason for such harsh persecution. Isn’t this simply an attack against the Guild—"

"—I saw the thug you sent, harassing my disciple."

"…"

…He should have kept his mouth shut. Boldness was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Simon's face went pale as he listened to Ihan’s chilling words.

"Tell me, if someone like a little sister were being mocked and harassed by some lowlife, would you be angry or not?"

"………."

"Just in case you think I’m lying, that lowlife is lying outside your front door right now. He’s in no state to talk, but if you want, I can fix him up so you can confirm whether I’m lying. Care to try?"

"Th-That’s…."

Simon’s voice faltered, too overwhelmed to finish his sentence.

But Ihan wasn’t the type to wait on a man pretending to be mute.

"Just know one thing: if my words are true and this is no misunderstanding, you’re going to suffer a painful death. And I’ll hunt down your family, your kin, your friends, every last one. I’ll destroy all nine generations of your lineage, I swear on everything."

He was clearly a man who should never, ever be provoked.

"………."

Simon dared not argue back, opting instead for silence.

Swiftly, he dropped his head to the ground in submission.