WildHorizon Guild — Inside the Wall, 8:00 PM
In the grand hall of the guild, adventurers gathered to drink liquor and trade stories of their exploits.
The guild hall, once packed with seasoned, veteran adventurers, now looked practically empty—having lost three-quarters of its members to war and well-earned retirements over recent years.
Now, the hall bustled with young adventurers in the prime of their youth, stirring up chaos left and right without senior figures around to enforce authority.
Lydia descended from the residential quarters, taking in the chaotic atmosphere before shaking her head with a weary sigh. She knew this was the new normal for the guild hall.
Today was a significant day for Lydia: she was scheduled to meet with her aunt to discuss the upcoming Annual Great Hunt. Consequently, she had chosen to wear her family's ceremonial attire rather than standard adventuring gear.
Lydia wore knee-high sandals exposing her long legs, paired with a long white pelvic curtain secured by a black leather belt. Across her torso, she wore only a black crop top featuring intricate white embroidery, leaving her midriff, arms, and shoulders fully exposed.
This traditional garb had been worn by her ancestors. Though their original family name and distinct physical traits had long faded due to generations of intermarriage with other adventuring bloodlines, the power of the sun still pulsed in her veins—and her radiant hair stood as absolute proof.
Lydia reached the ground floor, cutting through the crowd of adventurers toward the tables near the reception area.
Both male and female adventurers couldn't help but stare as she passed. Unlike Melissa, they possessed no natural immunity to Lydia's magical beauty, and her attire certainly did nothing to dampen the attention.
"Lady Lydia is so breathtaking..." female adventurers whispered, torn between envy and admiration.
"And lethal," another adventurer added quietly.
Beyond being recognized as WildHorizon's most talented adventurer—reaching Rank B in just a year and a half—Lydia was famous for her uncompromising adherence to the Adventurer's Code. If she caught anyone violating it, she never hesitated to exact swift, brutal punishment.
A person's freedom ends when it oppresses the weak.
That was Lydia's personal creed, a rule she never broke. Adventurers caught extorting civilians or preying on weaker rookies faced harsh retribution, and Lydia was the last person any offender ever wanted to encounter.
Reaching the reception area, Lydia took a seat at an empty table, propping her feet up on the wood and leaning back in her chair to await her aunt's arrival.
She waited patiently for a few minutes until a nearby conversation caught her attention.
"Did you hear the latest rumors?" one adventurer asked.
"About the monsters?" another replied mockingly.
"Yeah! Apparently, the useless low-rankers are claiming goblins can talk now and are getting smarter," the first adventurer snickered, drawing a laugh from his companion.
"Morons. The lengths they'll go to save face after getting thrashed by mere goblins!" the second adventurer wheezed with laughter.
Lydia's brow furrowed. She recalled Jancy and Crystel bringing up that exact same topic during their meeting: monsters gaining higher intelligence.
It was an unprecedented phenomenon, but she knew that didn't make it impossible.
Crossing her arms, Lydia pondered the information she had gathered so far, growing increasingly frustrated by the total lack of reliable intelligence.
(Tsk... this is exactly why we need a specialized scout,) Lydia thought bitterly.
She had brought up the matter with her grandfather multiple times, but he refused to let her switch her specialized class—and her aunt seemed to possess zero interest in becoming a scout herself.
Minutes ticked by, and her aunt still hadn't shown up. Suddenly, a distinct scent drifted through the hall—a fragrance Lydia knew all too well, and one that irritated her to no end.
A moment later, the sharp click of high heels approached her table, coming to a stop directly behind her chair. Lydia didn't even bother turning around; she already knew who it was.
"Aren't you going to welcome me, my little girl?" a delicate, seductive voice purred.
With a dramatic huff, the woman stepped around the table and sat opposite Lydia.
The woman was the spitting image of Lydia, with a few key differences: she was older, possessed pitch-black hair and emerald-green eyes, and stood noticeably shorter at just 1.60 meters, with a softer, distinctly alluring build.
Sitting together, they looked like two divergent expressions of the same lineage: one was Lydia, raised and forged to be a warrior while retaining undeniable beauty; the other was her mother, refined specifically to charm and manipulate those around her.
"Hello, Mistia," Lydia greeted, poison dripping from every word.
"It's 'Hello, Mother.' You carry my blood, after all," Mistia countered smoothly, unfazed by her daughter's hostile tone.
"What do you want? Run out of clients and coin already?" Lydia asked flatly.
"That's none of your concern... I came here to offer you an opportunity," Mistia said, pulling a sheet of parchment from her cleavage.
It was an official contract bearing a prominent crimson stamp: RANK A.
"What, killing my father wasn't enough? Now you want to get me killed too?" Lydia sneered at the Rank A document. She knew Rank B adventurers were strictly forbidden from accepting Rank A contracts; Mistia bringing this to her implied it was an unsanctioned, off-the-books job.
"This is your chance to earn true renown!" Mistia hissed at the mention of Lydia's father. "And to claim your rightful inheritance from my side of the family!"
Mistia slapped the parchment onto the table, letting Lydia read the details.
"Infiltrate and assassinate a high-ranking noble from Fortress? Let me guess: you want me to spread my legs for the bastard and slit his throat once he falls asleep?" Lydia guessed, snatching the contract and tearing it into shreds. "I'd rather rip out my own uterus than take a prick from an enemy of the realm," she declared fiercely.
Lydia and Mistia locked eyes, two opposing forces of fury clashing across the table: one consumed by a desperate thirst for influence, the other fiercely protective of her realm and guild honor.
"Get out of my sight before this escalates, Mistia... There's no one here to protect you," Lydia warned, her voice trembling with rage.
Mistia refused to budge. This contract represented her fastest ticket to putting the Stronghold name back on everyone's lips for years to come.
"You really should listen to her, Mistia," a booming voice interrupted their tense standoff.
It was Damaris, just entering the reception area.
The atmosphere in the hall was already volatile, and Damaris shared no love for Mistia either.
With an indignant huff, Mistia stood up and stalked away from the table, the sharp click of her heels fading into the distance.
"Sigh... Sorry I'm late, girl. Had some overdue business to settle with a few unruly adventurers," Damaris excused herself before sliding into a chair, matching her niece's relaxed posture by propping her bare feet onto the table, revealing her soft pink soles.
"Impressive. It's like you've never walked a day on rough ground in your life," Lydia noted, eyeing her aunt's unblemished feet.
"What can I say? Once you hit Rank B, Level 60, walking feels like floating on cotton—nothing cuts your skin unless it's a reinforced weapon or an enemy's active attack," Damaris boasted, wiggling her toes. "Then there's high-tier regeneration, though you've already experienced that yourself, haven't you?"
Lydia nodded in agreement. Upon reaching Rank B, Level 20, her body's natural healing capabilities had accelerated dramatically, erasing her old combat scars overnight.
"So? You said you wanted to discuss the Annual Great Hunt," Lydia brought up, prompting a sharp nod from Damaris.
"That's right, niece. And I see you dressed appropriately for the occasion. It suits you... Anyway, I wanted to inform you that you'll be assigned directly to my vanguard party this time. It's your second Annual Great Hunt, but you can't afford to get careless," Damaris warned, glancing at her niece's ceremonial garb, which closely mirrored her own. "This time, we're exterminating giant rats."
A involuntary shiver ran down Lydia's spine at the mental image of massive rodents.
"Rats..." she uttered with clear disgust.
"Yup. I fought them years ago, and let me tell you, they're nothing like the dire wolves we hunted last year. These rats are significantly more cunning and agile," Damaris explained with a grimace.
"Well, I'll prepare for combat then. I need to go retrieve my weapons," Lydia said, pushing herself up to leave, but Damaris caught her by the wrist.
"Hold on just a second there, rebel..." Damaris commanded, standing up to her full height.
Reaching out, Damaris gently stroked Lydia's cheek, causing a slight flush to rise on her niece's face.
"You know you've been avoiding me, bad girl," Damaris purred with a warm, indulgent smile. "Your grandfather wasn't pleased about you starting a brawl with another guild's party."
"I know, Aunt Damaris... it was just a stupid provocation that spiraled out of control," Lydia apologized softly.
"I know..." Damaris whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Lydia's cheek before gently pulling her head into her ample bosom. "But that doesn't change the fact that you broke guild protocol... and you know I can't grant you special treatment. Rules are rules."
Lydia nodded quietly, wrapping her arms tightly around her aunt's waist and burying her face deeper against Damaris's chest.
After a few moments, Damaris exhaled a soft sigh and stepped back, creating a few paces of space between them.
"Then you understand that what comes next is the direct consequence of your actions," Damaris said severely.
Damaris tightened her hand into a heavy fist, causing the air around them to heat up instantly. Crimson and lightning-purple magical crests flared across her forearm.
Before Lydia could even react, an invisible force yanked her forward, driving Damaris's fist cleanly into Lydia's jaw with devastating impact.
BOOM!
The entire guild hall shook from the sheer power of the blow. Windows shattered, and Lydia went airborne, blasted straight through the wooden walls of the building and sent flying out into the night air.
Lydia tumbled wildly through the air, regaining consciousness just in time to realize she had been launched clear past the noble sector's protective dome, landing far out into the civilian district.
(This is going to hurt!) Lydia thought through the searing pain, drenched instantly by the pouring rain.
A blur appeared directly in front of her as Damaris materialized out of thin air. Her fist slammed down into Lydia's face once more, sending a pulse of shockwaves surging through the mud, cratering the ground beneath them.
In that instant, everything went black for Lydia.
Meadow, Outside the Wall — 11:00 PM
Far beyond the capital walls, Lydia sat in the thick mud beneath the pouring rain. Her ceremonial outfit was practically shredded, her skin covered in faint burns that were slowly knitting back together as rain and sweat washed over her.
"You took those hits remarkably well. I'm proud of you, Lydia," Damaris praised, standing over her without a single scratch, the falling rain evaporating into steam before it could even touch her skin.
"Thanks... I guess," Lydia muttered, collapsing onto her back, earning a appreciative whistle from Damaris.
"Is that what the male adventurers get to look at?... Or do you only show them your pubic hair?" Damaris teased, glancing down at her niece's exposed groin where her shredded clothing offered little coverage.
Flustered, Lydia scooped up a handful of mud and hurled it at her aunt, though it vaporized into dust long before reaching Damaris.
"You really should hurry up and secure some heirs. There are only three Strongholds left in the entire realm, and your grandfather and I won't live forever, you know," Damaris advised casually.
"What about you?! You're older than me and haven't had a single child!" Lydia shot back, her face bright red.
"That's precisely why I'm telling you! The older and stronger you get... the harder it is to find someone who measures up," Damaris declared, scratching her head. At thirty-five years old, she had yet to find a companion or even a casual lover who could withstand her presence.
"I'm not ready... I'm not strong enough yet," Lydia argued.
"And by the time you are, no man alive will be strong enough for your taste," Damaris countered, speaking from bitter personal experience.
"I'll just get myself a magical warhorse then," Lydia muttered with a faint grin, only to receive a gentle kick to the side from Damaris.
Damaris knew her niece was teasing her, but there was little she could say—she had brought that reputation upon herself over the years. Still, she harbored no regrets; she was perfectly content with her beast companion, Stella.
"Aunt Damaris... I want to become a scout," Lydia stated out of nowhere.
"Then do as you're told and reach Rank A in your specialized class first," Damaris commanded strictly.