Rise of the Lustful Evil Monarch (Re)-Chapter 232: Exiting the Adventurer Pub
Third Person's POV
The idea was absurd. Impossible, even.
He had lived for far too long, and seen far too much to believe that a mere child could possess anything beyond what his seasoned eyes could perceive.
And yet…
Heh, I should leave it alone. Who cares? Even if she turns out to be some rare descendant of a forbidden bloodline or carries the essence of an extinct beast, what does it matter to me?
A wry smirk ghosted his lips for the briefest moment before disappearing.
They can't help me in any way, so it makes no difference.
If I had been a few hundred years younger, perhaps I would have been tempted to research her origins out of curiosity.
But now? What's the point?
Even as he dismissed the thought, a buried memory stirred within him.
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It was one that only the highest echelons of power and knowledge in the demon continent were privy to.
There was a well-kept secret and was known only to those who had stood at the pinnacle of authority.
It concerned a rare sub-species of demons… imps.
To the world, imps were seen as pitiful creatures, and though intelligent creatures they were seen barely above vermin.
But those who truly understood their nature knew the truth.
Imps possessed an ability that defied their lowly status.
It was an ability that most would never imagine such creatures could wield.
And that was precisely why Warden Leon's mood had darkened.
He had recognized something that others, Ethan included had completely overlooked.
Soon, Velcy leaped up to their level with effortless grace with an expectant expression on her face as she approached Ethan's side.
However, instead of the sleek metallic badge she had hoped for, the warden handed her a rough rusted tag that looked more like a discarded scrap of metal than an actual ranking badge.
Ethan's brows furrowed the moment he laid eyes on the decrepit-looking tag.
The edges were uneven and the engravings were barely legible. A faint scent of decay seemed to cling to its surface.
Compared to the Steel Rank tags awarded earlier, this was a blatant insult.
His gaze shifted toward the warden in a silent yet questioning manner.
But to his surprise, the warden didn't spare him a single glance.
Instead, the older demon turned on his heel and walked back to his elevated seat.
He retrieved a bone quill from his desk and immediately began to write something on a thick parchment.
The thin bespectacled demon assistant beside him, however, was a different story.
The moment Ethan's gaze landed on him, the assistant demon flinched as if an executioner's blade had been placed against his throat.
The poor creature trembled violently and his frail legs shook like brittle twigs caught in a storm.
His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally managed to stammer out an explanation.
"A-Ah… M-Mister Eryndor… y-you see, a person c-can't directly obtain the Bronze rank! They have to s-start from the Scrap rank and work their way up!"
Beads of sweat formed on his pale forehead as he clutched his scrolls tighter and seemingly used them as a lifeline to steady himself.
"T-The incentive to directly gain a higher rank is only available to experts of Iron Rank and above," he continued hastily while his eyes darted around as if searching for a means of escape.
"So… your, um, little f-fierce companion will have to start from Scrap Rank for now.
S-She can upgrade her rank by completing missions!"
Ethan simply nodded, though his expression remained unreadable.
What's with this guy?
His gaze flickered over the assistant, who still seemed moments away from collapsing.
I wasn't even being threatening, but look at him. He is shaking like a leaf. No, worse—like a complete…
He searched for the right word before scoffing internally.
Yeah, like a total coward.
It was an amusing contrast.
One would assume demons, of all beings, would exude unshakable confidence or at least a sense of intimidation.
And yet, here was this frail excuse of a demon who was practically trembling over a simple explanation.
The ancients were right to say that never judge a book by its cover.
With nothing more to say, Ethan turned away and his interest in the matter had already waned.
His work here was done.
Without another glance back, he started walking toward the exit with Velcy and Virelle following close behind.
The girls walked behind him, and soon they unconsciously picked up their pace and moved to his side.
Virelle's eyes gleamed as she stole a glance at Ethan's side profile.
He strode forward with effortless grace with his every movement exuding a natural confidence that bordered on hypnotic.
The wickedly curved saber in his grasp only amplified his regal presence as its dark metal glinted ominously under the dim cavern light.
His slightly tousled violet hair framed his sharp features, and his deep crimson pupils held a composed and almost otherworldly calm.
Nothing about him seemed forced, neither his posture nor the way he carried his weapon.
It was as if the saber belonged in his hand and was an extension of his very being.
The onlooking women in the pub stood frozen with their eyes wide and mouths slightly parted as they watched him pass.
Their faces were flushed and their faces filled with slight desire as they followed his every step.
And among them, no one understood his allure better than Virelle.
She knew why he drew them in so effortlessly.
It wasn't just his breathtakingly handsome face, though that alone was enough to turn heads.
It was the way he carried himself and that innate dignity and maturity that seemed beyond his years.
He was gentle but firm, respectful yet undeniably commanding.
Even in moments of stillness, he radiated an intensity that made others want to follow and devote themselves to him.
Ahh, he is even younger than me… Why do I keep forgetting that? But what can I do?
