The Regressed SSS-Rank Water Mage Wants To Live a Calm Life-Chapter 11: The Explosive Dilemma

Vin turned to the receptionist.

"Well," he shrugged. "You heard him."

The young lady behind the desk frowned. It was now clear to her that they were obviously bullshitting. But still, she managed to stop the burgeoning anger from seeping out of her voice as she asked:

"How possible is that, sirs? For an E-rank and a C-rank to take on an A+ rank task and kill an A-rank beast? Please, stop this pran–"

"Please check the bag." Maxwell cut her off with a serious tone. He took a step closer.

The receptionist gulped, the annoyance bubbling in her heart morphing into unease. There was something about this blue-haired man that unsettled her.

The feeling he gave off was similar to what she felt whenever she was around the guild master or the vice guild master. However, from the man standing before her, she felt little to no mana. And he was a mage.

Surely, any mage that would stoop so low as to become a mercenary wasn’t powerful or important, as mages deemed mercenary work crude and barbaric. After all, why would they embark on tasks and quests when they could serve in a Noble House and get good pay or work for the Emperor and gain glory and fame?

Plus, she was quite certain that she knew any and every powerful mercenary in this guild. She’d memorized their faces and names after all, so the low ranks meant nothing to her. And the fact that she didn’t recognize him meant that he was a nobody.

So why the hell did this man in front of her make her feel this way?

"Are you listening?" Maxwell asked the receptionist.

The young lady snapped out of her daze, blinking.

"What?"

Maxwell sighed.

"Check the bag. The corpse of the wyvern is in there. Maybe you would believe us then."

Vin nodded.

"Exactly. I packaged the corpse myself. Even the crimson core is in that bag. Do you know how much the crimson cores of A-rank beasts sell? Those alchemists would pay anything to get their hands on it. Go on, check it out and give us our rewards."

The lady hesitated to touch the bag.

"But still, who even permitted you to take an A+ rank task? A mercenary is supposed to be B-rank and above to take on an A+ ra–"

"The guildmaster personally gave me the permission." Maxwell declared.

That much he remembered. How he’d begged the guild master to give him a shot at skipping ranks to C-rank so he could get high-ranked tasks, and finally begin to get commissioned by nobles and merchants too, as mercenaries could only take commissioned jobs from C-rank and above.

The pay would’ve been higher, the privileges and his status even higher. It was the perfect ’in your face’ plan for the young Maxwell, who wanted to show his family that he could succeed without them as a water mage.

After relentless begging, the guildmaster agreed to make him C-rank if he completed an A+ rank task, with the aid of a mercenary lower than B-rank.

And that was how Maxwell chose the A+ rank wyvern subjugation task, and ended up begging and persuading Vin, whom he barely even knew, to take on an A+ rank task with him.

Hearing the mention of the guild master, the receptionist’s lips froze.

"Oh," she finally uttered. "If so, then–"

Bam–!

A loud banging sound echoed, prompting head turns from Vin, Max and the receptionist.

"Ugh!!"

Maxwell gazed at a ridiculously tall, burly, well-built man who had dark leather armor wrapped around him. His large sword, the size of an average man, was what he’d banged on the front desk.

Currently, he was groaning in annoyance, causing the receptionist in front of him to flinch ever so slightly with every movement he made.

The burly man’s neck slowly turned to Vin and Max.

"Seriously!" He yelled, veins bulging. "I was just going to ignore and go on with my day, but what do you mean an E-rank and a C-rank took down a freaking wyvern?! A mature beast?!"

Maxwell calmly gazed at the man. He smiled and shook his head, turning to the receptionist.

"Didn’t I say you should check the bag?"

At that point, the murmurs in the hall grew louder as every mercenary’s attention focused on them.

Maxwell heard their whispers:

"That mage... a low rank."

"He caught the attention of that brute hulk."

"Yikes, it sucks to be him."

"I heard that guy ripped a C-rank beast apart with his bare hands."

"Hmph. That’s child’s play compared to what I heard. They say he ripped off a guy’s ball sacks just for looking at him the wrong way."

"Sheesh. How many cores does he even have again?"

"Uh... three cores?"

"And he’s a B-rank mercenary."

"But really, though, is that damn mage and his lackey trying to trick us? I know that mercenary ranks have nothing to do with strength but the amount of missions completed, but still–"

"Ah," hearing Maxwell’s voice, the receptionist’s shaky fingers quickly found the bag, and just as she was about to open it... 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"Hey!" The brute yelled, grabbing his sword as he slowly walked toward Max. "Didn’t you hear me? Or are ya deaf?"

Vin’s expression immediately grew cold. And he stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of the sword resting in the sheath hanging on his waist belt.

"Stay where you are."

The brute’s face lightened up.

"Oh? What’s this? Are you his guard or something? Or his lackey?"

Maxwell turned to face the approaching hulk. And a low blue light shone in his eyes, his heart hardening immediately.

A primal instinct that Maxwell had kept hidden surfaced, and the elemental mana circulating his mana pathways and his two circles went into overdrive as he thought:

’Wake up, Frilo.’

The brute kept inching closer.

"N–no fighting in the guild!" The receptionist yelled, but it fell on deaf ears.

"I said," Vin unsheathed his sword, and the metallic shing–! sound echoed. "Stay where you are."

Frilo buzzed awake immediately, changing its form into that faint blue thread, and it snaked through the air toward Max’s palm.

Just then, the receptionist finally opened the bag. And she gasped, prompting a halt from the brute hulk.

"It really is the corpse of a mature wyvern." She said softly, inspecting the corpse.

The brute hulk put his sword down, clicking his tongue.

"Tch. But how do you expect me to believe that a C-rank and an E-rank killed that? I know strength doesn’t determine mercenary ranks up to A-rank, but I don’t feel anything special from them. One has no mana, and the other is a pathetic mage with low mana."

’That’s it.’

Maxwell, having absorbed Frilo’s mana, flared his killing intent.

Vwoom––!!

A hot wave, slightly similar to the wind that blew when Frilo awakened, washed over the entire guild.

The entire guild went silent as they felt the heat of that mana.

The mana of a 7th-circle mage.

The elemental mana seeped out of Maxwell’s skin, slowly corrupting the pure mana in the atmosphere while increasing the temperature. And with that, the gravity in the room skyrocketed, and an unnatural pressure weighed down on the brute hulk of a man.

The brute’s facial expression changed, and his face grew pale as his large sword fell to the ground with a loud clank.

Maxwell took a step closer to the man, his eyes glowing a blue hue.

"And what were you about to do with your sword, mortal?" The god of eternal waters spoke.

Everyone’s absolute attention remained fixated on Maxwell. Including the five receptionists who left the mercenaries they were attending to.

Silence enveloped the hall. No one could even speak under the pressure of a 7th-circle mage.

The brute couldn’t reply either, he looked like he struggled to breathe or even stand properly. He bit his lips in an attempt to hold onto consciousness.

Vin’s eyes widened as he stared at Maxwell.

"That pressure... I knew I wasn’t hallucinating..."

Maxwell’s voice grew deeper and more unsettling. It felt like the man had reverted to the divine instinct that he’d honed for eons.

It felt like one of the Guardians of the Cacosphere was currently making a decree.

"You wanted to cut me down, right?"

Maxwell raised a hand, and the air around him shifted as mana curled in his palm, shaping into crystalized water.

And as Maxwell took another step forward–

"Stop the ruckus, boy."

–A cold, deep voice echoed through the halls.

Vin immediately turned his head toward the direction of the voice.

Eyes widened.

"Guild Master Gislow?"