The Regressed SSS-Rank Water Mage Wants To Live a Calm Life-Chapter 12: The Shaky Plan

"Guild Master Gislow?"

The cold, deep voice that rang through the lobby of the mercenary guild had echoed with an accompanying heavy presence that Maxwell felt had pierced through the accumulated atmospheric mana.

Loud, shocked gasps and murmurs erupted in the guild as the mercenaries spotted their guildmaster.

The blue-haired young man, about to attack the brute hulk, paused, his killing intent instantly melting, and the crystallized water in his palm dissolving.

’Right on time. I knew it was him.’

Suddenly relieved from the weight of the ineffable pressure he was forced to bear, the kneeling brute hulk collapsed on the ground next to his great sword, eyeballs rolling backward.

Slowly, Maxwell turned his head toward the direction of the Guildmaster.

As he gazed at the face of the old man, Maxwell drew in a calm breath and narrowed his eyes.

’I definitely remember that gruff face,’ He thought. "Gislow."

The old muscular man stood crossed-armed next to the entrance of the guild building while leaning his back on the wall, his grey eyes piercing Maxwell’s. The man was shirtless, leaving his scarred body exposed. A strap ran from his chest over his back, where it held a large, silver shield.

The guildmaster was a rather gruff man, evidenced by the distasteful frown that painted his old, wrinkled face, outlined by grey bangs that flowed over his forehead. But his thick, long beard was even greyer.

Gislow’s frown deepened.

"Calling me by my name now, boy?"

The moment he asked that question, Gislow stood straight, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his black trousers. Slow and steady, he began to walk toward Maxwell.

Both Maxwell and a stunned, sword-drawn Vin stood and watched as every mercenary that stood in Gislow’s path cleared the way for the old man to walk through.

Maxwell frowned.

"Are you trying to say that I can’t call you by your name, Gislow?" Maxwell stood straight, adjusting his posture.

The old man paused and slightly tilted his head, eyes widened in surprise.

Vin, standing next to Maxwell, immediately gazed at the crazy blue-haired young man with widened eyes, lips quivering slightly. With a hushed tone, he whispered:

"Are you crazy, Max? Don’t speak to him that way. He’s Gislow. The founder of one of the five greatest mercenary guilds on the continent, a 7th-core shieldman, a–"

"How interesting," Gislow said as he finally approached Maxwell, staring down at the young man with an intense light in his eyes.

Vin immediately shut up, straightening his back and sheathing his sword.

Maxwell simply hummed, thinking: ’7th-core, huh? That explains the hefty presence of his that weighs even when he isn’t flaring intent.’

"Why are you causing a ruckus in my guild, boy?"

Maxwell frowned slightly. He didn’t quite like the word ’boy.’

"First," Maxwell quelled his still wildly spinning circles with a calm breath, "Don’t call me ’boy.’"

Gislow raised a brow, crossing his arms. He stood just in front of Maxwell now.

Maxwell looked back over his shoulder, gazing at the receptionist who gulped and quivered as her eyes met his.

"I was telling your receptionist here about how you granted me permission to take on an A-rank task." Maxwell’s voice dropped low as he faced Gislow. "But she didn’t seem to believe me, and that–" Maxwell pointed at the unconscious brute on the ground, "Man tried to attack me, insisting I was lying and tricking the guild, or that I’d scavenged another mercenary’s hunt. A blow to my honor."

Hearing Maxwell’s words, Gislow’s scowl dissolved, and the man chuckled, shaking his head.

"Honor, huh. Damn nobles." The old man shrugged. "I didn’t even expect that you’d actually take on an A-rank task. I just gave you that condition to scare you away and stop your pesteri–"

"Well, the task I chose was to take down an A+ rank mature wyvern... I took it on with a C-rank mercenary who wasn’t much of a help because," Maxwell’s voice rose higher at this point, "I killed it on my own."

The murmurs in the guild hall died. All the mercenaries were frozen at this point, save for Vin, who, with a nervous smile, silently stared at the two 7th-tier warriors of different paths.

The information was a lot to take in.

An E-rank mercenary, just above the lowest of the low — F-rank.

It was... Not absurd. If they really did think about it, there had been a few instances in the past when powerhouses became mercenaries, and in these instances, said powerhouses started from the lowest rank, steadily ranking up the more tasks they completed.

The mercenary ranking system was fair up to a certain point, which was B-rank. The ranks A and S were solely determined by the mercenary’s martial and magical capabilities, and, of course, their connection with the guildmaster. But still, the ranking system created a perfect room for monsters like Maxwell to blend into the crowd completely.

So all the shocked mercenaries present believed him. And of course, they didn’t just believe him because of this fairly unfair ranking system.

After all, who would doubt the prowess of a 7th-circle mage? They had all felt that pressure, that ghastly killing intent that Maxwell had flared.

But, as stubborn as mortals were, some still had their doubts. But they were the minority, and no one cared about their dumb opinions.

This was exactly what Maxwell was aiming for. He didn’t flare his killing intent just because he got angered by a barking mortal. It was a calculated step. One meant to kill two birds with one stone.

Now that everyone knew what he was capable of, if Maxwell were to ascend ranks from E-rank now, no one would doubt his abilities, thus making Gislow’s eventual decision easier for him, as no mercenary would even think of protesting, no matter how unfair it seemed to them. Gislow could even make the water mage an A-rank.

This meant Maxwell could get high-ranked tasks, commissions, money, and eventually, Rita.

And now that no one would doubt that Maxwell had killed the wyvern, the young man was definitely going to get his rewards, because even Gislow himself was here to confirm that he indeed granted permission for Maxwell to take on an A-rank task.

The former god of eternal waters had concocted this shaky plan the very moment he felt the pressure of the 7th-core shieldman from outside the guild building.

Maxwell smirked, gazing into Gislow’s eyes.