The Regressed SSS-Rank Water Mage Wants To Live a Calm Life-Chapter 13: Ascending Ranks

The old man narrowed his eyes, staring at the receptionist who was still nervously fiddling with the bag of wyvern corpses behind her desk.

"Hey," Gislow called the receptionist.

The young lady suddenly raised her head, pupils darting, unable to meet Gislow’s gaze.

"Is this true? Did he really take down a mature wyvern?"

The receptionist courtly nodded.

"Y–yes sir. The corpse and the crimson core are in this bag."

Gislow then gazed at Maxwell. A strange, somewhat ’impressed?’ gaze.

"You took on one of the most difficult A-rank tasks."

Maxwell nodded.

"Yes."

"You killed the wyvern on your own? Without the help of that C-rank mercenary?"

Maxwell, about to say yes once more, paused, staring at Vin, who looked at him with warm eyes and a quiet smile.

Maxwell’s smirk morphed into a smile as he gazed at Gislow.

"Of course not. I killed it on my own, but my partner helped greatly. In fact, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have located the wyvern or delivered the final blow."

The plain truth.

Vin looked absolutely stunned, mouth almost agape. He didn’t quite expect Maxwell to look out for him. In fact, he wanted Maxwell to take the rewards alone because Maxwell did the killing. After all, it was one of the best ways to build favor in the heart of a man. To build friendship.

But Maxwell had other plans. He needed the money and all, but so did Vin and his family at home.

Gislow stared at Vin for a moment, looking the middle-aged man up and down. Then he nodded.

"I see."

Gislow turned westward at the direction of the task board. And he yelled:

"Take down the A-rank task: wyvern subjugation from the task board! And let it be known to every mercenary in this guild that an E-rank mercenary, together with a C-rank, subjugated a monster that even the so-called A-ranks fear! A monster that would’ve required a subjugation squad to take down!!"

Gislow’s words radiated in the entire guild, and every soul present felt it etched into their mind.

The old man then cleared his throat, seemingly satisfied with his yelling. He turned to the receptionist.

"Cash in their rewards. And you know what to do with the various acquired materials, especially the crimson core." Gislow held his chin, humming. "We’ll set up an Alchemical auction for it. The highest bidding alchemist will take it. How well cut out are the body parts? Good enough for the beast researchers?"

The receptionist nodded.

"Yes, sir. Whoever cut it did a... really good job."

Gislow turned to Vin. Vin shook slightly.

"You did the cutting, I presume?" The old man asked.

Vin blinked.

"Yes, sir. I did the entire packaging."

Gislow nodded.

"Good job."

Vin smiled warmly.

"Thank you, sir."

Gislow then gazed at Maxwell, and the small smile on his lips faded.

"Come with me." The old man told the young mage. Then, he gazed at Vin. "You too."

Gislow immediately turned, walking toward the inner rooms.

’Finally.’

It was finally time to ascend ranks. Maxwell’s true reward.

Maxwell and Vin followed behind Gislow.

As they walked, Maxwell raised a hand, and an invisible, faint blue thread took shape.

In the blink of an eye, Frilo transformed into its pixie form, and it immediately found Vin’s comfy head.

Vin walked behind Gislow, and Maxwell walked behind Vin.

Still on Vin’s hair, the spirit gazed at Maxwell, eyes widening as it let out a cute-sounding squeal.

Maxwell’s eyes widened as he understood Frilo’s gesture.

The narrow hallway where they walked was dimly lit, casting slick shadows on the walls as the trio made their way toward Gislow’s inner room.

They passed by a couple of mercenaries walking out of the inner parts of the guild building, all bowing and greeting Gislow as they passed.

Maxwell paid little attention to them, his eyes focused on Frilo.

He then answered Frilo’s question through their soul-link:

’Yes, I think Vin was the one who killed the wyvern in my past life.’

Frilo buzzed, excited.

’I wonder how, myself. The man is coreless. A normal swordsman incapable of augmentation with mana. It seems his skills are greater than I had initially assumed.’

Suddenly, realization flashed through Maxwell’s blue eyes.

’Ah! Yes, he was the one who killed the wyvern, I remember! Back then, I failed the task and was mocked by the mercenaries as a mage who couldn’t kill a wyvern that a coreless swordman killed. I think that made me obsessed with wyverns back then. I never stopped hunting wyverns until I got strong enough to kill one. I think I was 4 circles then.’

’Yes,’ Max smiled. ’That’s how I fell in love with... free-falling. And my friends... Ah! They’re probably out there living their lives by now.’

Frilo noticed the change in Maxwell’s gaze when he said, ’Freefall.’

And so, not wanting to stir up any more hurting memories of Malin, Frilo changed the conversation.

Maxwell merrily conversed with Frilo until...

"We’re here," Gislow uttered.

The trio halted, and Maxwell stared at the left side of the hall, where Gislow held the handle to a large wooden door.

Crack–!

The door opened. Gislow walked in. Vin followed cautiously, while Frilo flew from Vin’s hair, excitedly dancing into the old man’s office.

Maxwell held back a soft chuckle as he walked in with the men.

—Clack!

The door closed behind Maxwell.

The young mage breathed in properly for the first time. The air in the office was cleaner than outside, and the overall ambience of the room was much better.

Maxwell had been here before.

It was a small office, large enough to comfortably fit ten men. The four walls were painted white and designed with intricate runic symbols.

Some portraits rested on the wall, showcasing the old man’s glory days, when he was still a youth.

Tap– Tap–

Gislow walked toward the large wooden desk filled with heaps of books and documents at the end of the room, just in front of the wide wall-open window that overlooked a sandy view. The fresh breeze that blew against Max’s skin came through that window.

There was a couch made of foam and leather at the western end of the room, a long one that could fit three people.

Vin quietly took his seat on the couch, and Frilo gently found its way on top of the swordman’s hair.

As for Maxwell...

Gislow gestured at the wooden chair at the front of his desk with one hand.

"Please, bo– Maxwell, take a seat."