Chapter 23: Be timid when you need to be, and be defeated if you don’t

The bald giant, Sarunda, loomed over them like a mountain, his presence oppressive.
Next to him, everything seemed to shrink—especially Cynthia, who looked like a toddler in comparison.

The early morning hall, usually quiet, buzzed with whispers sparked by his actions.

Adventurers cast glances their way, some smirking with schadenfreude.

“Sarunda’s bullying newbies again. He doesn’t give low-ranks a chance.”

“Remember how he chased off that E- and D-rank crew? What was their leader’s name… Okolis?”

“Yeah, she was decent-looking. He wanted her, but she kept him at arm’s length and hung with that weasel-faced Vic.”

“Shh—quiet, don’t let Sarunda hear. I don’t need his trouble.”

Cynthia’s vampire ears twitched, catching every hushed word despite their efforts to whisper.

So that’s it. Okolis’s crew didn’t leave Bazerolle just for high costs.

Since Okolis and her group had settled in the Karmoz Empire, contributing as half-citizens, Cynthia felt a spark of duty toward them.

Her gaze swept the gawking adventurers, silencing them instantly.
A chill crawled up their spines, leaving them in cold sweats.

Every adventurer there had taken on missions and faced dangers.
Their instincts screamed at the fleeting murderous intent radiating from her, like they’d just faced a monstrous beast.

When Cynthia’s eyes locked onto Sarunda’s face, the giant instinctively stepped back, as if dodging a predator.

I can’t sense any strength from her, yet her look alone pushes me back?

No, impossible…

Sarunda tried to shake off the thought.
A near-A-rank adventurer, scared by a rookie girl?

He steeled himself, determined to provoke her further.
But her gaze choked the words in his throat.

It was like prey facing a hunter—exposed, helpless, nowhere to hide.

Still, as the instigator, backing down now would ruin him.
The onlookers were witnesses.

He had to see this through, even if it meant crawling.

“What’re you staring at? Did I say something wrong?!”

Sarunda bellowed, his voice thunderous, masking his unease.
“Weaklings don’t belong here! You exist to be crushed!”

“Only the strong hold power! You’re fit only for scraps!”

“You’re like those pathetic demihumans next door—trembling at our feet!”

“Pfft…”

Ina, listening nearby, couldn’t help but snicker.
She took the registration form from Cynthia and raised a hand to stop Charlotte, who seemed ready to intervene.
“Sister Charlotte, let’s talk about that no-fee registration method.”

“…If you prove your strength, the fee’s waived… But…”

Before Charlotte could finish, Sarunda roared.
“Assholes! Ignoring me?!”

It was the first time anyone brushed off his threats—let alone two girls!

His near-A-rank status had made him untouchable in the Guild, fueling his arrogance.

Amid gasps, Sarunda swung a massive fist at Ina.

If words didn’t work, force would make them listen.

One hit could leave her half-dead, if not worse.

In his fury, he forgot the other girl standing there.

But before his fist reached Ina, Cynthia intercepted it.

Her hand, tiny compared to his, looked absurdly outmatched.
No one would’ve believed it could stop him.

Yet, with a casual push, Cynthia halted his fist mid-swing, immovable.

A shockwave erupted from the clash, scattering papers and forcing Ina and Charlotte to squint against the gust.

Cynthia’s gray eyes, so human-like, now glinted coldly.
No matter the era, power bred arrogance in people like this.

Hardworking, honest folk suffered under such scum.

“How…?”

Sarunda had thrown nearly all his strength into that punch.
Even an A-rank shouldn’t have blocked it unscathed.

Yet this girl…

His arms trembled.
Her palm felt like an unyielding boulder, unmarked by his strike.

“What are you?!”

Cynthia didn’t answer, merely twisting her wrist slightly.
To Sarunda’s horror, his arm was yanked outward, beyond his control.

“What’re you doing?!”

Silence answered, but a sharp pain in his arm spoke for her.

The onlookers could see Sarunda, drenched in sweat, was no match for her.

“Stop! STOP! I was wrong! Please!”

His pleas didn’t faze her.
She continued, slow and deliberate, tearing his arm.

A sickening crack of bone echoed, chilling the crowd.

In the next moment, Sarunda’s right arm was ripped from his shoulder, blood gushing, staining the floor and counter red.

“Argh!”

Clutching the stump, Sarunda collapsed, eyes bulging, screams unstoppable from the agony.

He hadn’t expected this.

Cynthia’s expression remained unchanged.
She tossed his severed arm aside, her icy gaze sweeping the Guild—especially the adventurers.

“Who’s next?”