CHAPTER 137: BARKING DOGS

Chapter 135 – Barking Dogs

The sneering adventurer at Kent Ventross’s side chuckled, licking his lips as though savoring some foul thought.

"Young master," he drawled, "when you’re finished, how about letting us have a taste of whatever’s left behind?"

Another of them snorted in agreement, his grin wolfish.

Kent didn’t even turn toward them. He simply smirked, adjusting the cuff of his embroidered sleeve.

"Well... it won’t be anytime soon, but if I tire of my new toys, perhaps I’ll throw the scraps to you. Heh."

The laughter that followed was coarse, hungry.

Sylvie’s hands tightened into trembling fists. The words stabbed into her like knives, dragging with them all the whispered stories she had heard from other slaves—stories of women discarded, broken, passed from hand to hand until nothing remained of their souls. Pale, she shrank behind Lirael, seeking shelter in her gentle presence.

Ethan, however, did not flinch. He tilted his head, his tone casual—too casual. His words carried across the square, loud enough for all to hear.

"Lirael," he mused, almost as though they were discussing the weather, "don’t you think some dogs are barking unusually loud today?"

Lirael’s lips curved, the faintest trace of amusement glittering in her eyes. She inclined her head respectfully.

"You’re right, Master. I noticed it as well. Quite the racket."

Sylvie’s eyes widened. Did they just—did they just call a high noble... She nearly forgot to breathe. Around them, the gathered townsfolk murmured in shock. Gasps rippled through the crowd like a wave. Faces turned pale, and a few even stepped back instinctively, afraid to be caught too near when the storm broke.

Kent’s smirk froze.

"W-what did you just say?" His voice cracked like a whip, disbelief warring with fury.

Ethan let the silence stretch for a heartbeat, then sighed as though disappointed.

"Hm. Seems these dogs are deaf as well. That would explain the endless barking."

The crowd went dead still.

For a moment Kent Ventross couldn’t comprehend what he had just heard. His mind blanked, his aristocratic arrogance colliding head-on with the raw insult. Then the meaning sank in.

Dog? He... he called me... a dog?

Veins bulged along his temple. His face twisted with incandescent rage, noble decorum abandoned.

"You insolent, worthless filth! A nobody dares—dares—to call me a dog?!"

He spun toward his men, spittle flying from his lips.

"Guards! Surround them! I want his head on the cobbles! Execution on the spot for insulting a high noble!... and for those girls...a much worse punishment is coming for them."

The adventurers needed no further prompting. Steel rasped from scabbards, heavy boots pounding against stone as they closed in. In a blink, Ethan, Lirael, and Sylvie were encircled, five blades glinting in the late sunlight.

Ethan didn’t move. His expression remained infuriatingly calm, as if mocking.

tightened their circle. Their blades gleamed, cruel smiles tugging at their mouths. Yet instead of raising his fists, he tilted his head slightly.

Lirael. Sylvie. His voice rang smoothly in their minds, steady and deliberate. Lirael, put one stat point into each attribute. Our practice dummies just came running to us, begging for a lesson.

A ripple of excitement flickered through Lirael’s spirit bond with him. Okay!

And Sylvie... just stand back and watch. I don’t think you’ll even be needed this time.

Sylvie’s eyes widened, panic flooding her voice. B-but, Master! He’s a noble!

Ethan’s lips curled into a thin smile, invisible to everyone but Lirael and Sylvie. We’re already knee-deep in noble trouble. One more won’t make a difference.

Sylvie swallowed hard, clutching her staff, torn between terror and awe. Lirael, on the other hand, stood straighter, a flicker of anticipation sparking in her golden eyes.

The change in both of them was immediate. Though subtle, it was undeniable—muscles coiled tighter, breaths steadied, senses sharpened. Their very presence seemed heavier, sharper, as if the air bent slightly around them.

[Stats Updated]

Base Stats:(Ethan)

Strength: 4.0 → 5.0 [+1.0 - 2.0]

Vitality: 5.0 → 6.0 [+1.5 - 2.5]

Constitution: 4.5 → 5.5 [+1.5 - 2.5]

Agility: 4.0 → 5.0 [+1.5 - 2.5]

Stamina: 5.0 → 6.0 [+1.5 - 3.0]

Intelligence: 4.5 → 5.5 [+1.5 - 2.5]

Mana: 3.0 → 4.0 [+1.0 - 2.0]

Unallocated Stat Points: 91 → 84

Base Stats: (Liraen)

Strength: 3.0 → 4.0

Vitality: 3.5 → 4.5

Constitution: 3.5 → 4.5

Agility: 3.5 → 4.5

Stamina: 4.5 → 5.5

Intelligence: 4.0 → 5.0

Mana: 3.0 → 4.0

Unassigned Stat Points: 85 (0) → 78 (0)

Ethan rolled his shoulders once, testing the power coursing through him. He didn’t savor it. No time. The guards lunged.

Their targets were clear—Lirael and Sylvie.

In their lust they didn’t even register the change in atmosphere.

But they never reached them.

Ethan blurred forward, his feet barely touching stone. One heartbeat he stood calmly, the next his fist crashed into the ribs of the closest man with a dull thud. The mercenary’s body crumpled, his feet leaving the ground as he was launched backward like a ragdoll. He hit the cobblestones with a wet crack, blood spraying from his mouth.

The crowd gasped as silence fell for a split second—then chaos erupted.

"W-what the—?!"

"Strong!"

Another adventurer raised his axe to split Lirael in two. She didn’t even bother drawing her bow. Her leg snapped up, the strike elegant and merciless. Her heel smashed into his jaw with a sound like splitting stone. His head snapped back, and his body went limp before he hit the ground.

Two down in seconds.

There was no need to protect Sylvie.

The remaining three froze mid-stride, their bravado cracking, horror dawning in their eyes.

Ethan straightened, brushing dust from his knuckles. He winced theatrically and rubbed his hand as if it stung.

"Aww, damn. Looks like these dogs have tough hides," he drawled, utterly unbothered.

The one he had punched lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving. Whether dead or clinging to life, no one could say.

The crowd that had once sneered at the "slave and her master" now gaped in stunned silence. Shock, disbelief, and a dawning fear filled their eyes. Even Sylvie stood frozen, trembling not from fear anymore, but from the sheer weight of what she had just witnessed.

Master and big sister...s-so strong!

The three adventurers still standing exchanged frantic looks, the hunger in their expressions replaced with naked terror. Their grips on their weapons faltered, knuckles white. For the first time, the possibility of their own deaths loomed heavy in their minds.

And Kent Ventross—his face twisted between rage and fear, caught between his noble pride and the primal instinct screaming that he had provoked something far beyond his control.