CHAPTER 73: LOOT AND LESSONS

Chapter 72: Loot and Lessons

Ethan’s voice came out like a growl, low and edged with steel.

"So... tell me. What are you really here for?"

The group of adventurers flinched. They had already been rattled after watching him chug down three high-grade potions in quick succession—wounds closing before their eyes, his fatigue bleeding away, mana pulsing faintly around his body like a tide returning to the shore. Now, faced with his unrelenting stare, their bravado faltered.

Six C-ranked adventurers should’ve been confident, but none of them had ever been challenged so openly. Pride pricked them sharper than reason. They weren’t used to someone daring to put them on the defensive. And Karl—smug grin plastered across his face, drunk on superiority—was the first to step forward.

"Don’t play dumb with us!" Karl barked. "We all saw it! You used the distraction we created to land the killing blow on the wolf. And now you twist the story as if we owe you something? We only wanted to help!"

"That’s right," another chimed in, voice shrill with false conviction. "We didn’t mean any harm. You’re imagining things."

Ethan tilted his head, his gaze sharp enough to cut. A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Help, was it? Then perhaps you can explain why you were hiding behind the bushes, skulking in the dark like thieves watching prey?" His tone was razor-edged mockery. "And don’t insult me by saying I couldn’t kill that wolf. I would’ve handled it just fine on my own."

A ripple of unease spread across the group. Karl’s face darkened.

"D-do we look like fools to you? That beast nearly tore through your soldiers! Your strengthening tunics were already flickering out, I saw it! You were seconds from collapsing. If not for us—"

Another interrupted, desperate to add weight to the lie.

"Exactly! We were only surveying the area to make sure it was safe. We waited because we thought you were struggling. We jumped in when things turned dangerous. You should be grateful!"

"Grateful?" Ethan’s voice dripped venom.

Their excuses grew more shameless.

"You should’ve thanked us instead of picking a fight."

"Your soldiers wouldn’t have lasted another minute!"

"Anyone could see you were at your limit—don’t act so high and mighty!"

For a heartbeat, only the sound of the forest wind filled the tense air. Ethan’s soldiers shifted uneasily, their weapons still in hand, waiting for his order.

And then—

"Enough."

Darian stepped forward. His usually genial expression was sharpened into something cold and official. He drew a small polished badge from within his coat and held it up for all to see. The crest gleamed under a shard of sunlight piercing through the canopy.

"Do you really think you can scam my companions in front of me? I am Darian, senior member of the Merchant Association." His voice carried authority, every syllable landing like a hammer.

Gasps spread through the group. Even Karl’s composure cracked. His lips curled, but his eyes flickered with unease.

"Merchant Association... tch." He clicked his tongue in frustration, barely containing his anger.

Darian, meanwhile, kept his expression stern, though inside he smirked. This is a perfect chance... If I side with Sir Ethan now, I’ll secure his favor. An opportunity like this can’t be wasted.

Karl spat to the side, his pride bleeding into his voice.

"Hmph! Ungrateful bastards. Fine—we’ll leave. But don’t think this is over. We won’t forget."

The adventurers began retreating, muttering curses under their breath. A few of them lingered just long enough to let their eyes wander over Lirael, who stood in silence behind Ethan. Their gazes lingered too long—hungry, disrespectful.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed into slits, a dangerous gleam flashing in their depths. His glare was enough to make them quickly avert their eyes, throats tightening with instinctive fear.

The forest grew still again, tension ebbing but not disappearing. The adventurers’ silhouettes faded between the trees, but the air was heavy with the promise of unfinished business.

The forest fell silent after the adventurers disappeared, but the bitterness they left behind clung to the air like a foul stench.

"These people really are shameless..." Lirael finally broke the silence, her voice cool, but a faint frown creased her lips.

Ethan clicked his tongue, his jaw tight.

"Tch. I would’ve felt good killing that thing... but thanks to them, the mood’s soured. Hateful." His eyes lingered on the trail where Karl’s group had left, as though daring them to return.

Darian cleared his throat, his expression composed but edged with meaning. "You’ll find plenty like them. People who wait in the shadows, looking for the perfect chance to snatch away hard-earned spoils." He shook his head with a thin smile. "Trust me—those six were nothing. You’ll meet far greedier, far more shameless people than them. Take this as... experience."

Ethan gave him a side glance, lips quirking faintly. "Hmm. By the way, I didn’t know you were a senior member of the Merchant Association. You really helped back there. Thanks."

The Merchant Association was no small name. In fact, anyone involved in trade worth more than a few copper had little choice but to join. Membership wasn’t just about regulations—it came with perks: access to trade routes, legal protection, and preferential treatment in deals. More importantly, being associated with the guild painted a respectable image, the kind that opened doors and silenced questions.

Darian placed his badge away and straightened, his words careful but firm. "I didn’t need to say it, Though this badge doesn’t belong to me, but I’ll help anytime when my companions are in trouble. " He pressed on the last word deliberately.

Ethan caught the intent immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, a wry grin forming. So, he’s drawing lines to make himself look closer to me. Heh. A businessman through and through. Ethan, who once managed boardrooms filled with wolves far sharper than Karl, didn’t mind. Networking was a universal game.

The tension eased. They moved to the battlefield, the ground littered with wolf corpses, blood soaking into the earth. The air was heavy with the copper tang of death. Together, they began the grim but profitable work of extracting mana crystals and stripping what could be carried. The soldiers worked efficiently, their gauntlets slick with gore as they pried open chests, while Lirael arranged the haul into neat piles.

Ethan, meanwhile, pulled up his interface. Data flickered before his eyes.

System Log:

Wolves slain by summoned soldiers yield 50% XP.

Assists by servants grant SP, but XP goes entirely to them.

So that was how it worked. Interesting.

The Alpha Wolf alone had granted him 30,635 XP thanks to his finishing strike, while the rest split between him and Lirael. His eyes drifted to Lirael, who was crouched near a wolf corpse, wiping her dagger clean.

Her aura shimmered faintly—different. Stronger. He checked her status and she had leveled up.

A grin tugged at his lips. He reached out telepathically, his voice brushing against her mind.

Looks like my maid got something interesting out of this fight.

Lirael stiffened, shoulders tensing for a heartbeat before she recovered. She gave him only a short, sharp "Hmph!" without turning around, though her ears glowed faintly pink.

Ethan chuckled to himself and switched focus to his soldiers. One of them radiated a brighter pulse of mana than before—stronger.

"Oh? A level up, huh? Not bad. You’ll only get stronger from here."

When the final tally was done, the rewards were impressive:

47 Low-Grade Mana Crystals

9 Mid-Grade Mana Crystals

1 High-Grade Mana Crystal

+38,884 XP

+49,035 SP

Ethan exhaled slowly, satisfaction settling in his chest. The battle had been worth it, sour mood or not.

With the spoils collected and corpses left behind for the scavengers of the wild, the group resumed their journey. The familiar formation settled in—Ethan at the center with his soldiers pacing steadily, Lirael just behind, and Darian’s cart creaking forward along the dirt path.

But something had shifted. Darian, who earlier rode with a hint of tension in his shoulders, now sat noticeably more at ease. His eyes lingered on Ethan’s back, and the faintest of smiles tugged at his lips. Confidence replaced worry—confidence born of seeing firsthand the power of his escorts.

After a stretch of silence broken only by the rhythm of hooves and the creak of wheels, Darian cleared his throat.

"Sir Ethan," he began carefully, his tone respectful but edged with businesslike sharpness, "if you are agreeable... would you consider prioritizing my future missions? Naturally, I will pay more than the standard rate. It is not often one meets trustworthy adventurers worth making connections with."

Ethan glanced back over his shoulder, one brow raised. "Trustworthy, hm? You’ve decided that already, when we haven’t even finished this mission."

Darian chuckled softly, eyes glinting with the confidence of a seasoned trader. "A merchant’s eyes are trained to weigh worth, Sir Ethan. We know what benefits us and what does not. And what I’ve seen so far... is more than enough."

Ethan studied him for a moment longer, then allowed a small, knowing smile. "Very well. If that’s what you want, you can always send word when you post missions. If we’re free, we’ll prioritize yours."

Darian bowed his head in gratitude, the gesture smooth, almost courtly. "That is all I could ask."

The cart rolled on, the path winding beneath the forest canopy. Birds stirred overhead, and for the first time since the encounter with Karl’s group, the journey felt steady again—an uneasy truce replaced by budding cooperation.