The last manifestation

Footsteps echoed behind them—confident, deliberate. Everyone turned. Their eyes fell on the newcomers. Just four individuals, yet their presence alone shifted the atmosphere completely. Their entrance wasn't just an arrival—it was a declaration. Strangers to the guild for sure, but they walked as though they owned the place, as though the very walls acknowledged them before their arrival.

They needed no introduction. Their identities were evident in their posture, their expressions, the insignias adorning their chests. No further confirmation was needed—their features matched the descriptions perfectly.

A whisper escaped one of the adventurers, disbelief in his voice: "Th-they're members of the New Victory Squad!"

Leading the group was a young boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen, yet his presence overshadowed everyone. He wore a gleaming silver armor crafted with such finesse it resembled a work of art more than battle gear. A long sword hung at his side, its hilt and sheath adorned with intricate designs. His blond hair fell softly over his brow, framing two piercing blue eyes that carried a haughty gaze—the look of someone used to being in control, at the forefront, commanding attention.

Every step he took seemed to declare his existence, as if his mere presence could shift reality. His confident stride wasn't an act; it was simply part of him—as though the ground itself owed its place beneath his feet.

Behind him walked a tall, slender man, his body taut like a drawn bow. A red bandana tied around his forehead mingled with his long black hair, but didn't obscure his cold red eyes. He watched everything without a trace of interest. His appearance suggested he was a swift, agile fighter, relying on speed and precision rather than brute strength. His light garments were clearly crafted for mobility over protection, and the only weapons he carried were two short daggers swinging at his narrow hips. Every detail about him seemed to say that life itself failed to stir him.

In contrast, a strikingly beautiful woman followed. Her allure was anything but ordinary—an intoxicating blend of seduction and mystery. A wide-angled hat cast shadows over her face, yet couldn't hide the glint of her confident, playful eyes. A dark cloak wrapped around her figure, and in her hand, she held a long staff made of a silvery metal, its curves hinting at an unfamiliar, potent power. At its top rested a large gem that glowed with a strange internal light—not a mere reflection, but a radiance from within.

She wasn't just a woman; she was a sorceress walking among them. Her attire, revealing much of her thighs and chest, wasn't meant solely for allure—it was a bold statement of her unshakable confidence in her own femininity.

Lastly, trailing behind was a contrasting figure—a slender girl who didn't quite fit with the commanding presence of the others. She walked with her head bowed, shoulders hunched as though trying to disappear. Dressed in white that resembled a healer's uniform more than an adventurer's gear, she clutched a strange, short golden staff that looked more like a mystical tool than a weapon. Her grip on it was tight, as if clinging to a lifeline in a sea of tension.

Her turquoise hair matched her eyes, which shimmered with visible anxiety. She moved in silence, her eyes scanning the floor with visible unease, as if afraid to meet anyone's gaze—or perhaps simply unaccustomed to such attention. Her steps were hesitant, fluctuating between slow and fast, as if she were in a quiet struggle with herself.

The group came to a halt at the center of the hall, facing the adventurers. The boy in silver armor examined the space slowly, as though evaluating every inch. Then, one of the adventurers stepped forward to greet them with a formal smile.

"It is a great honor to have the New Victory Squad visiting our guild!"

Murmurs began to rise among the others, and glances were exchanged. Some stepped forward hesitantly, while others stood back, their expressions a mix of awe and anticipation. A few whispered in hushed tones about the group's feats—the battles they had fought, the riddles they had solved, and the treasures they had unearthed.

At that moment, a young boy stepped forward. He lifted his chin slightly, staring intently at the gathering before him, then asked in a calm yet powerful voice:

"Which one of you is the adventurer who walked through town with a monster's corpse slung over his shoulder?"

Silence fell in response to the unexpected question. The adventurers exchanged looks before turning their attention to the young man among them. The boy's gaze then settled on Ace with a scrutinizing look, as if trying to figure out what set him apart. His first impression was underwhelming—Ace looked like an ordinary young man, nothing about his appearance suggested anything remarkable, especially considering the burn marks scattered across his outfit.

Yet the stares directed at him by the other adventurers confirmed he was indeed the one in question. The boy moved toward Ace with quiet steps, stopping in front of him, arms crossed, eyes scanning him from head to toe, as if trying to assess his strength through sight alone.

In his eyes shone a peculiar gleam—part curiosity, part subtle disdain. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the monster's corpse, which still emitted faint wisps of smoke. Then he spoke, his voice cold and laced with veiled sarcasm:

"Are you really the one who killed this creature?"

His tone bore no trace of respect for someone older, but it wasn't overtly contemptuous either. His words were carefully measured, crafted to give him the upper hand without outright hostility.

Ace's expression didn't change. His eyes retained their usual calm, though he felt a flicker of irritation at the boy's tone. It wasn't the first time he'd met someone like this, but he still preferred conversations to start with respect. Without showing much emotion, he replied in a quiet voice:

"Yes, I did."

A sly smile crept across the boy's lips. He took another step forward—Ace's confirmation was all he needed to continue his performance. He spoke with a confident tone, revealing a hint of hidden envy:

"So, you are the one we've heard about! You know, everyone in town is talking about you right now. We thought we'd be the center of attention upon our arrival, but we came too late. Instead, we found that all the buzz was about an adventurer who carried a monster's corpse on his shoulder. You've already stolen the spotlight from us."

Ace showed no reaction to the words. Wanting to end the vague back-and-forth, he asked in a calm, straightforward tone:

"Excuse me, but what is it that you want from me?"

As soon as he spoke those words, reactions varied. Some adventurers appeared visibly annoyed by his blunt tone, which seemed to lack proper deference toward those of a higher rank—something that could tarnish the reputation they had been trying to build for their guild since morning. Others exchanged understanding glances, recognizing that Ace was simply a new adventurer, unfamiliar with the subtleties of adventuring etiquette.

After a brief silence, the boy sighed, as if resolving to drop his earlier tone. He then spoke in a more formal voice:

"Forgive us for not introducing ourselves sooner. We are the New Victory Squad. My name is Margola, the team leader. These are my companions—Quartz, Deizla, and that girl in the back is..."

He paused, thinking, then turned toward the hesitant girl and asked:

"What was your name again?"

The question surprised everyone. The girl tried to speak, but the sudden shift of everyone's attention toward her only made her more flustered. Still, she gathered her courage and stammered:

"M-my name is... C-Catherine Santide."

"Yes, that's it!" Margola confirmed, and continued:

"In any case, we've come from the royal capital to carry out a request made specifically to us by a noble."

He paused, his eyes gleaming with pride, then added:

"The request concerns eliminating the monster threatening the safety of the people in this region—the Rotten Tree Beast!"

As soon as the name was spoken, a cold shiver rippled through the adventurers. Shock spread across their faces, followed by a sudden uproar, as if a massive stone had been tossed into still waters. Whispers rose and tangled, quickly turning into overlapping voices—some filled with surprise, others with excitement.

Laughter broke out among the crowd, mixed with relief, as if the announcement signaled the end of a long nightmare. One adventurer lightly patted his companion on the shoulder, smiling as he said:

"Finally! We'll be safe from disease season!"

In contrast to the varied reactions, Ace remained composed. He simply said:

"I see."

He spoke the words flatly, without admiration—just two dry syllables, yet they stung like a slap across the room. Especially for Margola, who felt as if the ground had shifted beneath him. For a moment, his confidence wavered, the aura of superiority he had constructed faltering. But he didn't allow himself to spiral into confusion.

Quickly regaining his composure, he spoke again, this time with a more respectful tone, as if Ace's words had compelled him to reassess his approach:

"We also heard from a passing adventurer that you slew a black demon rabbit. Is that true?"

Ace nodded in confirmation. The boy's eyes lit up with intrigue, and he said:

"That's truly impressive! My interest in you just grew. Listen, I won't drag this out—what do you say to joining us on our mission to slay that beast?"

The words fell like a thunderclap. Faces twisted into frowns, astonishment spread, and discontent flickered in others' expressions.

Some eyes brimmed with envy. They silently questioned how such an offer could be made to a novice adventurer while more experienced and powerful ones were overlooked. How was such an honor extended to someone who hadn't yet proven themselves with achievements or a reputation?