The pressure in the room didn't dissipate; it expanded. What had started as a sharp, localized surge of intent blossomed outward like a silent explosion, flooding the great hall with an invisible force that stole breath from lungs and stiffened spines.

The lantern flames along the walls flickered violently, their light bending and warping as if the air itself had thickened into something heavier than smoke.

Killing intent. Pure, unrestrained, and terrifyingly focused.

The mercenary manor reacted instantly. Every female mercenary in the hall stiffened simultaneously, years of instinct snapping taut in a heartbeat. Cups shattered as fingers clenched too tightly.

Chairs scraped backward; some rose halfway from their seats before catching themselves, faces pale and eyes wide with a mix of alarm and grim understanding.

This was not random rage. This was their leader, the Devil of the Crimson Whip.

Shock and confusion rippled through them all. What could have provoked her to exude such raw killing intent?

None dared voice the question aloud, but the thought echoed in every mind: Who would be foolish enough to provoke her?

At the center of it all sat the elder sister, utterly still. Her posture was deceptively relaxed, too relaxed. One arm rested casually along the back of the bench, fingers loose and unmoving.

The other hand lay flat on the table, palm down, knuckles pale beneath taut skin. Crimson hair framed her face like a mantle of flame, yet there was no warmth in her expression.

None at all. Her eyes had changed.

Where moments ago there had been tired amusement and softened affection now lay only ice, deep, merciless, bottomless. Killing intent shimmered within them so densely that it felt tangible, like a blade hovering just beneath the surface.

The pressure intensified further. Wood groaned; stone cracked underfoot. The very foundations of the manor seemed to strain beneath her presence.

And yet Mina felt nothing at all. She sat beside her sister with legs swinging idly and head tilted slightly as if she were watching an interesting play rather than sitting at ground zero of a murderous storm.

Her small face wore a mischievous smile; cheeks faintly puffed and eyes sparkling with barely contained amusement.

Inside her heart, she giggled.

"Petty Uncle Sage… I'm doing this for your own good."

Mina clasped her hands together innocently in her lap. "Besides," she thought smugly to herself, "you were the one who said I should make things spicy."

Finally, her elder sister moved, slowly turning to look down at Mina.

The killing intent did not wane; if anything, it sharpened, condensing into a suffocating focus that made even seasoned warriors brace themselves against tables or walls just to remain standing.

Her gaze locked onto Mina's face. "Are you saying," she asked evenly in a low voice filled with menace, "that you are working under a man?"

The hall fell into a heavy silence. Mina blinked up at her sister and then did something utterly, disastrously inappropriate.

She lifted one finger to her lips, tilting her head as if deep in thought. After a moment, she nodded, slowly, exaggeratedly, and unmistakably.

"Yes," she said with naive certainty.

A tremor coursed through her sister's body like a fault line cracking. It was subtle but unmistakable to those who knew her well.

Rage. Not the wild, screaming kind, but the controlled fury of someone who had buried their hatred deep and was now letting it surface.

Her sister inhaled softly. The pressure in the room intensified to the point where breathing became laborious.

Several mercenaries dropped to one knee without realizing it, sweat beading along their temples as they struggled against the suffocating weight of her presence.

Leaning closer to Mina, her sister's eyes never left her face.

"What," she asked slowly, each word sharp and precise, "did I tell you about men?"

Mina pretended to think for a moment. She looked up at the ceiling, brows furrowed in exaggerated concentration and lips pursed adorably.

The contrast between her playful demeanor and the murderous aura surrounding them was so stark it bordered on absurdity.

After an exaggerated pause, she looked back at her sister and replied brightly.

"You said men are evil and scum," Mina recited cheerfully. "That they're absolute trash and a disgrace to this world."

The elder sister's eyes flickered with recognition. "Correct," she said calmly.

"Then why," she continued, "did you go and become this… Adventurer thing?"

Each word was clipped and precise, carrying an undercurrent of barely restrained violence. "Has what I've taught you fallen on deaf ears?"

Mina's shoulders slumped as her expression shifted instantly, eyes drooping and lips trembling into a pout so convincing it could have fooled anyone.

"But… but…" she said softly, voice wavering, "I wanted money."

Her sister's jaw tightened at that response.

"And besides," Mina hurried on as if embarrassed by the admission, "I got too bored staying here all alone. Everyone was gone! And the Guildmaster tricked me into becoming an Adventurer."

The word "tricked" landed like oil on flame.

The elder sister's killing intent surged dramatically.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone floor beneath them as jagged lines raced outward; the manor shuddered violently. Lanterns swung wildly while chains clanked together as dust rained down from above in fine choking clouds.

Several mercenaries were forced flat against the ground; their bodies refused to move under the crushing pressure of tension filling the air around them.

Her sister rose slowly from the bench.

The movement sent another shockwave rippling through the hall.

"Tricked," she echoed, her gaze burning with a fierce, murderous intent. "Explain."

Mina instinctively shrank back, just enough to sell the act, then peeked up at her sister with wide, innocent eyes.

"He's… he's a good man," she added quickly.

The hall fell silent. The elder sister remained motionless.

Mina pressed on, her words tumbling out in a rush of feigned enthusiasm. "He's calm and smart," she insisted.

"And even though he tricked me into becoming an Adventurer and teases me by calling me all sorts of names…" Mina sniffed dramatically, "…he treats me fairly."

The tension in the hall thickened, coiling tighter around them. Mina stole another glance at her sister's face. Any warmth that had once been there was now replaced by an icy resolve.

Her sister's expression had turned as hard as stone, her eyes glinting with unfiltered rage. The air around her seemed to warp, as if reality itself recoiled from her presence.

Inside, Mina felt a thrill of excitement.

Wow, she thought. She's really mad.

A smug smile crept onto her lips. She clasped her hands together and tilted her head, adopting the most innocent expression she could muster.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, as if recalling something crucial. "He even said that if I were older, he would have married me!"

BOOM!

The ground beneath them erupted like it had been struck by a giant's hammer. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone floor, splitting tiles and sending shards flying in every direction. The manor shook violently; walls groaned as beams protested loudly.

Tables flipped over. Chairs splintered apart. Several mercenaries were knocked off their feet entirely, crashing against walls or hitting the floor hard as the killing intent detonated fully.

At the epicenter stood the elder sister.

Her aura exploded like a blood-red storm, raw power flooding the hall without restraint. The temperature plummeted; frost crept along metal surfaces while the very air felt sharp enough to cut through flesh.

Her crimson hair lifted as if caught in an unseen wind as she took one deliberate step forward. Every mercenary present felt it deep within their bones.

"This," she declared, her voice chilling enough to freeze souls, "has gone far enough."

Her eyes blazed with not just anger but a fierce protective fury directed at Mina.

"Get ready," she continued firmly, each word striking like thunder in the hall. "We're leaving."

She turned abruptly, red whip unfurling slightly at her side, its presence humming with lethal promise.

"We're going to that so-called Adventurer Guild," she announced fiercely, killing intent flaring anew in her voice, "and I will tear it down."

The air seemed to trembled.

"And then," she declared, her teeth clenched and eyes ablaze, "I will tear that worthless Guildmaster to shreds."

The hall trembled once more. Mina watched her with wide eyes, a glimmer of excitement shining through.

The spice had done its job—perfectly.

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