The Adventurer Guild Hall appeared deceptively tranquil. Sunlight poured through the tall, arched windows, illuminating motes of dust that floated lazily in the air.

The Mission Board was half-cleared, its remaining dockets fluttering gently whenever someone walked by.

Adventurers lounged on chairs and tables, some polishing weapons, others exchanging notes, while a few counted coins with a reverence usually reserved for money earned through blood and risk.

At the heart of it all, behind an upgraded receptionist desk that felt more like a command center than a simple counter, Sage reclined as if he had no urgent matters to attend to.

His chair tilted back slightly, balanced with casual precision on its rear legs. Both boots rested atop the desk, crossed at the ankles.

He wore golden-rimmed glasses, their intricate design adding an air of sophistication. In one hand, he held a thick book bound in dark leather: "A Song of Ice and Fire: Game of Thrones."

A prize from the system's lottery. Sage turned a page slowly, his eyes scanning the lines with apparent focus as his lips curved faintly at a particularly dramatic passage.

To any observer, he seemed like the epitome of indulgent laziness, a Guildmaster enjoying a quiet afternoon while his subordinates took care of business.

But this was merely an illusion. Behind those glasses, Sage's attention was split in countless directions.

He listened to conversations among the Adventurers, not overtly or directly, but attentively filtering the low murmur of the Guild Hall like a predator sifting through tall grass.

Fragments of conversation drifted toward him; trivial remarks discarded instantly while meaningful snippets were cataloged and cross-referenced.

"Heard they lost three men near the western ridge…"

"Guild's payouts are faster than the nobles'…"

"Ashfall Woods again? You're crazy…"

Sage's eyes flicked over another page.

"I heard that they're back."

The words were spoken quietly and almost conspiratorially by two Adventurers near the Mission Board.

Sage didn't look up or shift; he simply turned another page without acknowledging them.

"Who?"

"It's obviously the largest and most powerful mercenary group in Evergreen Region."

Sage's fingers paused for just an instant. That narrowed it down significantly. He continued reading but felt his mind already racing ahead.

"Heard their leader returned too."

Sage smiled faintly.

"What was her name again?"

There was a brief pause before one replied with a mix of awe and unease: "The Crimson Devil."

Gently closing his book and sliding a finger between its pages to mark his place, Sage kept his feet resting on the desk without adjusting his posture. He let the book rest against his chest as he gazed lazily toward the far end of the hall.

The Crimson Devil. So rumors had spread quickly; he'd expected nothing less. Mercenary groups didn't return quietly, not after a Kingdom-level war.

Even without making a fuss about it, the world had its own way of whispering about power. Soldiers exchanged words, traders spread rumors, and warriors, especially, were always listening.

Sage exhaled softly through his nose. Right on time. He reached up to remove his glasses, folding them carefully before placing them atop the book in front of him.

Without those lenses, his eyes appeared sharper and more alert; the lazy haze lifted just enough to reveal the calculating mind beneath. He had sensed this moment was approaching.

No...he'd known it even earlier than that. The instant he'd seen her sitting alone in the Guild Hall, gripping her Copper Badge with trembling hands, disappointment etched across her small frame.

He'd recognized it when she casually mentioned her sister, offhand comments heavy with implication.

A mercenary leader. A war veteran. A woman harboring deep-seated hatred for men.

And now she had returned from war. Sage tapped the book lightly against the desk, the soft thud echoing faintly in the quiet room.

The Evergreen Region. That detail mattered.

Situated at a crossroads of trade routes and minor noble territories, mercenary groups operating there didn't survive by chance; they thrived because they were either useful or feared, or both.

A leader who earned a nickname like Crimson Devil wasn't someone who faded into obscurity. And she was Mina's sister.

Sage's smile deepened, though it held no humor. The city still felt peaceful, he mused.

A Kingdom-level war had raged not far from here, yet Greyvale remained untouched, insulated by its perceived insignificance. No refugees flooded the streets.

No conscription notices plastered on walls. No noble banners marching through the gates. Power shifted elsewhere while Greyvale was overlooked, until now.

Leaning back further in his chair, Sage balanced effortlessly as his fingers drummed slowly against the spine of the book.

Timing, that was what distinguished ambition from success.

Had the Crimson Devil returned just a week earlier, the Guild would have been vulnerable, too new, too untested, too fragile. Had she come back a week later, Sage might have already expanded to new heights and altered the battlefield entirely.

But now? Now was perfect.The Guild had structure. It had momentum, and more importantly, it had legitimacy.

Sage's gaze drifted toward the Mission Board and then to a cluster of Adventurers nearby: men and women from all walks of life and races.

Warriors who once bent their backs under noble contracts now stood taller and prouder because they belonged to something that worked. They didn't know it yet, but they were already invested in their newfound purpose.

That was the beauty of systems: people defend what provides them stability.

He could already envision it, the Crimson Devil storming into the Guild with killing intent flaring as she demanded answers.

Adventurers stood frozen, uncertainty and fear etched on their faces. Then, slowly but inevitably, their gazes shifted, not to her, but to him. To the Guildmaster.

Sage let out a soft chuckle. "Predictable," he murmured under his breath.

Reaching beneath the desk, he pulled out a thick book and flipped it open briefly. His eyes scanned the entries, registrations, mission completions, coin flow, reputation metrics.

Everything fell into place: Mina's timing, the Guild's growth trajectory.

He closed the ledger and set it aside before leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. His expression was calm and relaxed, almost indulgent.

Outside in the city, a storm was brewing. Nearby, a woman whose hatred burned fiercely enough to crack stone was gearing up to march right into his territory.

But Sage was prepared. He reached behind the desk again and retrieved a thick stack of freshly printed books. Their covers were pristine; their pages crisp.

The title gleamed softly in gold lettering: "The Adventurer Guild Rule Book: Authored by Sage Alistair: The Guildmaster."

He opened one of the books and skimmed through its contents with a satisfied nod before stacking them neatly on the desk.

A slow smile spread across his face as he thought, "Welcome to the part where everyone learns how cages are built."

Meanwhile, the Guild Hall continued to hum along blissfully unaware of the impending clash that loomed just around the corner.

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