She could command respect, instill fear, attract offers. Yet here she was, in this dusty corner of the world, leading mercenaries and mingling with commoners like a myth masquerading as human.

The Adventurers around them reacted far less gracefully, gasps erupted, eyes widened. Even those who had heard whispers of the Crimson Devil's strength looked stunned, as if their preconceived notions had just been shattered by reality.

Gregor stood near the mission board, stiffening like a man who suddenly realized he was breathing the same air as a living calamity.

A Five-Star. Here. In this hall.

Sage continued writing with steady hands and a composed face, because that was what a Guildmaster did. But inside, he was screaming: This changes everything.

Before he could proceed further, a cold voice interrupted from behind ValeriaWait."

Sage looked up to see a female mercenary stepping forward from Valeria's group. Her calm confidence suggested she wasn't merely following orders; she was a pillar of strength.

Tall and lean with ash-brown hair tightly braided down her back, thin metal rings woven into her strands clicked softly with each movement, she bore a thin scar running from the corner of her mouth toward her jawline, hinting at an attempt to silence her that had failed.

Her armor was practical rather than ostentatious, dark leather reinforced with steel plates on her shoulders and forearms, but she wore it like someone born for battle.

Her sharp pale grey eyes locked onto Sage's with focused suspicion.

Sage raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

Valeria shifted slightly in response. "Vanthrice."

Sage nodded slowly, committing the name to memory; she seemed to be second-in-command or close to it.

Vanthrice didn't bow or lower her gaze; instead, she stepped closer and spoke clearly enough for everyone in the hall to hear.

"Earlier," she said firmly, "you mentioned that an Adventurer can receive help fulfilling withdrawal conditions."

Sage allowed himself a faint smile. "That's correct."

Vanthrice nodded once before sweeping her arm toward the mercenaries behind her as if presenting an army ready for action.

"Then all of us will register as Adventurers," she declared boldly. "And we will helpcomplete those conditions."

For a moment, the Guild Hall stood silent, as if the weight of Vanthrice's words was too much to bear.

Then, chaos erupted. Voices surged, adventurers pushing forward with a mix of disbelief and excitement.

The mercenaries behind her shifted uneasily, some were startled, others noddingin agreement, while a few straightened up as if ignited by the decision.

Even those at the entrance leaned in closer, eager for the unfolding spectacle.

Valeria turned sharply to Vanthrice. "What are you doing?"

Vanthrice remained unfazed. "Helping," she replied simply.

Valeria frowned. "You don't have to,..."

"Yes, we do," Vanthrice interrupted, her tone firm yet respectful, a voice shaped by years of loyalty to Valeria.

"You've sacrificed for us time and againYou carry our reputation like a weapon and our survival like a burden. We understand what it costs you to stand here."

Her eyes narrowed as her voice dropped into something colder. "And we know how much you despise men."

A ripple went through the mercenaries.

Some looked away; others clenched their fists or wore faint, bitter smiles.

Vanthrice continued, her gaze unwavering. "We recognize the turmoil you're holding inside right now. We won't stand behind you and let you suffer alone."One mercenary stepped forward. "Leader, you've bled for us."

Another added roughly, "You kept us alive."

A third chimed in with a tight jaw, "If you have to swallow poison, then we'll swallow it too."

Valeria stared at them; something in her expression softened for just an instant. For a heartbeat, she seemed… human, not the Crimson Devil or the corpse-faced leader but simply a woman who had spent years bearing others' burdens without ever expecting support in return.

A warm current flowed through her chest, unwanted and unfamiliar, and it tightened her throat. She swallowed hard.

Sage observed quietly from the sidelines as a smile crept onto his lips. He had anticipated Valeria's hatred and sense of responsibility; he had foreseen her being cornered.

But this? This loyalty wasn't transactional or rooted in fear, it was genuine.Yet even that could be redirected.

Sage's smile returned, subtle and unreadable, as he set down his quill.

"Well," he said cheerfully as if announcing market day, "no problem at all! Anyone can become an Adventurer."

Valeria shot him an irritated glare that could kill; his calm demeanor felt like an affront to the emotional gravity of the moment.

When Sage spotted the other female mercenaries stepping forward one by one to register as Adventurers, he couldn't help but feel a slight tremor in his hands.

If it weren't for his desire to maintain a poker face, he might have burst out laughing and danced right there on the floor. He was practically holding himself back from jumping up in sheer ecstasy.

Looks like my other insignificant plan didn't need to take long at all," he thought excitedly. He had anticipated that once Valeria became an Adventurer, the others would likely follow her lead.

Even if that didn't happen immediately, he was already brainstorming alternative strategies to encourage them to register as well.

But from what he could see, everything seemed to be falling into place naturally, he wouldn't have to force anyone after all. This realization thrilled him to his core.

BANG!

With cheerful brutality, Sage slammed a mountain of ledgers onto the desk, the sound echoing throughout the hall.

"Get in line," he instructed with a saintly smile. "Name, rank, registrationfee, one at a time."

Valeria's fingers twitched with frustration.

Gregor stared at the ledgers as if witnessing disaster unfold under bureaucratic scrutiny.

Vanthrice watched Sage intently, trying to decipher whether this man was a genius, insane, or perhaps a blend of both.

Sage dipped his quill into the ink once more, his posture relaxed and his eyes half-closed. His voice was calm as he spoke.

His gaze shifted to Valeria Steelheart, standing there like a statue, tense and fieryyet trapped in her own turmoil. A cold satisfaction washed over him, so clear it felt almost artistic:

"Welcome to the cage."

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