Chapter 30: Terms of Honor
The moment Alex's words cut through the air, the chatter died.
For a heartbeat, silence hung over the clearing — then the commotion began.
Murmurs erupted first, mostly from Groups 1 and 3.
"Really? That's the case?" someone scoffed.
Others didn't bother to hide their resentment. Voices rose, sharp with accusation: complaints about risking their lives while others "hid" and reaped the rewards.
It wasn't all aimed squarely at Ethan — but the long, grueling expedition had left nerves frayed and tempers brittle. Alex's comment was just the spark that sent the pent-up frustration spilling over.
Members of Group 2 bristled immediately. For them, the accusation cut deep. They knew the truth: if Ethan hadn't been there, far more would have died. As it was, their group had suffered the fewest losses — only four dead. Group 1 had lost five. Group 3… eight.
A tension like a drawn bowstring pulled tighter and tighter, until Wolf's voice cracked through the noise.
"Enough!"
The leader of Group 2 didn't shout often, but when he did, it carried weight. In an instant, the arguing choked off, the air still heavy with unspoken words.
Wolf's gaze swept the crowd, his voice steady but carrying the weight of a commander who had seen too many battles.
"Bad-mouthing your comrades will bring you no good," he said, each word deliberate. "In the long run, it will only harm yourself."
He paused — letting the silence bite — then turned his head just enough for his eyes to fix on Alex… and then Max.
"And people should be especially wary," he continued, his tone sharpening, "of those who stir a crowd for their own spite."
The air thickened. A few adventurers shifted uncomfortably, others glanced at Alex and Max with newfound suspicion.
Wolf's lips parted again. "So as punishment for—"
But he never finished.
Ethan stepped forward, the weight of his boots loud in the stillness.
He had swallowed enough of this — once when he was practicing his magic, again at the guild, and now here, out in the open. Every time, the barbs found their way to him, though he'd done nothing to earn them.
His voice cut through the tension, not loud, but clear and confident.
"How about we settle this another way?" he said, eyes locked on Alex and Max. "Let's prove whether the so-called 'cowards' in the backline were really hiding… or helping."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"I'll face you both," Ethan continued, his tone like steel drawn from a scabbard. "Max. Alex. Together. If I lose, I'll walk away from adventuring, live the rest of my life in shame — like the coward you think I am. But if you lose…" He took one step closer, his eyes hard. "You get demoted to F–Rank. No more calling yourselves warriors. And you kneel and apologise to the crowd and your party members."
The challenge hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.
Max and Alex exchanged a glance — then smiled, slow and wolfish.
They had both been wary of facing Ethan alone. One-on-one, there was risk. But two-on-one? That was a breeze.
"We accept!" they shouted in unison.
Their supporters immediately rallied behind them, tossing out loud words of encouragement — some genuine, some spoken just to curry favor with Rank C adventurers. A few faces in the crowd, however, turned toward Ethan with quiet respect. It took guts to throw down a challenge like that.
Liraen's brow furrowed, worry flickering in her eyes. She knew — scum or not — Max and Alex weren't weaklings. They had the strength to back their arrogance. Even Aina and Maya stood stiffly, their unease plain.
Wolf gave a single glance toward Brad and the other B-ranked adventurers, then turned back to the crowd. With a sharp clap of his hands, he called for attention.
"Since no one opposes this," he declared, "and since a fight like this will boost morale… we'll allow it. The conditions have already been set by the challengers themselves. We won't interfere."
By then, Ethan had already cast his eye over the two men, letting his skill do the work.
---
Inspect
Name: Alex Word
Age: 39
Race: Human (Unawakened)
Class: Spearman
Level: 16
Strength: 10.4
Vitality: 9.7
Constitution: 8.9
Agility: 9.3
Stamina: 10.1
Intelligence: 7.6
Mana: 6.8
---
Name: Max Milo
Age: 32
Race: Human (Awakened)
Class: None
Level: 9
Strength: 15.6
Vitality: 12.3
Constitution: 7.7
Agility: 15.8
Stamina: 12.1
Intelligence: 5.5
Mana: 5.5
---
Ethan nearly lost his composure.
This? This is what I'm up against?
Inside, he was laughing harder than he had in months. A glass cannon… and his slightly less glassy friend. Perfect.
The old saying rang in his mind — hand a beggar a golden bowl, and he'll still go out begging.
Max, you're all speed and no armor. Alex, you've got balance but no bite. I could take either of you half-asleep.
His lips twitched despite himself. The only real challenge here is deciding which one of you to break first.
The crowd parted quickly, boots scuffing the dirt as they formed a wide ring around the challengers — a makeshift arena born of raw anticipation. The air seemed to hum, the scent of blood and sweat lingering from the expedition, but the weight of their fallen comrades was forgotten in an instant.
Parties here were built on convenience, not loyalty. Death was an expected cost of the road. Right now, there was a fight to watch.
Whispers turned to murmurs, murmurs to shouts. Bets began changing hands, coins glinting in the shifting light.
The B-ranked adventurers stood back, arms folded, relaxed. They knew exactly what this was — a rare chance to turn the sour mood into something sharp and spirited. Let the fight lift their morale; it would make the next clash in the Warren that much easier.
The three combatants stepped forward.
And since this wasn't some tavern brawl but a duel where honor and adventuring licenses were at stake, they were permitted to wield their weapons.
Was there worry among the B-ranks? Not in the slightest. The entrance to the Warren had been sealed with a massive boulder — no goblin ambushes, no distractions. Their eyes were only on the fight.
From one glance, their verdict was clear: Ethan would win. They could feel it in the set of his stance, in the calm way he carried himself. Max's body was built for speed, not for taking a blow. Alex's posture lacked the steel of a true spearman.
It wasn't a question of if Ethan would win — only how he would end it.
The crowd roared as Wolf raised his hand to signal the start. Ethan only smiled. This will be over before they even know it's begun.