Chapter 93: Storm in the Guild Hall
As they approached the guild building, a wave of curious gazes followed them. Whispers trailed behind like smoke—most eyes drawn to Ethan's battered, bloodstained figure, others lingering on Lirael's gleaming golden battle-maid attire that seemed to shine unnaturally against the grime of the streets.
The moment they stepped inside, the usual clamor of voices dimmed. Adventurers hunched over their mugs or polishing gear turned, murmurs rising at the sight.
Ethan marched straight to the reception desk, the parchment crumpled tightly in his hand. With a heavy slam that echoed across the hall, he laid it down.
"The intel you gave us was wrong," he said, his tone cold and cutting, carrying enough weight that the room grew tense.
A ripple of voices stirred behind him.
"Wrong intel?"
"That's a death sentence in the field..."
"Damn... if that's true..."
