The first Level 2 of the Loki Familia was not Ian, who had defeated Goliath alone, but their captain, Finn.
Finn had earned the alias Record Holder, bestowed only upon the adventurer who ranked up faster than anyone in Orario’s history. Yet he would often grumble as though something about it displeased him.
"If it weren’t for that Skill of yours, you’d have been the Record Holder."
"...Well, nothing to be done about it."
"It just doesn’t sit right with me."
For Finn, who wished to become a hero to his people, the title Record Holder would surely be immensely useful. But Finn was still young, with all the brashness that came with youth, and he tended to obsess unnecessarily over making every step of the process perfect.
...He’s young.
As a man in his mid-thirties, Ian did not dislike seeing Finn’s passionate side.
Passion, passion, passion.
What a stirring word it was.
How many adversities and hardships had he overcome so far through that one word alone?
His rematch for vengeance against the Empire’s Red Knight, his bloody battle against a formidable Level 3 opponent, the reason the boy had survived in the arena—Ian’s entire life story had been covered and painted in passion, until it became difficult to find any version of Ian without it.
That was why Finn would establish himself as a hero of the Pallum, and Ian believed that without a shred of doubt.
Just how immense was the ambition harbored by that young, tiny hero?
Ian could not even begin to imagine it.
*
Jealousy and envy.
Every newly formed Familia with a Record Holder probably went through it, but the Loki Familia suffered from it especially badly because their Record Holder was a Pallum.
How many times had they been snubbed in the Dungeon? How many times had they received unpleasant looks in taverns? How many times had people picked fights with them over the most trivial reasons?
And thanks to all that, Ian’s anger had filled to the brim.
By nature, the same incident or conflict could end as something utterly minor depending on how the parties involved took it—or it could become a major event and transform into an enormous blaze.
So the insult the Loki Familia received in one tavern was truly trivial.
"Getting all cocky just because you’ve got one Level 2, acting like..."
They heard it all the time, and they knew well how pointless it was to react to every little remark like that.
But for Ian, whose reason had ceased to function properly beneath his rage, there was nothing more infuriating.
So it was only natural that the temperament of his youth, which he had thought long subdued, began to run wild in his chest once more.
"You fucking bitches."
A wooden mug full of liquor was the first thing to fly into the head of the adventurer who had been running his mouth.
According to Porit, whenever Ian looked at his own conduct through either his own eyes or someone else’s, he was always too violent and impatient.
Ian himself could not accept that, but as was always the case with the relationship between Ian and Porit, he often took Porit’s advice to heart.
Every time, Porit would say he thought he understood why Ian had earned the alias Wild Dog. And now, in a different sense from the one Porit meant, Ian wanted to show them why he was called that.
Ian grabbed the staggering adventurer by the head after he was struck by the mug and slammed it into the floor.
The adventurer’s head crashed into the ground, splitting a table in two.
He had Falna too, so he would not die from that. Still, it was more than enough to knock him unconscious.
The boisterous tavern abruptly fell silent.
"You... Fuck, do I look like an easy target? Isn’t the bare minimum of manners to talk shit behind someone’s back where they can’t hear you?!"
One flustered adventurer tried to open his mouth, stammering.
Naturally, it ended as no more than an attempt.
That was because Ian smashed his fist hard into the man’s jaw.
No adventurer would endure having two of his companions taken down.
Especially not when they were a party with multiple adventurers at Level 2 or above.
"Fu... What the hell are you saying?! Get him!"
"Kill him!"
For a tavern brawl, it was unusual: without even going through a verbal exchange, a full-on fistfight began at once.
Gareth, Finn, and Riveria had all had plenty built up inside them as well, so they no longer held back. They rose from their seats and charged in. Ian, too, joined the fight without drawing his sword, retaining at least that much reason.
Even Ian, hot-blooded enough to be called a Wild Dog, knew what an enormous disturbance it would cause if he killed adventurers from another Familia.
An adventurer whom Gareth had sent flying collapsed beside Ian.
Finn was fighting quite strategically, taking advantage of the Pallum’s naturally small build, while Riveria...
"You bastard!"
"How dare you lay hands on the princess!"
Hmm. It did not seem like there was any need to worry about her.
After all, every elf in this tavern—no, in this entire area—had stepped forward, declaring that they would protect Riveria.
Riveria had rolled up her sleeves and risen, saying she would fight too. But upon seeing her people fight in her place, she apparently decided it would be hard to stop them, closed her eyes, and sat back down.
Must be nice.
Having already knocked down most of the opposing adventurers, Ian shook out his hands and grumbled.
Naturally, the brawl ended in victory for the Loki Familia, and it was not particularly surprising.
However, trying to predict what repercussions an event in the present would create was truly foolish.
Even Finn, the greatest mind in the Loki Familia, could not foresee what kind of storm this brawl would one day bring down upon their Familia.
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