chapter 175 elder reaction

Mirsha sat in silence for a moment after Cute Boy and his team disappeared into the dungeon. Her expression was calm, her posture steady—on the surface, it was as if nothing had happened. But inside, her mind raced.

The power he displayed… It wasn't normal.

She had fought countless opponents, faced near-death situations, and stood against formidable enemies, but none had forced her to her knees with just their presence. And what was worse—he had done it casually, as if she was nothing more than an insect in his path.

She couldn't ignore this.

Without wasting another second, she turned on her heels and walked toward the inner chambers of the elder hall. There, a few elders sat in deep discussion, but when she entered, their conversation halted.

"What is it, Mirsha?" one of them asked.

She took a breath. "There is someone dangerous in the dungeon. A Blood Priest."

At first, the elders looked unimpressed—Blood Priests were rare, but not unheard of. Then, she continued, "He forced me to my knees with a mere glance. I couldn't resist."

Silence filled the room. That got their attention.

One elder slammed his hand on the table. "Who was it?"

Mirsha's gaze sharpened. "They call him Cute Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs. Some elders exchanged glances, others whispered among themselves. They might not know his name, but anyone capable of suppressing an elder-level figure with sheer presence was not normal.

But then, one of the elders frowned and looked toward the corner of the room—where Cute Mist leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, looking utterly unconcerned.

"You were there, weren't you?" the elder asked, his tone laced with irritation.

Cute Mist shrugged. "Yeah."

The elder's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't stop him?"

The tension in the elder hall thickened as the elders' scolding intensified.

"You stood there and did nothing?" One of the elders, a sharp-eyed man with graying hair, slammed his fist on the table. "Mirsha was humiliated, and you just watched?"

Another elder, a woman with a piercing gaze, shook her head in disbelief. "You should have intervened! How do you expect us to maintain authority if our own are brought to their knees so easily?"

Cute Mist rolled her eyes, unfazed by their anger. "You're acting like she was beaten half to death. She's fine, isn't she?"

"That's not the point!" the first elder snapped. "He overpowered her without even lifting a finger! If we let that slide, what does that say about our strength? Our control?"

Cute Mist sighed, crossing her arms. "You lot care too much about pride."

The elders bristled at her tone. One of them scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Pride? This is about power. If we allow someone to walk into our territory, humiliate one of our own, and leave unchecked, then we are nothing."

Cute Mist finally straightened, her gaze turning sharp. "This guild is my sister. Do you think I don't care?"

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, one of the elders chuckled—an arrogant, dismissive sound. "Your sister? No, Mist. We are investing in it." His tone made it clear—this wasn't her guild, not in their eyes. It was theirs to control, to shape as they saw fit.

Cute Mist's fingers twitched slightly, but she didn't let her smirk falter. Instead, she tilted her head, her voice light yet carrying an undeniable edge.

"Investing, huh?" She let the word roll off her tongue, as if testing its weight. "You sure about that?"

The elders thought they had the upper hand. What they didn't realize was that Cute Mist never played a game unless she knew she could win.

The Shift in Power – Cute Mist's Warning

The air in the elder hall remained tense, thick with unspoken challenges. Cute Mist stood there, her smirk unwavering, her posture relaxed—but beneath that, there was an edge. A shift.

The elders thought they had won the argument. They believed their authority remained absolute, that their words had put her in her place.

They were wrong.

The silver-haired elder leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. "You don't seem to understand, Mist. This isn't just about one incident. This is about control. If we let this… 'Cute Boy' act unchecked, then what stops others from thinking they can do the same?"

Cute Mist tilted her head. "You can't control him."

The words hit like a slap, and the elders' expressions darkened instantly.

The scarred elder's lips curled in a sneer. "We control everything in this guild."

Cute Mist let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. "No. You think you do."

The elders bristled. The silver-haired one spoke again, her voice measured, but carrying an unmistakable threat. "Mist. We've allowed your reckless nature to go unchecked for too long. You forget your place."

Cute Mist met her gaze without hesitation. "No. You forget something." She slowly walked toward the center of the hall, her boots echoing softly against the floor. "You keep talking about 'control' like it's something permanent. Like it's something you own."

She stopped just a few steps away from the table, her hands casually slipping into her pockets. "Let me tell you something about control." Her smirk widened. "It's only yours for as long as no one stronger decides to take it from you."

A tense silence followed. The meaning behind her words wasn't lost on them.

The scarred elder scoffed. "And you think this Cute Boy will take it from us?"

Cute Mist exhaled slowly, as if debating whether or not it was even worth explaining. Then, in a tone far more serious than before, she said, "If he wants to, he will. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Some of the elders exchanged uneasy glances, but others still held their arrogance.

One of them sneered. "We don't bow to unknown players. He may be strong, but he is still just a—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Cute Mist cut in smoothly. Her voice was light, but there was an unmistakable warning beneath it.

The elder scowled. "And why not?"

Cute Mist's eyes gleamed. "Because the last time someone underestimated him, they didn't get a second chance."

Another wave of silence.

This time, the tension shifted. It was no longer just a confrontation between Cute Mist and the elders. It was a moment where the illusion of control cracked, where doubt seeped in.

The silver-haired elder finally spoke again, her voice quieter. "So, you're saying we should just let him do as he pleases?"

Cute Mist shrugged. "I'm saying you should pick your battles wisely." She glanced toward the door. "Because right now? You're looking at the wrong enemy."

Her meaning was clear.

If they pushed too hard, if they challenged the wrong person, they wouldn't just lose control.

They would lose everything.

And with that, Cute Mist turned and walked out, leaving the elders in uneasy silence.

As the door swung shut behind Cute Mist, a heavy silence settled in the hall. For a few moments, none of the elders spoke. Their expressions were a mixture of frustration, disbelief, and barely restrained anger.

Then, the scarred elder was the first to break the silence.

"She's getting too bold," he spat, slamming his palm against the table. "Too insolent."

The silver-haired elder sighed, her fingers tightening around the armrest of her chair. "That girl has always been reckless, but this? This is something else." Her tone was calm, but the underlying irritation was clear.

"She didn't even respect our authority in that conversation," another elder growled, shaking his head. "She acted as if she was warning us, not advising us."

The scarred elder scoffed. "Of course she was warning us. And you all heard her tone, didn't you? That wasn't the Cute Mist we know—laughing, carefree, acting like none of this matters. That was a threat."

Another elder, an older man with deep lines on his face, tapped his fingers against the table. "She knows more about this 'Cute Boy' than she's letting on."

The silver-haired elder nodded slowly. "And she's not afraid of him. That should concern us."

"She didn't just refuse to help Mirsha," the scarred elder muttered. "She chose not to interfere. That means she judged the situation and decided we weren't worth the trouble." His voice darkened. "That means she doesn't fear us."

That realization sent a ripple of unease through the group.

One of the younger elders leaned forward. "What do we do, then? She may be reckless, but she's strong. If we push her too far, we risk creating an internal enemy."

The silver-haired elder exhaled sharply. "She already is an internal enemy."

Another elder, silent until now, finally spoke, his voice deep and thoughtful. "Mist is unpredictable, yes, but she's never outright challenged us before. Now, she's openly questioning our control—and worse, she's warning us that we may not be as powerful as we believe." He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "That's dangerous."

The scarred elder clenched his fists. "We should have dealt with her long ago."

"Dealt with her?" The silver-haired elder's voice was sharp. "And what, lose one of our strongest assets?" She shook her head. "No. We don't act rashly. We watch her. See what she does next."

Another elder hummed in agreement. "She called the guild her sister—that means she still sees herself as part of it, even if she questions our leadership. That's something we can use."

"But she's also right," the deep-voiced elder added after a moment. "If this Cute Boy is as powerful as she implies, we need to be very careful about how we handle him."

The scarred elder let out a sharp breath, still seething but unwilling to argue further. "So what? We do nothing?"

"No," the silver-haired elder said. "We wait. We gather information. And most importantly…" Her eyes narrowed.

"…we remind Cute Mist who is really in control."