Chapter 40: The Entitlement Of Others

Adam sat in a wide, brightly lit hall, rows of seats facing a raised stage at the front. The man who welcomed him had escorted him here before disappearing to attend to other duties.

Now Adam was alone among a crowd of strangers, except these strangers carried themselves with a very particular kind of arrogance.

Why didn’t the manager mention that others would be granted access to the incursion?

Before bringing him here, the employee had explained that the Mission Hall had opened entries to Siren’s Swamp for multiple people, not just Adam.

The reasoning, apparently, was simple: the incursion was vast, so multiple entrants in a single reserved day wasn’t an issue.

Adam would’ve accepted that easily.

He believed in merit.

If someone achieved something impressive, they deserved the reward.

But then the man told him the list of “accomplishments.”

And Adam was impressed.

Not by the accomplishments, but by the audacity.

Reaching Martial Apprentice rank.

Finally manifesting a Martial Spirit.

Learning a proper technique for the first time.

All respectable milestones, sure.

But compared to soloing an entire mutant rift?

It was like comparing a spark to a sun.

Adam leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the groups around him, each cluster dressed in expensive fabrics, polished conduits, and wearing expressions that radiated entitlement.

And finally, everything clicked.

Ah, Nepo babies.

These weren’t ordinary martial artists.

They were clan heirs, children of influence, money, and bloodline power. The kind who got opportunities not because they earned them… but because their families breathed in the right air.

Adam let out a small sigh.

“Well, this should be interesting.”

From the conversations drifting through the hall, Adam pieced things together quickly. These martial heirs weren’t from the low-tier region at all, they were from the mid-tier regions of the Outer Zone.

And that made sense.

Low-tier clans didn’t have the influence to secure spots in an incursion. After all, they held the same power as the mission halls of the low-tier regions, so they couldn’t simply wave their authority around and expect results.

But mid-tier clans? They had enough weight to push the mission hall of a low-tier region into compliance.

Adam’s eyes moved across the bustling hall.

Still… there are a lot of people. Is this the norm?

Before he could listen further, the lights abruptly dimmed.

A single bright spotlight snapped onto the stage.

The sound of heels echoed, deliberately unhurried and confident, until a figure entered the light.

A mature woman stepped into view, dressed in a sharp red dress suit, black heels clicking with each step. A black veiled hat obscured most of her face, revealing only a sliver of cheekbone and bold, velvet-red lips.

“…”

The room fell silent instantly.

Adam leaned back, watching her with mild amusement.

She’s strong.

Her presence alone crushed the chatter, snuffing out the heirs’ arrogance like snuffing a candle.

Then she spoke.

“We, the Mission Hall of Sector 418, are pleased to host such… young talents.”

Smug smiles bloomed across the heirs’ faces. Some even straightened proudly, basking in the implied praise.

But then her tone hardened, becoming colder and clipped.

“And I am here, as the Manager of the Mission Hall of Sector 418, to inform you, we will not be responsible for your lives.”

A beat of stunned silence passed.

“Thank you.”

And without another word, she turned sharply and walked off the stage, heels clicking like hammer strikes in the quiet.

The hall stayed frozen for several heartbeats after the manager left.

Then, like a dam breaking, the noise exploded.

“Who does she think she is?! As if we’d make her responsible for our lives!”

“This is why I hate coming to backwater regions. Uncivilized, the lot of them!”

“My daddy will hear about this when I get back!”

“Tch… and I was thinking of adding her to my harem. What a waste.”

The heirs vented nonstop, outraged, offended, insulted. To them, the manager’s statement wasn’t a warning.

It was a disgrace.

Why would they need protection from a low-tier mission hall? Their clans had sent guards. Their strength was “more than enough.” Their egos made sure nothing less than reverence would satisfy them.

Adam tuned their tantrums out entirely.

His gaze stayed fixed on the stage where the manager had stood.

She did the right thing.

These products of status and bloodline were undeniably powerful, some even rivaled or surpassed the manager back at his own Sector.

But an incursion was still wild zone territory, a place where unpredictability reigned. Having connections didn’t mean having immunity.

If they came here on the wings of their clans, then they should rely on their clans, not the mission hall, to keep them alive.

But then a small frown tugged at Adam’s brow.

Wait… am I going to be treated the same?

He hadn’t begged for access to Siren’s Swamp. The reward had been given to him based on pure merit. If merit meant anything, he should logically receive advantages the heirs did not.

Unless…

the mission hall didn’t care about merit at all.

Let’s see what happens.

The heirs soon began filtering out of the hall. They had four days left before they could enter the incursion and plenty of time to prepare or relax.

Adam rose to leave as well.

But just as he took a step toward the exit…

“Crazy Adam?!”

A voice, annoying, loud, and unfortunately familiar, cut through the hall.

Adam stopped mid-step and turned toward the voice.

A familiar blond head and pair of blue eyes came into view. Adam blinked once, then let out in a flat tone.

“Small Dick… it’s you?”

The young man’s face twitched violently.

“I keep telling you, it’s Smor. Not Small.” His frustration was practically vibrating off him.

Adam smiled as if genuinely confused.

“But that’s what I said.”

Smor Dickson.

Adam knew him from the one-month compulsory martial training every newly awakened had to take.

Unlike most of the trainees, Smor actually had talent.

Enough talent to catch the eye of a mid-tier clan scion, who later whisked him and his family away from the low-tier region entirely.

But that wasn’t the main reason he was memorable.

Smor had been the only other trainee besides Adam to awaken a special talent. While Adam’s talent was rankless, Smor’s had awakened an F-rank special talent, making him able to compete with martial artists twice his age.

Smor crossed his arms and eyed Adam with an exaggerated sigh.

“I see you’re still as crazy as ever.”

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