Chapter 301 - An Audacious Raid on the Guild
The warehouse, emptied quickly after the morning raid on the Newspaper Guild. Few members remained behind.
Most had taken vacation to the seaside, while others were out working as bodyguards or gathering intelligence. Still, an assault on the Newspaper Guild wasn’t serious enough to warrant calling everyone back.
Normally, most guilds operate under the protection of influential local figures or organizations. The Newspaper Guild, in particular, couldn’t function without such backing. After all, even if they claim to uphold journalistic integrity and expose criminals through their articles, they’d simply be inviting retaliation if no power stood behind them.
In this world, the pen easily bends before the sword. Some form of protection—whether political influence or brute force—is absolutely necessary.
Unless a Newspaper Guild maintains its own independent military force—something I’ve never even heard of—it must rely on a patron. There’s no escaping that reality.
But here in Rigaheim, their so-called protector is merely the Vigilantes—a group all too easy for us to manipulate.
The moment a news organization abandons legal protection in favor of relying on raw power, any notion of true journalism collapses. That’s just how things are.
In most cases, powerful figures maintain a balance of interests, weaving various factions into a web where conflicts are quietly managed before they escalate. Whether it’s an underground syndicate or a newspaper, once you look past the frontlines, they’re all just groups chasing profit.
From my perspective, the Newspaper Guild may serve the minor role of informing citizens about current events or light topics, but it would never act against the interests of those within its power structure. Instead, it only ever acts aggressively toward those outside it. That’s exactly what the Newspaper Guild is.
And yet, this branch—supposedly a hub of information—had the gall to provoke one of Exembra’s infamous Three Great Families without even understanding the situation. They should at least have gauged our reaction first. But as expected, they’ve never once reached out.
For a guild branch stationed in a collapsing nation, their work is nothing short of sloppy. They’ve probably never faced serious consequences before, so they’ve grown complacent. Their incompetence is laughably low by any standard.
This town may have its share of rivalries among the elite, but there’s surely an unspoken gentlemen’s agreement to keep things from going too far. That’s why everything feels so lax.
Or perhaps the gap between my perception and others’ is simply inevitable.
I don’t think too highly of myself, but the further one gets from Exembra, the wider such gaps in understanding become.
“I’ll go talk to the Vigilante Captain.”
“Just a little intimidation—no need to escalate. Make sure he knows that.”
Of all things, they actually claimed we were involved in drug trafficking. What utter nonsense.
Normally, I wouldn’t bother chasing down every lie or slander. But now, while we’re trying to consolidate influence, this kind of timing is terrible. And drugs? That’s taboo for us. Having the townspeople misunderstand us is infuriating.
I’ll find out exactly why they fabricated this story.
If it’s just some reporter’s delusional article, I’ll beat the truth out of him and make sure whoever authorized its publication takes responsibility. At the very least, I’ll force them to run a massive correction on the front page the next day. Once I have that promise, I might forgive them after extracting a small compensation fee—and a good punch or two.
But if there’s an actual source behind this lie, I’ll make them reveal who it is. Then, no matter how troublesome, I’ll dig into the entire network. I’ll expose who orchestrated this and give them a proper response.
“Onee-sama, should we leave two behind as guards and take everyone else with us?”
That makes six. Not enough to make a huge spectacle, but just right for something low-key. No need to broadcast that we’re clashing with the guild.
“Yes. We’ll take one vehicle.”
With no special preparations needed, we headed straight for the protest, all members except the guards.
It was still early afternoon, sunlight bright, as we drove at a normal pace without urgency.
The orange roofs crowning most buildings in Rigaheim remained unchanged even in this district where guild branches gathered.
Grand structures, likely built to impress—each one respectable in appearance. Unlike residential areas, people here moved with the unmistakable air of being at work.
We pulled up in our vehicle. Without brandishing large weapons or making a violent show, we all stepped out.
Vehicles are rare here, so we drew mild attention—but nothing that could be called suspicious.
As we casually approached the Newspaper Guild branch, I quickly scanned inside with magical perception. Despite the building’s size, there weren’t many people within.
From what I could sense, while anti-theft magical devices were installed, they wouldn’t activate unexpectedly during business hours.
Inside the three-story building: about fifteen on the first floor, a similar number on the second, and only seven on the third.
The third floor likely held the Guild Master and their attendants. I don’t know how many are usually here, or whether today’s count is high or low—but it doesn’t matter.
“All right. One stays here. If anyone not affiliated with the guild approaches, politely ask them to leave.”
“Understood. No outsiders will pass.”
I hoped no civilians had arrived yet as we entered—five of us stepping inside.
At the central counter sat a bored-looking receptionist. To the left, a security room with three guards—one of whom was already watching us. At least someone’s diligent.
Ignoring security, Siegrune stepped forward.
“I’d like to speak with the journalist who wrote this article. It was in this morning’s paper. Is he present?”
She held up the newspaper clearly, asking directly.
“…Eh? Ah, yes! Please wait a moment. I’ll go check!”
The receptionist, who’d been staring blankly at Vice-Commander, scurried off in a panic.
Normally, they’d ask who we are or whether we have an appointment. But perhaps Siegrune’s imposing, dignified presence overwhelmed her.
A mere girl at the front desk, she obeyed without question—like a servant given an order by her master.
We waited in silence, aware of the guards’ eyes on us, when conversation from the inner hallway reached our ears. The quiet lobby carried sound farther than expected.
“—He should show up soon, Anna-chan. By the way, who’s here?”
“Ah, right. But more importantly, that hand of yours…”
“We’re close, aren’t we, Anna-chan? Come on, don’t be cold. You’re at work, so at least get their names. I’ll reward you later. Let’s review your duties after. I won’t be leaving until morning, so take good care of me. Heh heh.”
“S-Such nonsense…”
Flirting idly, even now. A man with zero sense of danger. Is this arrogance born from hiding behind the guild’s name?
Well, normally no one would storm a guild office, no matter where they were. They’ve probably dealt with complaints about articles before, but never anything that made them fear for their lives.
When a man stepped into the lobby from the hallway, his eyes immediately met Siegrune’s.
His gaze flickered quickly, stopping at the badges on our chests. For a harasser, he’s surprisingly sharp. Siegrune addressed him.
“You don’t seem to be the one who wrote that garbage. Tell me, do you recognize this?”
She ostentatiously displayed her amethyst Kikyo crest badge.
“The purple flower crest…”
“You know it. We are the Kikyo Society. We’re here regarding this morning’s article. If the reporter isn’t here, bring us the person in charge.”
“T-The Guild Master…”
“Don’t waste my time with figureheads. Lead us to the one who matters.”
The real authority would be someone like the de facto editor-in-chief.
Guild Masters are usually ceremonial, detached from actual operations—a common pattern. Intelligence Bureau’s prior investigation confirmed this. He’s not someone we’re interested in recruiting. Ignore him.
Leaving the confused receptionist behind, we marched straight toward the inner rooms.
“Wait! What are you doing?!”
“Onee-sama, let me handle this.”
“The guards are innocent. Just silence them.”
“Yes.”
We ignored the guard who stepped forward, leaving him to Valeria.
Instead of being led to a reception room, as normal visitors would, we barged into a cluttered workspace. The atmosphere was chaotic, a stark contrast to the quiet lobby and hallways.
Across the wide floor, everyone seemed occupied at their desks. They looked busy, but we had no intention of holding back.
At a glance, there were no outsiders—good. We wouldn’t have to drag in unnecessary people.
Anti-theft magical devices were only near the windows. No offensive enchantments inside, and no guards beyond the lobby.
“Bring me the person in charge.”
Siegrune loomed over the journalist—our harasser from earlier—cutting off unnecessary talk.
“D-Desk! Where’s the Editor-in-Chief?!”
“Shut up, you idiot! Stop slacking and get back to work!”
A gruff voice snapped back—an older man called “Desk.” Probably a title, not a name. From the seating, it seemed each department had someone with that role.
I didn’t care how high-ranking he was or about the guild’s internal hierarchy. But from their exchange, it was clear the Editor-in-Chief stood above the desks.
The rude old man, clearly busy, didn’t even glance our way.
Maybe this was normal treatment for unannounced visitors. Either way, their indifference only fueled our irritation.
“We’re busy. Don’t make us wait.”
“No, he was just at that seat a moment ago…”
The seat he pointed to was empty.
“I have no intention of wasting time searching.”
“Leave it to us.”
“Now we’re talking. Let’s smoke them out.”
I was pleased they understood my intent so quickly. We’d never come here for polite conversation.
“Make it loud.”
“You got it.”
Siegrune and I kept watch near the entrance, while the two members I’d brought moved out.
“Doraa!”
With a shout, they kicked over nearby shelves, sent chairs flying, flipped desks—wrecking everything in reach.
Those absorbed in work, ignoring us until now, stared in stunned silence at the sudden violence.
“The Kikyo Society has come calling! Where’s your boss?! Stop hiding and show yourself!”
“How dare you keep guests waiting! Are you mocking us?!”
Judging by words alone, we sounded like insane lunatics who’d snapped. But their destruction was impressive.
Heavy metal shelves crumpled and rolled, chairs shattered mid-air, desks overturned as easily as side tables—despite carrying stacks of documents and weighing a ton. Even in a world where Physical Enhancement Magic exists, this level of strength was clearly abnormal.
No one could stop such overwhelming brutality. The guild members could only freeze, paralyzed. For them, it must have felt like waking up to find themselves locked in the same cage as a rampaging monster.
“You! Are you the one in charge?!”
“Tch, no! Not me!”
“Then you?!”
With each shout, something else broke. A stone ornament, hard as rock, exploded into dust from a single punch. Anyone would feel death’s breath on their neck.
As the two raged across the floor, Valeria arrived late but joined with full force, tearing through the room in all directions. Objects shattered and flew everywhere—like a storm had ripped through.
Then, at that moment, a door at the back opened. A man appeared, clearly shocked.
“W-What in the world…?”
“Editor-in-Chief! They’re demanding the person in charge!”
“You’re the one in charge—AREN’T YOU?!”
A member, fully into it, lunged and delivered a brutal slap.
The man flew back slightly, blood streaming from his mouth—whether from a split lip or broken teeth. The merciless girl grabbed his collar, yanking him upright.
One slap wasn’t excessive. Not by a long shot. For trying to slander us with lies, this was barely a fraction of what he deserved.
Still, I’d hear him out first. I signaled Siegrune.
“Wait. I want to hear what he has to say.”
Responding to Vice-Commander’s clear voice, the man was dropped where he stood.
“Onee-sama, the people upstairs are secretly watching from the shadows.”
“They’re not stepping in. Good. Leave them be.”
They just don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.
I only cared about the reporter who wrote the lies and the one who approved them. The rest were irrelevant.
Siegrune stepped forward, tossing the newspaper at the editor’s feet—his face swollen black and blue, blood dripping from nose and mouth.
“You’re the one who allowed this nonsense to be published, aren’t you?”
Just how intense was the pressure radiating from a former elite knight, now a high-ranking figure in the underworld?
Sharp reporters who walk the edge of danger might have the guts to endure it. But these soft, spoiled men? Unlikely.
In this suffocating silence, even a twitch of a finger would feel dangerous. Not just the editor, but every guild member present was frozen, unable to move or speak.
“You stay silent, I stay ignorant. Answer me.”
Siegrune pressed closer, the pressure mounting—so much that someone might collapse any second.
Then, from the corridor behind me, a young man entered.
Just moments ago, one of our members stationed outside had reported someone heading this way. This must be a reporter or clerk returning from outside.
“Eh… W-What is this…?”
In the dead silence, his whisper echoed sharply.
All eyes turned to him. The man called “Desk” let out a hoarse voice.
“R-Run… You’ll be killed…”
So this was the one.
I reached out, grabbed the young man’s clothes, and hurled him toward Siegrune. He crashed clumsily to the ground at her feet.
“I see. So you’re the liar.”
“Ow—what the hell?!”
“You don’t even understand what’s happening? You still don’t grasp who we are? Typical. Just another low-tier journalist.”
Only now did he finally notice the Kikyo crest badge on our chests.
“T-That… the Kikyo Society?!”
“You wrote the false article, didn’t you? Tell me why. What was your reason?”
Perhaps it was easier to face violence once he knew who we were. The young reporter, rather than cower, defiantly crossed his legs and sat properly.
Less courage, more just naive and reckless. He opened his mouth with an irritated, confrontational expression.
“This is a story of public importance. We won’t bow to violence!”
“Oh? That’s bold. I’ve never heard of fabricated news having ‘public importance.’ Is that a Rigaheim thing? Or are you joking?”
“Don’t mock me! We have evidence!”
“Evidence?”
That unexpected word made question marks float above all our heads.
Evidence… proof that we brought in large quantities of drugs?
Hmm. How curious.