48 Arrogant Young Masters Need To Be Taught A Lesson

Lars' made sure that the door behind him was jammed, pushing some drawers and cabinets against the door so the trap could not sneakily follow behind him. Then he breathed in deeply several times in an attempt to compose himself before steadying his gaze and heading down the corridor.

He kept his eyes open for the right room and went past a couple of doors before he saw one a passage with a staircase heading down with the correct label above it: "Ability Testing Area".

He made his way carefully down the moderately-lit zig-zag staircase, feeling like he descended about 30 metres below the ground. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation; the guild had to be really big and rich to have such an immense compound both in terms of height, width, breadth and even underground depth!

It did make sense, though - oftentimes high-levelled applicants or experienced questers would need a large enough area for taking tests or even just practising their skills. It would make sense for the guild to provide either a free training area as a benefit to members, or else to charge a fee for the use of their facilities.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he saw a large pair of double doors which were slightly ajar. Inside, he could see a well-lit and immense training area complete with training dummies, a respectably large 30 metre in radius sparring ring and various other equipment.

Lars felt curious; despite the apparently poor diplomatic relations between the Kingdom of the Sands and the Beastman Tribes to the North, the guild staff so far were entirely made up of beastmen! Perhaps it was due to the preference of the local guild head here...

When he pushed open the double doors, he saw some other people were already training; punching or kicking the training dummies and using the equipment under the watchful eye of a few stern-looking beastmen, presumably questers or quester-applicants being tested by guild personnel.

"Yes...? Are you here for as an applicant or to upgrade your ranking? I'm Natiro, by the way." A scholarly looking middle-aged elf sat behind a counter by the entrance, the first non-beastman that Lars saw working here. Based on his appearance and the voluminous shelves behind the elf, he looked to be the officer in charge of registration and administrative duties at the testing area.

Lars passed the forms over to the elf for him to read through.

After glancing through the contents in less than 10 seconds, Natiro said, "Wait a moment; I'll get a staff member to test you. Please stay put; non-members are not allowed to use any equipment except under the supervision of a staff member." Then the elf stood up and walked away to one of the watching instructors and spoke to him briefly. The instructor looked to be a quarter; that is, the child of a half beastman and a full human. From his outward appearances and large stature, he was most likely a quarter bearman.

The elf walked back with the accompanying instructor who introduced himself as Beryl. His fierce gaze warned Lars not to laugh or make fun of his name that was "bear"-y fitting for a bearman. At the same time, the bearman fixed a derisive and derogatory look on Lars out of the corners of his eyes, as if saying, "Who do you think you are to try for Silver-rank??".

"Follow me, I'll be doing your test personally." The quarter beastman walked in front and headed to one of the unoccupied sparring rings. At the sound of those words, the many sounds of the trainees all around grew hushed; some of them stopped whatever they were doing and began to gather round, whispering to one another.

"Psst... Beryl's at it again..."

"What?? When are they going to stop him? He's been thrashing all the new applicants for years now!"

"Yeah, ever since his wife left him he--"

"Shhh, he'll hear us!" One trainee hushed his friend - just in time, for Beryl sent a murderous gaze over, shooting daggers with his eyes as he looked for who had just touched on his sore point.

"Who is that kid? Some rich young master?"

"Dunno, never seen him before... But he must be some foreign rich young master to be so arrogant..."

"Beryl doesn't care anyway! Haha!"

"Did you hear? The little wimp asked for Silver-grade directly!"

"What?? Who does he think he is? A legendary hero in disguise?" These words drew loud guffaws from the crowds and all those standing nearby.

"Hahahah! Come on! Show us a miracle - if you can!" Hysterical laughter followed each line of words that came shooting out quickly one after another.

But the legendary mage just shrugged. Sticks and stones could break his bones, but words would never hurt him!

Later, the speaker would regret his foolish words - he had no idea just how right he was, and how big of a miracle they were about to see.

Very quickly, the young mage Lars and the quarter bearman were both standing in a 30 metre-radius sparring circle. By now, more than three-quarters of the people present were standing outside the circle, eager to see another wannabe-hero get some senses knocked into him.

The aggressive bearman instructor then cracked his knuckles and beckoned for Lars to start. The young mage who was now disguised as an Adept-level Magic Swordsman blinked twice, then asked, "With or without my sword?"

The beastman smiled mockingly and answered, "It won't make a difference. Come, I'll suppress my strength down to the peak of Bronze-rank, or equivalent to the Adept-level. And if you can beat me, you'll get your Silver-rank badge, haha!" The laugh demonstrated the quarter bearman's thoughts about the teenager's chances - it was impossible!

And those words triggered a fresh round of harsh laughter and insults.

"Ehehhehe! Try your best not to piss in your pants, hero boy! If you do, don't worry! I'll buy them from you - here, I have a skirt you can wear instead!"

"Ooh ooh, save me hero boy, I'm stuck in a tree...!"

"My hero! My hero! I'm a damsel in distress needing your kiss!" The disgusting mockers made smooching sounds as they made fun of him.

Lars once more ignored the words of the fools around him; then his eyes widened at the cocky words from the Master-level instructor. They did make sense though, the beastman did have the right to be confident against a mere Adept-level applicant who was trying out for a Silver-rank. His derisive expression and speech were also suited, as it was over-reaching oneself for an Adept-level to try for a rank above his own capabilities...

And he *was* nearly 2.8 metres tall, hulking more than triple the testee's mass...

At least it would have made sense if the applicant were not Lars.

Shrugging, the young man unhooked his weapon from his belt, then hefted his sword without removing it from its scabbard. This time it was the guild staff's turn to raise his brows - but he just huffed in disappointment.

Then he shot forward at a blinding speed, drawing roars of admiration and cheers from the crowd.

Beryl smiled; he guessed he would just need to knock some sense into the arrogant boy's head.

Or so he thought he would.

As he dashed forward, he expected the kid who looked fresh out of training before him to panic and fail to respond to his sudden movement. Instead, Lars stretched out his sword directly in front of him, creating a natural barrier that the taller and larger beastman had to cross. Inexplicably, despite using strength far above the boy's mid-Adept-level abilities, Beryl felt slightly threatened!

'Hmmph! Rubbish! What could a piece of overly proud trash do against me?! Just another arrogant young master who doesn't know how big the world is and how fragile he is! It doesn't matter how rich or talented you think you are, in front of hard work and discipline, you are nothing! So what if you're some big family's descendant? I'll show you not to look down on us working class people, the true ones who make this nation great!'

"I'm sorry kid!" As he drew close, he shouted wildly at Lars.

"You can only blame yourself for being too weak, a worthless little pansy flower in the soft nobles' sheltered gardens!" Scoffing at himself for feeling danger from the frail boy before him, he dismissed the sense of threat as just over-active imagination. Then Beryl pivoted and stepped around the boy's guard, launching a savage left hook to knock him out and flying in a single blow!

He watched carefully, waiting to see how the boy would react - but was disappointed. The testee did not even bat an eyelid or budge an inch, much less dodge or counter-attack!

Sighing, he thought to himself in that split-second, 'Hah! I thought too highly of you! You can't even see my move, much less react!'

But in the next moment, quicker than Beryl could even see, Lars sheathed blade painted a magnificent arc through the air and brushed the bearman in the chin.

And before he knew it, he was lying flat on the ground, staring up at the ceiling from where he was floored in a single unfathomable move.

Silence blanketed the training grounds. The only remaining noises were the creaking sounds of the training dummies as they bobbed and swayed; obviously, the joints needed some oil. Then there was an "Oof!" sound and a thump as one of the trainees was hit in the face by the still-moving equipment in front of him, ending up knocked to the ground unconscious.

Every single person present was dumbstruck, absolutely clueless as to what had just happened.

How could a fresh and green unranked, unbadged testee knock down the hell-bear Beryl? That was impossible, everyone knew that fact! It was even more impossible for a middling Adept-level applicant to take down the veteran instructor known for his penchant of making the tests impossibly hard! And from his movements earlier, he hadn't even been holding back in terms of skills, movements or abilities; merely suppressing his strength and speed down to the peak of Adept-level!

But the fact stared them in the face and showed them that there was always a mountain above the mountains, a sky above the skies.

The young boy stood, casually victorious in a relaxed position, sword back at his belt; while the Master-level instructor was lying flat on the floor, defeated.

And the quarter bearman was the most confused of them all.

'W-what... What???' Beryl tried to get up groggily and managed to stand up after stumbling and falling several times. Finally, he steadied himself with his hands on his knees, shooting out killing intent as he tried to analyse the move that had knocked him down instantly. Cold sweat broke out all over his body, trembling slightly as he released the seals on his power, quickly rising up to the peak of the Master-level.

"B-Beryl, what are you--"

But the instructor just ignored the voice of the elf administrator calling out to him and raised his beast aura, enveloping himself in blood energy and mana to harden his skin and strengthen his muscles, growing a full size as his body bulged with power.

The ground around them began to tremor slightly as a light brown glow suffused their surroundings, originating from the Master-level practitioner's earth elemental mana.

As he was raising his capabilities to the max to face this inscrutable opponent, he was just about to blast forward with the incredible mass and hardness of his earth-type attacks when he heard a piercing voice strike through his ears, shaking his consciousness and disrupting his mana circulation.

"BERYL!!! STOP THIS INSTANT! You've already lost! What are you doing? Don't you know the rules?!" Natiro shouted out powerfully, dispelling the bearman's collected battle aura completely.

Like a cold bucket of water splashed over his head, Beryl lost his focus, dazzled and in a daze, then lost all his fighting intent as he slumped to the floor on his knees, defeated.

He had lost to a kid less than half his age even while using power greater than his middle Adept level cultivation. He didn't even know where to hide his shameful face, covering his head with his large lightly-furred hands.

"Erm... Mr Beryl...? Can I have my badge now? I've passed the test right...? Since I, like, already beat you..."

Beryl's face turned pallid, shaking and furiously embarrassed. He began to turn a variety of colours, white and red mixed, then even slightly green with rage. But left without a choice before his Grandmaster-level superior, and needing to preserve his dignity as an employee of the guild, he angrily got up and trudged over to complete the boy's application forms.

But when he saw the stunned audience still staring at him, he roared in anger, "AND WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME? WANNA HAVE A GO IN THE RING, HUH???" His aggressive roar scattered the now frantic crowd who were all suddenly incredibly busy with something or the other.

All of their faces burned in shame; none of them dared to even look at the boy who had just smacked all their faces with a resounding slap! they felt like they had swallowed a fly or fallen into the outhouse hole after using it, so embarrassed were they! They quickly hid their faces, turning away or fleeing the area - they would even rather eat shit than let him recognise them as the mockers who were forced to swallow their haughty claims and make fools of themselves.

But among them, there were yet others who seethed with indignance at the humiliation and swore to get revenge on the overweeningly proud boy; preparing plots and schemes to destroy him!

Beryl was one of them.

'Damn you, arrogant little p*ssy! F***ing big-headed young master! I'll get you yet, just you wait!' The bearman cursed as he was forced out of his reverie, forced to eat humble pie and shame himself further as he unwillingly and grudging awarded Lars his well-deserved Silver-rank badge.

And as the boy left, satisfied that he had gotten his badge and also satisfied that he had truly gleaned some amazing sword skills from the inheritance of Draken Blacksword, the quarter beastman plotted evil in his unrepentant, black, black heart.

He swore to himself to make the boy's life a living hell as he planned all sorts of schemes that would definitely destroy the boys' life and bring him grovelling back begging for mercy.

Then imagined how he would enjoy it when he would then arrogantly stomp on the arrogant little prick's head and smash him into the ground, never to rise again.

Beryl smiled in satisfaction. Yes, he would enjoy that very much.

Or so he thought he would.