Regretful Former Guild Members and the New Guild Master?

"As of today, this guild changes completely."

The new guild master had summoned every member into a conference room the size of an auditorium and made the bold declaration.

She was a confident A-rank hunter. Her father was an S-rank hunter—no less than the chairman of a major conglomerate and the master of a large-scale guild. She was his fourth daughter. With credentials like that, no one questioned her ability.

A cold tension hung over the room. It was hard to believe that barely a day had passed since the previous guild master had left.

"First. Effective today, we will carry out a personnel overhaul."

She continued in a level voice. At the same moment, the screen lit up. Dozens of names appeared.

"Operations Team. Support Team. Management Team. Supply Team. Auxiliary staff. Anyone whose evaluation falls below the standard will have their contract terminated as of today."

The sudden sentence set the room murmuring.

"Quiet! How dare any of you act high and mighty when you never had the skill to belong in this guild in the first place!"

One sharp shout was enough to silence the unrest.

"That is more than half the roster. Proof of just how incompetent you all look to me. Ah—and I will not entertain objections. For the record, today is the last day."

Her merciless "mercy" froze the room solid again. Everyone was left speechless under her pressure and sheer self-assurance. Or rather, they simply could not believe this was real.

"Th-this much? If too many people leave, operations will—"

One executive carefully opened his mouth.

"Operations will be fine. I will bring in additional personnel."

She cut him off at once, as if she had no interest in hearing more.

"People without skill or ability cannot remain in our guild. Paying them a salary is pure waste. Next! We will reform every welfare benefit this guild has been providing."

She raised her voice, making it clear that no further discussion would be permitted. And she was far from finished. Even those who had escaped dismissal now felt the hammer fall, accompanied by her piercing gaze.

"Medical support: comprehensive reduction. Hazard pay: differentiated by rank. Family support funds and the emergency protection system: abolished. Long-service awards and psychological counseling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠programs: scaled back. Condolence and celebration support: reduced."

Faces hardened throughout the conference room. She saw it and did not care. She was the master of this guild. Anyone who disliked it was free to leave. Yet the reality was that far worse guilds existed. In corporate terms, this place was still a major firm—a renowned name that everyone recognized the moment they heard it.

"Of course, none of this applies to hunters who produce results. They will receive even better treatment than before. And what of those who fail to produce results going forward?"

She paused for a beat.

"Three strikes. Out. Three warnings and you are expelled immediately."

"Until now everyone has enjoyed the benefits, so remember this well. Our guild is not a welfare facility."

"Nor is it a charity that feeds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the unskilled. We are an organization that delivers results."

She pressed the guild members relentlessly, without a single breath of pause. She was absolute. She was cold. And no one could refute her monologue. She was an A-rank hunter, an elite in her own right, and she possessed formidable backing besides.

"Finally. This time it is the executives."

"Operations Team 1 Leader: replaced. Support Division Head: replaced. Supply Manager: replaced. Education Officer: replaced."

The room stirred again. Executives who actually entered combat, and those who held critical posts, had all been struck by the same thunderbolt of replacement. Replacement meant stepping down for re-evaluation and reassignment—or dismissal if they failed.

"I will fill these seats with hunters I personally brought in and with elites of proven field experience. Anyone subject to replacement will either submit to re-examination or hand in their resignation by the end of today."

It was a drastic, disastrous overhaul that tore up the guild's pillars and roots by the handful. And with that, her first inauguration ceremony ended.

She left the room at once, as if she had nothing further to do there. Those who remained could not speak for a long while. Only after the hunters escorting her had also gone did the murmuring begin.

"...Never saw this coming."

Someone let out a long sigh.

"This is too much. Past too much—it's a full-blown disaster!"

"I never thought she'd cut half the people..."

"Scrapping the welfare and support funds is crossing a line, isn't it?"

Quiet voices continued to rise. Everyone was either reeling or half-vacant. From this day on it would be hard to stay in the guild or receive anything like the same treatment. But could they simply walk into another guild of similar standing and expect the same benefits?

Absolutely not. Even people who did reasonably well in society could not stroll into a guild of this caliber. That was impossible too.

Outwardly and inwardly, they all arrived at the same conclusion.

"Now that I think about it... the previous master really did a lot for us."

Someone muttered the words. Instantly every mouth closed. Only now did they understand.

They had taken everything for granted simply because they had always enjoyed it. Treatment fees when they were injured. Regular support payments to their families.

Priority rescue and protection the moment a family member was in danger. Special allowances after dangerous missions. Holiday gifts. Celebration money when a child was born.

They had assumed all of it was simply the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠natural order of things. This had been a major corporate guild, after all, and they had carried the pride of being elites of a sort. Of course the benefits came with the territory.

But that was not true.

"Come to think of it, these benefits started appearing one by one after the previous master arrived. We used to grumble that he was just throwing money around."

One hunter scratched his head at the remark.

"Medical bills too. There used to be a cap. He removed it."

"Equipment—newcomers used to get second-hand gear. He switched everything to brand-new items."

"That was the previous master as well... right?"

"He raised salaries little by little and kept expanding support and benefits."

"He handled the work properly, and for anything important he gathered everyone first and held a real meeting, didn't he?"

"Now it's just top-down notices..."

No one could deny a word of it. The same scenes rose in every mind: the young guild master who stayed late looking over documents instead of going home; the man who visited an injured hunter's hospital room and quietly left a bag of fruit; the way he declared an emergency and went out himself the moment he heard a family's safety was at stake; the man who fretted over every detail so the hunters raiding a dungeon would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

None of those things could have existed unless someone cared, unless someone forced the budget through, unless someone personally took responsibility.

But it was already too late. When the previous guild master left, no one had raised a single objection—because the prevailing opinion was that they needed a more qualified, more capable master. The result was an even colder reality waiting for them. Late regret came free of charge.

Having overhauled the guild on a massive scale, she now needed results that looked impressive. Results, not words—that was the only way to secure absolute trust.

The target she chose was the still-unconquered Dungeon of Pain's Sacrifice.

The entrance was crowded as usual with hunters, reporters, and gawkers. Guilds that had tried and returned. Hunters who turned away without even attempting it. People waiting in case new information leaked out. The area was always noisy.

Then several black vans rolled up in a line and stopped. Doors opened and hunters wearing unmistakably high-end gear stepped out. At their center—

"Whoa. A major guild is finally making a move!"

"That's the A-rank hunter who just took the master's seat, right?"

"Oh! Everyone—S-rank hunter and major-conglomerate chairman's fourth daughter has arrived!"

The moment people recognized her, the atmosphere flipped into chaos, yet they still began clearing a path one by one. As if shoved by an invisible force, a wide corridor opened in seconds.

She regarded the scene as only natural. A faint smile touched her lips. Yes—this was her place. The strong whom countless people voluntarily acknowledged and stepped aside for. She and the elite hunters following her walked straight up to the dungeon entrance.

After a calm look around, she spoke.

"Today!"

That single word hushed the entire area.

"The raid party I lead will conquer the Dungeon of Pain's Sacrifice."

It was a short declaration. Yet that one sentence set the crowd buzzing again.

"They're really going in? Even other major guilds gave up!"

"Finally! I can write the article about this dungeon being cleared!"

"Waaaaaah! We believe in you!"

Countless eyes and cheers locked onto her. She savored the feeling. She would begin by conquering an unconquered dungeon and grow her power from there. Even as the fourth daughter she was still the chairman's blood. If she grew and displayed superior management, the next chairman's seat might well fall to her.

However—several hours later.

"Ugh... ughhh...!"

She staggered out of the dungeon. Her bloodless face and body soaked in cold sweat announced the failure of the raid more clearly than any words. Hunters filed out behind her one after another—people once called elites, or who at least carried that pride. Their expressions were just as dark.

Onlookers rushed over at the sight. She only stared blankly into empty air. The sounds still seemed to ring in her ears: screams that had torn at her eardrums, endless weeping, and people stretching their hands toward her.

Inside the dungeon she had known the truth. It was all illusion. All of it false. Yet even as illusion, she had been forced to endure pain indistinguishable from reality so the rest of the party could advance.

Her body had refused to move. Continuous hallucination attacks left her head empty; she could barely draw breath. She tried to hold on and could not. The mental assault was far stronger than she had imagined, and she collapsed under it.

At her limit she screamed and clamped her hands over her ears. She slammed her own head against the ground trying to break free of the visions. But once you became the sacrifice you had to endure until the fixed minimum time—or else lose your mind and fall.

In the end she crumpled into a wreck. At the same moment the raid party she led met failure. Honestly, it was embarrassing to call it a raid at all. They had barely pushed past the entrance; the dungeon’s heart remained untouched.

At that awkward result the watching eyes changed. Moments earlier they had been filled with expectation and respect. Now they were different—disappointment, pity, and mockery mixed together and spread in whispers.

"...They failed."

"Well... she's no different either."

"She talked so big just a little while ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ago."

"As expected, the Dungeon of Pain's Sacrifice is something else. No one can clear it."

Her mind was a mess, yet those low voices rang even clearer. She kept her head down and clenched her teeth. The first official action after reforming the guild—her first raid, her first command—had ended in total failure. Her confident declaration had become a laughingstock on everyone's lips in less than two hours.

If she had known, she would have chosen a different dungeon. Or at least calculated more carefully before walking in. She had overestimated her backing, her own ability, and the skill of the hunters who followed her. She had underestimated the dungeon's peculiar cruelty far too much.

Along with her regret—