The moment they stepped back into the main guild hall—
noise crashed into them like a tidal wave.
Voices overlapped endlessly beneath the towering ceiling.
Laughter.
Arguments.
The sharp scrape of metal against metal.
Floating contract boards flickered overhead while adventurers moved constantly between crowded tables, guild counters, and quest stations beneath massive mana lamps suspended high above the hall.
The heavy scent of alcohol, steel, smoke, sweat, and monster blood lingered thickly in the air.
Aldric walked lazily beside the others, casually tossing the pouch of physical gold once in his hand before stuffing it deeper into his coat.
"…So."
He glanced around the bustling hall.
"Where are we heading next, or are we finally done with everything?"
The cultist folded her arms lightly as she walked beside him.
"That depends."
Her eyes shifted toward Draven beneath the dark cloak.
"Is there anything my lord wishes to do?"
Aldric answered before Draven even had the chance.
"Hopefully eat again."
The cultist looked genuinely exhausted already.
"You ate less than an hour ago."
"That sounds like the past."
Nearby—
a group of adventurers sat gathered around one of the larger guild tables beneath a floating contract display.
Half-drunk.
Loud enough for nearly everyone nearby to hear them.
"…I'm telling you, the entire Kingdom of Eryndor is going insane right now."
Another man snorted into his drink.
"Because of the Grayhaven incident?"
"Yeah."
A woman leaned back in her chair while taking another sip.
"They said the empire's princess and her Holy Knights used the special port to head directly for Grayhaven the moment they arrived here."
Another adventurer lowered his voice slightly.
"…After they suddenly discovered Duke Alveric Thorne was connected to the Demon King's Son."
A second later—
Draven stopped walking.
Completely.
Aldric took two more steps before noticing.
"…Hm?"
The conversation nearby continued.
"I heard they were supposed to kill the Demon King's Son."
"Nah."
Another man shook his head immediately.
"That's not what happened."
He leaned forward slightly.
"When the Holy Knights reached Grayhaven, they uncovered some massive underground trafficking operation beneath the city itself."
"Captured people."
"Death games."
"Illegal auctions."
Several nearby adventurers grimaced in disgust.
"…Sick bastards."
The man continued.
"They *did* capture the Demon King's Son apparently."
A pause.
"But before the Holy Knights arrived, he'd already destroyed the entire operation and escaped."
"They found what was left afterward."
"Then the Holy Knights exposed everything publicly."
"The Duke got executed."
"Several western nobles too."
"They tried resisting the royal army and the Holy Knights."
He exhaled sharply.
"Didn't end well for them."
Another man whistled softly.
"I even heard the king personally joined the purge."
"Yeah."
The first adventurer nodded slowly.
"And now the princess and the Holy Knights are supposedly returning through the special port after finishing everything in Grayhaven."
Silence.
Draven stood motionless beneath the dark cloak.
Listening.
Aldric's expression slowly shifted as realization struck him.
"…Oh."
A pause.
"…Crap."
Thin strands of dark crimson mana silently leaked from beneath Draven's cloak.
At first—
barely noticeable.
Then everyone nearby felt it instantly.
Heads snapped toward him throughout the guild hall.
Conversations died mid-sentence.
The pressure spreading outward didn't feel like ordinary mana.
It felt violent.
Cold.
A killing intent so dense it physically choked the air itself.
The floating contract boards overhead flickered violently.
Several glasses cracked across nearby tables.
A mage near the far wall suddenly stumbled backward with wide eyes.
"…W-What the hell—?"
The mana leaking from Draven intensified.
Thin crimson strands spread outward through the air like crawling veins.
Inside the hood—
hidden from most—
blood slowly began pouring from his eyes.
Then his nose.
Then his mouth.
Dark red droplets slid silently beneath the shadow of the cloak.
The mana within him was becoming unstable.
The twisted, folded mass of power hidden deep inside his body trembled violently.
The rage he had buried—
the hatred he had forced down beneath layers of restraint and fractured memories—
suddenly resurfaced all at once.
Clearer than ever.
Sharper.
The temperature inside the guild hall dropped noticeably.
Several adventurers instinctively reached for their weapons.
Not drawing them.
Yet.
But ready.
A beastman near the bar slowly backed away.
One hunter whispered under his breath—
"…Monster…"
Aldric stared directly at Draven now.
For once—
completely serious.
"…Hey."
No response.
The crimson mana exploded outward harder.
Several chairs overturned from the pressure alone.
The black cat beneath the hood stared upward silently with narrowed purple eyes while blood continued dripping steadily onto the polished guild floor.
The cultist's eyes widened slightly.
"…My lord—"
Aldric immediately stepped forward.
"You should really calm down."
A pause.
"…Not here."
But Draven didn't seem to hear him.
The rage swallowing him ran too deep now.
The guild hall had gone nearly silent.
Only the low hum of unstable mana remained.
Then—
multiple weapons shifted free at once throughout the hall.
Steel scraped sharply through the silence.
Several adventurers slowly drew their blades.
A mage raised trembling hands as mana gathered around his fingers.
One mercenary backed away while muttering—
"…What the hell is that thing…?"
The killing intent pouring from Draven thickened again.
Heavy enough now that weaker adventurers physically struggled to breathe.
The entire guild felt like it was holding its breath.
Weapons lifted across the hall instantly.
Steel rang sharply as blades fully cleared their sheaths one after another.
Several mercenaries rose from their tables.
Mana formations flickered alive along the guild walls.
A spear leveled directly toward Draven.
"Don't move!"
The suffocating pressure filling the hall only intensified.
Dark crimson mana twisted through the air like bleeding veins while blood dripped steadily from beneath Draven's hood onto the polished stone floor.
A blue-haired woman stepped forward near the center of the hall.
Tall.
Light armor reinforced with mana-thread plating wrapped around her frame.
One hand rested on the hilt of a curved saber already glowing faintly with blue mana.
"What the hell do you think you're trying to do?"
Her voice sliced cleanly through the silence.
Aldric immediately stepped slightly in front of Draven.
His dawn sword slid free in a flash of steel.
Faint crimson light shimmered across the blade.
"You should all back down."
His usual grin was gone.
"Everything is under control."
"Like hell it is!"
One adventurer pointed directly toward the leaking crimson mana.
"What kind of mana is that supposed to be?!"
Aldric raised the sword slightly.
"Get lost."
That only made the guild even more tense.
Several more weapons lifted instantly.
Mana circles flickered brightly along the walls.
Nia stood frozen beside Draven, staring quietly beneath the hood.
The cultist's eyes narrowed sharply.
*What is this…?*
*Why is my lord reacting like this?*
The pressure pouring from Draven didn't feel normal.
Didn't feel human.
It felt unstable.
Violent.
Like something buried deep inside him was trying to tear its way loose.
Aldric moved closer carefully.
Completely serious now.
"Draven."
No response.
The mana flared harder.
Several nearby adventurers staggered backward.
One of the heavy wooden tables cracked straight down the middle.
Blood continued dripping beneath the hood.
Aldric's eyes narrowed.
Then he spoke again.
Sharper this time.
"Get your damn head straight."
A pause.
"…Lucifer."
Silence.
"…Elenya."
The instant both names entered the air—
Draven's crimson eyes flickered violently beneath the hood.
The leaking mana stuttered.
Then flickered again.
Focus returned.
Barely.
But enough.
Draven suddenly moved.
Not outward—
inward.
The crimson mana surrounding him folded violently back toward his body.
Compressed.
Forced inward again and again through endless spiraling layers.
The unstable pressure collapsed rapidly.
The crimson strands vanished from the air.
The killing intent disappeared almost instantly afterward.
Silence crashed through the guild hall.
Then—
Draven coughed violently.
Blood splattered across the floor beneath him.
His body swayed slightly—
but he remained standing.
The black cat stayed motionless beneath the hood, its purple eyes narrowed silently.
Aldric immediately glanced toward the surrounding adventurers again.
Then spread one hand casually.
"…See?"
A pause.
"Everything's under control."
Blood still dripped steadily onto the floor beside Draven.
Aldric pointed lazily toward him.
"…It's just a…"
He paused.
Thinking.
"…Sickness."
Silence.
Half the guild stared at him like he'd completely lost his mind.
One mercenary frowned immediately.
"I'm not buying that."
Another slowly lowered his weapon slightly.
"I've never heard of a sickness that leaks killing intent."
Aldric shrugged carelessly.
"Yeah, maybe."
Then immediately added—
"But who cares?"
A pause.
"Go read a damn book."
Several people stared at him in disbelief.
Aldric sheathed his sword halfway.
"We'll be leaving now."
He waved one hand dismissively.
"So everybody relax."
Silence lingered across the guild hall.
Weapons remained raised.
Nobody looked relaxed.
Then—
a voice came from deeper within the crowd.
Cold.
Careful.
"…If it's just a sickness."
A pause.
"Then why doesn't he remove the hood?"
The hall fell silent again.
Several eyes immediately shifted back toward Draven.
Toward the dark cloak.
Toward the blood dripping beneath it.
The blue-haired woman narrowed her eyes slowly.
"…Yeah."
Her hand tightened slightly around the hilt of her saber.
"Take the hood off."