Another voice rose from the crowd immediately afterward.
"Or is there something you're trying to hide?"
The guild hall remained tense.
Weapons stayed raised.
Mana still lingered heavily in the air.
No one truly relaxed, even after the crushing pressure from earlier had faded.
The cultist's eyes narrowed slightly beneath her hood.
*My lord doesn't possess any appearance-altering artifacts…*
*If that hood comes off—*
Realization settled heavily into her mind.
*He'll be recognized immediately.*
Not merely recognized.
Exposed.
The Holy Empire was already hunting the Demon King's Son.
And after Grayhaven—
news of his existence had spread even further.
If even one person identified him here, Blackwater could descend into chaos within minutes.
Aldric clicked his tongue loudly.
"I thought Blackwater was supposed to be the kind of place where people minded their own damn business."
His gaze swept slowly across the guild hall.
"So what's with the interrogation?"
One mercenary frowned immediately.
"You call *that* normal?"
He pointed toward the blood splattered across the floor.
"And whatever the hell that mana was?"
Another hunter tightened his grip around his weapon.
"You expect us to ignore it after half the guild nearly suffocated?"
Aldric spread one hand lazily.
"Honestly? Yeah."
The blue-haired woman still didn't lower her saber.
"This city tolerates dangerous people."
A brief pause followed.
"Not unstable monsters."
The atmosphere turned colder instantly.
Not because of mana this time—
but because of the words themselves.
Aldric's grin faded slightly.
"…Careful."
Several adventurers stiffened immediately.
The cultist quietly stepped closer toward Draven.
Subtle.
Protective.
Nia stood silently beside him, still clutching the remains of her pastry with both hands.
Beneath the cloak, the black cat's glowing purple eyes remained fixed on the crowd.
Watching.
Calculating.
An older hunter near the back finally spoke.
"If he isn't hiding anything…"
His sharp gaze locked onto the hood.
"…then remove it."
Silence followed.
Draven remained motionless.
Blood still stained the floor beneath him.
Then slowly—
his crimson eyes lifted beneath the darkness of the hood.
The surrounding guild instinctively stiffened again.
Aldric noticed immediately.
"…Yeah."
He sighed softly.
"That's probably not happening."
Several weapons rose higher at once.
The blue-haired woman took a slow step forward.
"Then we have a problem."
Aldric rolled one shoulder lazily before fully drawing the Dawn Sword once more.
Faint red light shimmered across the blade.
"…No."
A brief pause.
"*You* have a problem."
The pressure inside the guild hall shifted instantly.
Several adventurers moved on instinct.
Tables scraped backward across the floor.
Mana surged once more.
Even the cultist's mana began to rise subtly.
And despite her calm expression—
even she looked tense now.
Not because of the guild.
But because if fighting started here—
there was a very real chance the situation would spiral completely out of control again.
One wrong move—
and Blackwater itself might end up bleeding for it.
But then—
Draven spoke.
"…Alright."
Silence.
Aldric turned toward him immediately.
"…What?"
Even the cultist's eyes widened slightly.
Before anyone could react—
Draven calmly raised one hand toward the hood.
Then slowly pulled it back.
The dark fabric slid away.
And the entire guild hall froze.
Green hair fell loosely around a young face.
Sharp green eyes.
Two dark cat-like ears resting atop his head.
No crimson eyes.
No demonic features.
No monstrous appearance.
Just—
a beastkin child.
Young.
Quiet.
Almost ordinary.
Silence swallowed the hall whole.
Several adventurers blinked in confusion.
The blue-haired woman's expression shifted immediately from tension to visible uncertainty.
"…A child…?"
The cultist stared at Draven in silence.
For half a second, even her thoughts stopped.
*…His appearance changed?*
There had been no spell activation.
No illusion pulse.
No transformation circle.
Nothing.
Yet his face—
his entire appearance—
had changed completely.
Even the blood trailing from beneath his mouth seemed far less terrifying now when attached to what appeared to be nothing more than an exhausted beastkin child.
Nia quietly looked up at him as well.
The black cat beneath the cloak narrowed its glowing purple eyes slightly.
Watching.
Observing.
Aldric recovered first.
Immediately.
He stepped forward and spread one arm dramatically toward Draven.
"There."
A pause.
"Happy now?"
He glared aggressively around the guild hall.
"Or do you people want him to take the damn coat off too?"
No one answered immediately.
Mostly because the situation had suddenly become deeply awkward.
Several adventurers slowly lowered their weapons.
One mage looked visibly embarrassed.
A mercenary near the back frowned in confusion.
"…Then what the hell was that mana earlier?"
Aldric answered without hesitation.
"Sickness."
The man stared at him blankly.
Aldric pointed triumphantly.
"I told you."
The blue-haired woman still looked cautious—
but far less hostile than before.
Her saber lowered slightly.
"…That pressure didn't feel normal."
Aldric shrugged.
"Yeah, well neither is this kid."
Honestly, it was difficult to argue against that.
The older hunter near the back narrowed his eyes carefully toward Draven.
"…Kid."
A short pause followed.
"Are you really alright?"
Draven calmly wiped the remaining blood from beneath his mouth with his sleeve.
"…No."
Silence.
Then Aldric pointed at him proudly.
"See? Honesty."
The cultist slowly rubbed her forehead.
Little by little, the tension inside the guild hall finally began to ease.
Mana gradually dispersed.
Conversations cautiously resumed in quieter voices.
Though people still watched the group carefully now.
Not with immediate hostility anymore—
but with lingering uncertainty.
Because regardless of appearances—
everyone in that hall still remembered the killing intent that had nearly crushed the room moments earlier.
And ordinary beastkin children did not bleed mana like dying disasters.