The blackened burns left behind by Aurelia's holy flames had already vanished.
Fresh flesh covered the wounds completely.
Not even a scar remained.
Only the black contact mark was still visible upon his skin.
Deep within him, the endless folding spiral continued its relentless rotation.
Turning.
Folding without pause.
Yet before Draven could take another step—
a surge of killing intent exploded from his left.
**CLANG!!**
His shortsword snapped upward instantly.
Steel shrieked.
A massive blade crashed against it with enough force to shatter stone.
The impact sent a violent shockwave rippling outward.
Dust and debris erupted in every direction.
Draven's crimson eyes shifted calmly toward the attacker.
A towering demi-human stood before him.
Broad shoulders.
A mountain of muscle.
Brown bear ears protruded from his head.
Two enormous blades rested in his hands.
The bear demi-human grinned savagely, revealing rows of sharp teeth.
"Found you."
The second blade swung immediately.
**WHOOOOSH!!**
The strike ripped through the air with terrifying force.
Draven stepped sideways.
The blade missed him by mere centimeters.
Then—
**TWANG!!**
An arrow screamed toward the back of his head.
Draven twisted slightly.
The projectile shot past his cheek.
A thin cut appeared on his skin before healing almost instantly.
A second later—
another presence emerged.
Fast.
Silent.
Deadly.
An armored warrior burst from Draven's blind spot.
A massive battle axe descended.
A perfect killing strike.
**BOOOOOM!!**
The axe slammed downward.
Only—
it never reached him.
The attacker froze.
His eyes widened.
His expression turned blank with disbelief.
Because Draven's left hand had snapped upward.
And caught the axe blade itself.
Sparks exploded everywhere.
**SCREEEEEECH!!**
Steel ground violently against the reinforced glove.
The weapon stopped completely.
As though it had struck an immovable mountain.
The warrior's face went pale.
"...What?"
Draven didn't answer.
His arm moved.
Fast.
Far too fast.
**SHHHK!!**
His shortsword pierced straight through the attacker's helmet.
The blade entered through one eye.
Passed through the skull.
Exited the back of his head.
The man's body went limp instantly.
Silence.
Draven withdrew the sword.
Blood followed.
The corpse collapsed heavily onto the shattered platform.
**THUD.**
A pool of crimson quickly spread beneath the body.
Draven finally lifted his gaze.
And saw them.
More figures.
Dozens.
No.
Hundreds.
Hidden presences revealed themselves throughout the battlefield.
Rooftops.
Collapsed towers.
Steel walkways.
Observation platforms.
Smoke-covered structures.
Ruined buildings.
Broken battlements.
Every shadow suddenly seemed occupied.
Assassins.
Mercenaries.
Adventurers.
Bounty hunters.
Guild enforcers.
Rogues.
Sell-swords.
Some wore masks.
Others no longer bothered hiding their faces.
All eyes were fixed upon him.
Upon the white hair.
The crimson eyes.
The dark skin.
The unmistakable face plastered across countless wanted posters.
Nobody was hiding anymore.
Because the uncertainty was gone.
There were no more rumors.
No more speculation.
No more doubts.
The truth stood before them.
The Demon King's son.
And the bounty attached to that title.
One hundred thousand gold.
Enough wealth to change lives.
Enough wealth to buy noble titles.
Enough wealth to build kingdoms.
Enough wealth to drive men completely insane.
The bear demi-human slowly stepped back.
Others moved forward.
Weapons emerged one after another.
Swords.
Spears.
Axes.
Bows.
Crossbows.
Mana rifles.
Daggers.
The atmosphere shifted.
Greed mixed with fear.
Fear mixed with ambition.
Ambition mixed with desperation.
A masked assassin laughed softly.
"So it really is him."
Another hunter grinned.
"Looks like we just became rich."
A veteran mercenary tightened his grip around his spear.
"If we survive."
Nobody laughed.
Because beneath the burning sky—
surrounded by imperial soldiers, holy knights, bounty hunters, mercenaries, assassins, and adventurers—
Draven simply stood there.
Expressionless.
His sword dripped blood onto the shattered steel beneath his feet.
Crimson eyes swept slowly across the growing crowd.
One glance.
That was all.
And suddenly—
many of the newcomers felt their hearts skip a beat.
Felt an unnatural chill crawl down their spines.
Felt every instinct within them scream for retreat.
Because they finally understood something the imperial soldiers had learned much earlier.
The bounty was real.
The reward was real.
The opportunity was real.
But so was the monster standing before them.
For several long seconds—
nobody moved.
The battlefield had become strangely crowded.
Imperial soldiers.
Holy knights.
Priests.
Bounty hunters.
Mercenaries.
Assassins.
Guild enforcers.
Every group that had been lurking in the shadows had finally revealed itself.
Yet despite their overwhelming numbers—
the silence remained.
Because standing at the center of it all—
was Draven.
His sword still dripped blood.
The corpse at his feet had not even finished settling.
Smoke drifted through the ruined district.
Burning wreckage continued raining from the shattered flagship above.
Then—
someone moved.
A bounty hunter.
Young.
Greedy.
Foolish.
He stepped forward with a sword in hand.
Trying to appear brave.
Trying to ignore the cold sweat running down his neck.
"He's only one person."
His voice sounded far less confident than he intended.
Nobody answered.
The hunter swallowed.
Then raised his sword.
"The bounty is ours if we kill him!"
Silence.
Then another hunter stepped forward.
Then another.
Then another.
Greed was contagious.
Fear was not.
Not yet.
Soon—
dozens stood ready.
Weapons raised.
Mana gathering.
Killing intent spreading.
The bear demi-human grinned.
"See?"
He rolled his shoulders.
"Not so scary now."
Far away—
the masked Crossfall woman watched from atop a ruined structure.
Then laughed softly.
"...Idiots."
Syrian glanced at her.
"You think they'll lose?"
The masked woman didn't hesitate.
"Lose?"
She let out a short laugh.
"Weren't you watching?"
Her gaze remained fixed upon Draven.
"He dominated the Warrior Saintess."
"A five-star Holy Knight."
"Even when vampires are supposed to be weakened by holy mana."
Her eyes narrowed.
"They already lost."
Below—
the first hunter charged.
Wind mana exploded beneath his feet.
He crossed twenty meters in an instant.
His sword descended toward Draven's head.
Others followed immediately.
The final hesitation shattered.
Dozens surged forward simultaneously.
Mana erupted everywhere.
Fire.
Wind.
Lightning.
Steel.
The battlefield exploded into motion.
And Draven—
still hadn't moved.
The first hunter arrived.
His sword descended.
Then—
Draven's eyes shifted.
A single step.
One movement.
**SHHHK.**
The hunter froze.
His body continued forward.
His head did not.
Blood sprayed across the battlefield.
The corpse collapsed.
Dead.
Instantly.
The second attacker arrived.
A spear thrust toward Draven's heart.
**CLANG!!**
The spear snapped in half.
The wielder stared.
Confused.
Disbelieving.
Then Draven's sword passed through his throat.
The man collapsed.
A third attacker.
A fourth.
A fifth.
A sixth.
Draven moved.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Not explosive.
Every step was simple.
Every swing was efficient.
Every strike was lethal.
Blood sprayed across the battlefield.
Bodies began falling.
One after another.
Like wheat beneath a farmer's scythe.
A fire mage completed his spell.
A massive fireball roared toward Draven.
Draven raised his free hand.
The fireball struck.
**BOOOOOOM!!**
Flames engulfed him completely.
Several watching hunters grinned.
Then their smiles vanished.
Draven walked out of the inferno untouched.
Not burned.
Not injured.
Not even slowed.
The mage's face turned deathly white.
"...No..."
Draven's sword flashed.
The mage died.
Panic began spreading.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
The bounty hunters were finally beginning to understand the problem.
This wasn't a wounded target.
This wasn't prey.
This wasn't some desperate fugitive cornered by fate.
This was the same monster that had destroyed a flagship.
The same monster that had carved a path through an entire military district.
The same monster who had battled a Warrior Saintess and lived.
And now—
they were feeding themselves to him.
Nearby—
Aurelia watched silently.
Golden lightning crackled around her armor.
Lucan's battle against Aldric continued in the distance.
Massive shockwaves shook the battlefield.
Fire and crimson mana tore through the heavens.
Yet more and more eyes were turning toward Draven.
Because something terrifying was becoming impossible to ignore.
The more enemies attacked him—
the calmer he became.
The more blood spilled—
the colder his expression grew.
The battlefield was transforming into a slaughterhouse.
And standing amidst the steadily growing mountain of corpses—
Draven finally stopped.
Blood dripped from his blade.
Bodies surrounded him in every direction.
The air itself seemed heavy with death.
His crimson gaze swept across the remaining hunters.
Across the mercenaries.
Across the assassins.
Across the countless people who had come seeking wealth.
Seeking glory.
Seeking fortune.
Then he spoke.
His voice wasn't loud.
Yet somehow—
everyone heard it.
"If you're here for the bounty..."
A brief pause followed.
His crimson eyes began glowing faintly within the smoke and blood.
And for the first time since arriving—
a smile slowly appeared on his face.