Silence filled the chamber.
The bandaged man remained where he stood.
His gaze rested on Aldric.
A faint smile slowly formed beneath the wrappings.
"...Aren't you a fast one."
Outwardly, he remained perfectly calm.
Inside—
his thoughts were anything but.
*...I didn't even notice him getting this close.*
*Not a sound.*
*Not a trace.*
*If he wanted to...*
*He could've reached me before I even reacted.*
Aldric's grin never faded.
"...Fast?"
He shrugged.
"...I can be even faster."
He slowly flexed one hand.
"...Want me to show you?"
His crimson eyes narrowed.
"...Just take..."
"...one more step."
Silence.
Neither of them moved.
The tension between them became almost tangible.
On the opposite side of the chamber—
Draven calmly stepped forward.
Lying upon the stone floor—
was the broken mask that had been knocked away during the exchange.
Without so much as glancing down—
he planted his foot on it.
**Crack.**
The mask shattered beneath his heel.
Fragments scattered across the chamber.
Draven slowly lifted his gaze.
It settled upon the remaining four elders.
"...Only three of you..."
His voice remained calm.
"...are actually needed."
A brief pause.
"...Isn't that right?"
Silence.
None of the elders answered.
Draven's expression didn't change.
"...I won't repeat myself."
His crimson eyes swept across them.
"...So..."
"...get your asses moving..."
"...and open the damn Breach."
The chamber fell completely silent.
Even the surrounding cultists unconsciously held their breath.
No one doubted it anymore.
If another mistake was made—
blood would be spilled.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Aldric sighed.
"...It seems..."
"...you people still think you have a choice."
His gaze shifted toward the bandaged man.
"...How about..."
"...I give you an example?"
**BOOM!!**
The chamber shook violently.
The bandaged man vanished.
An instant later—
he slammed into the opposite wall.
Stone exploded outward.
Cracks raced through the ancient surface.
Dust billowed into the air.
Aldric leisurely lowered his fist.
His grin never disappeared.
"...You managed to block it."
He looked toward the wall.
One of the man's arms had transformed.
Dark scales covered it from fingertips to shoulder.
The scaled limb was raised defensively.
It had barely intercepted the punch.
Aldric chuckled.
"...But that won't do."
He tilted his head.
"...You're a mage, aren't you?"
"...You'd better start casting."
Across the chamber—
Kaelira's eyes lit up.
"...Alright!"
She vanished.
A blur streaked across the room.
Before one of the nearby cultists could react—
she was already beside him.
She leapt.
Twisting gracefully through the air.
**BANG!!**
Her leg whipped around.
The cultist's head slammed into the stone wall.
His eyes rolled back.
His body collapsed unconscious to the floor.
The surrounding cultists immediately reacted.
"...Attack—!"
Mana erupted.
One magic circle after another unfolded.
The chamber glowed beneath layers of overlapping runes.
Ryke stumbled backward.
*...Damn it!*
*It's happening again!*
*Everything always turns into a fight with these people!*
His heart pounded.
Without hesitation, he retreated farther from everyone.
As far as he could.
Then—
a calm voice echoed through the chamber.
"...That's enough."
Silence.
The violent mana fluctuations gradually subsided.
Every gaze shifted.
One of the masked elders stepped forward.
His pace was slow.
Measured.
He walked directly toward Draven.
The remaining elders stayed where they were.
Watching in silence.
The elder turned his head toward the bandaged man, who was still standing amid the shattered wall.
"...Stand down, Dray."
His voice remained calm.
"...That is enough."
For a brief moment—
the bandaged man remained motionless.
Then—
he clicked his tongue.
"...Tch."
The dark scales covering his arm slowly receded beneath the bandages.
Without another word—
he stepped away from the broken wall.
The elder then faced Draven.
Silence lingered.
"...You may find it difficult to believe..."
"...but we have been observing all of you..."
"...from the moment you entered these ruins."
His calm voice echoed throughout the chamber.
"...Including..."
"...the moment you absorbed the Abyssal Core."
The surrounding elders remained silent.
"...The process itself..."
He paused.
"...was difficult to witness."
"...Your body was continuously destroying itself."
"...Bones shattered."
"...Organs ruptured."
"...Blood vessels burst."
His gaze remained fixed on Draven.
"...Yet every injury regenerated almost instantly."
A brief pause.
"...It would seem..."
"...that only your regenerative ability..."
"...allowed you to survive such madness."
"...Even then..."
"...it was by the narrowest of margins."
Silence.
"...How you accomplished such a feat..."
He slowly shook his head.
"...Matters little."
His eyes shifted upward.
Toward the little black cat perched comfortably atop Draven's head.
The cat lazily looked back.
"...Meow."
The elder's gaze narrowed.
"...That creature..."
"...is another matter entirely."
The chamber fell silent once more.
"...It consumed the remaining fragments of the Abyssal Core..."
"...effortlessly."
"...Without corruption."
"...Without resistance."
"...Without the slightest reaction."
His voice grew quieter.
"...There is only one explanation."
He spoke each word carefully.
"...It is a creature born within the Abyss itself."
Several cultists inhaled sharply.
"...A spawn of the Abyss."
"...A being naturally capable of existing within Abyssal mana."
"...Only such a creature..."
"...could consume those fragments..."
"...as though they were ordinary food."
His gaze remained fixed upon the cat.
"...Yet..."
"...such creatures acknowledge no master."
"...No ruler."
"...No equal."
"...They recognise only strength."
He slowly looked back at Draven.
"...For a creature born of the Abyss..."
"...to willingly accompany you..."
"...to obey your commands without hesitation..."
"...to remain faithfully at your side..."
His voice trailed off.
"...That..."
"...is far more difficult to explain..."
"...than your own survival."
Silence settled over the chamber.
The elder clasped his hands behind his back.
"...Perhaps..."
"...Young Pythia was not entirely mistaken."
"...Perhaps..."
"...there truly is something about you..."
"...that lies beyond our understanding."
The chamber remained deathly quiet.
Only the little black cat broke the silence.
It looked at the masked elder.
Tilted its head.
"...Meow."
Then—
without another care in the world—
it curled back into a comfortable ball atop Draven's head.
As though the entire discussion had absolutely nothing to do with it.