Elara & Naaza — The Aftermath
Naaza stared at the cloth.
Then at Elara.
Then back at the cloth.
She reached for it. Slowly. Fingertips touched the stained fabric.
The blood had dried dark. Almost black in places.
She didn't speak. No expressions.
Not shock. Not fear. Not curiosity.
"There was a boy with us," Elara said quietly. "Low-level. Barely trained." Her fingers curled slightly against the counter edge. "He took hits that should have killed him. I heard his ribs break."
Naaza's eyes flicked up. Met hers.
Elara continued. "But when we checked him after—" Her voice wavered. Just once. "—there was nothing. No fractures. No internal bleeding. Just... greenish residue from crushed Phantom Vine on his skin."
Silence.
"Phantom Vine doesn't heal like that." Naaza's voice stayed level. Clinical. "It doesn't heal at all."
"I know." Elara's jaw tightened. "Please. Help me determine whether this blood shows any sign of spirit lineage."
Naaza's head tilted slightly. "Why spirit lineage specifically?"
"Because I want to confirm if he has something like spirit blood. Like those cursed smiths?"
"Ah." Naaza's fingers tapped once against the cloth. "Like Crozzo blood… If he doesn't?"
"Then either it's a rare skill specific to him, or..."
Elara's words trailed off.
"You think he's one of them. Those Evilus creations."
"Yes." Elara's expression didn't change. Controlled.
"That's a possibility I can't ignore. If he's an Evilus creation… then this stops being my call. I should inform the Guild."
Naaza leaned back slightly. Arms crossed. "Is there any specific reason you're this wary of him?" Her eyes narrowed. "Do you—"
"No." Elara cut her off. "I'm not. I have reasons that aren't personal. Based on what I've observed from him." She paused. "Because two weeks ago he was..."
She trailed off. Brow furrowed.
"How should I explain this...?"
A scene surfaced. Not heroic. Not impressive.
Just... something.
Her lips curved—
she didn't realize it until it was already there.
Naaza straightened.
"Wait—" Her voice cut in, suddenly sharp.
"You're smiling."
Elara blinked.
Her hand moved halfway toward her face. Stopped. Dropped.
When did I—
Naaza stared at her. Expression is something between amused and concerned.
"I've never seen you smile like that." Her voice softened slightly. "Without any guard around you. This is the first time since your father..."
The smile faded.
Elara's face smoothed. Professional mask sliding back into place.
"Tell me what it is," Naaza said.
"Is that necessary?"
"Absolutely."
Elara exhaled through her nose. "The first time I saw him, a goblin kicked his face. On the third floor."
Naaza looked totally amused now. "That's definitely funny. Then what?"
"He just stood up." Elara's voice stayed even. Factual. "Not even flinch. Even though blood was dripping from his nose."
Pause.
The lightness drained from her tone.
"His face..." She looked down at the cloth on the counter. "He killed that goblin. Without blinking. No cruelty. No hesitation. None." Her jaw set. "As if... he was specialized in killing."
Silence fell heavier this time.
"He knew where the weak spot was. Drove his sword in. Killed it with one stab."
Naaza set her arms down. Leaned forward on the counter. "He may already be a high-level adventurer. Probably Level 2 or even 3 like you?"
"That's the next issue I'm most worried about."
Elara looked directly into Naaza's eyes.
"He said he's Level 1. But he killed three Silverbacks on the fourteenth floor. Without our help."
Naaza went completely still.
"What?" Her voice dropped. "That's... impossible for a Level 1 newbie. Floor 14 means... their levels are higher!"
"I know." Elara's fingers curled tighter. "He seems simple. Naive. But his fighting style is like a wounded animal. Always desperate. Like his life is constantly on a thread." She paused to take a breath. "Don't you think it looks similar?"
Naaza didn't answer immediately.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Just like those Evilus bastards."
Her eyes dropped to the counter. Stayed there.
Long pause.
"Do I know him?"
Elara frowned. "Why?"
"If..." Naaza's voice went softer. Almost reluctant. "If he's someone I know, I shouldn't let him near Lord Miach."
Understanding crossed Elara's face.
"So this means you..."
"Yes." Naaza looked up. Guarded now, protective.
"He's dangerous. You said two weeks ago he was killing goblins on floor three. Now he survived floor fourteen with two veterans and managed to keep up." She exhaled. "That's not normal."
"That makes sense." Elara straightened slightly. "Then will you help me?"
Silence stretched.
"I'll try," she said after a long moment. Voice measured. "But I'll need help. This isn't something I can do alone."
Elara's eyes widened. Just slightly.
She never asks for help.
Naaza continued without looking up. "We need to find methods and equipment to do this. Specialized tools. Rare herbs and materials."
"I'll do what I can to gather them."
"And bring him here if you can."
"Why?" Elara's voice sharpened. Anxiety bled through without permission.
"We may need more blood samples."
"So?"
Naaza's lips curved in mischievous and calculations.
She raised her thumb. "Don't worry. I'll drug him. He won't feel a thing."
Elara stared.
Blinked.
"I know you're crazy, but..." She paused. Shook her head. "You know that's a crime. We can't do that."
"Okay, fine." Naaza waved a hand dismissively. "We can trick him into giving it on his own then."
"I don't think so. And I don't even want to know what crazy methods you're thinking about."
Naaza, smirking now. Like a teasing older sister.
Elara's face softened. Controlled. A small, deliberate smile.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For believing me."
Naaza's smirk faded into something gentler. She smiled back.
"One more thing."
"What?"
"You seem different somehow." Naaza tilted her head. Studying. "Like you've got more colors in your face."
Elara's smile faltered. Just for a second.
"That's because..."
"Don't worry." Naaza's voice gentled further. "Because you've got me."
Elara nodded. The smile lingered.
She picked up her pack. Turned toward the door.
Stopped at the door. Turned back.
"If he is dangerous..." She hesitated. "I won't let anything happen. Not to you or Lord Miach."
Naaza's expression softened completely. "I know you won't."
Elara nodded once more.
"Thank you. Really."
Naaza waved her off. "Go. Before I change my mind about the drugging thing."
Elara's lips twitched. Almost smiled again.
She left.
The door closed with a soft chime.
---
Naaza sat alone in the quiet shop.
Looked down at the cloth on the counter.
Picked it up one more time. Held it to the light streaming through the window.
Blood. Dried. Dark.
She turned it over slowly. Examined every stain, every pattern like she's going to decode it by staring harder.
The calm she wore cracked at the edges, unease settling in where confidence had been moments before.
She set the cloth down.
Exhaled.
"What are you, boy?"
---
Outside, Elara walked through the morning streets.
The city was fully awake now. Noise everywhere. Movement. Life.
She straightened her shoulders. Neutral expression locked back into place.
Now she is committed.
I'll observe, she decided. Until I'm sure.
Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
Because if the truth turned out to be what she feared—
Then the boy wasn't what she believed him to be.
…And the Dungeon had never been either.
A thought surfaced.
I should report that figure to Eina.
She stopped walking.
No. She'd worry.
Probably Uncle Royman.
The unease was still there.
But contained now.
Manageable.
She kept walking. To bring what she failed yesterday.
***