After finishing the brief argument, Grey turned his gaze back to Achilles.
"My name is Alexander Greyrat," he introduced himself. "I'm the one who just got Reus out of the cultists' encirclement, and the one who warned Garen's company about the danger in advance. I'm also the only person who can help you survive right now."
He wasn't trying to be modest. He was simply stating the facts. In a few sentences, he explained why he was here and why they could trust him.
Reus gave a dry nod, confirming Grey's words.
That single movement said more than any speech could. Without Grey, they wouldn't be here. Without him, they would most likely be lying dead beside Leo, unburied and forgotten, offered up as sacrifices.
The debt they owed Grey couldn't be put into words. Reus felt it with his entire body and soul. Even now, all he could do was hope that Grey would once again extend a helping hand.
Of everyone Reus could remember, only this cripple gave him a sense of security. If anyone could heal Garen, save them from the cultists' clutches, and feed them, it was that crazy boy from the slave camp and his endless schemes.
Leo's death had been an awakening for Reus. It showed him how foolish and careless their past actions had been, how much they had missed without even realizing it.
Only after going through that hell did he understand that their team was not just a random group of slaves. Years spent together had turned them into comrades, true brothers-in-arms.
He still remembered the cell they had shared as five, the harsh training, the fights and punishments. None of it had been just trials—it had been forging, shaping an unbreakable bond between them.
Saying they were a family would not have been an exaggeration. Reus did not know his mother and had never seen his father. He had grown up in the slave camp alongside them. Eating the same gruel, using the same toilet, sharing everything they had.
He had cried bitterly when Leo fell while covering their retreat. Reus hated the fact that he could not take his place. He was an assassin—the only one who knew how to erase their tracks. That meant he carried responsibility for all their lives.
Now, looking at his companions—Garen, Alan, Kai, and himself—bruised, weakened, hanging on the edge of death, Reus felt an unbearable weight. Only he understood how painful it was to see his brothers in such a miserable state.
So whatever Grey asked of him, Reus was ready to agree in exchange for help.
If they stayed together, what was his small, worthless life worth? What did it matter if he had to get dirty? What did it matter if he became a debtor? He was not going to lose his brothers anymore.
After introducing himself, Grey looked straight at Achilles, waiting for a reaction.
All the children who were still conscious looked at him with clear gratitude. Reus's group had put in no less effort in the escape than their leader, Achilles. The fact that the neat, reserved boy had indirectly helped save them all left a favorable impression on them.
Achilles nodded without the slightest change in expression, keeping his tone steady.
"M-m… Thank you very much. I didn't expect we had an ally in Thorn's Cloaca. Without your help, it would've been extremely difficult for us to get here. We will definitely repay you. Be assured, we know how to value help and distinguish friends from enemies."
Grey looked at him with a slightly strained smile.
"It seems you misunderstood me," he said calmly. "I'm only connected to Reus, Alan, Kai, and Garen. Everyone else is a stranger to me. Don't take it the wrong way—I don't wish anyone harm. I can even bring you food as a gesture of goodwill. But if you're expecting me to save everyone, that's asking too much."
Achilles' smile faded.
He considered Grey's words, sensing a hidden caution in his tone. At first glance, his speech seemed harmless, but in reality it was extremely precise: he immediately separated his own people from outsiders and clearly defined who he was willing to support.
Moreover, Achilles was the only one, aside from Reus, who could obtain food—which meant that if he left, the situation for the others would become critical.
Slightly embarrassed, Achilles asked, trying not to show too much anxiety:
"May I ask what exactly you mean by 'saving' them? Can you heal them? Do they need to leave us? How exactly would you hide them from the cultists?"
He understood their situation was difficult—putting it mildly, it was a mess. Even if he could not fully trust Grey yet, Reus was willing to vouch for him.
Achilles had seen how tightly knit their group was, and he understood that Reus would not put his brothers in danger. That meant Grey's help was real.
Either way, he needed to make sure the others would be fine, and to understand where his own responsibility ended and where the limits of this strange ally began.
"It's exactly as you think," Grey confirmed. "I know a safe place, and I can provide them with treatment and food."
He threw out the bait.
In the desperate condition of these teenagers, no matter how capable a leader Achilles was, such temptation was difficult to control. From the others' brightening eyes, Grey could already see hope rising. And yet, no one stepped forward to negotiate.
That silent reaction said a lot about how deeply they trusted Achilles.
Grey was not cruel. But he had to make sure everyone understood: food and medicine were not simple charity—they were a service that required repayment.
After receiving all his help, they would have to follow the rules he set.
No freelancing, no disobedience.
Help was good, but personal safety came first. If, after accepting his goodwill, they foolishly exposed themselves to the cultists, it would be too late for Grey to cry over spilled milk.
They needed to take the initiative themselves and ask him to take them under his protection. And Grey could see that idea slowly taking shape in their minds.
Achilles didn't waste any time.
"What do I need to do for you to provide the same for the others?"
Grey had been waiting for exactly those words. A smile spread across his small, rather pleasant face—one worthy of an old fox.
Without another word, he pulled out two bundles from inside his clothing. Thick dark paper, wax seals—witch contracts, no doubt about it.
"It's simple," Grey said, as if he were talking about something completely ordinary. "You just need to sign here. One contract is for Reus and his group. The second is for everyone else. The terms are simple: you become my subordinates for three years and follow every order without question."
Achilles froze, not knowing what to say.
What was that just now? Was it his imagination, or did Grey's smile look extremely… cunning? As if the boy had been waiting for this exact question the entire time. No, more than that—he hadn't just produced the contracts quickly, he had done it like he'd been keeping them ready from the very beginning.
It was clear from the children's eyes that they didn't understand where this was going. The distrust flared just as quickly as their hope had. Achilles felt dozens of gazes latch onto his back.
Noticing their confusion, Grey immediately frowned, his tone shifting sharply—softness disappearing and being replaced by cold bluntness.
"What? Did you really think food and medicine come for free? Sorry, but nothing that good exists in this world. If I'm providing for you, then it's only natural that you obey me."
He said it without anger, without pressure—just as a fact that wasn't open for discussion.
"Uhh…" Achilles frowned, choosing his words carefully. "But I don't need treatment or food. I can take care of myself. In that case… can I avoid becoming your subordinate? With all due respect, I will never follow someone weaker than me."
Grey let out a small laugh. "Seriously? You really think I'm the weak one?"
He looked away and started muttering under his breath—like another wave of madness was creeping in. No one tried to interrupt him. No one seemed particularly concerned about his strange behavior. Everyone was too busy thinking over what he had just said.
"Are you absolutely sure?" Senior asked again.
"Yes. Just trust me," Junior confirmed confidently.
Grey blinked, refocused on Achilles, and continued in a perfectly steady tone, as if no pause had ever happened.
"But you are right about one thing. Since you don't need my help, it would be… rude of me to demand your submission."
Achilles tried to speak, but Grey didn't let him get a single word in.
"However, there is a nuance. I need absolute certainty that you won't reveal my secrets. So you will sign the same contract as Reus's group."
His tone remained gentle, but it was clear he had no intention of hearing objections anymore.
"And after that…" Grey smiled slightly. "We'll fight when the opportunity comes. After the battle, you can decide for yourself whether you want to follow me."
The discussion was over, the terms agreed upon.
Ten more people came under Grey's command—three girls and seven boys. The contract terms were neither cruel nor humiliating; they almost completely mirrored what he had offered Sunny.
According to the contract, he would fully provide for them and also pay wages. In return, there was only one requirement: absolute obedience, as long as his orders did not put their lives in danger.
A fair exchange. Surprisingly fair for this world.
Grey knew it was difficult for them to understand the meaning of each clause, but that didn't matter for now. In time, they would all understand what he wanted from them.
It was time to deal with practical problems—how to get everyone out of the city. He obviously had no intention of leading such a group straight into Venus's arms.
Veronika was already dissatisfied with the current number of "residents." Grey fully shared her opinion. Bringing another dozen starving, frightened teenagers into the brothel would be pure madness. He also had no intention of taking a handsome boy like Achilles there. He didn't want to saw off the branch he was sitting on.
Fortunately, just this morning they had discovered a fairly secluded place—a deserted manor in the Thorn Thickets. If he had met Reus just one day earlier, that opportunity simply wouldn't have existed.
Restoring the leader's confidence, Grey quickly took control of the situation.
He split the children into two groups—seven and eight people respectively. Not because he "wanted" it that way, but because otherwise they would be discovered faster than they could reach the door.
Garen and Alan had to be separated. Both lay unconscious, as motionless as the surface of a calm lake. They couldn't take a single step—only stretchers would do. Fortunately, the necessary equipment had already been prepared, since they had been brought here in the same condition.
After giving his final instructions, Grey exhaled and headed toward the exit of the cluttered room. The sun was already sliding toward sunset, bleeding red across the horizon like a wound. Time was running out painfully fast.
And he had promised them food.
Fatigue was not an excuse. He couldn't allow his subordinates to starve any further. If they had placed their trust in him, then he had to live up to their expectations. At this point, everything Grey cared about was building good will for the future.
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