Though the weapons had lowered—
the tension inside the guild hall remained suffocatingly thick.
No one truly relaxed.
Not after feeling that killing intent.
Not after watching blood spill from beneath the hood.
Not after the pressure that had nearly crushed the entire room beneath its weight.
Draven calmly raised one hand once more.
Then, with slow and deliberate movements, he pulled the hood back over his head.
The green hair disappeared beneath the darkness again.
The cat ears vanished beneath the cloak.
Only shadow remained.
The black cat settled quietly beneath the hood afterward, its purple eyes half-lidded once more as though nothing unusual had happened.
The group began walking toward the guild exit.
Yet no one immediately moved aside.
Aldric noticed instantly.
His eyes narrowed faintly.
Then he slowly swept his gaze across the hall.
"…You people still here?"
Silence answered him.
Several adventurers visibly stiffened.
Aldric rested one hand against the hilt of his dawn sword.
A faint crimson glow shimmered beneath the guild lamps.
"I thought we already finished this conversation."
Still no response.
Aldric tilted his head slightly.
"…Or are we somehow not allowed to leave now?"
The silence stretched for another long second.
Then—
someone stepped aside first.
After that—
another.
Then another.
Slowly, almost instinctively, the crowded guild hall opened before them.
A path formed through the center.
No one wanted to stand directly in their way anymore.
Not after earlier.
Aldric nodded with clear approval.
"Good."
He lazily spread one arm while continuing forward.
"Be civilized."
The cultist walked quietly beside Draven, though her eyes continued drifting toward him from the corner of her vision.
Questions lingered heavily inside her mind.
*His appearance changed…*
*Without a spell.*
*Without any mana fluctuation.*
Nothing about it made sense.
But this was not the time to ask.
Nia walked silently beside Draven while clutching the small pastry bag tightly against her chest.
The surrounding adventurers watched them pass with wary eyes.
Some looked nervous.
Some suspicious.
Some simply confused.
The blue-haired woman finally lowered her saber completely, though her gaze never left the hooded figure.
"…That wasn't normal," she muttered quietly.
An older hunter standing beside her exhaled slowly.
"…Nothing about that group is."
Honestly—
that was accurate.
Aldric walked through the opened path like he owned the entire building.
"…Move your damn chairs out of the way too while you're at it."
One mercenary immediately dragged his chair aside without even attempting to argue.
Aldric scoffed under his breath.
"Bastard."
At last, the massive reinforced guild doors came into view ahead of them.
Steam hissed faintly through the seams while the distant sounds of Blackwater drifted inward from the streets beyond.
Then—
the doors opened.
Cold industrial air rolled into the guild hall once more.
And the group stepped back out into Blackwater.
Behind them, the guild doors slammed shut with a deep metallic thud.
Immediately—
the city swallowed them whole again.
Smoke drifted endlessly through the layered industrial streets beneath dim mana lanterns while steam burst violently from overhead pipes in sharp hissing waves.
Crowds flowed around them without pause.
Merchants shouted over one another.
Machinery groaned somewhere deep beneath the city itself.
And far above—
imperial warships still loomed through the smoke-covered sky like silent predators watching from heaven itself.
But for once—
their group walked in complete silence.
No arguments.
No jokes.
No pointless remarks.
Only the sound of footsteps striking steel and stone.
Aldric walked beside Draven quietly for several long moments.
Then, eventually—
he spoke.
"…So what is it?"
Silence followed.
Beneath the hood—
Draven's crimson eyes glowed faintly through the darkness.
Not calm.
Not stable.
Rage still burned inside them violently.
The black cat rested against his shoulder while carefully licking the blood from his face with small, deliberate motions.
Hidden deeper beneath the cloak, the slime moved silently across the fabric, absorbing the remaining bloodstains before they could spread any further.
Draven said nothing.
Industrial lights reflected faintly across the wet crimson traces still lingering near his mouth.
Then suddenly—
he stopped walking.
Completely.
Aldric slowed beside him.
The cultist immediately turned toward him.
"My lord?"
Draven's voice emerged calmly from beneath the hood.
"Take Nia."
A brief pause followed.
"And return to the ship."
The cultist straightened slightly.
"…Understood."
No hesitation.
No questions.
She immediately turned toward the girl.
"Nia."
The small girl looked up quietly.
"Come."
The cultist raised one hand toward the passing streets.
A nearby motor carriage slowed beneath the smoke-covered lights.
The driver barely had time to react before she opened the side door.
Nia hesitated briefly.
Her eyes shifted back toward Draven beneath the hood.
The faint crimson glow hidden within the darkness remained visible.
Watching nothing.
Focused somewhere far away.
The cultist gently took hold of Nia's arm.
"We're leaving."
Nia quietly climbed into the motor.
The cultist followed immediately after her.
Before the door closed—
Nia looked back one final time through the window.
At the dark figure standing motionless beneath Blackwater's smoke-filled sky.
Then—
the motor pulled away into the crowded streets.
Its lights gradually disappeared into the industrial haze.
Silence returned once more.
Only Aldric remained standing beside Draven now.
The city continued moving around them, completely unaware.
Steam hissed overhead.
Metal groaned beneath distant machinery.
Crowds instinctively curved around them without understanding why they suddenly no longer wished to get too close.
Aldric shoved both hands into the pockets of his coat while watching the motor vanish into the smoke.
Then, finally—
he glanced sideways toward Draven again.
"…This about the Holy Empire?"