The connection cut. Silence fell briefly.
Draven's gaze shifted back to Lucien, unflinching, sharp, commanding. "…You better start praying they actually found it," he said flatly. "…If not, you won't be the only one regretting it."
Lucien's fists clenched tightly at his sides. The weight of the moment pressed against him, his jaw tightening, resolve hardening. He knew exactly what was at stake—and he wouldn't fail.
The elf girl reached out instinctively, placing a hand on his shoulder. "…Lucien… it's going to be okay," she said softly, her voice grounding him.
Lucien's eyes met hers, fleetingly vulnerable, before steel returned. "…I'll make sure it is."
Behind them, the chaos of the tokens, the scattered participants, and the pulsing battlefield continued unabated—but in that moment, the two siblings shared a quiet determination, unspoken but absolute.
Draven's crimson eyes swept across the battlefield once more, calculating, measuring, unreadable as ever. Somewhere deep inside, the gears of strategy had already begun turning.
The room felt too small for the weight of the conversation.
Vaelith moved first—no hesitation, no wasted motion.
The two infants rested calmly in her arms, their small movements steady, unaware of the storm surrounding them.
Aldric leaned against the wall for a moment, arms crossed, watching her.
"…So where is it?" he asked, his voice edged with impatience.
Vaelith didn't slow. "…The Lord confirmed it," she said calmly. "…The airship is hidden within the mountain ranges outside the city."
Aldric scoffed. "…That's it?" He pushed off the wall, irritation clear. "…That's all he got after nearly ten hours? You've got to be kidding me." His jaw tightened. "…If we had done things my way, ripped off a limb or two—" He gestured sharply. "…That brat would've told us everything already."
At the table, Lyriana sat still, fingers lightly tapping the surface. "…It doesn't matter," she said calmly, cutting through his frustration. "…We have what's needed, so we should start moving."
Across from her, the cultist hesitated. "…And the Lord?" she asked, voice uncertain. "…He hasn't returned. We all saw the collar—his mana is sealed. Will he be alright?"
Aldric's head snapped toward her. "…Will you shut up already?" His voice carried irritation—but something sharper beneath it. "…He's not some child you need to babysit. Maybe to vampires he is—but to humans? He's older than you." He scoffed again. "…And he doesn't need mana. If anything, he's gotten weaker since gaining it." He paused. "…Feels like mana just slows him down."
Vaelith stopped. The room stilled with her.
When she spoke, her voice didn't rise—but it filled the space completely.
"…The Lord is not weak because he possesses mana."
Aldric didn't interrupt this time.
"…What you're seeing," she continued calmly, "…is exhaustion."
She adjusted the infants slightly, her gaze distant but precise.
"…Physical exhaustion—from lack of rest."
"…Mental exhaustion—from loss."
A faint pause. "…The Queen's death." "…The King's disappearance."
Silence.
"…The Lord has not properly rested in over a month."
Even Aldric's expression shifted slightly at that.
Vaelith continued walking. "…And more importantly…" A brief pause. "…focus."
Lyriana stood, following behind her without a word.
"…During battle, the Lord cannot focus entirely on what is in front of him," Vaelith said. "…Because if he does…" Her voice softened slightly. "…he loses control of what is inside."
The cultist's eyes widened faintly.
"…He is constantly suppressing the mana within him," Vaelith continued. "…Restraining it. Preventing it from detonating."
Aldric exhaled slowly. "…So that's it…"
"…Yes," Vaelith replied simply. "…What you perceive as weakness…" "…is restraint."
They reached the door.
"…Once the Lord creates the mana pool he seeks…" A faint pause. "…his condition will stabilize." "…He will recover." "…And he will become himself again."
Her hand rested briefly on the handle. "…Which is why we cannot afford to waste time."
She stepped out. Lyriana followed immediately.
Aldric lingered for a second longer, scratching the back of his head. "…Yeah… guess that actually makes sense," he muttered. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "…Thought I was going crazy for a second."
He stepped out after them. "…Alright, let's go. I'm done staying in this cramped dump anyway."
Behind them, the cultist stood alone for a moment, thinking, processing.
"…So he doesn't even have a mana pool yet…" she whispered. "…And he wants to create one…" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "…Is that why… the crack to the Abyss needs to be opened…?"
"Oi." Aldric's voice snapped her out of it from the doorway. "…Stop mumbling and move already." He didn't even look back. "…If it were up to me, I wouldn't give a damn." A pause. "…But we still need you."
The meaning was clear. Temporary. Conditional.
"…So do your job," he added bluntly. "…After that, go wherever the hell you want."
The cultist exhaled slowly, then stepped forward. Because whatever came next—there was no turning back now.
The group didn't look back.
Vaelith led—calm, certain. The corridor outside stretched into the dim interior of the building, shadows clinging to the walls as they moved with purpose.
Lyriana followed just behind her, silent, eyes forward. Aldric walked with a loose stride, hands in his pockets, but his gaze was sharp—alert despite the casual posture. The cultist came last. Quiet. Watching. Thinking.
"…Mountains outside the city…" Aldric muttered. "…Better hope that brat wasn't guessing."
Vaelith didn't respond. She didn't need to. Because she trusted one thing—Draven didn't deal in guesses.
They exited the building.
The city greeted them with noise. Movement. Life. Completely unaware of what was happening beneath it.
---
Below, the underground expanse churned with chaos. Participants moved like predators and prey at the same time. Fighting. Running. Hunting.
The air was thick with tension and the constant threat of death.
A token hit the ground. Three figures lunged for it instantly. One reached first—only for a fist to slam into his side from behind. He dropped. The token rolled, and another hand grabbed it.
Elsewhere, a body hit the ground hard. Didn't get back up.
Through it all, the fox girl moved—fast, precise. Her eyes tracked everything. Every motion. Every shift.
"…There," she said sharply. A glowing token had landed ahead—two others were already closing in. "…We take it," she added without hesitation.