The alley fell into silence again after the second corpse had finished drying out.
Three sealed containers now rested neatly beside the cultist's feet, each filled with dense, viscous crimson blood collected through Aldric's control over his magic.
Outside the illusion layer—
Blackwater continued to flow without interruption.
Footsteps passed.
Voices overlapped.
Metal rang against metal somewhere high above, lost in the industrial hum of the lower district.
Then—
a new figure slowed near the alley entrance.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Covered in dark gray fur around the neck and jawline.
A beastman—canine lineage.
One ear twitched subtly as sharp eyes locked onto the silver bracelet resting near the entrance.
"…Huh?"
He stepped closer.
Inside the illusion, the cultist's expression tightened immediately.
"…That one is not human."
"I can see that," Aldric muttered flatly.
The beastman crouched slightly.
Then froze.
Because the bracelet—
was gone.
His brows drew together.
"…The hell?"
Inside the formation, the bracelet still lay exactly where it had been placed.
But outside—
the illusion distorted perception around it completely, erasing certainty from the senses.
The beastman sniffed once.
Then again.
His posture changed.
More alert.
More cautious.
"…I know I saw something here."
His gaze narrowed toward the alley itself.
Inside the formation, the cultist spoke quietly.
"…His senses are sharper than a human's."
Aldric clicked his tongue.
"Yeah. That's why I said not to use other races as bait."
The beastman stepped closer to the alley entrance, still sniffing the air and scanning the ground.
Seconds passed.
Then more.
But instead of leaving, he stayed.
Suspicious.
Uncertain.
Searching.
Aldric's patience visibly thinned.
"…Alright."
His voice dropped into something flatter.
"I've had enough of this bastard."
The cultist immediately turned toward him.
"Wait—"
Too late.
Aldric moved.
One hand shot straight through the illusion boundary—
GRAB—
The beastman's eyes widened violently as he was seized by the throat and dragged forcibly into the formation.
The world snapped.
Sound vanished.
Light shifted.
The market disappeared entirely.
Only the sealed alley space and unfamiliar figures remained.
"…WHAT THE—"
The beastman barely finished the words before Aldric slammed him into the wall with enough force to crack the stone.
Dust and fragments fell.
"You didn't want to leave," Aldric said coldly, a faint grin forming, "so I'll make sure you stay."
The beastman reacted instantly.
Claws extended.
Mana flared violently around his body.
Too slow.
Aldric's grip tightened around his throat like a vise, crushing the resistance before it could fully form.
Then he struck.
SHHK—
Fangs sank deep into the beastman's neck.
The beastman snarled at first, struggling against the wall as blood surged into Aldric's mouth.
But the resistance didn't last.
It weakened quickly.
Then more.
Aldric's crimson eyes brightened faintly as he drank.
"…Tch."
His tone carried mild disappointment even mid-feed.
"Doesn't taste as good as human blood."
Another pull.
"But it'll do."
The beastman's movements slowed rapidly.
Claws scraped weakly against Aldric's arm.
Then stopped entirely.
The body sagged limp.
Dead.
Aldric pulled away with a faint exhale, blood still lingering at the corner of his mouth.
"…Yeah. Human's better."
The cultist's gaze sharpened slightly.
"…You just compared flavors."
Aldric glanced sideways.
"What?"
"That statement should not exist."
Aldric shrugged and dropped the corpse without ceremony.
THUD.
It landed beside the other drained bodies.
Nia silently watched the new corpse for a moment.
Then shifted her gaze toward Draven instead.
The black cat's purple eyes remained half-lidded but attentive beneath the cloak, observing Aldric without movement.
Measuring.
Watching.
Perhaps deciding whether he was merely dangerous—
or something worse.
Aldric crouched beside the beastman's body casually, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if nothing notable had happened.
"…At least the dog wasn't as useless as the fat bastard."
His hand moved through the beastman's coat with practiced ease before pulling out a worn leather wallet.
The cultist stared.
"You are looting every corpse."
Aldric didn't look up.
"Correct."
He opened the wallet and flipped through its contents.
No coins.
No cash.
Just identification slips—
and a thin metallic credit card.
Aldric's expression brightened immediately.
"…Oh, now *this* is good."
He held the card up between two fingers, the dim light of the illusion reflecting off its surface.
"No coins," he muttered, "but who cares?"
His grin widened slightly.
"Three cards now."
The cultist pinched the bridge of her nose.
"…Why are you pleased about that?"
Aldric looked genuinely confused.
"Because money exists."
A pause.
"And because I stole it."
The cultist stared at him flatly.
"That second part should concern you more."
Aldric shrugged.
"Concern is for poor people."
Nia blinked once.
Then quietly looked away again.
Even the black cat's gaze seemed faintly disapproving now.
Aldric noticed none of it.
He simply tucked the card into his coat with clear satisfaction before glancing toward the alley entrance again.
"…Alright."
He rolled his neck once.
"We've got enough blood."
A pause.
"And apparently enough financial opportunity."
The cultist exhaled slowly.
"…Please stop calling robbery 'opportunity.'"
Aldric smirked faintly.
"You say robbery."
He tilted the bottle lazily.
"I say sudden wealth redistribution."
The cultist looked like she was beginning to regret every decision that had led her here.
"…I preferred you unconscious."
Aldric's grin lingered as he leaned back slightly.
"…See? Blackwater's finally starting to feel welcoming."
The cultist looked seconds away from a permanent headache.
Then—
footsteps echoed from deeper within the alley.
Not from outside.
From behind them.
Every presence inside the formation stilled instantly.
Nia's head turned first.
Draven shifted slightly afterward.
Even the black cat opened its eyes fully beneath the cloak.
A man stepped into view from the shadows.
Human.
Male.
Dark coat.
One hand resting near the weapon at his waist.
He moved casually at first—
then stopped abruptly.
His gaze swept the alley.
Slow.
Careful.
Uncertain.
Not seeing anything clearly—
but clearly feeling that something was wrong.
Aldric's expression sharpened.
"…Huh."
The man's eyes narrowed as he scanned again.
His posture tightened.
Aldric glanced toward the cultist.
"I thought you said only someone stronger than you would notice us."
The cultist kept her attention fixed on the man.
"He has not detected us yet."
A pause.
"It is instinct alone."
Aldric raised a brow.
"He's still reacting."
"He is a Third-Star mana user," the cultist replied calmly. "Not weak, but insufficient to break the formation."
The man continued scanning slowly, increasingly uneasy.
The cultist continued.
"If he had truly seen through it, he would not still be standing there."
Aldric studied him for another second.
Then a faint grin returned.
"…Either way."
His crimson eyes darkened slightly.
"Looks like we found the last one."
The man suddenly stepped back.
Instinct screaming danger.
Too late.
A hand erupted from empty space beside him.
The illusion tore slightly under the force of movement.
The man's eyes widened.
"What th—"
Aldric appeared instantly.
No warning.
No sound.
Just impact.
The man tried to react, mana flaring around his body in desperation.
But Aldric was already there.
His arm drove forward—
CRACK—
Mana-coated fingers pierced straight through the man's chest.
The impact slammed him hard against the alley wall.
Stone cracked.
Blood exploded outward—
then froze midair under Aldric's control.
The man stared down in horror at the arm through his body.
"…Y-You—"
Aldric's crimson eyes glowed faintly.
Then the blood responded.
Every drop in the man's body reversed direction, tearing outward under forced extraction.
The man choked violently.
Color drained rapidly from his face.
Veins darkened beneath his skin as his body collapsed from the inside out.
"…Ah…"
His voice cracked.
Aldric leaned in slightly.
"You should've kept walking."
The man's body went slack almost immediately afterward.
Aldric pulled his arm free—
and stepped backward into the illusion layer.
The distortion closed instantly behind him.
Outside the formation—
the alley appeared empty again.
Silent.
Ordinary.
Only a corpse remained slumped against the wall, already drying unnaturally fast as remaining blood vanished from it entirely.
No struggle.
No scream.
No sign of an attacker.
Inside the formation, Aldric held the gathered blood suspended calmly in the air.
"…There."
He glanced toward the cultist.
"That should be enough."
The cultist nodded once and immediately produced another storage container.
Nia quietly looked toward the corpse outside the illusion boundary.
Still visible.
Still slumped in place.
Unnaturally still.
The black cat's tail flicked once beneath Draven's cloak.
And beyond the alley—
Blackwater continued to roar endlessly, unaware that only a few steps away, reality itself had already been harvested and rewritten without its notice.