In a cramped prison chamber filled with instruments of torture and dissection, a middle aged man screamed in agony. His body was covered in layers of mysterious runic inscriptions, iron chains locking his limbs in place. Black blood flowed from the corners of his mouth and empty eye sockets, mingling with the horrific wound in his chest where his heart once lay.

  A black robed mage calmly cut away a small piece of flesh from the man’s body and dropped it into a blue magical solution. The fragment began to bubble with white foam before rapidly absorbing the liquid, swelling in size. Tiny writhing tentacles sprouted in all directions, only to be instantly incinerated by the mage’s crimson flames.

  “Another failure.”

  The black robed mage sighed. He had tried countless methods, different magical materials, forbidden refinement techniques stolen from ancient libraries, yet none of them could suppress the overwhelming vitality born of Yh’raeth’s power. Aside from absolute overwhelming force, the only thing that had shown any effect recently was Dark Despair.

  Sky Tower oversaw and monitored the entirety of Veynar. Everywhere in the world, their Overseers were present. Allblack had long ceased to be a secret. A place so inhumane was allowed to exist because it held value. Now, with Dark Despair reserves dwindling after Golden was devoured, Sky Tower needed a replacement weapon to confront the fanatical followers of Yh’raeth.

  “How is it, Zeroth?”

  A gentle voice appeared at the entrance to the chamber. To be precise, this place could be considered a laboratory. Zeroth shook his head, still engrossed in preparing a new magical solution, showing no surprise at the presence behind him.

  “I need more time, lady Velarion. The specimen has shown signs of reaction. Perhaps success is not far. I…”

  “We do not have that much time, Zeroth.”

  Velarion frowned and cut him off. She had no interest in hearing more technical explanations about refinement or grotesque materials. What she needed were results, and clearly Zeroth could not provide them.

  “I will grant you more time. But this will be the last. If you fail, we will have no choice but to cooperate with Loket. They will replace Golden and supply us with an abundant output of Dark Despair.”

  “You intend to work with those inhuman monsters again, Velarion. You know how that substance is created, do you not?”

  Zeroth shouted angrily. After learning the true composition of Dark Despair, he had been the first in the council to oppose cooperation with Golden. It was a cruel and inhumane weapon, completely contrary to the image the Alliance sought to uphold.

  “The Alliance is the cradle of justice and righteousness. The world calls us Heroes.”

  “Enough, Zeroth.”

  In stark contrast to his fury, Velarion remained perfectly calm. Her gaze was cold and emotionless as she stepped closer. Each step radiated crushing pressure, like a mountain bearing down upon him. Zeroth trembled in pain, yet his eyes remained fixed on her, unyielding.

  “Every single day, Zeroth. Every day you waste time here, countless people die horribly at the hands of the Red Orcs. One by one, they are eaten alive, enduring suffering so dreadful that you will never truly understand it.”

  “We must choose, Zeroth. The Noland front must be liberated, and we will use any means necessary, no matter how vile.”

  Velarion glanced briefly at the prisoner. His suffering might well be the salvation of countless lives.

  “Kill me… just kill me.”

  The prisoner murmured weakly, tears mixing with black blood. Each day he endured unspeakable torment, not only of the flesh but of the mind. The whispers of Yh’raeth slowly drove him mad. He wished he could lose his sanity completely, become a Bloodhunt beast once more, anything to escape this torment. Yet Zeroth’s concoctions kept him lucid, trapped on the boundary between man and monster.

  Velarion ignored his pleas. After what he had done in Hesmir, this punishment was deserved, perhaps even merciful in her eyes.

  She turned and left, releasing Zeroth from the oppressive pressure. The old mage collapsed to the floor, coughing up blood.

  “One week, Zeroth.”

  “You have only one week left.”

  Her voice was cold and unyielding, revealing a resolve that could not be shaken.

  Following the course of the Lay River, Thane and his companions eventually reached the Vayle Valley. This time, Hati’s presence made the journey far less monotonous. Although wild beasts and small, weak goblin packs occasionally appeared along the way, they were all dealt with easily by Thane. Any monster that was not overly dangerous was handled by him alone. Even without mana in his body, Thane’s combat instincts and physical talent were more than enough to face a fully grown ogre head on.

  They set up camp on a vast stretch of grassland. In the distance, the majestic Infernic volcanic range could be seen, dense fire elemental energy staining the sky above it crimson. A mountain range altered by magic had become the habitat of countless fire attribute monsters.

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  As a water mage, Mira felt stifled and uncomfortable even from afar. Her body seemed to be suppressed and weakened. At this moment, even Hati, who usually hated being touched, lay still and allowed Mira to stroke it. It sensed that Mira’s condition was unstable, so it did not bother to take offense at her behavior.

  “Cough, cough.”

  Mira coughed softly, yet her hand continued to wander through Hati’s soft fur, a satisfied smile on her face. Vogar shook his head at the sight. They could have returned already, but Mira had insisted on observing the Infernic region. Perhaps Momo's father and him were still haunting her mind. She wanted to see Allblack with her own eyes and feel the dreadful atmosphere described in the countless tales.

  Thane, however, was the opposite of Vogar and Mira. He seemed largely unaffected, even somewhat comfortable in this environment. Perhaps the blood of SiverFang within him granted a certain resistance to fire. Although Thane had told Ramos that he would not venture deep into Infernic, something seemed to be urging him inward.

  From time to time, they encountered merchant caravans. Most bore the insignia of Two Hands, while traders from Greaton were rarely seen. Cerebus droppings were, after all, excellent materials for manufacturing explosives. Though their destructive power could not compare to Dark Despair, they were still widely used on the Marcarnis and BadLand fronts.

  “After visiting Allblack, we might be able to hitch a ride back with them.”

  Vogar pointed at a Two Hands convoy. His grandfather was one of the two supreme leaders of the organization. Perhaps they would show Vogar some courtesy and allow them a ride back. Of course, not on this trip. There would likely be other caravans departing from Siver Town.

  Siver Town lay at the far end of the Vayle Valley, nestled between low northern hills. Wooden and stone walls enclosed the main residential area. The houses were built from black timber harvested from DarkWood and low quality gray stone mined from the edges of Infernic. Under the governance of Two Hands, the place was not too bad, at least compared to the golden age of GoldenFang.

  The three person group quickly entered Siver Town. The sound of hammers striking metal and merchants calling out their wares filled the air. Thane stopped at a small stall run by a cold looking woman with one eye bandaged. She sold fire stones carved into all manner of strange shapes. One sculpture, a three headed Cerebus, was especially vivid. The creature appeared to be writhing in agony, its expression rendered with striking clarity and realism.

  “It’s beautiful. Wow.”

  Mira exclaimed in admiration, quickly purchasing a rather cute looking rabbit sculpture as a souvenir.

  The stall owner was quiet, unlike the others who shouted to attract customers. She simply sat there in silence, slowly carving the fire stone in her hand. Her tool was a rough looking metal rod, yet it effortlessly shaved thin layers from the notoriously hard fire stone.

  “She is very strong. At the very least, a Warlord.”

  Vogar whispered to Thane. Mana was densely concentrated within the metal rod. This was not something an ordinary person could do. It required extreme focus and superb control, especially since she was using it for carving, a task demanding meticulous precision.

  Thane had already noticed this, but something else drew his attention even more. Among her works was a fire stone carving of the SiverFang badge, so lifelike it was almost indistinguishable from the real thing. She had clearly seen it before, and at very close range.

  “You’re from SiverFang, aren’t you?”

  Thane’s words caused the old woman to pause. She raised her wary gaze toward the young boy and gently set down her carving tool.

  “SiverFang is the past. Now there is only GoldenFang. If you are looking for them, go to Allblack.”

  She stared at Thane for a long moment but sensed nothing familiar. Perhaps he was just a curious child. Her reply was curt as she picked up her tool and resumed carving.

  “I’m not looking for GoldenFang.”

  When GoldenFang was mentioned, clear disdain flashed across her face.

  “I’ll take this.”

  Thane picked up the SiverFang badge carved from fire stone and held it out to her. He smiled faintly and lowered his voice.

  “I’ve seen something exactly like this before.”

  At those words, the old woman’s eyes widened. Her hands trembled slightly before quickly steadying. On the surface, she appeared calm, but inside, a storm was raging.

  This fire stone badge was carved to perfectly match the tribal leader’s insignia. She had carved more than one, at least five were displayed, but only one was crafted with absolute precision.

  “The boy chose the most accurate one.”

  She thought to herself, a trace of fear surfacing. What if this was a scheme by GoldenFang. A trap laid to locate their hidden refuge. Outside the direct bloodline of SiverFang, almost no one could know the badge’s true form.

  “One silver.”

  She answered coldly. She was uncertain and unwilling to take risks.

  Thane, of course, had no money. He smiled gently at Vogar. At times like these, it was best to let a professional handle things.

  After payment was made, they left the stall behind, their destination being Allblack, the vast and gloomy fortress in the distance. The place that had once imprisoned Exitus, a lightless hell for the abandoned.

  Thane fully intended to return here. The old woman’s reaction confirmed that she was a surviving member of SiverFang’s main bloodline in hiding. She was likely weighing her options. Attempting to befriend her now would only make her more vigilant.

  The old woman watched the children depart. On closer inspection, the boy’s face seemed to resemble someone she had known long ago. Touching the rat shaped tattoo hidden beneath her clothes, she clenched her teeth.

  “It must just be a coincidence.”

  She tried to forget the encounter and continue carving, but she could no longer focus as before.

  Crack.

  Applying too much force, the metal rod shattered the fire stone. A complex sculpture that had required immense time and effort was destroyed in an instant.

  The old woman was not careless. She had merely recalled something from many years ago. If that child were still alive, he would likely be about the same age as that boy just now. That lone spark of hope was lit once more. If it truly was him, then they would meet again.

  The children had no intention of staying within the Adventurers’ Guild area. This place was under the control of Two Hand, so the organization maintained a branch here, and Vogar could rely on his grandfather’s name to secure lodging for the night. They arrived at a small yet solid and well fortified building, with Hemor’s banner fluttering overhead. The guards initially stopped the children, but upon seeing Vogar’s royal insignia, they quickly ushered them inside with utmost respect.

  Unlike the foolish rabble outside, the branch manager immediately recognized Vogar’s face. However, before he could speak, another voice rang out.

  “Vogar? What are you doing here?”

  Melor was surprised to see Vogar and his companions after the Old Ossa conference hosted by Ramos. He had taken the opportunity to stop by and inspect the operations of the Two Hands branch in the town of Siver. Recently, Cerberus fertilizer output had dropped significantly, and he needed to determine the cause. He had not expected to encounter the grandson of an old friend here. A young grandson already at the Warlord rank. What a fortunate old man. Thinking it over, his bloodline truly seemed to lack anyone as outstanding as Vogar.