Inside the headquarters of Dravik—
a man sat behind a large wooden desk cluttered with reports, maps, and half-opened documents. Sweat soaked through the white vest he was wearing while his feet continuously tapped restlessly against the wooden floor.
Drake.
The vice guild master of Dravik.
His fingers impatiently tapped against the glowing communication crystal resting in his hand.
"Pick up, Vyom…"
His voice grew more tense.
"Come on… pick up."
The crystal remained silent.
Drake frowned deeply before attempting the connection once more.
Nothing.
The call refused to connect.
A bad feeling slowly rose within his chest.
The sudden disconnection just now…
combined with Vyom abruptly ending the conversation earlier…
something was wrong.
Drake immediately stood up from his chair.
The wooden floor creaked loudly beneath him as he hurried toward the guild's main hall while throwing on his maroon trench coat. A dark tiger with glowing crimson eyes was stitched on the right shoulder of the coat—
the insignia of Dravik.
The moment he entered the main hall, countless adventurers and guild members turned toward him.
The hall itself was massive, illuminated by dim lanterns hanging from iron chains above. Weapons rested against tables while the smell of alcohol and metal lingered heavily in the air.
Without hesitation, Drake climbed onto one of the long wooden benches near the center of the hall.
"Listen up, everybody!"
The noisy guild instantly quieted down.
Drake's expression looked far too serious for this to be normal.
"We need to depart immediately."
"The guild master is in danger."
The entire hall erupted into murmurs.
A woman with short black hair quickly stood up from her seat, her leather armor rattling softly.
"What do you mean he's in danger?"
"Didn't he just leave for the academy speech this morning?"
Drake looked toward her.
"Clare… I'll explain everything on the way there."
His voice hardened.
"But right now…"
"We move immediately."
The atmosphere inside the guild instantly changed.
Chairs scraped loudly across the floor as members hurriedly gathered their weapons and rushed toward their carriages. Some strapped swords to their waists while others quickly prepared communication artifacts and supplies.
Scouts immediately moved ahead to inspect the last location where the communication crystal had remained active.
---
Meanwhile—
far away from the capital—
Aarav still sat alone near the edge of the cliff.
The oversized academy uniform hung loosely around his chubby frame, the dark fabric swaying softly in the cold evening wind while his knees remained pulled tightly against his chest.
The sky had already begun darkening slowly.
Orange sunlight faded behind distant mountains while the roaring river far below crashed violently against the rocks beneath the cliff.
Yet Aarav remained there.
Unable to move forward.
Unable to turn back.
A long sigh escaped his lips once more.
His fingers unconsciously touched the silver ring resting in his palm.
A present from his father.
The only thing he still carried with him.
Aarav lowered his eyes toward the crumpled note beside him.
"Is there anything more I can even say…"
His voice sounded tired.
Broken.
Deep down—
Aarav already knew the truth.
He was delaying it.
Purposely.
Because no matter how miserable he felt…
he was still terrified of dying.
Another weak laugh escaped him.
"I really am pathetic…"
The cold wind clawed against his face once again.
Aarav slowly tightened his grip around the ring.
Then suddenly—
his expression darkened slightly.
"I shouldn't have sent those men after him that day…"
A long silence followed.
Then another sigh escaped his lips.
---
Meanwhile—
deep inside the forest—
Vyom Dravik was fighting for his life.
Moonlight barely pierced through the dense black trees while fallen leaves cracked beneath rushing footsteps.
The assassins attacked relentlessly from every direction, their movements sharp and perfectly coordinated.
Clang!
Vyom barely blocked another blade before immediately dodging a dagger flying toward his throat.
He clicked his tongue irritably.
"Guys, come on…"
Another assassin lunged toward him instantly.
"What exactly did I ever do to you people?"
Vyom narrowly ducked beneath another slash before quickly running behind a thick tree for cover.
"Was I in debt to one of you?"
A blade sliced past his face.
"Did I steal your candy when you were children or something?"
Another attack narrowly missed his neck.
"Why don't we sit down and talk like adults?"
Despite joking, sweat slowly dripped down his forehead.
He was being cornered.
The assassins were giving him no room to counterattack.
Vyom kept running, dodging, and parrying their attacks while desperately waiting for a single opening.
Then finally—
one of the assassins stumbled slightly on the uneven forest ground.
Vyom's eyes sharpened instantly.
SHING!
His curved blade pierced directly through the assassin's chest.
"Hah… finally got you."
But the moment those words left his mouth—
his instincts screamed.
Too late.
The dying assassin had never intended to survive.
Even beneath the dark mask—
Vyom could see the smirk on the assassin's face.
He was bait.
SHHK!
Another assassin suddenly appeared from Vyom's blind spot.
A blade flashed through the darkness.
"AAGHHHH!"
Clang!
Thud.
Vyom's curved blade hit the wet forest ground—
followed by the arm holding it.
Blood sprayed violently across the trees.
Vyom stumbled backward as his severed arm crashed onto the ground beside him.
His face twisted in agony.
"Damn it… ARGH!"
"I did not come to this world just to die like this!"
He immediately grabbed the wound, desperately applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
"He used himself as bait…"
The assassins slowly closed in once more.
Vyom's breathing became uneven.
His vision blurred slightly from blood loss.
Without hesitation—
he turned and sprinted deeper into the dark forest, desperately trying to escape them.