As the group made their way toward the League's building, Henry glanced at Leo, who was walking beside him.
"Thanks, Victor. If it weren't for you, we'd probably be dead."
Leo shook his head. "I just got lucky. That alpha was strong. Besides, we were given the wrong intel—it wasn't really your fault."
Henry sighed. "Yeah, I didn't expect their numbers to be twice what we were told."
Leo gave him a small smile. "Good thing wolves rely on their leaders to coordinate. If it had been another type of monster, things could've ended very differently."
After several minutes of walking, they arrived at the League's building and headed toward the reception desk, where Katrine stood.
"Hi," Emily greeted her with a wave.
"Hey! Back from the wolf hunt already?" Katrine asked.
"Yeah, though the intel was way off," Emily replied with a wry smile.
Katrine frowned. "What do you mean?"
Without answering, Emily led the group to an open section of the room—a space commonly used by adventurers to hand over materials and proof of mission completion. The others followed as she reached into her magic bag.
With a flick of her wrist, she released the contents.
One by one, wolves tumbled onto the floor. Dozens of them.
The room fell silent as over thirty wolves piled into the space, their fur matted with blood and dust. Katrine took an instinctive step back, her eyes widening. Around the room, adventurers paused their conversations, turning to stare as whispers spread through the crowd.
Katrine's eyes darted across the pile of wolves before she spun around and ran straight to Emily.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice thick with concern.
"I'm fine," Emily reassured her.
Katrine wasn't convinced. "Are you sure?" She started checking Emily for injuries, running her hands over her arms and shoulders.
Watching their interaction, Leo leaned toward Henry and whispered, "Are they close or something?"
Henry smirked. "They're sisters."
Leo blinked. "Sisters? Well, that explains why they look so much alike."
Emily, noticing them talking, turned and pointed at Leo. "Victor saved our lives."
Before Leo could react, Katrine rushed over, grabbing his hands tightly. "Thank you, Victor! You saved my little sister."
Leo stiffened, caught off guard by her sudden gratitude. "Ah… we were a team. I just did what I was supposed to do."
Before the conversation could continue, murmurs rippled through the room as more adventurers gathered around. A firm hand clapped Leo's shoulder.
"Whoa, look at that beast! Is that the alpha?"
Leo turned to see Elias, the familiar face from the training grounds, grinning at him.
Edgar approached next, letting out a low whistle. "Damn, that's a lot of wolves."
"Good job, guys."
More voices joined in, congratulating them from all corners of the room. Then, with a mischievous grin, Philipp threw his arms around both Henry and Leo's shoulders.
"It's time to celebrate!"
A chorus of cheers erupted in unison, filling the guild hall with excitement.
He led the group into the next hall, which had the lively atmosphere of an inn—long wooden tables, the scent of roasted meat, and the hum of conversation filling the air. At the far end, behind the bar, stood a broad-shouldered man polishing a mug.
"Cedric! Bring out everything you've got—we're celebrating!" Philipp called out.
The bartender, Cedric, grinned and raised his own glass. "Coming right up! Hope you're thirsty!"
Within minutes, the hall swelled with adventurers, their voices rising in a lively symphony of chatter and laughter. The long wooden tables, once bare, quickly became laden with tankards of frothy ale, steaming platters of roasted meat, fresh-baked bread, and hearty stews. The rich aroma of sizzling spices and charred meat mixed with the sharp tang of spilled alcohol, creating a scent that clung to the air.
Conversations overlapped, filling the space with tales of daring hunts, near-death encounters, and hard-won victories. Some adventurers exaggerated their stories, their gestures growing wilder with each retelling, while others listened intently, nodding along with knowing grins. Jokes were tossed across tables like coins, met with bursts of laughter that echoed through the hall.
Leo leaned back in his seat, taking it all in. What struck him the most wasn't just the joy of the celebration—it was who was celebrating. Scattered throughout the hall, side by side at the same tables, were adventurers from all three races: dwarves, elves, and humans.
He watched a burly dwarf with a thick, braided beard argue playfully with a tall, sharp-featured elf over who had landed the killing blow on some beast. Across the room, another dwarf and a human were engaged in a drinking contest, their mugs slamming down on the wooden surface as the surrounding crowd cheered them on. An elven woman with flowing silver hair strummed a lute while a human and a dwarf clapped along, their laughter mingling with the music.
It was rare to see such easy camaraderie between the races. Back in Flesa, Leo had rarely witnessed anything like this—mostly, he had only seen humans. But here, among adventurers, the barriers seemed to disappear. Here, they were not elf, dwarf, or human—they were comrades, warriors bound by shared battles and the thrill of survival.
Mugs clashed together in celebratory toasts, amber liquid sloshing over the rims as drinks were downed in one gulp. Plates were scraped clean, refilled, and emptied again. The once-clear wooden floors became scattered with crumbs, stray bones, and the occasional overturned mug. Yet no one seemed to mind. The atmosphere remained warm, charged with the shared bond of those who had faced danger and lived to tell the tale.
As the night deepened, some adventurers began to doze off right at the tables, arms folded beneath their heads, while others stumbled toward the exit, still singing half-remembered songs. The fire in the great hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls as the celebration carried on, stretching toward the very edge of the night.
Leo exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Seeing them like this—together, without the weight of their histories pressing down on them—was interesting. Maybe even a little hopeful.
As the night wore on, Leo found a reason to excuse himself from the celebration. He made his way back to his room, needing to prepare for the meeting ahead.
After ensuring that no one had followed him, Leo locked the door behind him and sat on his bed. Just to be certain, he activated his Moonlit Gaze, scanning the room for any hidden presences. Only when he was satisfied that he was alone did he allow himself to relax. He lay down, closed his eyes—and when he opened them again, he was no longer in his room.
Before him stood a grand and familiar sight: the vast, dimly lit chamber of the conclave, with its massive stone table at the center. Shadows flickered against the ancient walls as the figures in wrapped in shadow sat in their designated seats. The atmosphere was thick with secrecy, as always.
"Welcome, my friends, to another conclave of our order," Mr. Sage announced, his deep voice echoing through the hall. "As is our custom, let us commence with the fulfillment of promises made at our last gathering."
At his words, sacks of gold flow across the table, coming to rest before Leo and Ms. Shadow. Leo silently collected his share, feeling the reassuring weight of the coins in his hands before securing them in his bag. With this, his personal savings had now reached 1,700 gold coins.
A flicker of emotion passed through him—satisfaction at having amassed such wealth, yet a lingering sadness that he couldn't share it with his family. Still, he reminded himself of the Pope's promise—his loved ones were being taken care of. That would have to be enough.
Once business was concluded, Mr. King turned to Ms. Shadow.
"Ms. Shadow, how are things in the Shadow Lands now?"
"All factions have withdrawn to their respective kingdoms," she replied smoothly. "Additionally, the Kingdom of Magic has volunteered to station a permanent watch force in the area to monitor any future disturbances."
Mr. King nodded approvingly. "That is reasonable." His gaze then shifted toward Leo. "And what of Flesa, Mr. Clone?"
Leo shook his head. "Unfortunately, I'm no longer there."
A chuckle came from Mr. Crow. "Smart move, Mr. Clone. If I were in your position, I'd have left too."
Before Leo could respond, another voice cut through the discussion.
"I have news from the seas."
The speaker was Mr. Light, his usual calm demeanor carrying an edge of intrigue.
"There are reports that Captain Bernardo and the Black Fang have gone missing."
"Missing?" Mr. King's voice carried a note of surprise.
"That could actually be a good thing," Ms. Eyes remarked thoughtfully. Seeing that she had piqued the group's curiosity, she elaborated, "One of our goals has always been to eradicate piracy. With one of the most powerful captains gone, there's a real chance that the Red Rose will make a move."
At the mention of the Red Rose, silence fell over the table as each member fell into deep thought.
"A clash between Red Rose and a mysterious sea monster…" Mr. Crow murmured under his breath.
Mr. Light leaned forward. "I plan to set sail soon and gather more information from the area where the monster was last sighted. Mr. King, can you keep an eye on the city for me while I'm away?"
Mr. King nodded without hesitation. "That won't be a problem."
With a mutual understanding between them, that discussion came to a close.
After a brief silence, Mr. Crow cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention once more.
"The vampire responsible for the Eklashire attack was hired by someone from the North," he revealed. "However, aside from that, we've been noticing an unusual amount of movement among the vampires. It's as if they're… preparing for something. Does anyone have additional information on this?"
"I don't know if it's related, but a group of werewolves recently went on a rampage in a small city within the Kingdom of Magic," added Mr. Immortal. "Historically, whenever vampires start moving in force, werewolves tend to follow."
Mr. Crow leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "Werewolves… Could it be connected?"
The room fell into quiet contemplation, the weight of unspoken possibilities lingering in the air.
The meeting continued with discussions on kingdom economics and political shifts, but nothing as urgent as what had just been discussed. Eventually, the conclave was adjourned, leaving Leo with much to think about as he returned to his waking world.
…
Lars, the newly appointed Bishop of Flesa, stood at the grand entrance of the cathedral, his robes flowing gently in the cool morning breeze. By his side was Edgarth, his expression firm yet contemplative as he observed the hundreds of paladins moving with disciplined precision.
Each paladin carried artifacts—some wrapped in cloth, others sealed in enchanted cases—every item requiring its own unique method of transport. Among them, a group of four bore the weight of a large, reinforced chest, gripping its edges as they moved in unison. Behind them, a priest muttered an incantation, his hands glowing faintly as he reinforced the spell ensuring the contents remained stable and undisturbed.
Slowly but surely, the items were placed into five grand carriages, each one reinforced with protective sigils. a teleportation circle, a massive and intricate formation carved into the stone courtyard by a team of priests, shimmered with arcane energy, signaling its readiness.
Then, a sudden presence disrupted the air.
From the heart of the magical formation, a figure emerged.
He was tall, unnaturally so, with long black hair cascading over the high collar of his dark, elegant coat. His features were striking, almost elven in beauty, yet there was something unnerving about him—his eyes, deep and endless as the void itself.
The moment he appeared, both Edgarth and Lars bowed slightly in acknowledgment.
"Mr. Nikolaus Graf, welcome," Lars greeted, his tone measured with respect.
Nikolaus's gaze swept over the assembled convoy before he spoke. "Is everything ready?"
"Yes," Lars confirmed.
"Then let's not waste any time."
Nikolaus Graf—the third S-rank warrior of the Kingdom of Light, personally assigned by the Pope to oversee the safe transport of these relics to the capital—stepped forward, his mere presence enough to reaffirm the gravity of the mission.
Edgarth turned to Lars. "Then I leave the city in your hands."
Lars placed his hand over his chest, the traditional gesture of blessing. "May God's Light be with you."
As the final preparations were completed, a regiment of paladins and priests took their positions, each assuming their assigned roles. At the very front, Nikolaus and Edgarth stood as the commanding figures of the convoy.
With a simple yet authoritative command from Nikolaus, the carriages began their journey, their destination was the capital.