Chapter 229: News

The next day arrived quietly, slipping over Greyvale City like a breath held too long before finally being released.

Dawn broke in soft gradients of gold and pale amber, the rising sun spilling light across rooftops, stone roads, and the distant tree line that surrounded the city like a silent guardian.

From afar, Greyvale appeared unchanged, chimneys puffing smoke into the cool air, merchants setting up their stalls, and the steady rhythm of people stepping into another day of labor and routine.

Yet beneath this familiar surface lay something heavier: a subtle tension threaded through the city’s pulse, an unspoken awareness that something had shifted irrevocably.

It had been more than three days since the Guild was attacked.

Three days since smoke and screams etched themselves into memory. Three days since names began to fade from daily conversation, replaced by murmured condolences and the hollow weight of absence.

News spread quickly, faster than most could contain. What started as whispers in taverns and market corners traveled throughout the city and beyond, spilling into neighboring cities and towns before reaching the wider Evergreen Region.

Stories evolved as they spread, some exaggerated, some softened, others sharpened into fearful speculation but one truth remained constant: an unknown force had attacked the Guild, leaving everyone puzzled about why.

That uncertainty lingered in the air like a storm that had passed but left an unsettled sky behind.

The Adventurer District refused to remain dormant for long. By mid-morning, streets regained much of their usual bustle. Shops reopened; weapon racks clinked with steel being inspected and traded; and familiar scents of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted from corner stalls.

Life pressed forward, stubbornly unrelenting.

But it was not untouched by change. The economic shift was evident to anyone who looked closely enough: fewer transactions occurred; fewer arguments etc.

The heart of the district the Guild itself, was under reconstruction. Without it, the rhythm of Adventurer life fractured.

Many Adventurers wandered aimlessly now; their purpose temporarily stripped away. With no access to missions or Dungeon Passes, there were no formal expeditions or coordinated raids, no structured progression at all.

Some gathered in taverns nursing drinks and speculation while others ventured into the vast forests surrounding Greyvale to hunt magical beasts alone or in small groups hastily formed for survival.

Those woods became both opportunity and escape, a place to earn coin but also a refuge from the suffocating quiet following loss.

At the center stood the Guild, scarred yet unbroken. Construction crews worked steadily across its grounds with methodical determination: stones were hauled; timber raised; steel frameworks locked into place.

The skeletal structure of the Guild Hall was becoming increasingly visible, its outline sharpening with each passing hour. Though far from complete, its presence alone communicated a silent message to all who watched.

Inside the Adventurer Inn, in. small room, the atmosphere was calmer yet still heavy. A faint aroma of herbs mingled with the subtle metallic scent of healing tonics, while a low murmur of voices filled the room, steady but subdued.

Sage sat near the center, his posture straight despite the fatigue evident in the shadows beneath his eyes, he was still in bandages. Surrounding him were familiar faces, Valeria, silent and composed; Vanthrice, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, Lyana, her expression attentive yet strained.

Brutus, seated heavily with his usual grounded presence,Caelis, quiet and observant and Calista, carefully positioned with her body supported and her missing arm bandaged securely.

The atmosphere was thick with the weight of shared survival.

Sage’s gaze moved deliberately from one face to another not hurried or distant but as if he were taking inventory not of numbers or resources but of people.

“How are your injuries?” he finally asked, his voice calm and steady. It carried no authority but instead reflected genuine concern. “Be honest. Not what you think I want to hear.”

Brutus let out a low breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Healing,” he replied. “Slow but steady. The potions helped, the Mana Liquid helped too. Still stiff and it hurts, but it’s manageable.”

Lyana nodded in agreement. “Same here. The worst is behind us; what remains will take time.”

Vanthrice shrugged slightly. “Could be worse,” he said simply. “We’re alive.”

Caelis remained quiet for a moment before adding softly, “There’s damage beneath the surface, more than just physical that will take longer to heal.”

Sage nodded thoughtfully as he absorbed every word spoken around him. His gaze eventually settled on Calista as the room quieted slightly in anticipation.

Despite her loss, Calista maintained a composed posture; her breathing was steady though her expression revealed she was far from unshaken. The absence of her arm was impossible to ignore, the bandaged space spoke louder than any words could convey.

“How are you?” Sage asked gently now, stripping away any formality.

Calista met his gaze without hesitation. “Alive,” she replied firmly. “Healing and adjusting.” After a brief pause, she added, “It will take time but I’ll adapt.”

Sage offered no false reassurances; he simply nodded in understanding.

“That’s enough for now,” he said quietly.

The conversation shifted then, updates flowed between observations and quiet reflections about recovery schedules, reconstruction progress, and shifting situations within the district.

While their tone remained practical and steady beneath it all lingered an unspoken tension that threaded through every pause and glance during moments when conversation slowed.

Eventually, a name emerged.

Gregor.

A heavy silence enveloped the room. Valeria’s gaze dropped slightly, while Brutus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Lyana pressed her lips together, and even Vanthrice, typically indifferent to emotional currents, remained still.

Calista broke the silence first. “We spoke to him yesterday,” she said softly.

All eyes turned toward her.

“He’s… not okay,” she continued. “It’s more than just sadness or shock. He’s carrying the weight of everything, the deaths, the consequences. He believes it all falls back on him.”

Brutus let out a heavy sigh. “Of course he does,” he muttered. “That’s just who he is.”

Lyana nodded slowly in agreement. “He won’t let anyone help him bear this burden,” she added. “He sees it as solely his responsibility.”

Sage listened intently without interrupting.

Calista’s voice softened further. “He thinks if he hadn’t pushed for the mission… none of this would have happened not my injury, not the Guild attack, not Mina… None of it. The casualties, you nearly dying, he feels responsible for it all.”

She paused, her gaze unwavering. “He doesn’t just feel guilty; he’s breaking under that weight.”

Her words settled in the room like stones sinking into still water.

Sage remained silent for a moment longer, his eyes lowered as thoughts flickered behind them like shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and measured but carried an underlying intensity.

“Guilt doesn’t vanish just because we tell someone it isn’t theirs,” he said thoughtfully. “And it doesn’t ease simply because others share it with them. It stays. it lingers and shapes how a person views themselves.”

His gaze lifted slightly as he continued, “We can’t force him to let go of that guilt.”

Valeria finally spoke up, her tone quiet yet resolute. “So what do we do?”

Sage answered without hesitation.”We stand by him. We don’t pretend this didn’t happen, we don’t abandon him to carry this alone, even if he chooses to walk on his own for a while. And also all of this wasn’t entirely his fault. I too was in the wrong.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence; no one disagreed because there were no easy solutions or words that could undo what had already occurred.

They continued their conversation for a little while longer, now slower and more subdued, drifting between updates and quiet reflections.

The atmosphere remained somber yet steady, weighed down by understanding and fatigue.

Suddenly, the door burst open with startling force, shattering the calm and drawing every gaze at once.

Boren stumbled into the room, breathless and urgent; his usually composed demeanor replaced by panic. His chubby hands clutched something tightly against his chest, knuckles pale from pressure and his eyes were wide with alarm and disbelief.

“Boss…!” he called out in a strained voice.

Everyone straightened up immediately.

Sage leaned forward in his seat, his gaze locking onto Boren. “What’s going on? Is someone after you or something?”

Boren hurriedly stepped closer, still trying to catch his breath, gripping tightly onto whatever he was holding.

“Boss… I’ve got news,” he said, his voice thick with urgency.

The room fell silent as every eye turned toward him.

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