Chapter 230: Summons

Everyone turned to Boren, who stood in the doorway, panting heavily. Sweat trickled down the sides of his round face, and the flesh along his cheeks trembled faintly with each uneven breath he took.

The urgency that had propelled him into the room lingered in his posture; his shoulders were stiff, and his eyes were wide and unsettled, as if delivering what he carried hadn’t lightened the burden in his hands.

Sage frowned slightly at the sight not out of irritation but from quiet concern. He gestured toward the chair beside him with a steady motion meant to soothe rather than command.

“What is it?” Sage asked, keeping his voice even and grounded, deliberately slower than Boren’s frantic breathing. “Take a breath first. You look like you’ve just outrun something.”

Boren shook his head faintly, swallowed hard, and stepped forward instead of sitting.

His movements were hesitant yet determined, as though the weight he carried demanded to be released before he lost his composure entirely.

Without another word, he extended his arms toward Sage, revealing what he had been clutching tightly against his chest: a sealed letter with its wax crest already slightly smudged from pressure and beside it an Adventurer’s Identification Card along with a familiar metal Adventurer badge denoting membership within the Guild.

As those items came into view, the air in the room shifted palpably. Conversations died before they could even begin again. Valeria’s gaze sharpened instantly; Brutus clenched his jaw; Caelis straightened subtly in his seat.

Lyana, who had been half-turned toward the window, froze mid-motion as recognition dawned on her. Calista stiffened despite her attempt to remain composed while Vanthrice’s usually detached expression tightened into something more engaged.

Sage accepted the items without hesitation but tightened his grip slightly around the badge as if confirming what he already suspected. He didn’t look at anyone else initially; instead, he broke the seal of the letter with quiet deliberation and unfolded it carefully while scanning its contents swiftly.

He didn’t read aloud or pause at any particular line. Yet as his gaze traveled from top to bottom, a change in his expression was unmistakable.

The calm steadiness that had anchored him moments before gave way to something heavier not anger or disbelief but a solemn weight settling behind his eyes. He lowered the letter slowly and looked up at everyone else.

“Gregor has resigned,” he said simply.

The words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples across each face in the room.

“He has formally relinquished his status as an Adventurer,” Sage continued in a measured tone that suggested maintaining composure was crucial to keeping this moment from unraveling completely.

“He writes that he is ashamed to remain under the Guild’s banner, that he can no longer bear this title nor does he have the courage to return here again.”

Lyana inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her mouth as if to physically restrain the sound rising from her chest. Tears instantly welled in her wide green eyes, glistening in the filtered light that streamed into the room. For a brief moment, she appeared less like the composed and capable healer they all knew and more like a younger sister confronted with news she wasn’t prepared to face.

“No…” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her efforts to steady it. “He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t just walk away.”

Brutus exhaled slowly through his nose, his broad hands curling into fists against his knees.

“Of course he would,” he muttered under his breath not with condemnation but with a deep understanding that made the truth sting even more. “That fool carries guilt like it’s armor.”

Vanthrice tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. “Or like it’s a punishment,” he added quietly. “Some people don’t know how to survive without blaming themselves.”

Calista’s gaze remained fixed on the badge in Sage’s hand. “He thinks leaving makes it right,” she said, her voice calm yet tinged with unmistakable sorrow. “He believes that by removing himself, he removes the burden.”

Lyana lowered her hand slowly, though her tears did not retreat. “He’s my brother,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“He’s always been this way. When we were children, if anything went wrong, anything at all, he’d take it upon himself. Even when it wasn’t his fault or when he had nothing to do with it.”

Sage listened without interrupting, his fingers still resting on the folded letter as though it were an anchor. When he finally spoke again, there was no accusation or frustration in his voice, only a quiet firmness shaped by understanding.

“He believes stepping away is the responsible choice,” Sage said. “He thinks that if he removes himself from this place, he removes the shadow of what happened.”

“But that’s not how it works,” Lyana protested, her voice rising slightly despite herself. “That’s not how healing works.”

“No,” Caelis agreed softly. “But guilt rarely listens to reason.”

The room fell into a heavy silence not chaotic but contemplative. Each of them understood Gregor’s nature well enough to see the logic behind his decision, even if they disagreed with it.

The attack had shaken them all deeply; however, for Gregor, who had pushed hardest for the mission leading up to it, the weight of consequence settled differently within him. It hadn’t merely wounded him; it had redefined him.

Brutus shifted forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “He thinks he failed us,” he stated plainly. “He believes that if he hadn’t pushed for this mission, none of this would have happened.”

“And if he stays,” Vanthrice added, “he’ll only cause more trouble.”

Lyana shook her head vigorously, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “He didn’t cause this,” she insisted. “The attack wasn’t his doing. The enemy chose that. Not him.”

Sage’s gaze shifted toward her, calm and steady. “You’re right,” he replied softly.

“But guilt doesn’t operate on fairness. It doesn’t measure logic; it only measures loss.”

Lyana searched his face for reassurance or perhaps resolve and found both. “So what do we do?” she asked, her voice smaller now but still urgent.

Sage unfolded the letter again, scanning it briefly before folding it with careful precision.

“We don’t chase after him,” he said, shaking his head. “And we don’t dismiss his feelings as foolish. If we do that, we only reinforce the belief that he’s alone in carrying them.”

Calista nodded slowly and added, “So we let him walk away?”

“For now, yes,” Sage corrected gently. “We let him breathe; we give him space to think all of this through. But we won’t let him disappear.”

A subtle shift filled the room, an alignment rather than a resolution. It wasn’t about forcing Gregor back, it was about keeping the door open for him to return.

Brutus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I bet he’s not far,” he said. “He wouldn’t leave the city entirely not without telling her.”

Lyana pressed her lips together as understanding settled in. “He wouldn’t,” she agreed quietly.

Vanthrice uncrossed his arms and remarked, “He’s isolating himself, which means he expects no one to follow.”

Sage’s expression hardened slightly not out of anger but from quiet determination. “That’s even more reason not to follow him right now. Let him cry and be alone; pursuing him will only make things worse.”

Lyana took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’ll talk to him,” she said finally. “I’m his sister, I think he’ll listen.”

Sage looked at Lyana thoughtfully before nodding in agreement after a moment of silence.

“That would be best.”

The tension in the room didn’t vanish but softened into purpose. There would be no dramatic confrontation or rushed attempts to drag Gregor back by force, only presence and patience, a steady reassurance that leaving didn’t erase belonging.

They continued discussing strategies for some time, shifting from shock to planning, from sorrow to measured intent, considering where Gregor might be hiding and who could discreetly keep watch to ensure he didn’t slip further into isolation.

Every voice carried weight; each perspective wove carefully into a shared understanding that this wasn’t just a problem to solve but a person needing support.

Just then a firm knock echoed at the door. The sound was controlled and deliberate, not frantic like Boren’s earlier entrance, but official.

All eyes turned toward the door.

“Enter,” Sage called out calmly.

The door swung open to reveal one of the Guild’s senior staff members. He stood tall, though fatigue was evident in his features. Stepping inside with respect, he closed the door behind him before speaking.

“Guild Master,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “Sir Cassian requests your presence.”

Sage’s gaze sharpened a fraction. “For what purpose?”

The staff member hesitated for just a moment before responding. “The Soul Transfer process must begin.”

His words hung heavily in the air, overshadowing even Gregor’s resignation. It was a topic none approached lightly.

Expressions shifted around the room as this news sank in, Valeria met Sage’s gaze with calmness that belied her clenched fists, a clear sign of the turmoil beneath her composed exterior.

Slowly rising from his seat, Sage held onto the letter and badge in his hand. His expression remained steady, but there was a newfound resolve in his posture, as if he had seamlessly transitioned from one heavy burden to another.

“I understand,” he replied quietly.

Lyana watched him intently, her earlier tears forgotten amid this new urgency. “You’re going now?”

“Yes,” Sage confirmed. “This cannot be delayed.”

Brutus instinctively rose as well. “Do you want company?”

Sage gently shook his head. “Not this time.”

Once again, silence enveloped the room but it felt different now, less fragile and more charged with anticipation.

As Sage moved toward the door, he paused briefly to scan the faces around him. “Don’t worry, nothing will go wrong, Mina will wake up soon.”

With that reassurance hanging in the air, he stepped past the staff member and into the corridor beyond, leaving behind a muted finality as the door clicked shut.

Inside the room, everyone remained still, absorbing this shift in events while outside life continued unabated, merchants bartered and adventurers roamed freely through bustling streets, the city alive with its own rhythm.

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