Chapter 100: A Search for his Sister.

The police building was quiet.

Too quiet.

Like a graveyard.

Rows of officers sat stiffly in their seats, shifting uncomfortably as if the chairs beneath them had turned into beds of nails.

Beads of sweat gathered on foreheads, trickling slowly down temples and into collars.

No one dared to wipe them away too obviously.

Hearts pounded heavily against their chests, each thud loud in their own ears. Muscles remained rigid, coiled tight, as though every person in the room was bracing for an unseen impact.

The atmosphere was heavy, thick and suffocating, like invisible hands pressing down on their lungs.

From the corners of their eyes, they stole glances at the silver-haired, blue-eyed young man seated at the center of the room.

He sat alone at the table, flipping through confidential files with unhurried movements, as though he were browsing casual reports rather than classified records tied to lives and deaths.

His mere presence felt like a massive mountain bearing down on everyone’s backs. The pressure was relentless, inescapable.

Even the high-level awakeners stationed in the room that had experienced many hardened battles and bloodshed were no different.

Their strength offered no comfort here.

Aveline sat only a few feet away from him.

The dwarf, infamous for her explosive temper and love for violence, was unusually docile.

Her posture was rigid, hands clasped together, her boots planted firmly on the ground.

She had recently returned from the uncharted territories but the tales of Thoren’s exploits had reached her long before she set foot back in the city.

Aveline respected nothing except strength.

And the boy seated before her was the very embodiment of it.

The epitome of overwhelming, undeniable power.

Her fingers twitched faintly.

Part of her, the reckless, battle-hungry part wanted nothing more than to leap from her seat and challenge him. To test herself against that terrifying strength, to feel it crash against her fists.

The urge burned fiercely in her chest.

But the moment she remembered he was a terrifying Necromancer, the impulse died instantly.

That thought alone was enough to extinguish her battle lust.

She loved using her fists, loved feeling bones crack beneath her knuckles, but she was not foolish. A man capable of commanding countless undead made physical strength meaningless.

Against him, her fists were nothing more than blunt toys.

She wouldn’t even know how she would die if she challenged him.

Besides, she had learned enough about Thoren to understand one simple truth…

He was unforgiving.

Offending him meant death.

It was as simple as that.

While Aveline discreetly studied him, Alma stared openly, shock written clearly across her face. She still remembered the day she had welcomed him into the Abyss.

Back then, he had seemed… ordinary.

Quiet. Unremarkable.

Just another young awakener stepping into a dangerous world.

But now….

His presence alone suffocated the room. Even breathing felt like a crime. Alma knew how proud and arrogant many of her fellow officers were.

She had fought beside them, argued with them, watched them stand tall against monstrous beasts.

Yet here they were.

Every single one of them trembling in their seats.

Spines drenched in cold sweat.

Eyes lowered.

Shoulders tense.

Since his arrival, Thoren had spoken very little. Apart from requesting files regarding her sister, he had not uttered a single unnecessary word.

He neither threatened nor questioned them.

Yet the silence he imposed was worse than shouting.

It gnawed at their nerves.

Then, without warning, Thoren lifted his head.

The soft rustle of paper ceased.

His gaze swept across the room, calm and piercing.

“Is this all?” he asked quietly.

The sound of his voice was neither loud nor harsh, but it echoed in the officers’ minds like a hammer striking stone.

For a moment, no one could respond.

Fear swallowed them whole.

What if he was not satisfied?

What if there were missing details?

What if he decided they were lying?

What if he chose torture instead?

A wave of panic surged through the room.

My god… why did I ever join the Federation Police?

Some officers trembled visibly. Others clenched their jaws and lowered their heads, breaths growing shallow and quick.

Ursula, the officer in charge of the records department, was drenched in perspiration. She had always loved her job.

It was safe, orderly, predictable.

She never had to venture beyond the town walls. When it was time to level up, the Federation arranged protection for her.

It had always seemed like the perfect position.

But now, she felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff.

This job is too dangerous.

I want to quit.

I quit!

She screamed internally as she wiped sweat from her brow with trembling fingers.

Feeling dozens of eyes settle on her, she swallowed hard.

“Y-Y-Yes…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

No one laughed.

No one mocked her.

They all understood the terror of the Grim Reaper.

Alma rose from her seat, breaking the unbearable tension. Her movements were firm, though her heart raced.

“Thoren,” she said evenly, “this is everything we have on her. If there’s more… we wouldn’t hide it from you.”

Thoren studied her for a brief moment, then nodded. His expression did not change.

Without another word, he stood and walked toward the exit. His steps were light, casual and measured.

Yet each footstep struck their hearts like a war drum.

No one dared speak.

Everyone silently prayed he would leave quickly.

If he stayed any longer, some of them were certain they would collapse.

Just as he reached the door, Thoren stopped.

He turned slowly and looked back at Alma.

“If I find out there’s more,” he said calmly, “I’ll come back.”

A faint curve touched his lips. It was not a smile.

“I hope you didn’t lie.”

Then he stepped out of the building.

The door closed.

A collective breath was released.

The tension snapped like a stretched wire, and relief washed through the room.

The monster was gone.

But Alma did not share their relief.

Her expression faltered. Her heart skipped violently.

What have I gotten myself into…?

Several high-ranking officers exchanged uneasy glances. They understood the threat beneath Thoren’s words.

“Alma, relax. Nothing will happen,” Green said as he stood, offering her a reassuring smile.

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she turned sharply toward Ursula.

“Are you absolutely sure there aren’t any hidden files in the archive?” Alma asked, her voice low and solemn.

The room stiffened again.

The relief vanished.

“Y-Yes,” Ursula replied immediately, her voice shaking. “That’s everything. I swear!”

Even if she had ten lives, she wouldn’t dare hide anything from the Grim Reaper.

Still, the unease in Alma’s chest refused to fade.

“Should we ask Elric?” Aveline suggested. “He might know more.”

Alma’s jaw tightened.

“…Right,” she said. “Let’s go see that bastard.”

She turned and headed toward the dungeon.

Behind her, the high-level officers followed without hesitation.

With the Grim Reaper involved, none of them dared to ignore the warning.

Not even for a second.

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