Chapter 86: The Calm Before Another Slaughter

It had been two days since Thoren slaughtered the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunter.

Yet for the awakeners, the scene was still painfully fresh in their minds.

Etched into memory as vividly as if it had happened only hours ago.

The story was told and retold in teahouses and taverns, whispered over steaming cups and clinking mugs.

Each retelling grew more embellished, more dramatic, yet none could fully capture the dread of witnessing it firsthand.

No matter how often it was discussed, the ending was always the same.

The Ghost Scream Bounty Hunter was brutally slaughtered.

And the Federation Police had done nothing.

That was the detail people lingered on the most.

At nearly every table, someone would lower their voice and mutter about how the Federation had failed to step forward, failed to stop the slaughter, failed to act as the so-called guardians of order they claimed to be.

While many suspected that something far deeper was at play, a hidden scheme, or a corruption that reached far beyond the surface.

No one dared to say it aloud.

So instead, people waited.

They waited to see how things would unfold.

They waited to see whether the Federation would finally act or continue to pretend nothing was wrong.

But there was one thing everyone, regardless of guild or party, silently agreed upon.

Thoren Starfall had become an existence that could no longer be ignored.

Across the town, life continued on the surface.

Awakeners prepared for hunts, tightening their armor and checking their weapons.

Guilds distributed missions to their members, scribes pinning fresh notices onto crowded boards.

Alchemists shouted prices as they sold potions from glass bottles that shimmered under the bright morning sky.

Blacksmiths hammered steel into shape, displaying newly forged weapons and armor with practiced pride.

It was a busy morning.

Until they saw him.

For a single, suspended moment, the bustling street grew unnaturally quiet.

Footsteps faltered.

Voices died mid-sentence.

Even the clang of metal seemed to fade into the background.

People froze where they stood.

No one dared to breathe too loudly.

Silver hair.

Blue eyes.

With slow, measured steps, Thoren walked through the street, his expression calm, detached, and utterly indifferent to the fear radiating from those around him.

He did not look left or right.

He did not acknowledge the countless gazes fixed upon him.

Behind him followed ten figures clad in black robes, their hoods pulled low, faces hidden in shadow.

They moved in perfect formation…two in front, four in the middle, four behind.

Their synchronized footsteps were soft, almost soundless, yet their presence alone sent chills racing down the spines of everyone who saw them.

Like a chain reaction, the crowd parted.

People scrambled out of his path as if fleeing from a monstrous beast.

Some even pressed themselves flat against walls, unwilling to risk drawing attention.

Anyone who had witnessed the brutal execution of the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunter knew exactly what those black hoods represented.

Death.

Looking at Thoren’s back, many felt their hearts pounding violently against their ribs.

“The Grim Reaper is out…” someone whispered.

The words spread quickly.

And no one argued against them.

As the initial shock wore off, murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. People leaned toward one another, exchanging hurried speculation.

Where was he going?

Why now?

Swiftly, the news spread throughout the town.

Whispers leapt from street to street.

Awakeners who had been preparing to leave the city halted their plans. Guild leaders called emergency meetings.

Smaller parties huddled together, praying fervently that the Grim Reaper was not walking in their direction.

Fear gripped the town like a tightening vice.

Inside the headquarters of the Crimson Arc Guild, Arin froze when he received the report.

“What direction is he heading?” he asked sharply, already moving toward the exit.

“…The direction of the Silver Crest Guild,” one of his subordinates replied.

Silver Crest Guild?

Arin halted mid-stride.

His brow furrowed as he considered the implications.

Had the Silver Crest Guild crossed Thoren somehow? Had they interfered with him or worse, angered him?

After only a brief moment, Arin shook his head.

No matter the reason, he couldn’t afford to ignore this.

“Gather everyone,” he ordered firmly. “We’re heading to the Silver Crest Guild.”

They weren’t the only ones.

From every corner of the town, groups began moving toward the same destination.

Guild members, parties both big and small, and those driven purely by fear. No one wanted to be caught unaware if blood was about to be spilled again.

Inside the Federation Police Building, the atmosphere was far from calm.

Elric paced back and forth in his office, his face twisted into a deep scowl.

“How did I not realize I was being followed?” he snarled, slamming his fist onto the wooden table.

The impact echoed sharply through the room.

His blood boiled with rage and fear in equal measure.

He had been careful or so he believed. Every move calculated, every step measured. Yet somehow, someone had slipped through his defenses.

His fingers curled into fists, knuckles whitening.

“I need to find that sneaky bastard before the news spreads further,” he muttered.

Creak.

The office door opened.

A thin young man with ash-gray hair stepped inside. His dark, hollow eyes fixed on Elric with a gaze devoid of warmth.

“How are you going to handle this mess?” the young man asked, his voice cold and terrifyingly calm.

Elric shuddered.

In front of this boy, his authority as a Federation captain meant nothing.

“Master, I’ll handle it immediately,” Elric said, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound composed.

He knew exactly how terrifying the boy before him was. He had witnessed him drain human blood without hesitation, turning lives into fuel for dark rituals.

The three undead servants under his control alone were enough to make Elric’s skin crawl.

“I know you’ll handle it,” the ash-gray-haired youth said slowly. “But how?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“If you had done your job properly, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Elric’s heart raced.

’If I don’t satisfy him, he thought desperately, I’ll end up as another sacrifice.’

“I—I’ve already sent my men to search for them,” Elric said quickly. “Minerva and her friend have nowhere to hide.”

He swallowed hard.

“Before today ends, I’ll bring them to you.”

The youth studied him for a moment.

“You’d better,” he said quietly. “You know what will happen if you don’t.”

He turned to leave.

Creak.

The door opened again.

A young female officer stepped inside, her eyes darting between Elric and the strange young man. Confusion flickered across her face.

“Why would you barge in without knocking?” Elric snapped, seizing the chance to assert his authority. “Do you want to be sent to the disciplinary department?”

“C-Captain, I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “There’s an urgent situation that requires your attention!”

“What situation could possibly make you forget your manners?” Elric demanded coldly.

From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the ash-gray-haired youth, but the boy’s expression remained unreadable.

“Speak,” Elric ordered.

The officer swallowed nervously.

“T-The Grim Reaper… he’s heading toward the Silver Crest Guild.”

“What?!” Elric’s eyes widened.

For the first time, the ash-gray-haired youth’s expression shifted, just slightly.

“Yes, Captain,” the officer continued. “Everyone is converging there as we speak.”

’This is bad,’ Elric thought, panic clawing at his chest.

“Gather everyone!” he shouted, striding toward the door. “We’re moving out immediately!”

He raised his voice, adopting a righteous tone as officers scrambled to obey.

“We must stop that demon before he commits another murder!”

Behind him, the ash-gray-haired youth watched in silence, his expression unreadable, a flicker of something dark stirring behind his hollow eyes.

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