Chapter 91: Wine Before Blood

Arin stared at Thoren with a conflicted expression. The two sat across from each other at a polished wooden table, quietly sipping their wine. The usually lively hall of the Crimson Arc Guild was eerily silent.

Every guild member had vanished.

Standing behind Thoren were ten hooded figures, motionless as statues. Some of their black robes had been scorched during battle, exposing fragments of armor beneath.

The metal glistened faintly under the dim illumination of the room radiated a chilling aura.

Within their hoods, hollow eye sockets burned with pale-yellowish soul fire, watching everything and nothing at the same time.

The pressure they emitted was suffocating.

Arin swallowed and finally broke the silence.

“Should I… be scared?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady.

Though there was no direct hostility between them, merely looking at Thoren’s silver hair and deep blue eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

Those eyes were calm, too calm, like an abyss that swallowed fear itself.

Before, Arin had taken pride in his own strength.

As the Guildmaster of the Crimson Arc Guild, one of the top five guilds on the first floor, he had believed himself to be among the strongest awakeners around.

But now, sitting across from this boy, that pride felt laughable.

The person before him had defeated two Level 15 awakeners without breaking a sweat.

Arin’s guild members were part of the strongest awakener who had survived countless hunts in the Abyss.

Yet compared to Thoren’s seemingly endless undead servants, their strength felt painfully ordinary.

If the Crimson Arc Guild had faced the Silver Crest Guild, the battle would never have ended so decisively. There would have been casualties on both sides, drawn-out clashes, and strategic retreats.

But Thoren?

He had erased them.

As Arin reflected further, an even more unsettling realization surfaced. Many of the truly powerful awakeners were currently deep within uncharted territory, desperately attempting to break through to the second floor.

Without them present, there was no one.

No one in the town or its surrounding regions who could rival Thoren’s strength.

And this was only now.

With the terrifying pace at which Thoren was growing, Arin believed that in just a few more days, the boy would become completely unrivaled on the first floor.

That thought alone compelled him to ask the question aloud.

Thoren chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly casual. “Relax. I’m not some deranged psychopath who goes on killing rampages for fun.”

He set his mug down and looked directly at Arin, his expression turning serious. “I consider you a friend. Why would I attack you?”

Arin blinked.

“Everyone I’ve killed so far wanted me dead,” Thoren continued calmly. “So I ended them before they could end me.”

The matter-of-fact tone made the words even more chilling.

Arin released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Since Thoren was Necromancer, Arin knew better than most how undead energy could warp the minds of its wielders. It was infamous for seeping into thoughts, eroding empathy, twisting logic.

Yet Thoren spoke with clarity.

Purpose.

’As long as I don’t go against him… I should be safe,’ Arin thought as he drained his wine.

Thoren studied him for a brief moment before shaking his head and emptying his own mug. “Hah. This doesn’t even compare to the wine at the Rusty Barrel.”

Arin burst into laughter. “Of course not. This is just ordinary wine. How could it compare to Rat Wine?”

He had tasted it once—strong, burning, unforgettable. Just thinking about it made him wince.

“I bet you burned your mouth the first time,” Thoren said with a faint smirk.

“Burned?” Arin grimaced. “For an entire day, I couldn’t even close my mouth properly.”

The two shared a rare, genuine laugh, one that momentarily eased the tension.

Then Thoren spoke again, his tone shifting abruptly. “Do you know about the Slave Trade Guild?”

The question struck like a blade.

Arin flinched and straightened instantly. “Where did you hear that name?” he asked, his voice betraying unease.

The reaction alone told Thoren everything he needed to know.

“I was targeted a few days ago,” Thoren said evenly. “And now…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Arin sucked in a sharp breath.

’How many enemies does this guy have?’ he thought incredulously.

Arin had spent months in the Abyss, yet he had never drawn this much hostility. Thoren, on the other hand, had only been here for days and already had so many enemies..

“If I hadn’t been strong enough,” Thoren continued calmly, “I would’ve been captured by them and used for whatever twisted ritual or scheme they’re planning.”

He spoke as though discussing the weather, but beneath the surface, his killing intent simmered violently. Thoren already imagined burning their hideout to the ground.

“You once told me there were people who chose to serve the Abyss,” Thoren went on, pausing briefly. “I believe the Slave Trade Guild might be one of them.”

“What?!” Arin’s eyes widened in shock.

Rumors had circulated, whispers exchanged behind closed doors but no one had ever possessed concrete evidence.

No guild, no organization had ever been directly implicated.

But now…

“Thoren,” Arin said solemnly, “you must not speak such words lightly. Accusations like this could escalate far beyond your expectations.”

Thoren remained unfazed. “Do you think it hasn’t already escalated?”

His eyes darkened. “What I saw in the ancient city…” He paused. “Humanity is walking on a very thin line. And it’s only a matter of time before that line breaks.”

Arin’s brow furrowed deeply.

His heart pounded.

If anyone else had spoken those words, he would’ve dismissed them as paranoia. But coming from Thoren, they carried terrifying weight.

“What is going on?” Arin asked grimly.

If matters were truly this dire, he needed to prepare or even alert those on the higher floors.

The top five guilds possessed artifacts that allowed communication with upper floors, but the cost of using them was astronomical.

They were reserved only for catastrophes that could not be delayed.

“I can tell you,” Thoren replied, “but first, you must do something for me.”

Arin hesitated. “And what would that be?”

Thoren’s gaze sharpened.

“Help me locate the hideout of the Slave Trade Guild.”

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