Peace is a fragile thing. It sits lightly on the edge of a blade, waiting for the slightest tremor to send it bleeding into chaos.

While Aiden's world basked in a rare calm—the soft warmth of victory, the quiet hum of new power gained—elsewhere, far from the marbled halls of Leonidus, that blade had already fallen.

The Slayer Guild — Dawn of Panic

The Slayer Guild stood at the heart of northembria's inner city, its towers of dark stone reaching into the clouds like the ribs of a god's corpse.

For centuries, it had been the silent guardian of humanity—the shield against the things that slithered beneath earth and sky. But tonight, those same walls trembled.

Within the Guild's council chamber, light flickered from crystal torches that lined the room's circular expanse.

Shadows danced across faces etched with worry, anger, and age. The five elders of the Guild—each a name whispered in both reverence and fear—had gathered for an emergency meeting.

At the far end of the table sat Arina, her white hair like a blade's gleam in the dim light.

Her crimson eyes—those infamous blood eyes—watched the others in silence, their depths unreadable.

Her black cloak hung loosely around her shoulders, revealing the faint shimmer of the runic tattoos carved into her skin.

No one spoke at first. Only the faint hum of the barrier wards filled the air.

The eldest among them, Elder Vorn, his beard silver as winter frost, slammed his fist against the table. "This cannot be true," he hissed. "No creature has ever escaped the Sky Dungeon."

Across from him, Elder Mirra, thin and sharp as a blade herself, replied coldly, "The caretaker's report is verified.

The outer seal was ruptured from within. The guards—every one of them—were found dead. Their mana drained to husks."

A murmur rippled through the room.

"Impossible."

"Sky- dungeons are divine constructs. They all were sealed..."

"It would take a being of immense power—"

"Or something worse," Arina said softly.

Her voice cut through the noise like frost through fog. The others turned toward her, the room falling back into uneasy silence.

Arina leaned forward, fingers interlaced. "The caretaker sent a notice alert to all regional guilds. Whatever broke free wasn't a normal entity. It was labeled as a hybrid."

Elder Vorn frowned. "A hybrid of what?"

Her eyes flickered with crimson light. "Elf and ....a dragon. A creature born of both mana and flesh, neither holy nor damned. An abomination."

The room erupted.

Elder Torm—massive, scarred, his left arm a prosthetic forged of enchanted steel—snarled, "You mean to tell us one of those ancient horrors really exists? I thought the archives of the Great Purge destroyed every trace of them!"

Arina met his gaze calmly. "So did I."

Silence returned, heavy as stone.

Then, Elder Mirra spoke again, voice trembling for the first time. "Public safety. We must alert the cities. Issue an evacuation order, at least to the northern territories, the lands of Wessex, Saxon, leonidus. If that thing moves freely—"

"No!" Vorn cut her off. "Do you understand what panic that will cause? We'll tear the realm apart before the creature even moves a finger. We cannot expose the Guild's failure."

"Failure?" Mirra spat. "You call this pride? The guild was built to protect the people, not to bury them in silence!"

"Enough."

The word came from Arina again, cold and absolute. Her voice held the quiet authority of one who had killed kings and wept for none.

She rose from her seat. "Both of you are right—and both of you are wrong."

The torches flared slightly, reacting to the surge of her mana.

"This is no ordinary escape. This being—this abomination—has purpose. It isn't wandering aimlessly.

The caretaker's last divination before his death confirmed it was moving south, toward the territories of.. Leonidus."

"Leonidus?" Elder Torm frowned. "The Viscount's lands?"

"Yes," Arina replied. "House Augustus."

A ripple of unease passed through her. For the briefest instant, her eyes softened, though she quickly masked it.

None of the elders knew what she knew.

None of them knew that the being which escaped the Sky Dungeon was not a nameless monster.

She had seen it once—days ago—deep within the lands of the elves. It had worn dragons horns , and eleven face, only a voice. A voice that whispered his name.

Aiden.

Back then, they had escaped. Aiden's words and promises holding the abomination back

That person was now in Leonidus.

And the creature… might be coming for him, trying to fulfill his promise.

Arina exhaled, forcing her heartbeat to slow.

"We will not announce this publicly," she said finally. "Not yet. We cannot afford chaos. But we will act."

Elder Mirra slammed a palm against the table. "And what will you do, Arina? Pray? Trap it with another seal? You've seen what they're capable of."

Arina's expression did not change. "Then I'll see it again."

The air grew colder. Even the crystals dimmed.

"I'll lead a covert unit. No banners, no fanfare. We track it before it reaches Leonidus. We end it before it reaches him—before it reaches anyone."

"Why Leonidus?" Vorn asked, narrowing his eyes. "What's in that province worth a hybrid's attention?"

Arina stayed silent.

When the meeting ended, the elders dispersed in silence. Only Arina remained.

She stood by the window, staring out at the storm clouds gathering beyond the city.

Her reflection looked back at her—a woman who had once been the Guild's brightest star, now haunted by a shadow of her own making.

He had helped him heal, joining their souls. She had to save him, one way or another. Cause if he does...she dies.

Her hand drifted to the her lips, missing that fruitful kiss.

She licked her lips. Once. Twice. To remember his taste, to remember his touch.

"Damn you," she whispered, not sure if she spoke to the creature… or to Aiden.

Then she turned away, her cloak flaring behind her like a black wing.

While the Guild prepared for shadows, Leonidus basked in light.

The morning sun gilded the manor's towers in gold. The banners of the Viscount fluttered proudly in the breeze. To anyone passing by, it was a picture of serenity—wealth and peace standing hand in hand.

Aiden's carriage rolled through the gates, wheels crunching over cobblestone. The guards saluted, servants hurried forward, and the air filled with the sound of bells.

He stepped down, cloak damp from the previous night's storm, boots gleaming with travel dust.

His gaze swept across the familiar courtyard—the gardens, the fountain, the statues of past Leonidus rulers. It all looked the same. But he knew better. Nothing ever stayed the same.

"Welcome home, lady Flora, Sir Aiden!" one of the servants cried.

He nodded politely, but his eyes were already drawn to the entrance where three figures waited.

Augustus, the Viscount, stood tall despite his age, his smile bright with both relief and pride. Beside him stood Catherine, her elegance untouched by time, her golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo.

"Flora...Aiden!" Augustus strode forward, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "By the gods, it's good to see you alive."

Aiden bowed his head. "My lord."

"You've done well," Augustus said, voice swelling with satisfaction. "The Wessex matter is settled. The gold traced, the culprits exposed. The Duke himself sent a letter commending your efficiency. I knew...oh I knew I could trust you."

Aiden smiled faintly, the kind of smile that hid more than it revealed. "I only did my duty."

Catherine's gaze lingered on him a heartbeat too long. Her eyes, blue and knowing. As her tongue licked her own lips as she bit it. Her eyes hungry like a starving dragon.

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