The grinding sound of the carriage's tires moving through the rough, uneven terrain echoed as it moved.

Inside the plush carriage, Dorian was seated on one side, his expression placid. On the opposite bench, Maria and Ciel had taken their positions—a stark contrast of stoic duty and draconic indifference.

As discussed with Revina, no one was to be granted access to the room where Seraphina lay. Even upon waking, she was not permitted to leave until Dorian returned.

For now, Dorian and his team would head to the Red District to handle the political test... and the supernatural infection Revina had warned him about.

It took them over an hour to leave the pristine marble of the capital behind and arrive at the Red District. The fear on the royal driver's face was palpable.

He drove the horse-drawn carriage through the district's main thoroughfare, his eyes darting left and right, clearly terrified of an ambush.

The rumors hadn't lied. The Red District was a hellhole.

As the opulent golden carriage, a beacon of wealth in a sea of poverty, rode through the path, people scattered like rats, running and hiding inside their dilapidated homes. Some dared to peek from behind grimy windows, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity as the royal sigil passed by.

Simultaneously, on those same dirty and unkempt streets, the driver wasn't the only one who noticed them.

Men in crude masks began to emerge from dark alleyways, not attacking, but stalking the carriage as it moved, their intentions clear.

Dorian, of course, was quick to notice the change in atmosphere.

His eyes glanced casually outside the window, watching the masked figures flanking them, their pace quickening to match the carriage.

"Maria…" he called out, his voice calm.

"Yes, my lord. I can sense them as well," Maria replied, her gaze fixed on the opposite window. "I expected an ambush, but I didn't think it would be this blatant or this soon." She, too, could see another group emerging, shadowing them and slowly moving closer.

'We're riding inside a golden carriage with the royal crest. They know for a fact we're nobles, and yet they still dare to do this. It proves Revina was right. There is truly no law here, and these gangs have taken over the entire district.' Dorian frowned.

'Looks like I might be needing backup.'

Not even a few seconds after that thought crossed his mind, the carriage stopped so abruptly it nearly threw them from their seats.

The entire cabin hipped up a bit at the sudden halt.

Maria's hand was already on the hilt of her blade, her body tensed and ready to leap into combat.

Ciel, however, didn't even flinch. She was aware that humans were the ones attacking. As such, she had no reason to bully them; they were just bothersome creatures in her eyes.

"Come down right now!"

"Hurry the fuck up!"

"HEY! We know there are nobles in there, just come down nice and easy!"

Exactly as they'd anticipated, a group of roughly twenty bandits had surrounded the carriage.

They were armed with crude weapons, rusty axes, chipped swords, and spiked clubs, keeping their distance for now, like hyenas circling prey.

Dorian sighed.

He didn't need to look outside to know what was happening; the carriage's halting motion and the loud, vulgar shouts were enough.

"Well, that was faster than I expected," Dorian commented, leaning back against the plush velvet. He was calm, almost bored, despite the immediate danger. "Maria, remember what I said. No unnecessary blood."

"Understood, my Lord. Just enough to teach them a lesson," Maria replied, her voice firm. She glanced at the driver through the small window at the front. The man was likely paralyzed with fear.

Before anyone could make a move, a loud clang echoed as one of the bandits struck the side of the carriage with a rusty axe.

"Open up, nobles! We just want your gold, and maybe a little fun with the ladies!" a coarse voice roared. Laughter followed, sickly and cruel.

Ciel, who had been completely nonchalant until that moment, finally reacted.

Her eyes, which were typically a deep, dull obsidian, now glinted with a faint, unsettling scarlet.

"Damn these humans…" Ciel muttered, a cold, predatory disdain coating her words.

Dorian raised a hand, stopping Maria who was already preparing to exit.

"Stay put, both of you. I need to see what caliber of problem I'm dealing with here."

With that, Dorian reached for the carriage door handle.

The surrounding bandits fell silent as the door slowly swung open, revealing the young noble inside.

Dorian stepped out, his posture relaxed, yet radiating an aura of quiet authority that momentarily stunned the aggressors.

He was dressed in high-quality, though not overly flashy, attire—a stark contrast to the filth and rags of the district's inhabitants.

He took a moment to survey the group, his gaze lingering just long enough on each face to make them feel assessed.

"I am Lord Dorian," he announced, his voice carrying clearly over the street, devoid of fear or hostility, simply matter-of-fact. "And this is my carriage. You have ten seconds to drop your weapons and disperse before I consider this an act of treason against the crown."

The silence lasted for three heartbeats before one of the bandits, a hulking man missing several teeth, broke into a loud, mocking laugh.

"Treason? In the Red District? You must be joking, noble boy! Here, we are the law!" The hulking bandit raised his sword, its blade chipped and stained. "You must not understand the situation you are in right now, or you would be begging for your life. Hand over your money, and the girls we know you have in there."

Several other bandits moved in response, tightening the circle around the carriage and Dorian.

Dorian scanned their faces for a while more.

'It's hard to see who exactly is the leader here. I need to keep one of them alive for questioning. I don't intend on getting my hands stained, so I guess I can let Maria handle this one.'

"Roger," Maria spoke from inside the carriage, her voice cutting through the tension.

She exploded out of the carriage in the blink of an eye. Before the bandits could even register the door opening, she was a blur of silver and motion.

She stopped in front of Dorian for a micro-second before launching herself into the crowd.

Maria's movements were a blur, her blade reflecting the dim, dirty light of the district as it carved precise paths through the air.

She moved with an efficiency that was terrifying, striking not to kill, as Dorian had instructed, but to incapacitate with brutal, surgical precision.

The bandits' initial confidence evaporated instantly, replaced by sheer panic.

Those who charged forward suddenly found themselves on the ground, clutching shattered kneecaps, slashed arm tendons, or broken wrists that erupted in blood. Their crude weapons clattered onto the uneven street.

"STOP HER! SHOOT! KILL THAT WOMAN!" the hulking bandit who had spoken earlier screamed, stumbling backward in his haste to avoid her devastating reach.

But Maria was unrelenting.

She darted through the remaining attackers, delivering quick, non-lethal (though certainly permanent) injuries. A quick jab to the elbow broke one man's arm; a sweep took another off his feet, sending his head slamming against the cobbled street.

She spun, using the momentum to kick a knife out of the hand of an approaching bandit, then delivered a swift, concussive blow to his temple with the pommel of her blade, dropping him unconscious.

In less than ten seconds, the street went from a scene of menacing standoff to a tableau of carnage. Nineteen of the twenty bandits were either bleeding profusely on the ground or struggling to maintain consciousness.

Dorian watched the display without a change in expression, arms crossed slightly. Maria's control was impeccable.

The only man still standing, trembling violently, was the hulking bandit—the one Dorian had identified as a potential leader or spokesman.

He stood frozen, his eyes wide with a terror that only witnessing a massacre could induce, his sword slipping from his grasp to hit the ground with a dull thud.

Maria stopped a few feet from him, her back to Dorian, her blade pointed slightly downward, the tip tapping the dirt.

She didn't have a single spot of blood on her clothing.

"My Lord," Maria said, her voice completely calm. "I left one of them alive, as you instructed."

The hulking bandit sank to his knees, his face pale beneath the grime. "P-Please... have mercy. I... I didn't know you were one of them," he stammered, his eyes darting toward the woman who had just decimated his entire crew.

Dorian stepped forward, his shadow falling over the kneeling man. "One of them?" he repeated, his tone mild. He looked around at the moaning figures and the pooling blood. "What do you mean by that?"

The bandit, overwhelmed by fear and the sight of his defeated comrades, could barely form a coherent sentence. "I… we… oh god…"

Dorian realized the man was probably either too terrified to speak or simply wanted to feign innocence. Either way, he was going to speak.

Suddenly, another voice erupted from behind him.

"Oh, thank you, young noble!"

Dorian turned around to see who that could be.

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