Gabriel stood in the narrow corridor, a dim passageway separating the storm outside from the warmth and noise of the guild hall ahead.

Laughter rattled weakly through the walls, Tankards clinked, and boots scraped along the wooden floor.

A fire crackled somewhere in the distance.

He inhaled again, grounding himself in the moment.

Gabriel raised his hand to his neck, unfastening the clasp of his blood-soaked robe. He didn't want the weight of it hindering him one bit.

He folded it and neatly placed it on the ground.

Next, the sheath from his back was removed and placed next to the robe.

The candles in the corridor flickered with every movement.

He straightened up, his irises still pulsing.

Gabriel stepped forward, only once. As silent as a breath.

The hall waited at the end of the passage. And so did the man.

He walked.

With each step taken, a vision of the basement flashed through his mind. The sound of the fist hitting his face, the feeling of the knife plunging into his leg. The pain of the bones in his jaw being crushed.

The corridor tightened around him. Not with hesitation or fear. But with anticipation of finally crossing someone off his list. Someone he thought long dead.

Gabriel reached the end of the passage.

Hanitz stood near the counter, shoulders broad, jaw tight.

Ennu hovered behind him, parchment trembling in her hands. Her eyes drifted toward the doorway.

She froze.

Her gaze ran over Gabriel up, then down. Taking in the blood soaking every inch of him.

The candlelight behind him caught the crimson streaks across his body, turning him into a silhouette carved from violence.

The parchment slipped from her fingers and drifted to the floor.

"Come on, girl," Hanitz grumbled beside her. "The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get some rest."

She didn't reply.

She couldn't.

The Elf-girl stood rooted to the spot, her face drained of colour, eyes fixed on the blood-soaked figure in the doorway. Her mouth worked soundlessly, as if trying to form words her body refused to release.

Hanitz tracked her gaze, flinching back when his eyes reached Gabriel.

"Fuck the creator," he bellowed, "why are you dragging that filth in here, lad?"

He stepped deeper into the hall, blood dripping steadily from his blades, each drop tapping against the wood like a slow, deliberate countdown.

The giant caught his breath.

He turned sharply to Ennu, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Gabriel went to take another step.

The guild master raised his free hand, halting the former Paladin in his tracks.

"Go and get Adan girl," he muttered, voice low but urgent. "Both of you wait in the office."

Ennu didn't argue. She spun, nearly tripping over her own feet as she rushed toward the serving counter where Adan stood stiff, eyes fixed on Gabriel.

She grabbed him by the wrist.

"Come on," she hissed, dragging him back toward the office door.

Adan resisted for half a heartbeat, but one look at Gabriel froze him.

His hand loosened, and he let Ennu pull him away.

At the bar, the scarred man watched them go.

He didn't rise or speak.

He only adjusted himself on the stool, lips peeling into a slow crooked smile, showing every yellowed tooth as the Elf-girl dragged the other guild assistant into the office.

Beside him, Gilbert blinked sluggishly, looking around with the unfocused confusion of a man several drinks past sober.

He squinted at the empty hall, then at the door swinging shut, and finally towards the entrance to the corridor where Gabriel stood.

"There's the freak," he mumbled, his words sluggish.

He pushed himself off the stool with wobbling legs. "My new friends looking for you."

He stumbled forward, boots scraping, nearly losing his balance before catching himself on the table.

"Devon!" he shouted, voice cracking in the quiet hall.

Gabriel's gaze didn't shift towards Gilbert.

He looked to Hanitz instead.

The guild master met his eye and gave a single, firm shake of his head.

A plea, a warning, or a silent don't.

But Gilbert kept moving, obliviously staggering towards Gabriel with an open, drunken grin.

The scarred man, Devon. Turned to watch the scene unfold, smiling wider.

Gilbert staggered the last few steps and reached out, aiming to pat Gabriel's shoulder with a sloppy, drunken grin.

Gabriel caught his wrist mid-air.

The grin vanished.

In a single motion, Gabriel wrenched the arm down and slammed Gilbert face-first onto the floorboards. The impact shook the tables nearby. Before the man could even gasp, Gabriel drove two punches into the side of his skull, short, precise blows that sent blood smearing across the wood.

His blade never left his hand.

Gabriel rose without looking at the unconscious drunk at his feet. His gaze lifted towards the guild counter.

Hanitz stood there with one massive hand covering his eyes, the other braced on the table beside him. His head shook in grim acceptance of a man who knew that moment had been coming.

He dropped his hand at last and met Gabriel's stare.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

The sharp sound cut through the silence, bouncing off the walls of the nearly empty hall.

Devon had risen from his seat. He took a slow step forward, then another. Each one marked by another deliberate clap as he approached Gabriel, a crooked smile carved across his scarred face.

"Well, look at you," he drawled, voice thick with mock praise. "All grown up… big, strong, and still barking for attention."

Gabriel turned to him, eyes focused.

Devon's grin widened.

"What happened to those pretty blue eyes, boy?" he sneered. "And look at your hair… you're not as pretty as an angel anymore, are you?"

Gabriel didn't react.

No flinch, no shift in breath. No change in expression.

He stood there in absolute stillness, blood drying across his clothes, blades hanging loose at his sides, as if Devon's words hadn't even reached him.

The smile on Devon's face twitched—just slightly—at the lack of response.

He took another step, slower this time, trying to reclaim the confidence Gabriel's silence had stolen.

"Well?" he drawled, lifting his chin. "Nothing to say to your old friend?"

Gabriel's eyes didn't blink.

He just watched him.

And in that quiet, the entire hall felt colder.

Devon's smile tightened.

"Not the same squealing little rat," he muttered.

His hand dropped to the sword at his hip.

He took a step towards Gabriel and swung. A sharp, vicious arc aimed straight for the former Paladin's neck.

Gabriel's vision flickered. The world swayed for just a heartbeat. He moved to raise his blade, but his arm didn't respond.

His hand tightened around the hilt, yet the muscles refused to lift. A jolt of weakness burst through his shoulder, running down to his fingertips.

Heat surged beneath his skin. Wrong, heavy, spreading too fast.

His eyes shifted to the blade coming down violently toward his neck.

Time didn't slow.

His body did.

The steel blurred above him, descending with full intention to split him from collar to spine, and Gabriel could only force a breath through clenched teeth as his knees nearly buckled again.

Every instinct screamed to move, but the strength wasn't there.

Devon's grin widened above the arc of the blade.

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