Pythia stared at Draven's unconscious body.
Her expression was filled with concern.
"But what happened?"
"Why did my Lord suddenly lose consciousness?"
Silence.
Nobody answered immediately.
Everyone's gaze remained fixed on Draven.
Then—
Vaelith spoke.
"Exhaustion."
Everyone's gaze shifted toward her.
Vaelith looked at Draven.
"My Lord has reached his limits."
She paused.
"The mana running rampant inside him has been forcing his body to remain under constant strain."
Her voice remained calm.
"My Lord hasn't rested properly for a long time."
"Not only because of the endless pain..."
"But also because he has constantly needed to make sure the mana inside him remained under control."
Pythia's expression changed.
Then—
a smile slowly appeared on her face.
"But now..."
"It's different."
Everyone looked toward her.
Pythia looked at Draven.
"My Lord has created his own mana pool."
Kaelira's eyes widened.
"So Master actually did it?"
She stared at Draven.
"I never thought it was possible."
Ryke remained silent.
He stared at Draven's unconscious body.
*Yeah.*
*That's because it wasn't.*
*It was impossible...*
*Until now.*
His expression became complicated.
*Even now, it's still unbelievable.*
Lyriana looked down at Draven.
"So..."
"Since His Highness no longer needs to focus on keeping his mana at bay..."
Her gaze softened slightly.
"His body finally relaxed."
"He collapsed from exhaustion."
Aldric clicked his tongue.
"So that's it."
He looked at Draven.
"The brat lasted longer than I expected."
He paused.
"How long has it even been?"
"Weeks?"
"Or over a month?"
Aldric's eyes narrowed.
"Not only did he survive all that..."
"He actually did something impossible."
His gaze remained fixed on Draven.
Then—
he muttered quietly.
"Royal blood..."
Aldric clicked his tongue again.
"Damn brat."
Lyriana adjusted her hold on Draven.
Then—
without wasting any more time—
she lifted him properly into her arms.
"We should move."
She looked toward the others.
"We cannot stand around here."
Pythia nodded.
"Yeah."
She turned back toward the holographic map.
Her eyes moved across the displayed terrain.
Then—
she pointed toward a direction ahead.
"If we head this way..."
Her finger moved along the map.
"We should eventually reach a road."
She looked toward the others.
"Once we reach it, we can continue from there."
The group remained gathered around the unconscious Draven.
Then—
one by one—
they began preparing to leave the forest.
---
Back in the city of Dresvalle—
the stars filled the night sky.
The civilians who had evacuated the city were already beginning to return.
One after another—
people passed through the city gates.
Some carried belongings they had managed to take with them.
Others simply stared at the destruction around them in silence.
The wreckage left behind by the battle was already being cleared.
Broken buildings.
Destroyed streets.
Collapsed structures.
The city was slowly beginning to recover from the chaos that had nearly consumed it.
---
Inside the estate—
within an office belonging to the city lord—
an old man sat behind a large desk.
Across from him stood a female Demi-Kin.
She had just finished giving her report on the aftermath of the battle.
"...That concludes everything we know."
The old man remained silent for several moments.
Then—
he nodded.
"Understood."
The female Demi-Kin bowed.
"Then I shall take my leave."
She turned around.
**Click.**
The door closed behind her.
Silence filled the room.
The old man remained seated.
He slowly leaned back in his chair.
Then—
a figure began to materialize within the room.
Darkness gathered.
Mana twisted.
And gradually—
a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows.
Dray.
One of the elders of the Abyssal Cult.
He stood quietly before the old man.
"It seems..."
"We underestimated him."
The old man looked toward him.
Dray continued.
"He didn't merely manage to deal with the Rift Breakers."
"He actually closed the breach."
His expression became more serious.
"And according to the report..."
"He absorbed everything."
"The entire breach."
"Every trace of Abyssal mana."
The old man narrowed his eyes.
Dray shook his head.
"And yet..."
"He wasn't corrupted."
He paused.
"Instead..."
"He formed a mana pool, just as he said he would."
A faint look of disbelief appeared in his expression.
"I can't even imagine how impossible that sounds."
The old man remained silent for a moment.
"Yes."
"It does sound unbelievable."
He rested his hands on the desk.
"But according to the report, he also battled an elf who appeared out of nowhere."
Dray nodded.
"We were already far from the city."
"We had already believed Dresvalle was doomed."
"Because of that, we never had the chance to witness any of it ourselves."
He glanced toward the old man.
"But the report should be accurate."
"If it is..."
The old man's expression became thoughtful.
"Then young Pythia was right."
He slowly looked toward Dray.
"The son of the Demon King..."
"might truly be an Abyssal Spawn."
"A Lord of the Abyss."
Dray gave a quiet laugh.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"But it seems the ruin is no longer a secret."
The old man remained silent.
Dray continued.
"And this isn't something you can simply sweep under the rug."
"A lot of people are already hunting for the bounty on his head."
"Especially the Holy Empire."
His expression darkened.
"If they're hunting for him..."
"They'll eventually come here once word spreads."
He looked directly at the old man.
"And if they discover Dark Mages..."
"You know what will happen."
The old man's expression became grim.
"All be executed."
Dray nodded.
"Exactly."
"I won't be here when that happens."
The old man sighed.
"Yes..."
"You're right."
"That's troublesome."
He slowly stood from his chair.
"I'll have to depart for the time being."
Dray looked at him.
"Yeah."
He paused.
"And one more thing."
The old man stopped.
Dray's expression became completely serious.
"I'm out of the cult."
The old man's eyes narrowed.
"I have no interest in staying any longer."
"I only joined in the first place because of the benefits."
He gestured toward himself.
"I could do whatever I wanted with my research."
"And you would take care of everything else."
"But with the current situation..."
Dray shook his head.
"I no longer think you're capable of doing that."
"So..."
"I'm out."
He turned away.
"Good luck."
The old man stared at his back.
"Are you sure this is your decision?"
Dray stopped.
Then—
he glanced over his shoulder.
"Don't bother."
"If you're relying on the oath..."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I've already found a way around it."
The old man stared at him.
"Is that so?"
His voice became colder.
"Do you really think it's that easy?"
Dray's smile didn't disappear.
"Of course not."
He slowly turned around.
"But I didn't say it was easy."
He raised one hand.
Dark mana slowly gathered around his fingers.
"I said I already found a way."
The old man's expression hardened.
"You've been researching the oath?"
"Among other things."
Dray lowered his hand.
"You should know me better than that."
"I don't spend years researching something without eventually finding a weakness."
The old man stared at him.
"The oath isn't something that can simply be broken."
"I know."
"Then how?"
Dray chuckled.
"That's the interesting part."
He stepped closer.
"I didn't break it."
The old man's eyes narrowed.
Dray continued.
"I went around it."
Silence.
For the first time—
the old man's expression changed.
Dray smiled.
"You see..."
"The oath only binds those who remain members of the cult."
"And I'm no longer one of them."
The old man stared at him.
"You think leaving the cult releases you from the oath?"
Dray shook his head.
"No."
"I think the oath releases me."
A brief silence followed.
Then—
the old man slowly smiled.
"You're more foolish than I thought."
Dray's expression remained unchanged.
"Am I?"
The old man stepped away from the desk.
"Do you really believe the Abyssal Cult would create an oath with such an obvious loophole?"
Dray's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I never said there was a loophole."
He smiled.
"I said I found a way around it."
The old man's smile faded.
For several moments—
the two simply stared at one another.
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Then—
Dray turned toward the door.
"Either way..."
"I'm leaving."
He placed his hand on the door.
"I have no reason to remain here anymore."
Behind him—
the old man spoke.
"Dray."
Dray stopped.
"If you walk out of this room..."
"Don't expect to come back."
Dray glanced over his shoulder.
"I wasn't planning to."
Then—
**Click.**
The door opened.
And Dray walked away.