"Is this… what a town looks like?"
Ry'zeyrakh's voice carried both wonder and disbelief.
Before him stretched the living arteries of Valtherra—streets overflowing with movement and noise.
Market stalls lined the stone roads like jagged teeth, merchants shouting over one another while the scent of roasted meat, sweat, iron, and spices mingled thickly in the air.
Horse carriages rattled across the cobblestones.
Adventurers passed by in hardened armor, blades hanging from their waists, spears resting against their shoulders, strange weapons from distant lands glinting beneath the morning sun.
For someone who had spent his entire life within the isolation of the Kryndal tribe, the city was overwhelming.
Ry'zeyrakh stood there dressed in mercenary attire, a disguise meant to help him blend into the crowd. Yet his wide eyes betrayed his unfamiliarity with the world beyond the forests.
Beside him, Lexus walked with his hood drawn low. A dragon-beast mask covered the lower half of his face, its sculpted jaws forming a vicious draconic mouth while his sharp eyes remained visible beneath the shadow of the hood.
"Not exactly a town," Lexus said calmly.
"This is a city."
Ry'zeyrakh turned toward him.
"Then what is a city?"
Despite being older than everyone present, the question carried the innocent curiosity of a child—though it came from the voice of a grown man.
Lexus answered patiently.
"A place with too many people… and even more buildings."
Ry'zeyrakh slowly nodded, though his eyes had already wandered again, drinking in every sight with unrestrained fascination.
Moments later Lexus leaned slightly toward Michael.
Michael walked at the center of the group, his face hidden behind a lion mask carved with quiet majesty, matching the same design pattern as Lexus's dragon mask.
"With the help of Elrin Slyvar's recommendation letter," Lexus said quietly, "we cleared the entry checkpoint."
"The letter also justified our masks as a necessary disguise. The guards didn't insist on seeing our faces."
He paused before asking,
"But what do we do now?"
Michael's voice was calm.
"There's no need to worry about such tiny matters."
"Everything has already been prepared."
Then his gaze shifted toward Ry'zeyrakh.
"Zeyrakh… did you hear anything last night while I was talking?"
Ry'zeyrakh shook his head.
"No. I only saw you talking to yourself."
"I couldn't hear anything."
Michael chuckled under the lion mask.
"Sly bastard."
A faint laugh escaped him as he thought about the high elf, Elrin Slyvar.
Then he turned his head slightly toward Yelena.
"Do you want something to eat, my love?"
Yelena walked beside them wearing a forced disguise—an adventurer's outfit fitted for a female fighter. A rabbit mask covered the upper half of her face.
Her answer came instantly.
"Yes."
"Poison."
"Something strong enough to relieve me from this living hell."
Her voice was filled with pure rage.
Not a single trace of respect existed in the way she spoke to him.
Beside her, walked Olivia, who had personally forced Yelena into the disguise. Olivia herself had also abandoned her usual maid attire, replacing it with a sleek adventurer's outfit.
The change did nothing to hide her presence.
In fact, it only made it worse.
Men across the street openly stared at her, their eyes lingering shamelessly on her figure and natural charisma.
Olivia noticed.She simply didn't care.
"My liege," she said calmly.
"Do not buy her poison."
"It would ruin her taste buds… and upset her stomach."
Michael laughed.
Ry'zeyrakh leaned closer to Zeckie and whispered,
"Is she always this dense?"
Zeckie snorted.
He wore adventurer gear like the rest of them—but his face was hidden behind a crude pig mask.
"Forest bumpkin," Zeckie muttered.
"Not nearly as dense as you."
Ry'zeyrakh tilted his head.
"Then what do you have to say about your mask?"
Zeckie immediately snapped.
"This is all because of that bastard Lexus!"
Lexus didn't even look at him.
"Use your brain."
"The entire city is filled with posters of us—Michael, me, you, Seth, and Yelena."
"Covering our faces is necessary."
Zeckie waved his arms angrily.
"I'm not complaining about wearing a mask!"
"I'm complaining about the mask!"
He pointed around furiously.
"Michael gets a lion."
"Yelena gets a rabbit."
"You get a dragon."
"And why am I the only one stuck wearing a pig?!"
Lexus finally glanced at him.
"Because it suits you."
Zeckie froze.
Slowly, dangerously, he turned toward Lexus.
"What… did you say?"
His eyes burned behind the mask.
Lexus calmly raised a finger and pointed toward the Seth,
"Look at Seth."
Seth sat silently guiding the horses, his face hidden behind a simple dog mask.
"He's wearing a dog mask."
"And yet he's not whining like you."
Zeckie turned toward Seth with desperate hope.
"Seth!"
"Why aren't you saying anything about this unfairness?!"
Seth answered without even turning his head.
"I like it."
A pause.
"That's it."
Zeckie stared at him in complete betrayal while the chaotic streets of Valtherra swallowed their group deeper into the city.
Ry'zeyrakh continued scanning the streets around them. Everywhere he looked there were adventurers—armored warriors, wandering mages, hunters with bows slung across their backs, and mercenaries with blades resting on their shoulders.
The city seemed almost entirely filled with them.
He frowned slightly in confusion.
"Why is this city so packed with adventurers?"
Lexus answered calmly.
"Because Valtherra is revered as a holy place for the adventurers of the kingdom."
Ry'zeyrakh glanced at him again.
"Why?"
Lexus adjusted his hood slightly before explaining.
"Fifty years ago, during the Infernal War, this entire region was on the verge of collapse. Demons were pushing down from the northern mountains, and at the same time the armies of Eryndor invaded from the borders."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"At that time, a man named Hugh Valcourt stood against them."
"Back then, he wasn't a duke. He was a legendary adventurer."
"Using his experience and influence, he gathered adventurers from across the land and held the northern mountains against both the demon forces and the invading Eryndorian army."
Ry'zeyrakh listened carefully.
Lexus continued.
"When the war finally ended, King Magnus Daimoor II rewarded him."
"He granted Valcourt this entire territory and named him the Duke of Valtherra."
"Since Hugh Valcourt himself was once an adventurer, he shaped this land for them."
"This territory exists almost entirely for the welfare and prosperity of the adventurers of the kingdom."
Ry'zeyrakh slowly looked around again at the bustling streets, the guild banners, and the countless warriors passing through the city.
Then he nodded.
"That's nice to hear."
And then they walked into the streets and then, the streets of Valtherra swallowed them whole.
Crowds moved like restless tides—merchants shouting prices, adventurers clanking in steel armor, children weaving between legs, thieves watching from shadowed corners. The noise of a thousand voices blended into a chaotic symphony.
Amid that chaos, Yelena noticed something.
Olivia's hand was no longer gripping her arm.
For the first time since this nightmare began… she was unrestrained.
Yelena's eyes shifted slightly.
This is my chance.
Her thoughts sharpened instantly.
In a crowd like this… they won't notice.
Slowly, carefully, she began to drift away. One step… then another. Her movements were subtle, natural—like any passerby navigating through the busy street.
She slipped between two merchants, then behind a group of armored adventurers.
Little by little, she merged into the crowd.
Her heart pounded.
But then—
A fragile feeling bloomed inside her chest.
Hope.
Finally…
Her eyes trembled slightly.
I'm free from those barbarians.
Just as that thought formed—
She was suddenly pulled backward.
Her body jerked to a halt.
"What…?"
Confusion flashed across her face.
She turned around.Only then did she see it.
A thin thread.
So fine it was almost invisible.
It stretched from her wrist… all the way back to Olivia.
Olivia turned her head at that exact moment.
Their eyes met.
And Olivia smiled.
An innocent, gentle smile.
The kind a caring sister might show.
For Yelena, it felt like watching the gates of freedom slam shut.
The hope in her eyes shattered instantly.
Moments later she was dragged back into formation beside them.
Her brief escape attempt had lasted less than thirty seconds.
They continued walking until the group finally stopped in front of a large building.
The structure was worn but imposing, built from dark stone and reinforced timber. A massive wooden sign hung above the entrance.
Carved into it were two jagged fangs… one of them broken.
Below it was the name.
Broken Fang.
Zeckie tilted his head.
"What's with that name?"
Michael looked up at the sign calmly.
Then he spoke.
"From now on…"
He turned slightly toward the building.
"This will be our base."