By the end of that day, Vincent and Liana had taken residence in a modest inn tucked deep within the city's outer district.
The streets there were narrower, the stone pavements chipped and uneven, and the air carried a faint scent of damp wood and overused lantern oil. It was far from the polished heart of the capital, yet it was alive in its own weary way. Merchants shouted half hearted bargains, children ran barefoot through alleys, and guards passed by with armor that had clearly seen better years.
The inn itself leaned slightly to one side as if tired of standing. Its wooden sign creaked with every shift of the wind, and the windows were clouded by years of smoke and dust.
It did not cost much compared to the central districts, yet even here the prices had climbed sharply. Two silver coins for a single night.
In the kingdom of Valor, currency flowed in silver and gold. Ten silver coins equaled one gold coin, a simple system that once reflected stability and pride. Now it only highlighted the growing strain on the common folk.
Two silver coins for an outskirts inn was absurd. The mattress was thin, the sheets rough, and the walls did little to block the sounds of arguments and drunken laughter below.
Still, the increase was telling. It spoke of strained trade routes, of rising dungeon activity, of nobles tightening their grip while pretending nothing was wrong.
It was the same reason hiring a mere tier 3 hero had become an investment instead of a convenience.
"Good morning."
Vincent descended from the wooden staircase with unhurried steps, his dark robes shifting softly around him. The morning light slipped through the narrow windows, brushing against his figure and casting long shadows that seemed to cling rather than stretch.
He surveyed the inn casually, yet nothing escaped him. Every face, every whispered exchange, every flicker of greed or curiosity in the air.
Down in the lobby, Liana sat upright at a sturdy table near the hearth. A quill rested between her fingers, ink staining the tips slightly as she worked through a growing list of names.
The flyer had done its job.
A strong demon hunter from the academy seeking to create a party. Payment included.
Word spread quickly in a city hungry for opportunity. Adventurers gathered like moths to even the faintest promise of gold. After all, entry into established and influential parties was far more difficult than it appeared from the outside. Most never made it past the first screening.
"Merk is the name. I'm a tier 2 caster of wind. Been working these parts as a temporary fighter for about two years now. I know the ins and outs of the area."
The man stood straight as he spoke, trying to mask the faint tremor in his voice. His robes were faded at the edges, boots scuffed from constant travel.
Of course, it was rare to see a tier 3 hero applying. There were still doubts surrounding Vincent's sudden move. Strength attracted attention, but so did ambition.
"What dungeon clearing events have you participated in over the last few months?" Liana asked calmly, crossing out the previous name with a clean stroke before shifting her focus back to him.
Vincent had provided a detailed set of criteria.
Strange criteria.
On the surface they seemed excessive, even suspicious. But for his purposes, they were precise. Necessary.
He stood behind Liana now, close enough that the faint warmth of his presence pressed against her back.
'He's so close. I can feel that bulging thing on my back already. It's hard to focus when he does that.'
Her grip on the quill tightened slightly. She forced her breathing to remain steady, her expression professional despite the awareness crawling across her skin.
"I worked with Golden Dawn about two weeks ago. We cleared a blue dungeon." Merk spoke quickly, hoping the name would carry weight.
Dungeons were ranked by the color of the gates that manifested before them.
Blue. Yellow. Emerald. Red.
Each color signified an escalation in threat. Monsters grew more coordinated, environments more hostile, traps more elaborate. Clearing even a blue dungeon alone was near impossible.
"Blue. Golden Dawn. Two weeks ago."
A bead of sweat traced down Liana's temple, though not from the interview itself. She scribbled the notes carefully before lifting her gaze again.
"Unfortunately, you do not qualify for our current needs. I have your contact information and will reach out should future opportunities arise."
The dismissal was polite yet firm.
Merk's shoulders slumped just slightly before he forced a nod and exited the inn.
He had failed one of the hidden criteria.
Closeness to prominent figures.
Vincent did not want individuals whose connections could lead back to him when he inevitably acted according to his true nature.
"Next."
The word barely left Liana's lips when the door creaked open again.
A female figure stepped inside.
Her clothes were old and ragged, torn at the hem and stained dark in places that were not merely dirt. Strands of hair clung to her face, and her eyes wandered the room as if she were not entirely certain where she had arrived.
Each step she took seemed forced.
"Name, tier, and class," Liana asked, her voice measured as she studied the newcomer more closely.
The woman's hands were covered in shallow cuts, some fresh, some already drying into thin crimson lines. Her knuckles were bruised. There was a faint metallic scent in the air around her.
"My name is Victoria. I'm a tier 4 swordsman, and…"
Her words dissolved.
Her body swayed once before collapsing forward onto the wooden floor with a dull thud.
Liana rose instantly, chair scraping against the floor as she rushed to her side.
"Victoria. Can you hear me?"
She turned the woman carefully, checking her pulse, pressing a hand against her neck. The pulse was weak but present.
Vincent remained where he stood.
His expression shifted, the faint curve of his lips flattening into something more thoughtful.
'Hmmm.'
His gaze lingered on the darkened marks creeping faintly along the veins of her wrist. Thin shadows beneath the skin, unnatural and spreading slowly inward.
His eyes glowed faintly with recognition.
'Those are dark marks.'
A slow smile returned to his face.
'Fun.'