Chapter 30

Orian Lorenz sat on a plush couch, sipping lukewarm tea that tasted unimpressive, to say the least. It reminded him of the kind of tea a poor person might try to mimic to appear wealthy. However, in the grand scheme of the mansion's dilapidated decor, it fit right in. Orian didn't mind; if the tea had been rich and flavorful, he might have considered chopping off the hands of the person who made it.

"You're the one who made this," he remarked, directing his attention to Kit, the young maid who stood nervously in the corner of the room.

"Yes, sir, I did," Kit replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Orian's smirk widened as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Did I ask you a question?" he quipped, a subtle threat lacing his words. Kit's heart pounded in her chest as she felt an invisible force surrounding her, warning her of the consequences of saying the wrong thing.

"Ye-yes, sir, y-you just did," Kit stuttered, feeling the invisible force brush against her skin.

"Ah, so you can use your mouth well after all," Orian remarked, a hint of lasciviousness in his tone. "Though, there are more... enticing ways to employ such talents," he added, causing Kit to release a breath she didn't realize she had been holding as the invisible pressure dissipated.

Before Orian could delve further into his unsettling remarks, another voice intervened, slicing through the thick atmosphere. "Do not address someone so young in such a manner," warned another man in the room, a bald figure in his late forties armed with a saber at his side. His gaze bore into Orian, who turned to face him—the leader of The Razorcharge Company, Marcus Pax.

Orian narrowed his eyes at Marcus, expecting some form of reaction, but Marcus remained stoic, unfazed by Orian's scrutiny. Even as Orian's invisible force approached with lethal intent, Marcus showed no signs of concern.

"Wow! No reaction whatsoever, that's impressive," Orian commented, and the invisible force around Marcus dissipated. Orian would have killed him if he would have shown any form of fear, deeming such weakness unacceptable and unfitting of Marcus's appearance.

"From one mercenary leader to another, you're a horrid individual," Marcus stated plainly.

Orian shrugged indifferently, taking a casual sip of his tea. "Then, from one mercenary leader to another, you're a horrible mercenary who can't even handle a single demon," he retorted, attempting to provoke Marcus.

"Do not act as if you've faced any demons in your lifetime, Lorenz," Marcus replied evenly, refusing to engage in Orian's provocations.

"Address me by my own name, not that of my father's," Orian demanded with a smirk, but Marcus merely scoffed in response, choosing not to dignify Orian's remark with a reply.

As the tension between the two mercenaries simmered, the door to the room swung open, revealing Verandez Rasanto, still clad in his worn old suit that seamlessly blended with the manor's aesthetic.

Kit immediately went to Verandez's side as he let out a sigh before turning to Orian and Marcus. "I apologize for the delay. I hope neither of you are displeased," he said, rubbing his hands nervously.

"It's alright. You hired us to fight, so waiting a few minutes isn't a big deal," said Marcus, adopting a reassuring tone.

"I expected you to be slow, so it's fine," Orian chimed in with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Verandez nodded, his smile tinged with apprehension, before turning to Marcus. "So, who are these people who arrived at Wolfdale?"

Orian set down his cup, his interest piqued by the conversation. "There were three people. One was a woman in her late teens with black hair and green eyes. She had a dagger and seemed skilled with it," Marcus began, his words capturing the attention of both Verandez and Kit. "And while this is just a hunch, I think she may be an elf."

Verandez's expression shifted to one of concern. "Are you sure it was an elf?" he asked, his worry palpable.

"Like I said, it's a possibility, not confirmed," Marcus clarified, shaking his head. Despite the uncertainty, Verandez bit his lip, clearly stressed by this development.

Meanwhile, Orian was lost in his thoughts, absorbing all the information. *An elven woman in her late teens with black hair and green eyes who is skilled with a dagger?* His mind raced with possibilities. *Looks like I found you again, Zee,* he thought, an unsettling grin spreading across his face.

Marcus continued with his report, detailing the individuals who had arrived at Wolfdale. "Another was an older man, approximately my age, with brown hair and eyes. He wasn't armed; however, he seemed to be an enhancer, judging by the way he analyzed me from a distance," he said, observing Verandez nodding along, though his mind remained preoccupied with thoughts of the elf. Orian, on the other hand, remained impassive upon hearing this description. *Probably someone she's guarding,* he speculated silently.

"Then the final one was a boy with blue hair and blue eyes. Much like the older man, he was unarmed. But I do not think he was an enhancer like the older man; he could be a caster or have no magic at all, I wouldn't know. However, judging from his eyes, I doubt he will be a threat," Marcus concluded.

Verandez, hearing this description, didn't particularly care about this boy. Why would he? The boy sounded unremarkable and was deemed a non-threat by Marcus. However, while Verandez felt this way, someone else felt something else.

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Orian interjected, his tone betraying the first hint of uncertainty. It was a rare sight for all three of them—Marcus, Verandez, and Kit—to witness Orian display even the slightest hint of vulnerability.

"Are you asking about the boy?" Marcus inquired, but Orian didn't reply. Instead, he fell deep into thought. *That doesn't make sense. It can't be 'him.' 'He' died. I know that for a fact. But that description...* Orian, for the first time in his life, felt a pang of concern—an emotion he was unfamiliar and uncomfortable with.

Orian let out a sigh, prompting the tea cup and the table it was set on to be sliced into pieces by the invisible force, causing Kit and Verandez to jump, while Marcus rested his hand on his saber. Orian massaged his temples before pointing at Marcus with a snap of his fingers.

"You said boy. Does that mean he's in his teenage years?" he asked, his tone demanding. Marcus, maintaining a steady gaze on Orian, replied with a simple, "Yes." As soon as he confirmed this, Orian's uncertainty disappeared.

"I see. Okay, then we're fine," he said, his demeanor shifting. The rest looked at him with confusion in their eyes. *Still, though, Zee with a guy with blue hair and blue eyes...* he thought, a smirk returning to his face. *Doesn't matter. If this new boy is like 'him,' then I'll just kill him. That's what he deserves for making me feel whatever that was,* he thought before turning to Verandez.

"Now that we all know what we're up against, shall we begin planning the end of Wolfdale?"