Back at the military sky port—
the battle was over.
But the devastation remained.
Smoke drifted through the shattered platforms like ghostly remnants of the conflict.
Collapsed towers leaned precariously over the ruined district, threatening to fall at any moment.
Burning wreckage from the destroyed flagship continued to smolder across multiple sections of the port, filling the air with the scent of scorched steel and charred wood.
Rescue teams moved tirelessly through the destruction.
Priests worked without rest, healing the wounded wherever they could.
Knights searched through collapsed structures for survivors trapped beneath the rubble.
And everywhere—
the dead.
Rows upon rows of them.
Covered bodies lined the streets and platforms.
The true cost of the battle was becoming clearer with every passing hour.
Near the command center—
Aurelia stood silently.
The arm she had lost during the battle had long since been restored through divine healing.
Fresh white bandages remained visible beneath sections of her repaired armor, the only evidence that the injury had ever existed.
Nearby—
Lucan sat upon a damaged supply crate.
His sword rested across his knees.
Silent.
Motionless.
Lost in thought.
Roland stood overlooking the ruined battlefield from a fractured observation platform.
His expression remained unreadable.
Then—
a knight approached.
His armor was scratched and stained from battle.
His face looked exhausted.
A report crystal was clutched tightly in one hand.
The moment he arrived—
he immediately dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness."
"Commander."
Roland gave a slight nod.
"Report."
The knight swallowed.
His voice sounded heavier than before.
"The casualty assessment has been completed."
Silence settled immediately.
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody looked away.
The knight glanced down at the crystal.
"All three fleet groups sustained severe damage."
"The flagship was completely destroyed."
Aurelia's expression did not change.
Lucan's jaw tightened slightly.
The knight continued.
"Of the original one thousand personnel assigned to the operation..."
His voice faltered briefly.
Then he forced himself onward.
"...four hundred and eighty-three remain combat capable."
Silence.
The number lingered heavily in the air.
More than half.
Gone.
Dead.
Missing.
Or wounded beyond immediate combat readiness.
Lucan slowly lowered his gaze.
Roland remained perfectly still.
The knight continued reading.
"Priest casualties were lower."
"Twenty-three of the original thirty remain active."
Aurelia closed her eyes briefly.
Seven priests.
Gone.
For an ordinary military engagement—
those losses alone would have been considered catastrophic.
The knight continued.
"Multiple artillery platforms have been destroyed."
"Eight defensive towers have been lost."
"Approximately forty percent of the military sky port requires structural reconstruction."
Another pause followed.
Then—
"The estimated economic damage is still being calculated."
Nobody cared about the economic damage.
Not right now.
Because everyone present understood something far worse.
The losses had been caused by two people.
Two.
A long silence followed.
Eventually—
Lucan spoke.
His voice was low.
"...How many confirmed enemy casualties?"
The knight blinked.
Then looked down at the crystal once more.
His expression became strange.
"...Unknown."
Lucan frowned.
The knight swallowed.
"Most confirmed casualties belong to bounty hunters, mercenaries, guild members, and independent combatants."
A pause.
"As for the primary targets..."
Silence.
Then—
"The Demon King's son escaped."
Lucan's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
The wood beneath him cracked slightly.
The knight continued.
"The vampire escaped as well."
Silence.
Nobody spoke.
Because everyone already knew.
Yet hearing it spoken aloud somehow made it worse.
After everything.
After the dead.
After the flagship.
After the destruction.
They had escaped.
Aurelia finally opened her eyes.
Golden irises gleamed faintly beneath the fading sunlight.
Calm.
Yet colder than before.
"Any sightings?"
The knight shook his head.
"No, Your Highness."
"They vanished beyond the city perimeter."
Roland exhaled slowly.
Then asked,
"The bounty notices?"
The knight answered immediately.
"They've already been updated."
Lucan laughed.
A short laugh.
Without humor.
"Of course they have."
The knight hesitated.
Then quietly added,
"The entire continent will know by tomorrow."
That statement drew another heavy silence.
Because everyone understood exactly what that meant.
The destruction of an Imperial flagship.
The appearance of the Demon King's son.
The near death of the Saint Princess.
A vampire powerful enough to battle Lucan and Roland simultaneously.
News like that would never remain local.
It would spread.
Kingdoms.
Guilds.
Mercenary companies.
Assassin organizations.
Noble houses.
Everyone would hear about Blackwater.
And everyone would begin moving.
Aurelia slowly turned toward the ruined horizon.
Toward the direction Draven had escaped.
For several moments—
she said nothing.
Then she finally spoke.
Quietly.
Firmly.
"He won't stop."
Lucan glanced toward her.
Aurelia's gaze remained fixed on the distant darkness.
"He came here with a goal."
"He failed."
A brief pause.
"And he'll try again."
The wind swept across the shattered sky port.
Golden lightning flickered briefly around her fingertips.
Then vanished.
Behind them—
the rescue efforts continued.
The wounded cried out.
Orders echoed through the ruins.
Workers cleared debris.
Priests prayed over the dead.
Yet everyone present understood the truth.
Blackwater had not been the end.
It had only been the beginning.
---
The guild hall was noisy.
Adventurers drank at scattered tables.
Mercenaries argued over contract payments.
Hunters loudly debated whose kill had been stolen the previous week.
Laughter echoed through the hall.
Mugs slammed against tables.
Conversations overlapped from every direction.
It was the kind of place where nobody paid attention to anything for very long.
At least—
until two unfamiliar figures walked through the front doors.
The conversations dipped slightly.
Not because they looked dangerous.
They didn't.
One appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary child.
The other looked like a slightly suspicious wanderer attempting very hard to appear respectable.
Draven walked directly toward the reception counter.
Aldric followed a few steps behind him.
The receptionist immediately looked up.
A young human woman with tied-back brown hair and a professional smile.
"Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild."
Her smile brightened.
"How may I help you today?"
Draven stopped before the counter.
"I want to post a task."
The receptionist nodded.
"Of course."
She reached for a quill.
"What task would you like posted?"
Draven answered immediately.
"I need a map of the continent."
The receptionist blinked.
Then nodded.
"Alright."
Her quill moved across the parchment.
"And the reward?"
Draven reached into his pocket.
"One gold."
Silence.
The quill stopped moving.
The receptionist slowly raised her head.
"...One gold?"
"Yes."
The surrounding guild hall gradually became quieter.
Several nearby adventurers turned toward the counter.
Then more.
One gold?
For a map?
The receptionist stared at him.
Then smiled politely.
The kind of smile reserved for people saying something utterly ridiculous.
"...You're joking, right?"
Draven looked at her.
Expressionless.
"Am I laughing?"
A brief pause.
Then—
someone snorted.
Another person chuckled.
A third burst into laughter.
Within moments—
the entire guild hall erupted.
"Hahahaha!"
"One gold for a map?!"
"What kind of map is he looking for?!"
"Is this kid serious?"
"Did he get lost on the way here?"
"Maybe he's trying to buy the continent!"
More laughter followed.
Tables shook.
Ale spilled.
Several adventurers nearly fell from their chairs.
Even a few guild employees struggled to suppress their amusement.
Behind him—
Aldric glanced around.
Then shrugged.
"To be fair..."
He pointed at Draven.
"...you do kind of look like a brat."
The laughter somehow grew even louder.
Draven slowly turned his head.
His deadpan stare settled on Aldric.
"...Dumbass."
Aldric grinned.
"See?"
"Even your insults sound short."
Draven ignored him completely.
His hand moved.
A brief flash of light appeared.
Then—
CLINK.
A gold coin landed on the counter.
The sound wasn't loud.
Yet somehow—
the entire guild hall heard it.
The laughter stopped.
Instantly.
The receptionist looked down.
Her eyes widened.
The surrounding hall fell silent.
Real gold.
Not copper.
Not silver.
Not a guild token.
A genuine gold coin.
A burly adventurer slowly lowered his mug.
Another leaned forward in disbelief.
Someone near the back whispered,
"...Did he actually mean it?"
The receptionist carefully picked up the coin.
Examined it.
Turned it over.
Checked the seal.
Then checked it again.
Only after several long seconds did she look back up.
"...You're serious."
Silence.
Draven stared at her.
The receptionist stared back.
Several seconds passed.
Not a single person in the guild hall spoke.
Because everyone had suddenly realized something important.
The strange child standing at the counter—
had never been joking.