Chapter 214: Vaelor!

“So… five brothers are dead, and they managed to conquer that D-rank Dungeon?”

Somewhere in a room within Fiona City, inside a luxurious building draped in velvet and gold trim, the air hung thick with the smell of aged liquor and burning incense.

The chamber was wide, lit by floating mage lanterns that cast a soft amber glow over polished marble floors.

Shelves lined with rare artifacts and trophies from past hunts stood along the walls, each one a quiet reminder of the wealth and power that filled this place.

He was a tall man with dark hair and piercing eyes, a long scar running from one eyebrow down to his cheek.

He was Vaelor, the brother of Kairon, who was studying at the Elite Hunter Academy. A member of the Paragon Guild, Vaelor carried himself with the lazy confidence of someone who rarely feared consequences.

“Interesting! Didn’t you say they just joined the academy? And they already managed to conquer a dungeon like Howling Chasm?”

Vaelor asked his subordinate while drinking the liquor in his hand, a faint trace of excitement flickering in his eyes.

Before, he simply assigned those five brother assassins a mission because his own brother got bullied by some nobody.

He didn’t have much interest in that Soren, nor about his death.

But now that the assassins silently disappeared completely, and the person they targeted emerged victorious by conquering the dungeon instead, it caught his attention a bit more than expected.

“Yes, young master. We don’t know what method they used, but they definitely conquered the dungeon. Besides, there is no news of those assassins anywhere.”

The follower bowed deeply and asked,

“Should we… do something? If news leaked that we sent someone against a student of the Elite Hunter Academy, things could get bad.”

After all, no matter what, Vaelor wasn’t someone who could go against the likes of the top academy of the Arden Kingdom.

If someone found out what he did, even the Paragon Guild wouldn’t be able to save him. In fact, they might kill him directly instead. It was no joke to do such things.

“Tch… no need to worry. They have no evidence that it was me.”

Vaelor wasn’t afraid, though. He already took measures and covered every trace that could lead back to his name.

The contract was sealed in whispers, not ink. The coin passed through three different hands before it ever reached the assassins.

There was nothing connecting him to the five brothers except his own memory, and memories could not be used as evidence in any court of the Arden Kingdom.

Still, something about this Soren nagged at the back of his mind now.

A nameless student, supposedly weak enough to be bullied by Kairon’s little circle, somehow broke five trained killers and walked straight into a dungeon that swallowed entire guild parties whole.

It didn’t add up, and Vaelor disliked things that didn’t add up.

“Dren,” he said quietly, swirling the liquor in his glass.

His subordinate straightened immediately. “Young master?”

“Tell me again, exactly how strong were those five brothers rated?”

“D-rank individually, young master. Combined, they easily C-rank in coordinated combat. They cleared three dungeons together before this contract.”

Vaelor’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass. D-rank killers, experienced ones, vanishing without a trace against a fresh academy student who barely registered on anyone’s radar before this.

The excitement in his eyes sharpened into something colder, more calculating.

“And you’re certain there’s no possibility someone else interfered? Another guild, perhaps, protecting him?”

“We checked, young master. No guild has claimed him. No faction has shown interest. As far as records show, Soren entered the academy alone, with no backing, no sponsor, nothing.”

Vaelor sat in silence for a long moment, staring into the amber liquid as if it held answers.

The faint excitement from before slowly curdled into something far more dangerous, the kind of curiosity that, in men like him, often ended in someone’s death.

“Young master,” Dren said carefully, breaking the silence,

“if I may ask, what will you do now?”

Vaelor rose from his seat, setting the glass down with a soft clink against the table.

His shadow stretched long across the marble floor as he walked toward the window, looking down at the city lights scattered below like dying embers.

“There’s something you should know, Dren,” he said, his back still turned. “Something only you will know.”

Dren’s spine stiffened at the shift in tone.

He served Vaelor long enough to recognize that particular softness in his master’s voice, the kind that always came right before something irreversible happened.

“Young master?”

Vaelor turned around slowly. His eyes, once simply dark and piercing, now bled into something unnatural, thin veins of crimson spreading through his irises as his pupils narrowed into slits.

The bored, lazy charm he wore moments ago vanished entirely, replaced by something ancient and patient, like a predator finally done pretending to be civilized.

“I can’t let anyone know what I truly am,” Vaelor said, voice almost gentle. “Not yet. Not until I decide how this board needs to be arranged.”

Dren stumbled back a step, his hand reaching instinctively for the short blade at his hip, far too slow, far too late.

Vaelor closed the distance in less than a blink, fingers wrapping around the back of Dren’s neck with terrible, careful precision.

“You served me well,” Vaelor murmured, almost like an apology. “But well isn’t the same as necessary.”

A strangled sound barely escaped Dren’s throat before Vaelor’s grip tightened further.

Fangs, far longer and sharper than any human’s, slid free from where they hid and sank deep into the side of Dren’s neck.

Dren’s body convulsed violently, fingers clawing uselessly at Vaelor’s arm as something vital drained from him, his skin shifting from healthy color to pale grey, then stretching tight over bone like old parchment.

Vaelor drank slowly, almost lazily, savoring it the way a connoisseur savors a rare vintage rather than gulping cheap wine.

The warm lantern light flickered against the grotesque scene, a noble feeding on his own loyal follower in the comfort of his private chamber, utterly calm, utterly unbothered.

By the time he finally released him, nothing remained but a husk, skin shrunken tight over bone, eyes hollow and sunken, the faint outline of his skeleton visible beneath nearly translucent flesh.

Dren’s body collapsed onto the marble floor with a quiet, undignified thud, already beginning to crumble at the edges into ash.

Vaelor wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, expression unreadable as his eyes slowly faded back into their normal dark shade.

He glanced down at the remains without remorse, the way one glances at an empty bottle before tossing it aside.

He turned back toward the window, gazing once more at the distant towers of the Elite Hunter Academy glowing faintly in the night.

“Soren, right? It seems I need to take you a bit more seriously.”