One day had passed since the chaos in Oustar.

  Now, far from Ignir’s turmoil, hidden from prying eyes, stood the sanctuary of the Unbound—a fortress carved into the very heart of nature’s embrace.

  Behind the relentless cascade of a hundred-meter-tall waterfall, concealed within the rugged stone of the cliffs, lay their stronghold. The roaring waters crashed down into a vast lake, its surface shimmering beneath the soft glow of the midday sun. Mist veiled the entrance, an unbroken curtain of white that masked the existence of the hidden refuge beyond. To an outsider, it was nothing more than an unyielding wall of water and rock, a place untouched by civilization.

  But beyond the falls, the truth was far more intricate.

  Carved into the mountain’s stone with meticulous precision, the hideout stood as a testament to its creators’ craftsmanship. The cavernous entrance, hidden behind the cascading waters, led to a vast interior—an underground bastion seamlessly integrated with the natural rock formations. The walls bore the marks of careful excavation, smooth yet unrefined, maintaining the essence of the mountain’s raw power.

  Within its depths, ten floors stretched through the stone, each one a carefully designed space for the Unbound. Spiraling corridors, hewn from the living rock, connected vast chambers, communal halls, and armories stocked with salvaged weaponry. Narrow, winding staircases led deeper underground, where three additional levels descended into the earth, forming the heart of their refuge. These lower floors, shielded from the world above, housed meeting rooms, storage facilities, and hidden passages that snaked through the subterranean labyrinth, offering both escape routes and defensive positions.

  Strategically placed windows, narrow slits carved into the mountainside, allowed beams of light to pierce through, illuminating the stronghold’s inner sanctum. From these vantage points, one could see the lush expanse of the land beyond—the towering trees, the expanse of wild flora, and the field that stretched nearby, where the Unbound could train without fear of prying eyes.

  The lake below, fed by the endless rush of water, was a natural barrier, a moat that discouraged unwanted guests. Around its edges, greenery thrived—thick foliage and ancient trees providing cover, their roots weaving into the rocky soil. The air smelled of damp stone, fresh water, and the faintest hint of blooming flora, an odd contrast to the hardened warriors who now called this place home.

  Here, in the heart of the wild, the Unbound had built their sanctuary.

  A place unseen. A place untouchable.

  For now.

  ---

  In a dimly lit room adjacent to where the Elf Queen and her daughter resided, Valerius lay on a sturdy wooden bed, his neck braced in place. Though his body was healing, his pride suffered an even greater wound. He refused to speak, his silence a clear declaration of his lingering resentment.

  Ziraiah knelt beside him, her emerald-green eyes filled with guilt as she pleaded,

  Valerius, eyes burning with irritation, turned his gaze toward her but said nothing. His silence was louder than words, and after a moment, he looked away, staring blankly at the ceiling.

  Across the room, Eryndor sat by the window, his long frame poised with quiet regality. The golden light streaming through the panes cast sharp contrasts against his sharp features. With an arm resting against the chair’s armrest, he finally spoke, his voice smooth and composed.

  His words carried the weight of wisdom and subtle amusement.

  Ziraiah shot him a glare.

  She then turned back to Valerius, her voice softening.

  Then, in a mischievous whisper, she leaned closer to his ear.

  Valerius’ eyes twitched. He tried to speak, but his injured jaw prevented anything but muffled sounds from escaping. Frustration boiled in his mind.

  Look at this girl… You think you can bully me? Just wait. I’ll get stronger too.

  Ziraiah grinned, relishing his helpless state.

  Silvie chuckled from the doorway.

  As the two stepped out of the room, Silvie glanced at Ziraiah with amusement.

  Ziraiah smirked.

  Silvie’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

  Ziraiah scoffed.

  Silvie shrugged. Then, placing a hand on her cheek, she added with a dreamy sigh,

  Just then, a massive thirteen-foot-tall ogre-like man lumbered past them, his broad shoulders nearly scraping the walls. He shot them an uninterested, grumbling stare before continuing down the hall.

  Silvie’s expression soured slightly.

  she muttered under her breath.

  Leaning toward Ziraiah, she whispered,

  The two reached the hallway leading to the Elf Princess’s room when Ziraiah stopped abruptly.

  Silvie twirled on her heels and pointed ahead.

  Ziraiah raised a brow.

  Silvie let out a light laugh. She beckoned Ziraiah with a playful grin.

  ---

  Whispers of the Ruin

  Far away from the main Unbound hideout, deep in the shadows of another sanctuary, a transaction was taking place.

  In a dimly lit chamber, the flickering candlelight barely reached the corners of the vast space. At the center, a lone figure sat upon a stone seat, his muscular frame barely contained by the chair. His yellow, slitted pupils gleamed in the darkness, his black fur rippling with each slow breath. He belonged to the Wolfrain race, a people as fierce as they were cunning.

  Across from him, obscured by the gloom, another presence lurked, their form hidden beneath the shroud of shadows.

  The Lycan's deep, growling voice cut through the silence.

  The shadowed figure chuckled lightly, the sound barely more than a whisper.

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  The Lycan narrowed his golden eyes.

  The figure in the shadows didn’t hesitate.

  A deep growl rumbled from the Wolfrain’s chest.

  The shadowed figure tilted their head, their voice smooth and unwavering.

  The Lycan’s ears twitched as he leaned forward, his clawed fingers tapping against the stone table.

  The figure in the darkness exhaled a soft chuckle.

  Silence stretched between them, a quiet tension thick in the air.

  Then, at last, the Lycan leaned back, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

  The unseen figure’s lips curled into a smirk.

  ---

  Though Dreados had wished to keep the existence of the ruin a closely guarded secret, whispers spread like wildfire.

  No one knew how the information had leaked.

  But by then, it was already too late.

  ---

  The Debt

  In the Unbound hideout, afternoon light spilled through the cracks in the stone walls, illuminating the cavernous halls in a golden hue.

  Seated by the window, Eryndor gazed out at the mist-covered landscape beyond, his piercing green eyes filled with contemplation. The waterfall outside roared endlessly, its cascading waters masking the quiet stirrings of the hideout.

  Then, without warning—

  BANG.

  The door burst open.

  The voice was unmistakable.

  Striding into the room with far too much enthusiasm was Gustein, his fur bristling with excitement, his nose twitching as he brandished a worn-out leather notebook. His wide grin was anything but comforting.

  Eryndor barely turned his head, his voice calm, refined.

  The leporid slammed the book onto the table and flipped through the pages furiously.

  Eryndor arched a brow.

  Ignoring the sarcasm, Gustein flipped to a specific page, dramatically clearing his throat as he began reading:

  Gustein slammed the book shut, crossing his arms with finality.

  Eryndor tilted his head slightly, an amused smile playing on his lips.

  Gustein scowled.

  Before Eryndor could reply, a loud snore echoed through the room.

  Gustein’s ears twitched, his head snapping toward the bed where Valerius lay—

  —still wrapped in his neck brace, unmoving, silent.

  Gustein blinked.

  Eryndor sighed, glancing toward his injured brother.

  Gustein shrugged.

  With a dramatic flourish, he ripped a page from his notebook and handed it to Eryndor.

  Eryndor took the paper, his eyes scanning the boldly written amount.

  Gustein smirked, folding his arms.

  Before Eryndor could respond, Gustein froze.

  His nose twitched.

  He inhaled deeply.

  And then—his ears shot up.

  Eryndor narrowed his eyes.

  Gustein snapped his head upward, eyes locked on a small, rectangular opening in the wall near the ceiling—a vent that led to the next room.

  The aroma of warm, deliciously prepared food seeped through the passage.

  Gustein’s expression twisted into sheer betrayal.

  In an instant, he was on his feet, stacking three nearby tables atop one another.

  With impressive agility, he leapt up, peering through the small opening—

  And what he saw nearly made him fall.

  Seated inside the adjacent room was the Elf Queen, the Elf Princess, Ziraiah, and Silvie.

  Their table was filled with lavish dishes—a feast.

  They were laughing. Smiling. Drinking.

  They looked nothing like prisoners.

  Gustein’s jaw dropped.

  Eryndor, sensing Gustein’s growing frustration, calmly stood and made his way over.

  Effortlessly, he climbed up beside him and looked through the opening.

  His gaze landed on Ziraiah and Eliana, talking and laughing like close friends.

  His brows furrowed.

  Gustein, still frozen in disbelief, clenched his fists.

  He was hungry.

  Eryndor smirked.

  Gustein imagined the scenario—

  Humbly bowing before the Elf Queen, begging for food with a meek smile.

  And then—

  The Elf King would materialize from the shadows, towering over him with a murderous glare.

  Gustein shuddered, shaking the vision from his mind.

  He hopped down from the stacked tables and dusted himself off.

  Eryndor, still seated near the window, turned his sharp gaze toward Gustein, his voice smooth yet carrying the weight of quiet authority.

  The leporid’s golden eyes flicked toward him, narrowing in suspicion. His long ears twitched slightly before he smirked.

  Eryndor's expression remained calm, though inwardly, his mind weighed the predicament. I have no means of compensating this man…

  His gaze drifted toward Ziraiah, who was still engaged in lively conversation with Eliana. He rested his chin between his fingers, contemplative.

  If Ziraiah secures the friendship of this princess, she might persuade her to cover the cost on our behalf. I may yet be ignorant of this world’s financial system, but royalty surely commands vast wealth. A mere 30,000 Narlins would be but a trivial sum to her.

  With calculated precision, Eryndor lifted his head and gave a single nod.

  Gustein grinned, baring his sharp teeth. “

  He leapt off the stacked tables with effortless agility, his powerful legs cushioning the descent, before sauntering toward Valerius, who remained motionless on the bed. Without ceremony, he removed the neck brace, then leaned in, peering at the injuries with analytical scrutiny.

  A glimmer of gold flickered in Gustein’s pupils as his vision penetrated beneath the skin, peeling away layers of muscle and sinew to expose the broken structure beneath.

  His keen gaze traced the delicate fractures along Valerius’s cervical spine.

  His attention shifted to the mandible.

  Gustein let out a breath of mild amusement, shaking his head.

  Unbothered by the grotesqueness of the damage, he reached forward and casually tore the fabric over Valerius’s chest, exposing his lean musculature. His eyes gleamed as he peered deeper, scanning beneath flesh and bone.

  His gaze settled on a singular organ, beating rhythmically.

  Gustein murmured.

  Of course. They are siblings, after all.

  He placed a single finger against Valerius’s forehead.

  This time, there was no radiant glow, no spectacle of ethereal energy.

  Yet—Valerius began to heal.

  To Be Continued…