After Archer explained that it had been his first time infusing mana across such a large area, Adrian's muscles trembled as he forced himself upright, pushing until he managed to sit straight. The movement sent a dull ache through his entire body. Archer mirrored him, slower, more controlled, but no less strained.
They sat there for a moment, both catching shallow breaths, the cavern still heavy with the aftermath of the fight.
Adrian was the first to speak.
"Do you have any mana left?" he asked. "Enough to heal us?"
Archer turned to look at him, confusion flickering across his face. After a brief pause, he shook his head.
"No," he said. "I've got just enough left to keep myself alive."
He glanced down at his own hands.
"If I use it for anything else… that's it. I'd be empty."
The words settled between them, heavy and final.
As those words lingered, Adrian and Archer forced their bodies to stand. Muscles quivered under the strain, blood still drying across their faces. Every movement was deliberate, heavy, as if the cavern itself resisted them.
Archer moved first. He walked across the cave, passing the headless corpse of the Goblin King without sparing it a glance. When he reached his blade—still planted firmly into the stone—he wrapped one hand around the hilt and pulled.
The sword didn't budge.
He tried again, jaw tightening, but with the strength he had left, the blade wouldn't even shift.
On the other side of the chamber, Adrian began walking as well. His body was battered, breathing ragged, clothes torn and soaked with blood. He passed the Goblin King's corpse slowly, eyes lingering on the massive body.
This creature, he thought, with all its strength… still couldn't kill two lesser beings.
As the thought settled, something clicked.
They didn't win because they were stronger.
They won because the Goblin King had been arrogant.
Adrian continued forward until he reached Archer. Without a word, he stepped beside him and placed his hands on the sword's hilt as well.
Together, they pulled.
The blade finally came free from the ground.
Both of them collapsed to the ground as though their bodies had finally disobeyed every command they were given. After a moment, they forced themselves upright again, trembling, and turned to leave.
Archer sheathed his sword.
As they walked out of the cave, they retraced the same path they had taken in—passing the horrific sights they had left behind. The butchered bodies of goblins littered the tunnels, blood staining the stone walls.
They reached the third cavern.
The one where the women had killed themselves.
Adrian didn't slow. He didn't look. He walked past the scene without sparing it even a glance.
"Adrian."
He stopped and turned.
Archer was staring at him.
"Where are you going?" Archer asked. "We have to bury these people."
Adrian looked at him with no amusement at all. His mouth tightened before he spoke.
"They're already dead. Let's just leave. Both of us are injured, and we don't even have the mana to heal ourselves—let alone the strength to dig graves."
Archer's expression hardened.
Anger flashed across his face as he stepped forward, ignoring every spike of pain in his body. He walked straight up to Adrian until they were nearly nose to nose.
"These are my people," Archer said, voice shaking but firm. "I will bury them."
Adrian's expression grew even colder.
"A body buried or not buried still rots the same."
Archer grabbed Adrian by the front of his clothes and yanked him closer. His eyes went cold—sharp, unwavering.
"Adrian," he said quietly, "you claim to be a villain. I don't care about that. But you will at least give me the common courtesy of respecting my dead and doing what I ask."
Adrian met his gaze without flinching.
There was a long silence.
Then Adrian spoke, calm and even.
"Okay. I'll do as you say."
Both Adrian and Archer each picked up a single body, placing it over their shoulders, and carried it out of the cave.
With every trip they made, their bodies screamed louder in pain. Muscles tore, bones protested, and breathing grew ragged—but they didn't stop.
They repeated the process over and over again until every woman who had been killed inside the cave was brought out.
When the last body was laid down, Archer drove his blade into the ground and began digging into the earth.
Adrian went back into the cave and retrieved a broken sword to do the same.
They dug.
And dug.
Hours passed.
With every motion, their bodies screamed in agony, but they continued—teeth clenched, hands shaking—forcing themselves onward.
Eventually, there were enough graves.
Thirty-three.
That was only counting the bodies that were still recoverable.
They laid the women into the graves one by one and sealed the earth over them.
When it was done, Archer stood there for a long moment.
Then he spoke—one final sentence before they left. His eyes were cold, not a flicker of emotion visible.
"With this last act, I honor you."
Adrian stood behind him.
He didn't look amused.
But he wasn't angry either.
By then, the sun had begun to set.
They turned and left for Adrian's camp.
As they walked, Archer spoke again, his voice quiet.
"By this time tomorrow, I think I'll have enough mana to heal us both."
Adrian didn't say anything. He just kept walking.
Archer stayed right beside him.
When they arrived at the base of the hill, they both remembered that Adrian's camp was still above them. Neither of them had enough energy left to climb. After a brief pause, they decided to make camp at the base of the hill instead.
As night fell, neither of them spoke.
The silence stretched unbroken.
Not one of them said a word until they slept.
When they woke, both of them had accumulated enough mana to heal themselves. Archer healed his own injuries first. When he turned to heal Adrian, Adrian stopped him.
"I can do it myself."
Using the last remaining mana his handwraps had accumulated, Adrian healed his body.
Afterward, Archer spoke.
"Now we're returning to my domain."
Archer began to walk, and Adrian followed.
They went in the opposite direction of the goblin caves, passing mountains and seeing beautiful landscapes along the way. Despite the scenery, they didn't encounter a single monster.
Adrian eventually asked, "Where are all the monsters?"
Archer replied calmly, "If there was a Goblin King here, most monsters wouldn't dare come into this territory."
That made Adrian realize something.
That was why, during all the time he had been training, nothing had tried to hunt him. Most creatures were afraid of the cave and never came near it.
Adrian asked again, "So aren't there supposed to be more goblins?"
"I exterminated most of them," Archer said.
They kept walking.
Days passed like this—walking during the day, camping at night—until they finally reached Archer's domain, located at the edge of the Monster Forest.
Although they were already outside the Monster Forest, they still had quite a distance to cover before reaching Archer's estate. They traveled for several more days until they finally arrived.
The Archer estate stood before them—a mansion built from brittle stone. It looked as though no one had maintained it for years. Cracks ran along the walls, stone beneath the surface lay exposed, and the entire structure carried a haunted presence. That, at least, was Adrian's assessment.
When they entered, Archer pushed the doors open and spoke.
"I'm home."
A girl with the lightest shade of gray hair—similar to Archer's—walked down the steps.
"Brother, you're home."
Adrian took her in silently.
She was the first person he had seen inside the estate, aside from the few guards patrolling outside. Naturally, Adrian assumed this was Archer's sister.
When the girl spoke, she said, "Brother, you've been gone for almost three months. I assumed you were dead."
Her tough face filled up with tears.
Archer's expression softened, a faint smile appearing on his lips.
"As you can see, I'm not dead, so you don't need to worry."
While that exchange was happening, Adrian silently assessed the girl. Aside from her dress, her blue eyes, and the slight resemblance to Archer, he sensed something else: a mana pool so deep it even surpassed his in size. The sheer radiance of her mana caused Adrian's body to shake slightly, but he quickly snapped himself out of it.
Archer introduced them.
"Adrian, this is my sister. Her name is Theodosia Ziva."
Theodosia looked at Adrian with a warm smile.
"Nice to meet you."
Adrian nodded politely.
"Nice to meet you too. My name is Adrian."
Archer then asked Theodosia to show Adrian to where he would be staying.
"He'll be in his office, taking a little break," he explained.
With a concerned expression, Theodosia said, "Baron Devon Vein hasn't come to collect the taxes. Since we assumed you wanted him to, you'll actually have to personally deliver them yourself."
Archer, closing his eyes and looking up, replied in annoyance, "Not even a moment after my arrival… I'm already going to be swamped with paperwork."
Theodosia gestured for Adrian to follow her, and they walked up the stairs.
After showing Adrian his living quarters, Archer instructed Theodosia, "Come meet me in my office afterward."
As they were walking, Adrian kept assessing the layout of the estate. When they arrived at the room, Theodosia opened the door.
Adrian was met with a sight of a room that, while covered in spider webs and dust, was modernly decent compared to what he had been living in within the Monster Forest.
"I'll leave you to it," Theodosia said.
"Thanks," Adrian replied.
Theodosia then walked across the hall to get to Archer's office. When she opened the door, she saw Archer lying back in his chair, looking up.
"You can enter, and close the door," he said.
Theodosia entered, shutting the door behind her.
"Brother, what do you want to see me for again?"
Archer sat up straight in his chair, eyes focused.
"The person I just brought here — Adrian. When we first met, he said to me that he was a villain."
Theodosia's neutral expression shifted into one slightly cold and analytical.
"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting down facing him.
Archer replied, "As I said, he claimed to be a villain. But he also said he's not a villain in that sense — he might do things that other people consider villainous."
Archer's expression grew colder, his voice calm but firm.
"Although he said that, I believe we can use him."
Theodosia looked at Archer as if her brother had lost his mind. She didn't say anything; she simply let the silence linger, watching him from across the room.
Archer remained seated in his chair. At some point, he had already changed his clothes, no longer looking like the ragged man who had walked out of the cave. His light gray hair fell neatly into place, and his golden eyes stood out sharply against his calm expression. Even after everything, there was something undeniably majestic about him.
The silence stretched.
Then Archer broke it.
He looked at Theodosia with a warm smile—the kind he only used with her, a subtle reminder that she was still his younger sister. As he ran a finger slowly across the surface of his desk, he spoke.
"As I said, we can use him. Adrian is an asset."
Theodosia didn't react, her eyes fixed on him.
"Do you know he survived for six months in the Gravebloom Forest," Archer continued, his tone steady, "by himself?"
Theodosia looked at Archer as if her brother were insane. She didn't say anything, simply letting the silence linger.
Archer rose from his chair and began walking along the bookshelves, his fingers brushing across the spines until he stopped at a specific book and pulled it free.
Theodosia watched him for only a few seconds before moving to sit down.
"Brother," she said, her voice controlled, "don't you realize he could be a threat?"
Archer dismissed the concern with a casual motion as he opened the book. His eyes skimmed the pages while he spoke, tone steady and unconcerned.
"It would be quite unfortunate if another household were to get their hands on Adrian."
He turned a page.
"And if you're worried about him being a threat," Archer continued calmly, "don't be. If that ever becomes an issue—"
He looked up, golden eyes cold.
"I'll kill him myself."
Archer closed the book and returned it to its place on the shelf.
He turned toward Theodosia and crossed the space between them without haste. When he spoke, his voice carried a warmth that had been absent for months.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For being gone—cornered—for nearly three months. I know that must have been hard on you."
He placed a hand on Theodosia's head, careful and familiar.
Her expression shifted. The seriousness faded, replaced by something quieter, touched with sadness. She reached out from where she sat in the chair and rested her hand atop his.
"Never do that again," she said.
Archer nodded.
A faint smile touched his lips.
After their conversation, the sun dipped low on the horizon, washing the estate in shades of red and orange. The light lingered for a brief moment, as if reluctant to depart, before finally surrendering the land to dusk.
As darkness settled in, soldiers moved quietly through the grounds, one by one igniting the faint lights lining the estate. Each lamp bloomed softly, casting a restrained glow—enough to hold the shadows at bay, but not enough to banish them entirely.
In that dim illumination, the scars left behind became difficult to see. Cracked stone, damaged walls, and neglect softened under distance and shadow, their severity blurred by the night.
From afar, the manor appeared composed and intact—calm, orderly, almost dignified—its silent presence giving no hint of what had transpired within its walls.
Adrian watched the sunset in silence as the last sliver of light bled into the horizon. When it finally vanished, he remained standing in the dark, unmoving, as though the night itself had claimed him.
In the encroaching stillness, he spoke—not loudly, not forcefully—but with the calm certainty of one who believed the world would listen. He recited the incantation as if it were a truth long remembered, rather than words newly spoken.
"By the marrow of thought, I break the veil…
By the void within, I birth the unnamable…
Spirals of my essence, coil and consume…
Shape the formless, crown the abyss…
Let the impossible walk, let the unseeable breathe…
In my gaze, all sanity fractures; in my presence, worlds bow…
I am the architect of terror, the pulse of nightmare…
Come forth, children of my mind, and kneel in the shadow of your maker."
Nothing answered.
The world remained still. The air did not bend. Reality did not yield. The incantation collapsed into silence—unfinished, not by defiance, but by absence.
Adrian felt it then: a surge of anger unlike anything he had known before. For a fleeting moment, he believed the world he had created had rejected him—that his own existence had turned away.
The truth followed swiftly, colder and far more unforgiving.
It was not rejection.
His mana had simply been exhausted.
And yet, even as the power failed him, the presence did not fully depart. The echo of something unseen—something angelic, or perhaps only adjacent to it—lingered in the darkness.
Watching.
Waiting.
Long after the final light had gone.
Adrian chose sleep as a means to still the edges of his mind.
In the quiet darkness, he removed the remnants of his torn clothing and set them aside at the edge of the bed. He lay down and allowed himself to sink into the mattress, its softness rising to meet him.
It wrapped around him gently, almost like an embrace.
It was the first truly soft surface he had slept upon since arriving in this world. For six months, rest had meant stone, dirt, and the unforgiving cold of the ground.
As the sensation spread through his body, the tension he had carried for so long began to loosen its grip. His thoughts slowed, then scattered, slipping away one by one.
Sleep claimed him swiftly—without resistance.
As the hours passed and the world continued its quiet motion, morning arrived. Sunlight filtered softly into the room as Adrian awoke, the distant chirping of birds threading through the lingering silence.
He rose slowly into a seated position. His hair lay in disarray, his eyes dulled by a deep, persistent exhaustion—not the look of someone who had enjoyed a full night's rest.
When he glanced toward the edge of the bed, his torn clothing was gone. In its place lay a fresh set of garments, neatly folded.
Adrian frowned faintly.
Theodosia, he thought. It would have been like her.
And yet, unease followed the conclusion. He had not sensed her presence at any point during the night—no footsteps, no disturbance, not even a subtle shift in the air.
He stood, moving carefully. In the morning light, his body was revealed in full—muscle and form defined with almost unnatural precision. There was no trace of injury upon him, not a single scar to mark the months of hardship he had endured.
He took the clothes and dressed himself.
When the final piece settled into place, Adrian paused.
They fit him perfectly.
After dressing, Adrian's gaze swept across the room. Dust still clung to surfaces, cobwebs stretched across corners, and decay lingered as it had yesterday. No trace of cleaning, no sign of order beyond the fresh clothes. He dismissed the thought and felt the stir of hunger within him. His stomach growled, a sharp reminder that he was still very much human.
He started down the hall, eyes wandering to the right, then to the staircase. At the foot of the stairs stood Theodosia, her hand extended.
"Follow me," she said, her voice calm