Joran's muscles froze, his eyes wide open as he watched the figure casually walk out of view to his left. He could hear their footfall get quieter, until they disappeared; at which point, Joran shook his head and opened the door, walking in with disbelief still clouding his mind. He looked at the strange formation on the ground with runes and foreign words written, where he also realized the portal vanished, leaving little light in the room. The other 4 scampered in, looking around, confused as to what could've made Joran fall so mute.

Dorgan walked up to him, her blue eyes filled with concern, "Are… Are you okay, Joker?"

Looking over to her, Joran looked down for a brief moment before sighing and nodding, "Yeah. I just think where the Beasts are coming from are starting to make a horrific amount of sense now."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's follow them," Joran nodded his head towards where he heard the person disappear, and started walking down the way.

The room they had wound up in was vastly different from the small tunnel they were in. It was completely, ornately cobblestone, the ground, the walls, even the ceiling. The fact this place existed already sunk Joran's heart. The fact it had been here for an apparently very long time made it sink even more. Walking down to where he heard the figure go, he could see the room shrink down into a thin hallway that curved towards the right behind a wall. Following along the wall, him and the group explored deeper.

Their footfalls weren't very loud, but they weren't quiet either. Echoes of their pitter patter rang within the thin hallway. It was dark though. Joran could see as if it were bright day, but the rest of them had to squint to make out what was in front of them in the dimly lit hallway.

Saffora spoke up grimly, "You saw a person, didn't you?"

"… Yes," Joran responded despondently.

"With how this place is laid out, I doubt a Beast could've done it--"

"Stop."

The group fell silent at Joran's plea, none of them were dim-witted. However the premise of a human betraying their entire Realm for Beasts was a little too much for them, and especially so for Joran. Even though he wasn't surprised that people would fight amongst themselves for petty things such as honor and glory, he couldn't fathom anyone being deplorable enough to switch sides. All he could ask himself was why.

And there were no answers that he liked. Which built up a deep emotion Joran didn't realize was intensifying.

The hallway began to straighten out and descend down a set of stairs, at the end of it, there was significantly more light just out of view, with shadows flickering back and forth.

Immediately, the group slowed down, and stealthily walking as best they could down the stairs. Joran leaned down, as he started to see the ceiling open up, letting him peer out past where they were. The light blinded him for a split-second, and as he blinked it away, he could see 2 rows of tables with goblins sitting down, eating. A singular black robed person strolled in the center aisle a dozen feet away from Joran. But he could immediately tell it was the same person he saw walk through the portal.

This time, Joran could only feel boiling rage as he had time to process what happened. He screamed as he lunged forward in a flash, tackling the individual before anyone could even react. Pinned onto the ground, the cowl flung off, and Joran could clearly see it was a young man, probably as young as him, if not younger, his red eyes filled with sudden fear and shock as they looked up at Joran, whose own green eyes were filled with vicious confusion.

"What?! You're not even as old as me!"

At this point, the goblins had all scrambled up and away from the commotion, unsure of what to do, only piling up on either side of the room. Joran looked around with his arm and knee pinning the man down, studying his surroundings. The fear was palpable, but he didn't care.

The same ornately laid down cobblestone persisted into this room, the candlelight much stronger as well. On the tables, he could see plates of red meat, most likely some from the same meat he had saw a couple nights ago.

So it wasn't just for the Basilisk… Joran thought to himself barely in his rage addled mind.

Snapping back to the young man beneath him, he grunted as he picked him up and slammed him back into the ground. By this point, the rest of the group had circled around Joran, drawing weapons, keeping their eyes on the goblins.

"Why?!" Joran asked in his mind, but could hear himself scream it at his grappled counterpart.

Coughing, the young man's fear shook his voice, "W-why what?"

"Why are you here, with these… goblins?!" Again, he slammed him into the ground.

"I… I was told to."

"By who?!"

"By…. By her—"

It was then that one of the Heca soldiers came over and slit his throat, the red eyes dulled with fear and surprise, his blood pooling out of the gash with each pump of his dying heart. Joran held no hesitation as he slammed the blunt side of his sword into whoever it was that cut his throat.

Mason grunted and stumbled onto his butt. Joran, in one swift motion, got off the dying man and pointed his Dao straight at Mason.

Mason collected himself and looked up to see the pointed sword above him and stammered out, "We—He's a traitor! He doesn't deserve to be left to live!"

Joran squinted his eyes, as he could see in Mason's eyes a tinge of fear; but it was betrayed by no confusion.

"We could've gotten more out of him. No way a kid like him was doing this of his free will!"

Saffora got down on one knee, and probed the man's robes, pulling up one side of the cape, finding a very distinct emblem. A kaleidoscopic eye with its colors trailing out of it.

"Joker," Calling Joran over, he saw the same emblem, as did Dorgan, who sighed.

"Well, maybe you're right Joker, but we have a lead on who got him to do it then."

Joran's mind was filled with hazy thoughts, his anger still not having subsided. Seeing the goblins cowering next to the walls, their eyes were open, hands cupped across each other's bodies, trembling. But there was no empathy, no pity set aside for them in Joran.

"Heca."

"Y-… Yes, Joker?" Both Mason and Neal responded, concerned.

"Kill them all."

Before they even realized what was ordered, Joran drew his Dao up and slashed across one section of goblins along the left wall, driving his blade clean across their bodies, deep lacerations or outright cutting them in half. A myriad of shrieks echoed and rang through Joran's head, but he didn't care.

They would never amount to the sorrow he had for Hallson. For Joseph.

For Liam.

Once he had turned around, he could see the Bloodhound soldiers flurry their sickles through the rest of the goblins. The stone by the walls were drenched in blue blood, as the last of the shrieks of goblins finally subsided. Joran emotionlessly studied his surroundings, as he watched the Bloodhound members soak in the high they found themselves in after killing dozens of goblins.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

It was then that Joran suddenly asked, surprising the entire group, "So why is it, the members of the greediest, biggest glory hounds of the Cities constantly refuse to search further into the sewers, and let sleeping dogs lie, hm?"

Neal and Mason, drunk on the blood of their kills, thanks to their Blood Gazing Arts, swerved to the accusation, sluggishly processing what was asked, with a hiccup, Mason raised a finger, "And what does that even mean, Joran?"

The change in the atmosphere was too sudden for Dorgan and Saffora, whose feet were planted into the ground. Their eyes darted back and forth, and Dorgan stammered out her confusion.

"Joker… What's the meaning of this?"

Joran chuckled self-deprecatingly, "I should've known sooner. I mean, the writing was on the wall, but it took me going all the way out to Ardenta to realize what's been happening. Would you care to explain, Bloodhounds?"

Mason stopped swerving at this point, his finger drooping down to his sickles, and hardened his eyes right at Joran, his face void of any emotion, "Yeah? Yeah I killed the boy. He was Cael anyways, not like he'll be missed. They should all just do the same thing as him."

Joran slammed Mason into the wall directly behind him. His speed surprised him for a moment before he slashed Mason's ankles. With a grunt, he dropped Mason onto the ground, who was now keenly aware of his surroundings with his Arts locked. Fear and anger mixed into his contorted face.

"How dare you, Joker! Heca has served the cities for CENTURIES! What kind of accusation do you think you're throwing on us?!"

Neal lunged at Joran, but was easily stopped by Saffora. Joran glanced over at his about-to-be assailant, and then crouched closer to Mason, his eyes filled with disdain.

"Glory-seekers are all you are. Forced Cael into their corner, and acted all high and mighty about how you serve the Cities. But then, when it comes to actually do the dirty work, you can't be assed to. I watched a Bloodhound squad keep trying to talk us out of investigating the sewers. The same squad wants to turn around after we killed a few goblins, even though they knew there were more. Then we find the Basilisk, that they would've loved nothing more than to know nothing about. Then tonight. What did you two do? Stand by the side and only do strikes and slashes when it was convenient, and keep trying to leave the investigation. We wouldn't have found this young man, that you were all too happy to suddenly kill. Or this room filled with goblins and the portal. Care to explain that?"

Mason groaned as he felt the pain from his ankles stab at him, unable to find any words. Joran turned to Dorgan, and inquired, half cordially, half enraged.

"Who was it that called the reinforcements to Inven?"

Dorgan, startled, recalled briefly; after a moment of thinking, her eyes went wide, realization slowly spreading on her face, "It… It was the Warding Bloodhound Clan."

Joran stabbed Mason's left wrist. Even though he was very aware that the man below him wasn't a threat, his sinister anger continued to boil just beneath the surface, "And who, specifically? Who was it that made the order?"

"I don't know specifically, it was from the Crown City Precinct, though. Right from the top."

Another stab, this time, on Mason's right wrist. Mason was screaming in agony at this point, unable to move at all; completely paralyzed.

"Just really convenient. Really convenient indeed," Joran's voice began to rise out of his growing hatred for the Bloodhounds, "See, I never liked the Bloodhound Clan in the first place. But then… Time after time, I see you all prove just how shitty you are! How dare I, Mason? How dare you claim prestige! How dare your clan detest subterfuge, and then use it to betray the Realm! HOW DARE YOU—!"

Swishck! Guh….

In his rage, Joran stabbed straight through Mason's chest, his Dao thudding solidly onto the ground below him. Pulling it out, he could feel the resistance of flesh, which woke him up from his rage.

Blinking a few times, he pulled his Dao out completely, and keeled over to vomit next to the table he was by. Retching, his eyes grew bleary, and the last few minutes recollected in his now sober mind.

Standing back up, he turned to Neal, whose eyes were bloodshot in rage and fear. Both Dorgan and Saffora were shocked, but mostly had teary eyes of sorrow.

Of course… Joran sighed to himself. He had just killed a comrade. He shouldn't be surprised at their reaction.

But regardless, he lamentedly pointed at Neal, "Can you take care of him, Saffora?"

"W-Wait!" Neal grew hysterical, "I won't tell anyone! I promise, I- I'll just leave the Bloodhound Clan!"

Saffora shifted her eyes back and forth rapidly from Neal and Joran, unsure of what to do, shaking her head unconsciously, "I don't… I don't know if I can."

Joran rubbed his forehead. As he traipsed over, his eyes grew heavy as he looked at the red blood that soaked on his blade, catching a glimpse of himself in the proud golden coat of the sword.

He looked back up at Neal, who had planted himself into the ground, tears welling out of his eyes. For a second, Joran felt a pang of guilt, until it was overtaken by the mental image of Joseph being smashed by an orc as he was helpless on the ground.

As he got crippled by none other than Brandy. The epiphany of what happened was always there in front of Joran. He just refused to see it for what really happened because he couldn't believe someone would willingly let their own comrade die to the Beasts. He couldn't believe someone would turn their back on the Cities, on the Hero Realm. He couldn't believe that direct members of a Major Family could be behind it as well. His anger welled not just because of the betrayal, not just because of the truth being revealed in front of him. It welled most because of his own beleaguered refusal to believe such a truth.

Closing his eyes one last time, he glared back at Neal, and thrusted his sword cleanly into his chest. Joran watched his eyes go wide as Mason felt his body grow cold almost instantly, slumped onto the ground. As his blood pooled by Joran's feet, the red began to coat with the blue blood of the goblins, and Joran cast his gaze away from the duo he was left with as he sighed, sitting down on the table he was closest to.

"W-what now, then?" Dorgan tentatively asked.

Joran looked back up, as he shrugged, tears spilling down uncontrollably, "I don't know."

While Joran's tears flushed his face red, he held his head in his hands, trying to collect himself. As he did this, Saffora and Dorgan both went back up to the first room, and destroyed the runic formation that held the portal stable. A slight warble sound could be heard even down where Joran was, as the connection flickered out of existence.

Returning back, Joran's eyes were wet, but he had lolled his head back, taking deep breaths.

With a forced smile, Dorgan consoled him, "If it weren't for you, we would have all probably been blind to this treachery happening."

Joran snapped his head back slowly and glanced back at Dorgan, "No. I'm nothing special, Commander. Your soldiers and comrades died honorably to hold back the Basilisk. I just got lucky. And as for this," he waved his hands around to the room they were in, the horrendous smell of rusted iron beginning to stack and pervade, "This was the missing piece to a puzzle I should've been seeing for what it really was. The Realm Monarch is probably already aware of this."

As he said that, a memory flashed through his mind as if on cue, Hando saying to him, "He said he had eyes on us for the most part. It wasn't until we had gone off into the deeper parts of the forest that he apparently didn't know what was happening."

Before he could sigh to himself, another flashback happened, and this one took a completely different meaning from before, when Ruben led him and Hando to the bunker for the first time, "If the Realm Monarch was planning on sending you to me, then it was to be expected news would travel."

Joran laughed self-deprecatingly, looking at his completely soiled blade, "No, he has known about this for a while. It seems Chief Ruben might be aware of that, as well. I understand why they sent me to the Precinct now."

"What do you mean?" Saffora was confused, her brows deeply furrowed as she carefully studied Joran's face.

Joran looked over to her, and faintly smiled, "It means I might've really killed innocent people."

Dorgan shook her head, "No. I disagree. Mason at least, was guilty of killing this boy here."

Joran sighed again, "Maybe. Whatever. I'm too tired to deal with this right now."

"No!" Dorgan glared at Joran, "We need to go to Crown City and report this to the Realm Monarch right now."

"Well it's a good thing I'm heading there anyways then, right?"

The three of them cleaned themselves up as best as they could, with Joran wiping the blood off his blade with the black robe of the boy in the center of the room, his eyes frozen in fear still. Joran closed his eyes, and looked one more time at the emblem of the kaleidoscopic eye.

I won't forget this…

They left the room and as they went through the door back into the tunnel, Joran could see small, purple sizzles of the formation, almost like electrical sparks. The rest of the way back to Ripley and the hulking carcass of the Basilisk was uneventful, and Dorgan had Saffora go to the nearest deployment to come over and guard the sewer entrance with high security.

No Bloodhounds allowed to guard in the deployment.

And with that, Ripley drove Joran and Dorgan through Adpol into Crown City, the gradual increase of the city skyline contracting the starlight and descending waning crescent moon on the horizon. The entire drive was silent. Both because Ripley was in the car, and also because Joran didn't have the heart to recount what had happened over and over again, especially about the young boy to Ripley.

The Sovereign Palace rose into view, standing brilliantly with dim lights warmly lighting up the structure. Joran looked up to the place he called home over the last month and a half, but he could only feel a pang of guilt over the decisions he made tonight.

As they entered, the Palace was awoken as Dorgan requested an audience of the Realm Monarch with the standing guards. The ascent up, Joran was greeted by many familiar faces that were waking up, some still in bedwear while others were scuffling to their stations as best they could. When Joran saw Callahan, he waved him off, ignoring the concern in his eyes.

As they made the final steps up to the Throne Hall, Joran sighed as the duo looked at each other meaningfully. He closed his eyes as they both assumed a formal posture.

She opened the golden doors to the view of Reigan who wasn't shocked to see either of them, his tired eyes casually looking back and forth from them, "Well, what happened, Commander and Joker? I got pulled out of my chambers even though I just got back from Inven… Or well, what remains of it anyways."

With a gulp, Joran stepped forward, and began, "We have reason to believe that the Warding Bloodhound Clan has harbored traitors of the Realm."