Shadows cloaked the streets of Hallowford as I slipped out of the inn, careful not to make a sound as I closed the door.

The quiet of the night was a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped me since the encounter earlier.

I stuck to the darker alleyways, keeping my movements slow and deliberate, each step measured to avoid any noise.

Despite the rest I'd managed to get, a dull ache persisted in my abdomen, while the shallow cut on my right side had scabbed.

I could still feel the tightness around the bandages I borrowed from Gregor.

I wondered if I could risk getting it healed, but revealing my condition to someone I didn't trust wasn't an option.

Pushing the thought aside, I focused on the task at hand. Information was my lifeline, and tonight, I needed to gather as much as possible.

I was already worried, knowing I couldn't get rid of the first skill I copied.

As I moved deeper into the quiet streets, I heard faint voices echoing from an alleyway up ahead.

Instinctively, I slowed my pace. My senses sharpened as I sought the source of the sound.

Peering around the corner, I spotted a group of figures huddled together. Their conversation was low but urgent.

The flicker of torchlight revealed the symbol on their cloaks—a black iron fist gripping a red chain.

Ironbrand Guild.

This was the kind of information I needed, but from this angle, I couldn't hear clearly.

I glanced up at the nearby building, assessing the height and distance.

It wasn't far, and with the right skill…

Skill Activated: Quick Footwork Cost: -5 Mana Points Status Update: Mana Points 25 / 50

Without wasting any more time, I sprang silently up to the roof, landing with the lightest of touches.

The effort strained my body, but it was manageable, a small price to pay for the vantage point I now had.

Crouching low, I inched closer to the edge of the roof, ears tuned to the conversation below.

Crouched on the rooftop, I steadied my breath and focused on the conversation below.

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The guild members were deep in discussion. Their voices were hushed but filled with a certain urgency.

"Boss said we need to tighten our grip on the marketplace," one of them muttered, his tone sharp. "The docks too. If we control the flow of goods, we control Hallowford."

Another figure nodded in agreement as the torchlight cast flickering shadows across his face. "What about the Mayor? He's been dragging his feet on boss's directives. If he keeps stalling…"

"He won't be a problem," a third voice interjected, low and menacing. "Mayor Thorne knows better than to cross us. He's complicit enough to keep things running smoothly, but don't be fooled—he's not entirely on our side."

I listened intently, piecing together the implications of their words. The Mayor was involved, but not fully under their control. That could be useful information.

The conversation then shifted to a more concerning topic. "What about the newcomer who offed Darius?" one of them asked in suspicion.

"Officer Lorian's on it," another replied. "He's already tracking him down, and you know how that man operates. The Mayor's even more cautious around him—wouldn't want to end up on the wrong side of his methods."

Hearing Lorian's name sent a chill down my spine.

They were talking about me and the guy who attacked me, Darius.

It was clear now.

The urgency in their voices, the way they spoke of Lorian with a mix of respect and fear—it all pointed to the fact that I was already a target.

The weight of their words pressed heavily on my mind as I remained hidden on the rooftop.

Lorian was leading the hunt for me, and the guild members' tone made it clear that he was someone to be feared.

Ruthless, efficient—Lorian's reputation was enough to keep even the Mayor in check. If he was after me, I couldn't afford to stay in one place for too long.

Or was I already discovered?

I shifted slightly, careful not to make a sound as I considered my next move. The longer I stayed here, the more dangerous it became.

I needed to retreat, to get back to the inn before they noticed anything amiss. But as I prepared to slip away, a thought crossed my mind, one that sent another chill through me.

The dark figure at the Restful Boar—was he sent by Lorian?

It seemed likely.

The possibility gnawed at me, but it also sparked a deep sense of gratitude for Gregor. If it weren't for him, things might have turned out very differently.

I'd heard enough. I began my retreat, planning my route back to the inn while avoiding unwanted attention.

I moved cautiously across the rooftops, staying low and silent. The night air was cool, but my thoughts were anything but calm.

The information I'd gathered was invaluable, but it also meant that my situation was far more precarious than I had anticipated.

Lorian's involvement added a danger I wasn't ready for.

At the edge of the rooftop, I paused, surveying the street below.

It was empty, just as I'd hoped.

I dropped down quietly, landing in a crouch before straightening up and slipping into the shadows.

The inn wasn't far, but I took my time, sticking to the quieter, hopefully less-traveled paths to avoid any unwanted attention.

As I walked, My mind circled back to Gregor. Gratitude toward the innkeeper mixed with guilt for bringing trouble to his doorstep.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. I needed to get back to the inn, regroup, and figure out my next steps.

The inn soon came into view as a dark silhouette against the faint light of the moon. Relief began to settle in my chest as I approached, but it was short-lived.

The night's quiet broke with a faint sound behind me—a soft shuffle of footsteps I hadn't noticed before.

My hand went to my blade, but before I could draw it, a voice called from the shadows, stopping me in my tracks.

"Ethan? Is that you?"