The room seemed to grow colder. Gareth’s eyes narrowed, yet he remained silent and waited.

Lorian leaned back in his chair and studied Luca’s trembling form with a flicker of curiosity. “So, Kieran is dead?” Lorian’s tone was unhurried as though discussing something trivial. “By whose hand?”

Luca nodded frantically. “I saw it. Ethan—he... he killed him. I don’t know how, but he did.”

Lorian’s gaze darkened, the measured calm never leaving his voice. “And yet, here you are. Why did you run instead of finishing what Kieran could not?”

"Come on Officer, this man seems to have outdone himself by brining you this news. Must you be so harsh on him?"

Lorian glanced toward Gareth, the power dynamic between them shimmered beneath the surface. A slight nod indicated his brief relenting—for now. “Of course, Guildmaster."

Gareth’s gaze lingered on Luca for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. The man's groveling, his pitiful display of fear, had already begun to unravel.

Without a word, Gareth turned and left the room, his armored boots echoing against the stone floor as he departed. No formal goodbye, no command—just the quiet assurance that whatever needed to be done would be handled.

The door closed behind Gareth with a soft click and left Lorian alone with Luca.

The trembling man, now crumpled on the floor, mumbled incoherently, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“I—I can’t... please... no more... Ethan... he’ll kill me...”

His gaze settled on Luca, calculating and precise.

This is what happens when a man lets fear consume him, he thought as he watched Luca's fingers claw at the stone floor. He becomes nothing—less than nothing.

Lorian took a step closer, moving slowly and deliberately. He could already see how this would end. It wasn’t a question of if Luca would be dealt with, but when.

Men like Luca—men who let terror hollow them out from the inside—were nothing but dead weight. A liability to the guild, to his plans, and to the control he meticulously maintained.

“You say you can’t face Ethan...” Lorian murmured, more to himself than to Luca. His hand moved to the hilt of his rapier. “That’s not entirely wrong. But the real problem isn’t Ethan.”

Luca’s head jerked up at Lorian’s words, his eyes wide and filled with the frantic desperation of a cornered animal. “Please, Lorian... I—I swear, I can still—”

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He drew his rapier in one smooth, practiced motion with the steel catching the dim light.

Luca’s words faltered, and a strangled noise escaped his throat. The sight almost disgusted Lorian—how quickly a man could fall apart when faced with a real threat.

Cowards always think they can bargain their way out, Lorian mused as he took another step closer. But fear has already broken him. There’s nothing left to salvage.

Luca’s pleas grew more frantic, his words jumbling into incoherent sobs. He didn’t even try to stand, his body too weighed down by terror.

Lorian watched for a second longer, allowing the pathetic display to confirm what he already knew: Luca was useless.

“You were always weak, Luca,” Lorian said, his tone almost conversational.

“And in this world, weakness gets you killed.”

The rapier struck cleanly, severing Luca’s final breath before it could even form.

The blade sliced through his throat with cold precision—a gurgle, a thud, and then silence.

Lorian wiped the blade with a practiced flick of his wrist and barely spared a glance at the body slumped on the floor.

There was no anger in his actions, no sense of satisfaction. Just the quiet, efficient removal of an obstacle.

Men like him have no place here, Lorian thought, sheathing the rapier. Weakness can’t be tolerated. Not in this guild. Not in my plans.

He took one last look at Luca’s lifeless form before turning away, already moving toward the next piece of the puzzle.

One more liability removed.

Lorian stood over Luca's lifeless body for only a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he turned to the door, the click of his boots on the stone floor the only sound in the room.

Lorian moved to his desk and rang a small, silver bell.

Moments later, one of the guild’s attendants entered, bowing his head in respect.

“Summon Tomas and Derek,” Lorian commanded, his tone cool and authoritative. “Tell them to report to me immediately.”

The attendant nodded quickly and exited, leaving Lorian alone.

A few minutes passed, and then there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Lorian said, his voice carrying a sharp edge.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and Tomas and Derek stepped inside, their eyes immediately drawn to Luca’s still form on the floor.

The sight froze them in place, the color draining from their faces. They had feared this might happen, but seeing it—seeing Luca dead—sent a chill down their spines.

Lorian gestured to the chairs opposite him, a subtle command. Neither Tomas nor Derek spoke as they sat, their eyes darting between Lorian and Luca's body, which remained sprawled across the cold stone. They knew better than to question what had happened. The threat was clear.

“You know why you’re here,” Lorian began, leaning against the table. His tone was calm, almost casual, but there was no mistaking the underlying authority in his words. “Luca... was a liability. Fear clouded his judgment. It made him weak. Useless.”

Tomas swallowed hard, his knuckles white as he clenched his hands in his lap.

Derek, normally the bolder of the two, shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the floor.

Neither dared to interrupt.

“You two,” Lorian continued, his gaze moving between them, “will not make the same mistake. You still have a chance to prove your value.”

Tomas’s throat felt dry, yet he managed to speak.

“What... what do you want us to do?”