[POV Shift: ???]

Lorian's eyes narrowed as the young man emerged from the cavern's shadows, tense and wary.

He had seen countless men and women come through these parts, many of them were hardened adventurers who had faced death and danger head-on.

But this one… this one had a different air about him, like he was hiding something, or perhaps running from something.

Lorian stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating. He noticed everything: the young man's darting eyes, the twitching fingers, the forced calm.

His eyes caught on a partially visible wound on the man's abdomen, poorly concealed by the threadbare rags he wore. Fresh, but not recent enough to be fatal, it suggested a recent altercation, one that hadn't ended well for someone.

"What are you doing here?" Lorian asked, his voice was steady but laced with suspicion. "You don't look like you're from around here."

He kept his tone neutral, giving nothing away, but inside, his instincts were screaming that this stranger was out of place.

He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not for a moment.

The young man hesitated for a fraction of a second—just enough for Lorian to notice.

"I'm scouting the area," the man replied, his voice firm but a bit too smooth. "My team leader sent me ahead to check for any dangers."

The response was smooth, practiced even, but Lorian had spent too many years reading people to be easily fooled.

There was more to this story, he was certain of it, and he wasn't going to let this man slip away without finding out the truth.

The young man—Ethan, he said his name was—spoke with confidence, but it didn't quite match the tension in his eyes.

"The team leader wanted to clear the area before moving in,"'" Ethan said quickly, trying to fill the silence.

"It's just a precaution. We didn't want to take any risks."

Lorian's gaze sharpened. The excuse was too vague for his liking.

He also noticed the young man's slight discomfort, the rags were brushing against a hidden wound, perhaps?

Blood wasn't freely flowing, but it was enough to suggest this wasn't a man in peak condition.

"Lorian Kessler, Officer of the Ironbrand Guild," Lorian introduced himself, his voice measured and cold.

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His gaze flicked briefly to the blade the man held—a blade that, despite being wiped clean, still bore the faint stain of blood.

That wasn't ordinary dirt; that was blood, and it hadn't been there long.

"And what exactly were you supposed to be looking for?" he asked, watching Ethan closely for any signs of a lie.

Ethan's gaze flicked around, searching for an answer. "Anything out of the ordinary," he said after a moment, meeting Lorian's gaze with what seemed like forced confidence.

"You know how it is—better safe than sorry."

Lorian wasn't easily swayed, and Ethan's effort to convince felt forced.

Lorian knew that this encounter was far from ordinary and he wasn't going to let this man slip away so easily, not until he was certain of who he was dealing with.

[POV Shift: Back to Ethan]

Lorian's introduction was a warning. He wasn't just any guild member—he was in charge, and his men were watching.

My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to stay calm.

I couldn't afford to slip.

"The team leader didn't give me much time," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, hiding the panic threatening to rise. "He just wanted someone to check out the area quickly. Said it might be dangerous."

Their gazes weighed on me—one misstep, and I was finished.

Lorian's eyes bore into me, sharp and unyielding.

I could almost feel him dissecting every word I said, looking for the cracks in my story.

This was no ordinary encounter, and I knew I was teetering on the edge of disaster.

A few of the men exchanged glances, some nodding slightly. Relief flickered in my chest—some of them were buying it.

But Lorian's gaze remained fixed on me, sharp and unyielding, like a hawk watching its prey.

His eyes didn't waver, and I could almost feel him probing deeper, trying to find the holes in my hastily constructed story.

The silence stretched on, growing heavier with each passing second.

I tried to keep my breathing steady, my expression neutral, but inside, my mind was racing.

I knew that any hesitation, any flicker of uncertainty, could be the difference between life and death.

But as much as I tried to maintain my composure, I couldn't shake the feeling that Lorian wasn't convinced.

Not yet.

Lorian's narrowed eyes and hardened expression told me he wasn't buying it. With every word, I felt the hole I was digging grow deeper.

My story was too clean, too polished, and I knew it.

But what choice did I have?

"And who exactly is your team leader?" Lorian asked, his voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to it that cut through the air like a knife.

I felt a jolt of panic surge through me, but I quickly forced it down, masking it with a neutral expression. I couldn't afford to show weakness now.

My mind raced for an answer. The seconds felt endless, but I had to act fast.

I needed to say something that would satisfy him, at least for the moment, or I was finished.

Think fast, I told myself, forcing calm into my voice.

"I wasn't given a name," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady and casual. "It was all very rushed. They just needed someone quick on their feet to scout ahead."

I could feel Lorian's eyes drilling into me, searching for any sign of deceit. Every word felt like a test I was barely passing.

I knew my story was flimsy, but I had to make it work. The last thing I needed was this man digging deeper into my lies.

Lorian's silence was oppressive. Each second was stretching out painfully.

I forced myself to stay composed, to meet his gaze without flinching, but inside, I was bracing for the moment when everything would come crashing down.

Lorian narrowed his eyes, clearly not satisfied with my answer.

"You don't know the name of the person who sent you?" His tone was incredulous.

He leaned in slightly, as if expecting me to falter.