"Hey, system, what does Draakthor mean?" Aron inquired, his tone a blend of curiosity and confusion, making it appear as if he were talking to himself.

He was currently navigating a poorly lit alley, just two buildings to the right of the Drunken Chef Inn.

[Master, I believe you already know the meaning of Draakthor.]

"Oh!...My bad. I used the wrong words. I mean, what language is it? I know that Draakthor means Dragon."

[It's Draconic; the language of the dragons.]

"I see… Are you familiar with the language?"

[What do you mean, Master? I've been using this language since the beginning; I'm using it right now.]

"Eh?" Aron halted, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Since the beginning? But the way I hear you speak is Common Tongue, like everyone I've met so far."

[That's because of you, Master. You comprehend many languages thanks to the Original data. However, to avoid overwhelming you with information, I've been translating everything you hear into the Common Tongue, the language used by Humans.]

"Ahh! That's the catch. So, I just didn't notice that you speak a different language."

[Exactly, Master. But this feature is exclusive to our communication. If I were to converse with another person, they wouldn't understand me since I'm using Draconic.]

"Good to know. However, from now on, tell me when someone is speaking a different language. Keep the translation, but give me a heads-up. It's good to play dumb sometimes."

[It will be done, Master.]

Exiting the dim alley, Aron approached a two-story wooden building that seemed abandoned from the outside. Surprisingly, the rusty hinges of the old wooden door didn't emit a single creak as he pushed it open.

Stepping into the desolate space, Aron discovered only an old red couch. Scanning the area, he sensed nothing unusual.

In a commanding tone, he shattered the silence, "Show yourself."

Immediately, white smoke materialized, taking the form of a human figure. Soon, a woman emerged, clad in a full black bodysuit with two daggers secured to her belt. She obscured half of her face with a black mask, revealing only her straight-cut wine hair and gray eyes.

With a slight bow, Viper spoke respectfully, "You summoned me, Master?"

Aron observed the woman before him with cold eyes, impressed by her nearly flawless invisibility. Were it not for the magic seal within her, Aron would not sense her presence at all; it was as if her existence had vanished.

His prolonged silence made Viper uneasy, causing her to sweat nervously. Numerous thoughts raced through her mind, none of them optimistic.

'Is he planning to kill me?... Please, no! I'm too young to die.'

"Did you finish what I asked you?" Finally, Aron spoke.

Viper felt a surge of relief hearing him speak and not doing anything of what she imagined in her little head.

"I did, Master. All the remaining members are clean and organized. I'm now making them remove the Rat tattoo; only half remained."

"Good. Did they give you any trouble?"

"No, they were obedient."

Aron nodded and started making his way to the old couch.

Viper flinched when he suddenly moved, but she held herself when nothing happened; she followed Aron from behind and for the first time, she noticed the unconscious man he was dragging along the floor.

Aron dropped the man near the couch and sat down, relaxing his neck. He took a deep breath and then fixed his gaze on Viper, who stood waiting.

"Viper, I'm going to ask you to do a few things, okay?"

"Order me, Master." Viper lowered her head, understanding very well that Aron was not asking but ordering.

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"Excellent. First, take this man and lock him in the chambers. Keep him alive; I need him for later. Be careful; he's a mage capable of using scrolls to create barriers." Aron reached for the man's leather bag.

"Secondly, I want you to gather all the information about The White Falcons; you have three weeks to do so. Is that clear?"

Viper bowed deeply. "Understood, Master."

"Good, I'll have Scarlett send you some coins; use them to upgrade everyone's equipment, but only the basics, okay? We'll soon have a Blacksmith at our disposal."

The only thing that Viper could do is just accept. In her view, this was too much work, and she didn't like working at all, but sadly, she couldn't complain or her head might not remain attached to her shoulders.

Aron signaled her to leave, bringing Viper a sense of relief. She approached the mage, but before she could grab him, Aron spoke again.

"I almost forgot, have two of your most talented men watch the Drunken Chef Inn all the time."

Viper, puzzled, asked, "Anything specific to watch for?" This was a peculiar order.

"Not at the moment. Just have them keep an eye on the owner and staff. Protect them at any cost. If your men can't handle it, inform Scarlett so we can address the situation. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Now, you may leave."

This specific order Viper wasted no time fulfilling. She promptly grabbed the mage, cast her invisibility, enveloping both herself and the man in white smoke, and in the next moment, they vanished.

Aron's eyes momentarily glowed. 'So her skill can be extended to others. But how? What are the requirements?... Hmm… Physical contact? And can her skill still function if she lets go? And for how long?'

Aron took a mental note to experiment with this later when he had time, And by "experiment," he truly meant experimentation.

Aron wasn't naive. He clearly perceived why Viper was so obedient, and thanks to the Magic seal, he could sense her emotions when she was in close proximity, primarily fear.

However, Aron doesn't care about her in the slightest; she was part of a group that kidnapped children and sold them as slaves for some unknown fate.

Even though Viper herself didn't kidnap or help in the process, she was just the intelligent commander; Maxwell, her former leader, ordered her to only gather any information about any potential cure for his condition.

But for Aron, all of this is meaningless; she was part of the group, got defeated, and now she's paying the price. Her existence, along with that of the remaining members, was nothing more than a tool to be utilized and discarded when they outlived their usefulness.

Mercy was a luxury Aron couldn't afford for those who crossed his red lines.

'I need to become stronger so I don't share their fate one day.'

Aron clenched his fist, his eyes shifting to the new addition on his left wrist—the Arm Ring.

'A Brotherhood… Let's just hope I don't kill my new brother again.'

Aron widened his eyes, the word "again" escaping his mouth like an affirmation he didn't want to believe, that the vision or memory was true, that Aron had indeed killed his own brother.

Aron shook his head, unwilling to dwell on any of that at the moment. He essentially left those matters for his future self to contend with once he fully regained his memory.

He exited the abandoned building and headed straight to the mercenary guild. It was the time of a new quest; right now Aron has no shortage of coins, which is good for him. But at the moment, he needs monster cores to absorb and XP to level up.

He had also set a temporary goal—to reach the pinnacle of the mercenary ranks, Mithril. This achievement would grant him access to many of the guild and town's services, particularly the upper floors of the Great Library.

…

Entering the guild, Aron felt at home.

As always, the guild was packed with mercenaries, some planning as a group, others just messing around or taking a rest after a long quest.

Aron made his way to the quest board. Most mercenaries around him didn't react much to his presence, having largely forgotten the incident he caused. Nonetheless, a few kept a watchful eye on Aron from the second floor, monitoring his every move.

Seeing him approaching the board, the mercenaries didn't waste time making a way for Aron to pass. This action left some members who didn't see the incident eye-widened, mumbling to each other about the man's identity.

"Cila! Cila!" A green-haired elf receptionist rushed from the far right to her colleague, wearing a bright and sly smile.

"Paperwork! Paperwork! It never ends…Ughh! Show me who invented paper; I'm gonna kill him" Cila muttered furiously, she was buried in a mountain of papers that demanded her attention,

She had stayed at the guild for the past two days solely due to this paperwork surge. While the sudden increase in guild requests was excellent for business, the accompanying paperwork was pure HELL in her eyes.

Cila heard her colleague calling her name. Unaware of who it was, Cila turned to the one calling with visible hostility, causing the elf to break into a cold sweat.

"What do you need?" Cila made no effort to conceal her irritation.

'Wow! She's really in a foul mood.'

The elf didn't take offense; all the guild employees admired and respected Cila. Her professionalism was something to aspire and to appreciate.

Leaning forward, the elf whispered in Cila's ear, "Guess who's back."

Cila raised an eyebrow, scanning the guild entrance but seeing no one stand out. She turned to her friend with a puzzled expression.

The elf understood what was on Cila's mind, flashing a sly smile she added. "The quest board."

Glancing at the quest board, Cila began scanning people's faces, trying to decipher whom her friend was referring to. Her search didn't last long, as her emerald eyes fell on a pale-skinned man with black hair, Cila's face literally brightened up, and her mood shifted entirely.

This did not escape the notice of her colleagues, who, over the past few days, had teased her about the prospect of a potential relationship between her and Aron.

Cila was about to call out to Aron, but her elf friend placed a hand on her shoulder, restraining her.

Cila glanced back at her friend and noticed her pointing down at her clothes.

Cila's clothes were in a mess, staying at work for two days straight had taken a toll on her appearance.

"Go and change your clothes; I'll take care of these papers for you."

"Thank you. I'll treat you to a nice meal later."

The elf smiled warmly, watching Cila rush to the changing room to freshen up.

'Hehehe~ this new side of Cila is cute, I hope she stays like this forever'

Meanwhile, Aron was perusing the quests on the board classified under the Bronze rank.

"Pffff…Boring quests, not a single one of them is a killing kind."