One day had passed since the chaos in Oustar.

Now, far from Ignir’s turmoil, hidden from prying eyes, stood the sanctuary of the Unbound—a fortress carved into the very heart of nature’s embrace.

Behind the relentless cascade of a hundred-meter-tall waterfall, concealed within the rugged stone of the cliffs, lay their stronghold. The roaring waters crashed down into a vast lake, its surface shimmering beneath the soft glow of the midday sun. Mist veiled the entrance, an unbroken curtain of white that masked the existence of the hidden refuge beyond. To an outsider, it was nothing more than an unyielding wall of water and rock, a place untouched by civilization.

But beyond the falls, the truth was far more intricate.

Carved into the mountain’s stone with meticulous precision, the hideout stood as a testament to its creators’ craftsmanship. The cavernous entrance, hidden behind the cascading waters, led to a vast interior—an underground bastion seamlessly integrated with the natural rock formations. The walls bore the marks of careful excavation, smooth yet unrefined, maintaining the essence of the mountain’s raw power.

Within its depths, ten floors stretched through the stone, each one a carefully designed space for the Unbound. Spiraling corridors, hewn from the living rock, connected vast chambers, communal halls, and armories stocked with salvaged weaponry. Narrow, winding staircases led deeper underground, where three additional levels descended into the earth, forming the heart of their refuge. These lower floors, shielded from the world above, housed meeting rooms, storage facilities, and hidden passages that snaked through the subterranean labyrinth, offering both escape routes and defensive positions.

Strategically placed windows, narrow slits carved into the mountainside, allowed beams of light to pierce through, illuminating the stronghold’s inner sanctum. From these vantage points, one could see the lush expanse of the land beyond—the towering trees, the expanse of wild flora, and the field that stretched nearby, where the Unbound could train without fear of prying eyes.

The lake below, fed by the endless rush of water, was a natural barrier, a moat that discouraged unwanted guests. Around its edges, greenery thrived—thick foliage and ancient trees providing cover, their roots weaving into the rocky soil. The air smelled of damp stone, fresh water, and the faintest hint of blooming flora, an odd contrast to the hardened warriors who now called this place home.

Here, in the heart of the wild, the Unbound had built their sanctuary.

A place unseen. A place untouchable.

For now.

---

In a dimly lit room adjacent to where the Elf Queen and her daughter resided, Valerius lay on a sturdy wooden bed, his neck braced in place. Though his body was healing, his pride suffered an even greater wound. He refused to speak, his silence a clear declaration of his lingering resentment.

Ziraiah knelt beside him, her emerald-green eyes filled with guilt as she pleaded, “Come on, Val, I said I’m sorry. How many times do I have to apologize? It was an accident.”

Valerius, eyes burning with irritation, turned his gaze toward her but said nothing. His silence was louder than words, and after a moment, he looked away, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Across the room, Eryndor sat by the window, his long frame poised with quiet regality. The golden light streaming through the panes cast sharp contrasts against his sharp features. With an arm resting against the chair’s armrest, he finally spoke, his voice smooth and composed.

“You brought this misfortune upon yourself, Valerius. Were it not for your Elvhein lineage, you would have perished from such a reckless injury.” His words carried the weight of wisdom and subtle amusement.

Ziraiah shot him a glare. “Eryndor, don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”

She then turned back to Valerius, her voice softening. “Don’t worry, Val. Gustein will heal you soon.”

Then, in a mischievous whisper, she leaned closer to his ear. “Guess what, Val? I’m stronger than you now, so don’t piss me off.”

Valerius’ eyes twitched. He tried to speak, but his injured jaw prevented anything but muffled sounds from escaping. Frustration boiled in his mind.

Look at this girl… You think you can bully me? Just wait. I’ll get stronger too.

Ziraiah grinned, relishing his helpless state. “Don’t be scared. I won’t hit you this hard next time.”

Silvie chuckled from the doorway. “Ziraiah, come. I’ll show you around. I’ve been here for almost a week now, so I know the place… to some extent.”

As the two stepped out of the room, Silvie glanced at Ziraiah with amusement. “You seem to be enjoying this a little too much.”

Ziraiah smirked. “You have no idea. That idiot used to bully me all the time. Now he finally got a taste of his own medicine.”

Silvie’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Let’s see if the elf princess wants to come with us.”

Ziraiah scoffed. “I doubt she’ll be any friendlier than before, considering you kidnapped them and all.”

Silvie shrugged. “I’m the only one here who’s actually being nice to her. She’ll have to warm up to me eventually.” Then, placing a hand on her cheek, she added with a dreamy sigh, “Besides, I’ve never seen someone so stunning before. The people in this world… they’re all ridiculously beautiful.”

Just then, a massive thirteen-foot-tall ogre-like man lumbered past them, his broad shoulders nearly scraping the walls. He shot them an uninterested, grumbling stare before continuing down the hall.

Silvie’s expression soured slightly.

“Well… not all of them,” she muttered under her breath.

Leaning toward Ziraiah, she whispered, “Some of them are downright hideous.”

The two reached the hallway leading to the Elf Princess’s room when Ziraiah stopped abruptly. “Where are you going? The door’s right here.”

Silvie twirled on her heels and pointed ahead. “I need to grab their lunch first.”

Ziraiah raised a brow. “Do you guys treat all your hostages this well?”

Silvie let out a light laugh. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been here for twelve days.” She beckoned Ziraiah with a playful grin. “Come help me carry them.”

---

Whispers of the Ruin

Far away from the main Unbound hideout, deep in the shadows of another sanctuary, a transaction was taking place.

In a dimly lit chamber, the flickering candlelight barely reached the corners of the vast space. At the center, a lone figure sat upon a stone seat, his muscular frame barely contained by the chair. His yellow, slitted pupils gleamed in the darkness, his black fur rippling with each slow breath. He belonged to the Wolfrain race, a people as fierce as they were cunning.

Across from him, obscured by the gloom, another presence lurked, their form hidden beneath the shroud of shadows.

The Lycan's deep, growling voice cut through the silence.

"Is what you've said true?"

The shadowed figure chuckled lightly, the sound barely more than a whisper.

"Yes. I assure you, this is an ancient ruin. A ruin bound to be filled with treasures beyond your imagination. This information is priceless."

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The Lycan narrowed his golden eyes. "How much?"

The figure in the shadows didn’t hesitate.

"One million."

A deep growl rumbled from the Wolfrain’s chest.

"You must be out of your mind."

The shadowed figure tilted their head, their voice smooth and unwavering.

"I deal in information, and this, my friend, is beyond valuable. With this knowledge, you stand to make a fortune."

The Lycan’s ears twitched as he leaned forward, his clawed fingers tapping against the stone table.

"If this information is so invaluable, why not keep it to yourself? Surely, entering an ancient ruin would grant you instantaneous wealth?"

The figure in the darkness exhaled a soft chuckle.

"You and I both know how dangerous ordinary ruins are… And this is an ancient one. I don’t have the strength to conquer it. But you… I believe you do."

Silence stretched between them, a quiet tension thick in the air.

Then, at last, the Lycan leaned back, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"I will pay you your one million."

The unseen figure’s lips curled into a smirk.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

---

Though Dreados had wished to keep the existence of the ruin a closely guarded secret, whispers spread like wildfire.

No one knew how the information had leaked.

But by then, it was already too late.

---

The Debt

In the Unbound hideout, afternoon light spilled through the cracks in the stone walls, illuminating the cavernous halls in a golden hue.

Seated by the window, Eryndor gazed out at the mist-covered landscape beyond, his piercing green eyes filled with contemplation. The waterfall outside roared endlessly, its cascading waters masking the quiet stirrings of the hideout.

Then, without warning—

BANG.

The door burst open.

"WONDERFUL AFTERNOON, DEAR ELVHEINS!"

The voice was unmistakable.

Striding into the room with far too much enthusiasm was Gustein, his fur bristling with excitement, his nose twitching as he brandished a worn-out leather notebook. His wide grin was anything but comforting.

Eryndor barely turned his head, his voice calm, refined.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Gustein?"

The leporid slammed the book onto the table and flipped through the pages furiously.

"I am here to discuss an issue of grave importance." He jabbed a finger at Eryndor. "You owe me. A lot."

Eryndor arched a brow. "Is that so?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, Gustein flipped to a specific page, dramatically clearing his throat as he began reading:

"Because of you, I almost had a heart attack—5,000 Narlins."

"Losing my arm to that foolish king—9,000 Narlins."

"I healed your sister—30,000 Narlins."

"And for all the stress you’ve put me through—10,000 Narlins."

Gustein slammed the book shut, crossing his arms with finality.

"That brings your total to… 108,000 Narlins. Not including the Waver fee. You have no idead how much my waver cost, artifacts are extremely expensive."

Eryndor tilted his head slightly, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"You seem to be in better spirits today. That is a relief."

Gustein scowled.

"What are you smiling for? You think I’m joking?"

Before Eryndor could reply, a loud snore echoed through the room.

Gustein’s ears twitched, his head snapping toward the bed where Valerius lay—

—still wrapped in his neck brace, unmoving, silent.

Gustein blinked.

"…What happened to him?"

Eryndor sighed, glancing toward his injured brother.

"An unfortunate incident."

Gustein shrugged. "Not my problem."

With a dramatic flourish, he ripped a page from his notebook and handed it to Eryndor.

"Here. Your official invoice."

Eryndor took the paper, his eyes scanning the boldly written amount.

"I am unfamiliar with the currency of Narlin. This presents a problem."

Gustein smirked, folding his arms.

"Not my problem. Pay up, or you and your siblings become my slaves."

Before Eryndor could respond, Gustein froze.

His nose twitched.

He inhaled deeply.

And then—his ears shot up.

Eryndor narrowed his eyes.

"What is it?"

Gustein snapped his head upward, eyes locked on a small, rectangular opening in the wall near the ceiling—a vent that led to the next room.

The aroma of warm, deliciously prepared food seeped through the passage.

Gustein’s expression twisted into sheer betrayal.

In an instant, he was on his feet, stacking three nearby tables atop one another.

With impressive agility, he leapt up, peering through the small opening—

And what he saw nearly made him fall.

Seated inside the adjacent room was the Elf Queen, the Elf Princess, Ziraiah, and Silvie.

Their table was filled with lavish dishes—a feast.

They were laughing. Smiling. Drinking.

They looked nothing like prisoners.

Gustein’s jaw dropped.

"What the hell?! Aren’t they supposed to be hostages like us?! Why are they eating such good food?!"

Eryndor, sensing Gustein’s growing frustration, calmly stood and made his way over.

Effortlessly, he climbed up beside him and looked through the opening.

His gaze landed on Ziraiah and Eliana, talking and laughing like close friends.

His brows furrowed.

"Since when did my sister become so acquainted with them? She only left a few hours ago…"

Gustein, still frozen in disbelief, clenched his fists.

He was hungry.

Eryndor smirked.

"If you are so desperate, why not ask them for food?"

Gustein imagined the scenario—

Humbly bowing before the Elf Queen, begging for food with a meek smile.

"Your graciousness, may I have a mere morsel? I have not eaten in more than a day—"

And then—

The Elf King would materialize from the shadows, towering over him with a murderous glare.

"You dare speak to my wife?"

Gustein shuddered, shaking the vision from his mind.

He hopped down from the stacked tables and dusted himself off.

"Nope. I’m good."

Eryndor, still seated near the window, turned his sharp gaze toward Gustein, his voice smooth yet carrying the weight of quiet authority.

“Oh, Gustein, might I request that you extend your healing expertise to my brother?”

The leporid’s golden eyes flicked toward him, narrowing in suspicion. His long ears twitched slightly before he smirked.

“30,000 Narlins.”

Eryndor's expression remained calm, though inwardly, his mind weighed the predicament. I have no means of compensating this man…

His gaze drifted toward Ziraiah, who was still engaged in lively conversation with Eliana. He rested his chin between his fingers, contemplative.

If Ziraiah secures the friendship of this princess, she might persuade her to cover the cost on our behalf. I may yet be ignorant of this world’s financial system, but royalty surely commands vast wealth. A mere 30,000 Narlins would be but a trivial sum to her.

With calculated precision, Eryndor lifted his head and gave a single nod. “Very well.”

Gustein grinned, baring his sharp teeth. “Good.”

He leapt off the stacked tables with effortless agility, his powerful legs cushioning the descent, before sauntering toward Valerius, who remained motionless on the bed. Without ceremony, he removed the neck brace, then leaned in, peering at the injuries with analytical scrutiny.

A glimmer of gold flickered in Gustein’s pupils as his vision penetrated beneath the skin, peeling away layers of muscle and sinew to expose the broken structure beneath.

"Tsk. These Elvheins just refuse to die. First the girl, now him…"

His keen gaze traced the delicate fractures along Valerius’s cervical spine.

“C2 vertebra severely compromised—akin to a classical hangman’s fracture. Such an injury should have resulted in immediate respiratory failure or paralysis due to spinal cord compression, yet the cord remains intact. Intriguing.”

His attention shifted to the mandible. “A severe temporomandibular dislocation, multiple microfractures across the ramus and condylar processes—sustained from a singular blunt force impact. The occipital bone exhibits a linear fissure, though it has not extended toward the foramen magnum. A miracle, truly.”

Gustein let out a breath of mild amusement, shaking his head.

Unbothered by the grotesqueness of the damage, he reached forward and casually tore the fabric over Valerius’s chest, exposing his lean musculature. His eyes gleamed as he peered deeper, scanning beneath flesh and bone.

His gaze settled on a singular organ, beating rhythmically.

“One heart,” Gustein murmured.

Of course. They are siblings, after all.

He placed a single finger against Valerius’s forehead.

This time, there was no radiant glow, no spectacle of ethereal energy.

Yet—Valerius began to heal.

To Be Continued…