"Of course, young master. Of course. I understand completely," Victor laughed awkwardly, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Good, good. I knew you were a smart man, surveyor," Elysian chuckled, his tone now devoid of its previous menace. "My uncle certainly knows how to hire skillful and intelligent people."

Victor laughed nervously at the praise, inwardly sighing with relief at this apparent new lease on life. He was well aware of the dreadful fate that befell those who incurred the custodian's wrath.

Momentarily forgetting his fear, Victor's curiosity got the better of him. "If I may ask, young master, what is your relationship with Lady Amara?"

Elysian's piercing glare returned instantly. "I thought you were smarter than that, surveyor," he said coldly. "Surely you know that knowledge can be deadly?" Victor swallowed hard at the thinly veiled threat. "To live long in your line of work, it's wise to remain ignorant of certain things, don't you agree?"

"Of course, young master," Victor hurriedly replied.

"Good," Elysian nodded, smiling though his eyes remained dangerously sharp. "I'll be taking my leave now."

As the carriage came to a stop, Elysian slowly rose to exit. Before stepping out, he turned back to Victor. "One more thing, Victor. I trust you'll treat Lady Amara with the utmost courtesy and fulfill all her wishes above your other interests—as if your life depended on it. Do you understand?"

Left without options, Victor could only nod silently in reluctant agreement, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

Elysian's eyes glinted with satisfaction, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He had the man exactly where he wanted him. "Good night to you, sir. For your own sake, I hope I won't need to pay you another visit." With that, Elysian turned his back and stepped out into the merry, loud streets of Ironspire.

----------------------------------------

'Tsk, it seems after tonight I'll need to sate Xipilcoatl’s Hunger again. Luckily for me, there are plenty of prey to meet this requirement. Hopefully, it will continue this way.

Sigh. Should I even be saying that? If fate continues to be as cruel as it is now, with my rotten luck, it's inevitable that I might slip up somewhere and get myself killed. Worse still, I might harm those who are important to me.

Damn it!'

"Young master, are you alright?" Bran asked, his brow furrowed with concern upon noticing the young noble's frustrated expression.

Elysian's features softened as he composed himself. "Hmm? Yes, I'm fine," he replied with a reassuring smile, giving Bran a nod.

"You needn't worry, young master," Bran grinned, brimming with confidence. "Ossy and I will certainly succeed. They won't even know we were there."

Elysian raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the older boy's bold proclamation. "It had better be so, because I'm not helping this time," he responded. His tone softened as he continued, "I commend your confidence, big fella. However, don't let that confidence turn into arrogance and overconfidence. Such hubris often leads to peril."

Bran's expression suddenly turned serious, and he nodded his head in understanding, the weight of Elysian's words settling upon him.

‘I’m glad he’s starting to mature.’

Turning to Osric, Elysian spoke with a measured tone, "You're the leader of this group. As we discussed, your task is to disable them without causing any fatalities. Unexpected situations may arise, as they have in previous missions, but you must adapt and improvise to achieve your objective. Remember, stealth is paramount—you need to move like ghosts. No one should suspect our presence as we relieve them of their valuable goods. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Osric replied, his eyes gleaming with determination.

"Excellent." Elysian then shifted his attention to Thomas and his four most capable men. "Are your men prepared?"

Thomas responded with a curt nod, "They are."

With that, the group of six, led by Osric, set out towards their target: a warehouse owned by Benedict Brightware. Brightware was a wealthy and influential merchant who owned Silverplate & Co., an establishment renowned for its exquisite plates, cups, and other luxurious tableware. His status as a member of the prestigious Artisan's Circle guild only added to his prominence.

However, what truly made Brightware a target in Elysian's eyes was his close association with Ironspire's neighboring city, Highbury. This connection instantly branded him as a traitor to Ironspire in Elysian's mind, justifying the impending raid.

"Boy, I'm impressed by how much these two have grown," Thomas mused, his grin spreading as he watched Osric and Bran move with the confidence and focus of seasoned veterans. "In their first mission, they nearly soiled themselves before it even began. We even had to intervene to save them from the disaster they caused."

The gang leader's eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and envy. "But now, after a couple of missions, they've improved dramatically each time. I'm envious that you've managed to find such talented individuals." Turning to the young noble, Thomas observed him for a moment, his tone becoming more thoughtful. "I can't tell if you're just incredibly lucky, or if you're not only skilled in combat but also have a knack for recognizing talent."

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Elysian glanced at him, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "What do you think?"

"If I were to place a bet, I'd wager on the latter," Thomas replied, matching Elysian's grin. "After all, you managed to spot Lady Amara's potential and brought her into your fold. That, in turn, led to me—the handsome and powerful leader of the Iron Claw—working alongside you."

"Shameless," Elysian playfully retorted, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the local thug leader. Their banter subsided as they refocused their attention on the mission at hand.

As the group continued to move silently through the shadows, the air grew thick with tension. The stakes were undeniably high, and the consequences of failure loomed ominously over them. Yet, there was a palpable sense of determination among the team. Under Osric's skilled leadership and bolstered by Elysian's meticulous planning, they were resolved to see their daring heist through to success.

The warehouse loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. Elysian watched as Osric signaled the team to halt, his keen eyes scanning for any signs of guards or unexpected obstacles. In that moment, Elysian felt a surge of pride—not just for Osric but also for Bran's growth, but for the cohesive unit they had all become. The two of them had gone through such a change that even he, the one teaching them, could hardly believe it.

'Now that I think about it, is their improvement really so surprising? They endured such intense training that they could barely move for a month—no, precisely ninety days. Not only that, but they've had to contend with and fight against me regularly, in addition to these practical missions. With their frightening talent, of course they would improve. I should have expected it, but witnessing such rapid progress with my own eyes is something else entirely.

Still... if only I possessed such raw talent myself. I can't help but wonder what I might have achieved.'

Elysian's thoughts drifted, a mixture of pride and wistfulness washing over him as he watched Osric and Bran move with fluid grace. Especially Bran's movements, once clumsy and uncertain, now spoke of hard-earned skill and instinct. Each silent step, each careful gesture, was a testament to their grueling training regimen and the crucible of real-world experience they'd been thrust into.

He recalled the early days of their training—the bruises, the exhaustion, the moments of despair that threatened to overwhelm them. Yet they had persevered, driven by a combination of their innate abilities and an unyielding determination. Elysian had pushed them to their limits and beyond, and they had improved from every challenge.

A small, rueful smile played at the corners of his mouth. While he may not have been blessed with their natural aptitude, Elysian knew his own worth. Armed with knowledge from a lifetime of experience and of the future, his ability to see potential where others saw only raw, unformed talent—these were gifts in their own right. He would wield and use it to create a future for the good of his people and those he loved.

As the warehouse loomed before them, Elysian pushed aside his moment of introspection. Now was not the time for such musings. He focused on the task at hand, observing the performance that was about to unfold.

Just as Elysian had anticipated, Osric took the lead with Bran moving closely behind. Bran's movement was surprisingly silent and impressive, considering his imposing size. His once-lumbering body, while still massive, had begun to shed the excess fat that had plagued him, gradually being replaced by lean muscle. This transformation was part of why Bran's improvement had overshadowed even Osric's remarkable progress.

From the very beginning, Bran had been physically gifted, possessing a mysterious bloodline that hinted at untapped potential. Though both boys carried such lineages, Bran's talent and potential had always outstripped Osric's. This innate advantage, coupled with their rigorous training, had accelerated Bran's growth at an astonishing rate.

As they approached the warehouse, the duo moved with a synchronicity that spoke of countless hours spent honing their skills together. Osric and Bran easily disabled the patrolling guards, their movements so fluid and silent that they seemed to vanish and reappear like specters in the night. Not a single alarm was raised as they methodically neutralized one guard after another.

Thomas' men, originally brought along to assist, found themselves reduced to mere spectators. They couldn't hope to match the speed and efficiency with which Bran and Osric dispatched their opponents. The seasoned thugs watched in awe as the two young men moved with a grace and power that seemed almost supernatural.

Their newfound mastery of aura undoubtedly contributed to their effectiveness. While not yet wielding it with the finesse Elysian desired, both Osric and Bran had progressed enough to incorporate aura into their movements and strikes. This additional layer of power made their already formidable skills truly fearsome.

Elysian observed from the shadows, a mixture of pride and analytical interest in his eyes. He noted how Osric's tactical mind complemented Bran's raw power, creating a duo that was far more effective than the sum of its parts. As they cleared the perimeter with frightening speed, Elysian couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. His investment in these two was paying off even more handsomely than he had dared to hope.

As swiftly as it had begun, their mission came to a successful conclusion. Elysian stood before his two companions, who proudly awaited his assessment.

"Did we do well, young master?" Bran asked, his boyish grin betraying his eagerness for approval.

Before Elysian could respond, Thomas interjected, his voice filled with admiration, "You've done something truly impressive, lads. I'm certain our young lord here is extremely proud of your performance. Isn't that right, boy?"

Elysian nodded in affirmation, a hint of pride glimmering in his eyes. "Indeed, I am. Both of you have made me exceptionally proud. Keep up the excellent work."

Thomas laughed with satisfaction, his voice tinged with a hint of malice. "It seems we've scored another killing tonight. With our raids, we've dealt those traitorous b*stards a severe blow. I'd love to see their faces when they realize how much they've lost this time."

"Indeed, it would be quite a sight," Elysian mocked, eliciting laughter from the group. "It appears they haven't learned their lesson. They continue to enrich our pockets with their foolishness."

As the laughter subsided, Elysian's expression turned serious. "As a reward for your exemplary performance, I will increase the intensity of our training tomorrow."

Bran's face fell, his voice rising in complaint, "Young master, can't we just take a break? We did well today, so can't we get a pass?"

Elysian's grin widened, pushing aside their protests. "What break? You should be grateful that I'm training you so extensively. You've already started your training late. Children your age typically begin as early as six years old. Especially you, Bran – you're already behind. If we relax now, you'll fall even further behind your peers. Do you understand?"

Bran and Osric could only nod helplessly, their earlier elation dampened by the prospect of more grueling training.

Elysian observed their crestfallen expressions, his own features softening slightly. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, his voice taking on a more encouraging tone. "Remember, this intensity is necessary. The world out there is unforgiving, and I'm preparing you not just to survive, but to thrive in it. One day, you'll thank me for this."

As they made their way back, the night air filled with a mixture of triumph and anticipation. The successful raid had boosted morale, but Elysian's words lingered in the air, a reminder of the long, challenging road ahead.