***
A week had passed since then, and Ashen was finally free from the confines of the hospital.
His healer had advised him to take it easy, though.
Speaking of healers… Ashen had been shocked to learn that the one responsible for treating him was none other than Sabrina.
He never would've pegged her as a doctor after witnessing the sheer carnage she unleashed on those spiders. But apparently, that was just one of her casual moves. Healing, it seemed, was just as second nature to her.
She'd even admitted that her real strength lay in the domain of shadows.
That, more than anything, left Ashen confused. Why was she suddenly so open with him?
For a brief, very fleeting moment, his narcissistic side entertained the possibility that she had fallen for him.
But, realistically? The more logical explanation was that she was trying to get close to him for something else—like, say, the way he killed the Gorefiend.
That alone was enough to put him on edge.
And to make things even more suspicious, she didn't even ask for payment for her services.
'Yeah, definitely up to something.'
Unfortunately for Ashen, his instincts were completely off this time.
Sabrina's actions had nothing to do with some hidden agenda against him. She was simply trying to build goodwill to make a favorable impression on behalf of her faction, in the hopes that, when the time came, he'd choose to join them.
That was all.
Besides her, the only notable thing to happen, aside from Seraphine's frequent visits, was that he'd finally managed to level up Lucid Dreamweaving to Basic- after relentlessly spamming it throughout the week.
Now, he had full control over his dreams.
As long as it was something he had encountered before, he could conjure it into the dreamscape.
Of course, there were still some limits.
For one, his dream world still adhered to some level of common sense. He couldn't, for example, make the sun crash into the Earth or split continents apart with a thought.
And when it came to people, their realism depended entirely on how well he knew them. The more he interacted with someone in reality, the more lifelike their dream counterpart became.
But… that was about it when it came to progress.
His spear techniques had stagnated; almost completely.
Ashen's expression darkened every time he thought about it. The feeling of constant growth he had once thrived on was gone.
His progress had slowed to a crawl, as if an invisible wall had been placed in front of him… one that required brute force to break through, each and every time.
Even performing his breathing and circulation technique simultaneously was beginning to take a toll on his mind.
Sigh.
He had no immediate solution for this.
But, in hindsight… wasn't this what most trainees experienced?
He was just so used to his genius-level growth that suddenly being normal was utterly disorienting.
Shaking off those thoughts, Ashen refocused on the present.
Right now, he was headed to the outskirts of the city alongside Braun to meet someone.
"...So, are you sure this information broker is legit?"
"Of course! Did you forget what my real job is?"
Right.
He was a spy.
Ashen was still struggling to digest that fact.
As for why they were meeting an information broker in the middle of the night?
Simple.
After Braun and Seraphine reported the attempted murder on them, the response they got was—
Disinterest.
As if this was just another Tuesday in the city.
Apparently, they weren't the first targets. And they certainly wouldn't be the last.
In the end, they were dismissed with the excuse that there was "no clear proof."
And since the poison pouches had long been discarded, there was no way to refute it.
So, they had decided to take matters into their own hands.
Since Ashen had been stuck in the hospital and Seraphine sniffing around shady places would only cause more problems, Braun had been the one tasked with tracking down the culprit.
And Braun's solution was to leave it to the professionals.
After some digging, he had managed to find someone who dealt in information.
Ashen had then provided every possible detail about the seller who had scammed them, from appearance, speech, mannerisms, and down to even the exact color of his clothes that day.
He had also thrown in his suspicions about Chris, just to add another lead.
And today, they had received word that the results were in.
Now, they were on their way to the designated meeting spot.
"In fact," Braun continued, "he's said to be the best in his field in the entire city. But…"
"But…?"
"Well…" Braun hesitated. "He's a bit… crazy."
Ashen shot him a skeptical look.
"That's your big concern? Who isn't at least a little crazy in this place?"
"Well…" Braun's tone was oddly ominous. "I did warn you…"
The deeper they ventured from the city's heart, the more the air itself seemed to shift; thickening with the musk of perfume and spilled liquor, the crisp urban chill giving way to a humid, clinging warmth.
Buildings shed their muted facades, blossoming into garish hues; neon pinks and electric blues bleeding across stained brick, flickering signs offering pleasures spelled out in cursive glow.
Around them, the crowds morphed; fabric shrinking, baring skin kissed by lamplight.
A man in a half-unbuttoned shirt winked as they passed; somewhere nearby, a woman's sultry laugh tangled with the bassline pulsing from an open door.
With every step, the streets grew louder, brasher… the promise of sin no longer whispered but draped boldly across every corner.
Definitely a red-light district.
And they were walking straight into its neon veins.
As they pressed deeper into the heated atmosphere, Braun stopped in front of an entrance flanked by two imposing guards.
With a flick of his wrist, he flashed them a card.
They barely glanced at it before stepping aside.
Ashen followed him through the threshold—
And was immediately assaulted by a wall of sound.
A disco bar.
No, an orgy disguised as one.