Raven's POV
By the time we reached the city, dusk had fully settled in.
The sky had deepened into shades of amber and violet, lanterns flickering to life along the streets as if welcoming us back from the edge of something far darker. My body felt heavy now that the tension was gone—every step reminding me just how long we had spent inside the dungeon.
Sam stretched her shoulders and smiled, the kind of smile that came only after survival.
"What do you say," she said lightly, "we head to Maris's tavern? I could really use a cold mug of beer right now."
Chris's eyes lit up immediately. "I'm in. And I'm starving. I think my stomach might start attacking me next."
Daniel laughed weakly. "Same here."
Elise nodded. "I could use something warm."
Ayla glanced at me with a grin. "Count me in too , what about you Raven."
I hesitated, slowing my steps. "I think I'll head home," I said quietly. "I'm exhausted."
Before I could take another step, Daniel and Chris both moved in front of me, blocking my path like coordinated idiots.
"Oh no you don't," Chris said. "You're coming with us."
"We're celebrating," Daniel added. "No excuses."
"I really—" I started.
Sam cut in gently but firmly. "You can go home later. Right now, Maris is waiting for us. She's probably been worried sick all day."
She paused, then added, more seriously, "And we still need to talk about the dungeon we'll be closing tomorrow."
I sighed inwardly.
So much for slipping away quietly.
"…Fine," I said at last, forcing a small smile. "Just for a bit."
Ayla smirked triumphantly. "That's the spirit."
We made our way through the evening streets toward Maris's tavern. By the time we arrived, the sun had fully disappeared, leaving only warm lamplight spilling through the tavern windows.
The place was quieter than usual—only a few patrons scattered across tables, the air filled with the low hum of conversation and the familiar scent of ale and cooked meat.
We must have looked terrible.
Our clothes were torn and filthy, stained with dried monster blood, our own blood, and layers of dust and grime. We looked less like victorious hunters and more like something that had crawled out of a nightmare.
The moment Maris saw us, she froze.
Then she ran.
She rushed straight toward us and, without hesitation, wrapped her arms around me first, pulling me into a tight embrace. Her hands trembled slightly, and when she pulled back, her face was a mix of shock and overwhelming relief.
"I've been waiting all day," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "Why did you take so long?"
Her eyes searched my face desperately. "Are you alright?"
I gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Really."
Ayla cleared her throat twice, exaggerated and loud. "Just so you know," she said with a grin, "we're fine too. Thanks for asking."
Maris blinked—then laughed, the tension finally breaking she said,"I knew you would be okay because you are strong, but Raven is still a little girl and I was worried about her."
"But Thank the gods," she said, pressing a hand to her chest. "You have no idea how worried I was."
She stepped aside and gestured us in. "Come on, all of you. Get inside. You look absolutely exhausted."
As we followed her deeper into the tavern, warmth wrapped around me—firelight, familiar voices, the comfort of having made it back alive.
For now, at least.
We settled around one of the larger tables, and Maris didn't waste a second before bringing us food and beer. The smell alone made my shoulders finally relax. I welcomed the warmth of a real meal after such a long, brutal day, and for a while the only sounds at our table were clinking utensils and quiet sighs of relief.
Food had a way of grounding you—reminding you that you were still human.
By the time we finished eating, the tavern had filled up. Hunters and civilians alike crowded the room, laughter and loud voices replacing the earlier calm. The air grew thick with smoke, ale, and stories being told for the hundredth time.
Daniel and Chris quickly drifted away, drawn toward a group of fellow hunters they clearly knew. I could hear them boasting already—about the red gate, about the dungeon everyone else had given up on, about how we'd cleared it anyway.
I stayed seated with Sam, Elise, and Ayla.
Ayla was already working on her third mug of beer. She set it down with a satisfied sigh, cheeks slightly flushed, and laughed.
"This is really refreshing," she said. "I want another one."
She started to stand, but I rose first. "I'll get it for you," I said casually. "I'm heading that way anyway. I'll grab something for myself too."
Elise stood up as well, smiling softly. "I'll come with you."
We made our way toward the bar together. As we walked, I could feel it—the weight of Sam's gaze following every step I took. I kept my expression calm, my pace steady, careful not to look back. I had no desire to be alone with her right now. Not when questions were sharpening behind her eyes.
At the bar, I ordered three mugs of beer and one of the drink Maris had given me before—the one that burned slightly on the way down and cleared the fog from my head.
Maris smiled knowingly. "It'll be ready in five minutes."
As we waited, I noticed Elise glancing at me again and again. Her fingers twisted together, her posture tense, like she was holding something back.
I turned to her with a small smile. "Elise. What is it? You've been staring at me."
She hesitated, then spoke quietly. "Raven… what was that thing you did back there?"
I blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"When I was injured," she said, her voice low. "The wound on my chest. I was certain I was going to die. But when you touched me… it felt like I was being pulled back into my body. Like life was returning."
I frowned slightly. "You healed yourself."
Her eyes widened, just a little. "No," she said, more firmly now. "I didn't. I know my limits. My mana wasn't responding at all."
She swallowed. "I saw it, Raven. When you touched me, my wound started to close—but you started bleeding in the exact same place. It was like you moved my injury onto yourself."
I placed my expression carefully into one of mild confusion. "I didn't do anything. You lost a lot of blood. You were probably hallucinating."
She shook her head. "No. I wasn't."
Her gaze dropped briefly to my chest. "And the wound you had afterward—how did that happen?"
I smiled, gentle and practiced. "I got that when I shielded you from the monster that was about to kill you."
Elise went quiet.
She studied my face for a long moment, then finally exhaled. "I know what I saw," she said softly. "But… I won't ask any more questions."
She looked up at me, her eyes sincere. "I just wanted to thank you. For saving my life."
I didn't answer.
Right then, Maris returned and set four mugs on the bar. "Here you go."
"Thank you," I said, lifting two of them.
Elise took the other two, and together we headed back to the table—carrying drinks, unspoken truths, and a silence that felt heavier than any question .
One by one, Sam sent the others home. Daniel went first, still laughing, swaying slightly from drink and exhaustion. Chris followed, complaining loudly about sore muscles and promising he'd sleep for an entire day. Elise lingered the longest, her eyes drifting toward me, full of concern and unspoken questions, but Sam gently insisted. Tomorrow would bring another mission. Rest was not optional.
In the end, only three of us remained: Sam, Ayla, and me.
Maris cleared a few empty mugs from our table, casting a curious glance in our direction before retreating behind the bar. The fire crackled softly, filling the silence that had settled between us.
Too heavy.
Too deliberate.
Sam folded her hands on the table, her gaze fixed on me—not as a captain addressing her guild member, but as someone trying to read between cracks.
Ayla leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, expression sharp despite the beer-induced haze.
"Alright," Sam said calmly. "Everyone's gone."
I gave a small, tired smile. "Yes… it's late. I should head home as well."
"No," Sam said firmly. " you're not going, not yet ."
I tilted my head slightly, feigning curiosity. "Is there a problem?"
Ayla snorted. "You really think you can play that off?"
I lifted my drink with a faint smile. "I don't know what you mean."
Her calm tone worried me more than if she had shouted.
"Raven," Sam said evenly, "that elite didn't just lose. It was dismantled. And the dungeon boss—by the time we reached it, it could barely stand."
I met her gaze without flinching. "We fought well as a team."
Ayla leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. "Don't insult us. I felt what happened."
I took a slow sip of my drink.
"Felt what?"
"That pressure," Ayla said. "That aura. When the rubble collapsed and we were separated—I felt something enormous. Cold. Sharp. It wasn't the boss… it was yours."
Sam nodded once. "Same. And when we arrived… you were gone."
I set my mug down carefully. "I told you. I got separated and took another tunnel."
Ayla slammed her palm lightly against the table. "And somehow you took the longest tunnel in existence, looped around the dungeon, and showed up behind us—clean, calm, and completely unharmed?"
I shrugged. "I got lucky."
Sam's eyes lingered on me longer than necessary. Her gaze flicked to my hands. My posture. The faint traces of mana clinging to me. I let her think it was just exhaustion.
"Your sword," she said finally. "You mentioned it earlier. Said it was new."
"Yes."
"And it absorbs mana on contact?" Sam pressed. "That's… not standard."
I replied quietly, "It's a sword I purchased from Ayla's father's shop." Ayla gave a slight nod, confirming silently.
Sam's gaze sharpened. "And transferring wounds?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Elise nearly died," Sam said softly, "and then suddenly she didn't. And you were injured in the exact same spot."
I kept my tone even. "I didn't do anything. I only helped stabilize her mana—it was erratic after the shock. She healed herself. The wound on my chest? That's from combat."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Seems like you're hiding something."
I leaned back in my chair, expression softening to what looked like concern. "Are you accusing me of something?"
Ayla muttered under her breath, clearly frustrated. "She's slippery."
Sam exhaled slowly, her voice gentler now. "Raven… if you're hiding something because you're afraid—"
"I'm not hiding anything," I interrupted.
Silence fell.
I let her meet my eyes fully, letting exhaustion show just enough to be believable.
"We survived a red gate," I said calmly. "Every
one is alive. The dungeon is closed. That's what matters."
Ayla's eyes searched mine, frustration evident. "You're telling us that's it? Nothing more?"
"Yes."
Sam studied me a few more seconds before leaning back. "…Alright."
Ayla shot her a sharp glance. "Sam—"
"We have a mission tomorrow," Sam said firmly. "Pushing this tonight won't change anything."
Her gaze returned to me. "But understand this, Raven. I don't believe in coincidences."
I gave a small, tired, unreadable smile. "Neither do I."
A moment later, Maris approached, concern etched on her face. "Why are you arguing? You shouldn't quarrel—you've been friends for so long."
Sam chuckled softly. "We're not arguing. Just discussing tomorrow's mission."
Maris tilted her head. "Mission?"
"Yes," Sam said calmly. "Another dungeon to close."
Maris's eyes widened. "Another…? Don't tell me it's a red gate."
Sam only smiled faintly.
Maris groaned. "You always take the dangerous ones."
Sam's expression remained calm. "We need to close it before any monsters escape."
Maris sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Be careful tomorrow… and take care of Raven."
Sam smiled lightly. "She's the one who keeps us safe."
I flinched slightly at her words, pretending not to hear.
From the corner of my vision, I caught Morivain's faint laughter. "This is amusing," she whispered.
We rose from the table and stepped out into the cool night air. Sam walked beside me, close but not looking directly at me.
"If there comes a time you want to tell the truth," she said quietly, "I hope you'll trust us enough to do it." Ayla nodded in agreement.
I said nothing.
Some truths are far more dangerous than lies.
And tonight—I intended to keep mine buried.
Next day I stood beneath the wide branches of an old oak, its leaves swaying gently above me as the morning breeze passed through. It was just past ten, the air fresh and cool, carrying the faint scent of grass and sunlight.
Laughter echoed nearby—children playing in the open square not far from where I stood. Birds chirped in soft harmony, their songs light and unburdened.
I watched it all in silence.
Calm.
Peaceful.
And yet my thoughts were anything but.
"You know," Morivain's voice drifted lazily through my mind, smooth and amused, "this is a remarkably quiet and beautiful morning."
I didn't respond.
She continued anyway. "Raven… may I ask you something?"
I let out a soft, dry breath. "Since when do you ask for permission before speaking?" I replied sarcastically. "Go on. What is it?"
I could almost feel her rolling her eyes.
"The wound on your chest," Morivain said. "The one from yesterday—when you helped the healer girl."
My expression didn't change. "Yes. What about it?"
"I noticed it healed faster than it should have," she continued. "A wound like that would normally take several hours to close. Yours healed within a single hour."
There was a pause.
"What's going on?" she asked. "Do you have another ability I don't know about?"
I stared up at the canopy above me, sunlight filtering through the leaves like fragments of gold.
"Yes," I said calmly.
"And no."
Her curiosity sharpened. "Explain."
"Yes—it is another ability," I said. "But no, it isn't new."
I lowered my gaze slightly. "Do you remember when I copied Princess Lyria's healing magic?"
Morivain went silent for a moment. Then, "I remember. And I remember you saying you weren't planning to use it to heal others."
"That's right," I replied.
I crossed my arms slowly. "Healing spells and potions don't work on me. Never have. So after copying her ability, I started modifying it."
Morivain listened intently now.
"I needed a way to heal myself," I continued. "A method that wouldn't rely on external magic or items. Something that adapted to my body."
The breeze rustled the leaves again.
"It's finally complete," I said quietly. "Any injury I take now will heal within hours. And the stronger I become… the faster the regeneration."
I paused.
"In extreme cases," I added, "even fatal wounds could heal in seconds."
Morivain let out a low, impressed whistle.
"That's… truly remarkable," she said. "A regenerative ability like that will be invaluable in the future."
I was still speaking with Morivain when I noticed Ayla approaching from a distance.
Her steps were slow. Heavy.
The kind that spoke of exhaustion rather than injury.
"She's coming," Morivain said, her tone amused. "It seems they still don't trust you. What will you do?"
I didn't take my eyes off Ayla as she drew closer.
"I'll deny everything," I replied calmly. "They can't prove anything. No one saw anything. All they have are suspicions."
Morivain chuckled softly. "How entertaining. Let's see how long you can keep hiding what you are."
Ayla finally reached the shade of the tree. She looked worse up close—dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped as if the world weighed heavier than usual.
"Morning," she said, her voice rough with fatigue.
"Morning," I replied, studying her. "You look terrible. What happened?"
She pressed a hand to her forehead with a groan. "I think I drank too much last night. My head feels like it's about to split in two."
I tilted my head slightly. "And you think you can fight in that condition?"
She let out a weak laugh. "I'll have Elise fix me. Come on—let's hurry to the gate before my skull explodes."
We started walking side by side toward the city gate, the sounds of the square fading behind us. For a while, neither of us spoke.
But I could feel it.
Her gaze.
She kept glancing at me—briefly, carefully—like someone circling a thought she wasn't sure she should voice.
Finally, she exhaled and spoke, her voice low.
"…I'm sorry."
I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
She slowed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. "About yesterday. It probably felt like we were interrogating you."
I looked ahead, my expression neutral. "There's no need to apologize."
"No," she said quickly, cutting me off. "There is."
She stopped walking for a moment, forcing me to stop too.
"I didn't mean anything bad by it," she continued. "We weren't accusing you of anything. It's just that… everything in that dungeon felt wrong. Too many things didn't add up."
I turned to face her fully now.
"We were just… confused," she finished quietly. "Suspicious, maybe. But not because of you."
I offered her a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Everything is fine now."
We resumed walking.
Silence returned—but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just thoughtful.
After a few more minutes, Ayla spoke again, softer this time.
"If there's ever something you want to talk about," she said, eyes forward, "you know you can trust me. I'd never betray your confidence."
I glanced at her briefly.
"Thank you," I said simply.
And I meant it.
But trust didn't always mean truth.
The city gates loomed closer ahead.
And with them… the next test.