The city gates closed behind them with a low, reverberating boom.
Stone met stone. Runes dimmed. The outside world—ruin, ash, blood—was sealed away, leaving Lunaria and his companions standing at the threshold of something far more subtle, far more dangerous.
Eyes followed them.
Not the fearful kind they had grown used to on the road, nor the wary glances of soldiers guarding a wall. These were deliberate looks—measuring, lingering, slow. The kind that did not stop at weapons or rank, but traced posture, movement, presence.
Lunaria felt it immediately.
The guild district opened before them like a stage. Tall spires of reinforced crystal and steel rose into the sky, banners rippling gently in mana-fed wind. The air was clean here, perfumed faintly with alchemical incense and polished stone. This city had not yet tasted annihilation.
But it had tasted power.
And it wanted more.
They had barely crossed the central plaza when the atmosphere shifted.
Seven men approached from different directions, their movements unhurried, confident. Each wore the insignia of a guildmaster—high-grade armor stylized more for authority than battle, cloaks trimmed with sigils of command.
They were young.
Early twenties at most.
Too young to rule guilds in an older world. Too perfectly shaped by the new one.
Strong builds honed by mana, sharp eyes bright with ambition, confidence clinging to them like a second skin. They stopped several paces away, forming a loose semicircle.
And then their gazes locked onto Lunaria.
Not Ash.
Not Kael.
Not Riven or Juno.
Lunaria.
His silver hair fell freely around his face, half its former length, soft strands catching the glow of the plaza lights. The nose mask concealed his mouth, leaving only pale eyes visible—calm, distant, unreadable. His clothes hung loosely on his frame, emphasizing slender lines rather than brute strength.
The contrast was striking.
Deadly aura. Gentle silhouette.
One of the guildmasters smiled slowly, eyes darkening. Another tilted his head, gaze openly roaming, not bothering to hide interest. A third exhaled softly, as if he'd just found something rare.
"So," one of them finally spoke, voice smooth, "you're the ones who arrived without warning."
Ash stepped forward slightly. "We're seeking temporary settlement. Nothing more."
The speaker barely glanced at him.
His attention remained fixed on Lunaria.
"And you?" the guildmaster asked. "You don't say much."
Lunaria met his gaze evenly. "I say what's necessary."
The man's smile widened.
Beautiful voice, his expression seemed to say. Calm. Controlled.
Dangerous thoughts stirred behind several pairs of eyes.
Power like that…
A presence like that…
They imagined dominance. Proximity. The thrill of testing someone who looked so soft and felt so overwhelming. The way his composure might crack. The sound he might make if pushed.
Predators, indeed—but not the kind that bared teeth.
Not yet.
"We'll need to verify your strength," another guildmaster said, stepping forward. His gaze lingered openly now, hunger unmasked. "Cities like ours don't allow unknown S-ranks to roam freely."
Kael's brow furrowed. "You already saw the badges."
"We did," the man replied. "But power should be… experienced."
Lunaria felt the shift in intent.
Not protection.
Possession.
He took one step forward.
Instantly, the air grew heavier.
The guildmasters straightened—not in fear, but excitement. Pressure brushed against their skin, enough to make lesser men falter, but these were rulers of hunters. They endured it, eyes gleaming brighter.
"You want to spar," Lunaria said softly.
The first speaker chuckled. "Think of it as… mutual understanding."
Behind Lunaria, Ash stiffened. Riven's mana spiked sharply before he forced it down. Juno's fingers curled, ready.
Lunaria lifted a hand.
They stopped.
"I'll spar," he said. "But understand this."
His aura slipped—just a fraction.
The plaza stones groaned.
Mana lamps flickered.
Several nearby hunters dropped to one knee without knowing why.
"This isn't a game," Lunaria continued. "And I won't be gentle."
The guildmasters exchanged looks.
Then one laughed.
"Good," he said. "Neither will we."
They moved to the open training grounds at the heart of the district, a massive circular field reinforced to withstand S-rank clashes. Hunters gathered quickly, whispers spreading like fire.
That's him.
The silver-haired one.
The one from the fallen city.
Lunaria stepped onto the field, hair shifting with the breeze, mask hiding everything but intent. The guildmasters followed, rolling shoulders, drawing mana, confidence radiating from every movement.
Predators testing another predator.
But as Lunaria's presence settled—quiet, absolute—something subtle changed.
For the first time since they arrived, doubt crept into the guildmasters' eyes.
Because standing there, calm and still, Lunaria did not look like prey.
He looked like a mistake they were about to regret.