The sun had yet to rise, but the clock on the wall struck six, signaling the start of a new day.

  Ishar began preparing for the expedition ahead. Their objective was simple—scout the dungeon's interior or, if possible, destroy its core.

  A dungeon's emergence heralded the arrival of demons and monsters. Depending on its size and the dangers lurking within, clearing one could take anywhere from a month to several. Yet, with danger came opportunity—rare resources, untapped power, and the promise of fortune.

  Dungeons may be harbingers of death and calamity, but they were also vital to sustaining life here.

  He walked the lonely streets, his gaze drifting to the artificial glow above—an unrelenting light that would soon fade, yet for now, remained unwavering.

  The brightness irritated him. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, sighing.

  Yawning, he turned his attention to the governor's office. Unlike the shabby buildings lining the streets, the district ahead boasted a handful of larger structures. But the main building dwarfed them all. It stretched toward the sky, standing imposingly, as if daring the world to challenge its authority.

  Ahead, within walking distance of the entrance, his group was already waiting.

  Kael and Lysia seemed to be in the middle of a quiet argument, their voices hushed but their gestures sharp. Kael's stance was rigid, his arms crossed in firm defiance, while Lysia's fingers twitched at her side, as if resisting the urge to point or jab a finger at him. Whatever they were discussing, it was clear neither was willing to back down easily.

  A subtle tension clung to the air, making the usual pre-mission atmosphere feel heavier.

  Even Rudrik, normally the first to crack a joke or ease the mood, was uncharacteristically quiet. His crossbow was slung over his shoulder, but his gaze lingered on Kael and Lysia, as if weighing whether to intervene or let them sort it out themselves.

  Vael stood apart from the rest, her usual air of nonchalance replaced by something quieter—colder.

  She felt... absent, as if only half-present.

  Her sharp, observant eyes, which usually flickered with amusement or mischief, now seemed unfocused—lost somewhere far beyond the moment. She wasn't watching Kael and Lysia's argument, nor did she seem particularly aware of the tension in the air. Instead, her gaze hovered over the ground, unfixed, as if searching for something unseen.

  Her hands remained tucked in her pockets, her shoulders slightly hunched—not in laziness, but as though she were shielding herself from a chill only she could feel. The usual smirk that often played at her lips was missing, replaced by an expression caught between thought and absence.

  Stolen story; please report.

  As Ishar approached, he couldn't make out what Kael and Lysia were arguing about, but their body language was tense.

  Then Rudrik spotted him.

  Without hesitation, the sniper stepped in, raising a hand slightly—not a forceful gesture, but enough to halt whatever dispute was unfolding. Kael and Lysia fell silent instantly, their words cut off as if never spoken.

  And then, as if drawn by an unspoken signal, all eyes turned to him.

  Vael's head snapped up, her distant gaze sharpening in an instant, locking onto him with unsettling intensity. The detached air she had carried moments ago evaporated, replaced by something unreadable.

  Lysia and Kael's attention followed, shifting from their quarrel to him without hesitation. Whatever tension had been simmering between them was forgotten, replaced by something else—something heavier.

  Even Rudrik, who had been the one to break their argument, seemed caught in the shift. His usual easygoing demeanor wavered, his posture stiffening slightly as if he, too, was caught in the weight of the moment.

  Ishar slowed his steps, a strange sensation creeping over him.

  He suddenly felt… exposed.

  The weight of their collective focus pressed against him, heavier than it should have been. The silence stretched just a beat too long, enough to feel unnatural, enough to send a prickle of unease crawling up his spine.

  Then Kael exhaled sharply, breaking the tension.

  "Since we're all here," he said, his voice firm, controlled, "let's go."

  He turned on his heel without another word, striding toward the governor's office with the unwavering confidence of someone who had long since grown accustomed to leading.

  Lysia followed without hesitation, stepping in beside him. Though she said nothing, her earlier frustration still lingered in the stiffness of her shoulders, the subtle sharpness in her movements.

  Behind them, Rudrik fell into step, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the moment.

  Ishar followed, his steps measured, his mind still lingering on the odd shift in atmosphere. Something about the way they had all turned to him, the way the conversation had ended so abruptly, gnawed at him. But he kept his thoughts to himself, falling in line behind Rudrik.

  Vael trailed at the back, her pace unhurried—dragging, almost reluctant. The usual air of careless ease she carried was absent. Instead, her presence felt quieter, her movements subdued. She hadn't spoken a word, hadn't even reacted to Kael's call to move out—only falling into step once the others had already started walking.

  And so they walked in silence—Kael and Lysia leading at the front, Rudrik and Ishar in the middle, and Vael lingering at the back, separate yet present.

  Ishar's eyes then shifted to Rudrik, who walked ahead of him with an easy but purposeful stride. Unlike the others, Rudrik seemed unaffected by whatever had just transpired. His fingers drummed idly against the strap of his crossbow, his expression unreadable.

  After a moment of consideration, Ishar inched closer to him, tilting his head slightly as he muttered under his breath, "Lover's quarrel?"

  Rudrik snorted but didn't turn to look at him. "Something like that," he muttered, his tone deliberately vague.

  Ishar narrowed his eyes slightly. "That's not much of an answer," he remarked, watching for any reaction.

  But Rudrik didn't bite. His fingers kept drumming idly against the strap of his crossbow, his gaze fixed ahead as if the conversation were already over.

  "Didn't say it was," Rudrik replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  Ishar exhaled through his nose. Typical.

  Rudrik wasn't the type to spill anything he didn't want to. Whether he actually knew what the argument had been about or was just avoiding the subject entirely, Ishar couldn't tell. And judging by the easy but firm way he carried himself, pressing him for details would be a waste of breath.

  Ishar clicked his tongue but let it drop. If it was important, he'd find out soon enough.