The Southern Council Chamber remained restless long after the first batch arrived.
Golden lanternlight illuminated the enormous circular hall while cold wind rattled faintly against tall glass windows overlooking the rapidly expanding council district outside. Noble banners swayed softly from black stone pillars while dozens of council members sat around the massive darkwood table watching the returned explorers with sharp, hungry eyes.
The atmosphere no longer carried simple curiosity.
It carried obsession.
Because everyone present understood one thing clearly now—
The wilderness truly contained treasures beyond imagination.
Ancient knowledge.
Forgotten civilizations.
Unknown monsters.
Resources capable of changing the South forever.
And standing before them—
Were the first humans to return alive carrying proof.
The sealed containers lining the chamber radiated faint mana fluctuations beneath the lanternlight while scholars and attendants carefully guarded every recovered artifact like priceless divine relics.
Several nobles could barely conceal their greed.
Others hid fear.
Some felt excitement.
But one emotion spread across the entire chamber equally—
Interest toward one particular person.
Heral.
Again.
The mysterious alchemist's shadow lingered over nearly every report.
Every strategy.
Every success.
Duke Altair slowly leaned back within his chair while his sharp eyes remained fixed upon Darren Holt standing at the center of the chamber.
"Start from the beginning."
The room quieted immediately.
Darren exhaled slowly.
The exhaustion from the week-long return journey still lingered visibly across his face, yet his posture remained disciplined beneath the attention of southern nobility.
"We entered the wilderness through Duke Kael's mountain territory."
Several council scribes immediately began recording everything carefully.
"At first…"
Darren continued calmly.
"…the exploration moved cautiously."
He explained the initial monster encounters.
The dangerous terrain.
The ruins discovered across the southern mountains.
The traps.
The environmental hazards.
As he spoke—
The chamber gradually became quieter.
Because unlike exaggerated adventurer tales—
Darren described everything realistically.
Coldly.
Ancient ruins filled with poisonous spores.
Parasites capable of entering mana circuits.
Stone corridors rigged with delayed mana-triggered collapse traps.
Monsters hunting silently through darkness instead of attacking directly.
Several nobles visibly stiffened hearing certain details.
Even veteran mercenaries sitting among the council narrowed their eyes seriously.
Then—
Darren described the temple.
The Vaelari ruins.
The forgotten civilization.
The guardian.
The chamber descended into complete silence afterward.
"…A living guardian remained inside the ruins for thousands of years?"
One noble asked quietly.
Darren nodded slowly.
"He called himself Vaelthor."
Several scholars immediately wrote the name down urgently.
Another council member frowned deeply.
"And this guardian…"
A faint pause followed.
"…did not attack?"
Darren softly laughed beneath his breath.
"He probably would've…"
The older scout's eyes darkened slightly.
"…if Heral wasn't there."
Again.
The chamber subtly shifted hearing the name.
Darren calmly continued.
"Heral negotiated with the guardian."
Several nobles looked visibly disturbed by that sentence alone.
"Negotiated?"
"Yes."
The older scout crossed his arms slightly.
"He spoke with that ancient being like two scholars discussing philosophy."
Several council members exchanged glances.
Darren continued calmly.
"The guardian eventually shared ancient medicinal knowledge willingly."
This time—
Even the scholars within the chamber visibly lost composure.
"Willingly?!"
"Ancient medicinal theories?!"
One elderly scholar nearly stood from his chair.
"Do you understand what kind of value that carries?!"
Darren calmly nodded.
"Yes."
His gaze shifted briefly toward the sealed crystal containers nearby.
"That's why Heral immediately established rotational transportation strategy afterward."
Duke Altair narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Explain that part carefully."
The chamber grew silent again.
Darren slowly walked toward the large wilderness map resting upon the central table.
Then pointed toward the marked exploration routes.
"The deeper we travel…"
He calmly explained.
"…the more resources accumulate."
His finger moved toward marked danger zones across the wilderness map.
"But the further we move from civilization…"
A slight pause followed.
"…the more dangerous transportation becomes."
Several military-minded nobles nodded slowly.
Darren continued.
"So Heral proposed separating exploration from transportation."
He tapped the map lightly.
"Ten explorers return carrying resources."
"The main expedition continues moving deeper."
One older noble frowned.
"That still sounds risky."
Darren immediately nodded.
"It is."
The council chamber quieted again.
"But Heral said something important."
Several nobles focused harder.
Darren's expression shifted slightly.
Thoughtful.
"He said…"
A faint pause followed.
"…large expeditions collapse faster under fear."
The atmosphere subtly changed afterward.
Darren continued calmly.
"If exhausted members feel trapped…"
He looked toward several nobles directly.
"…panic spreads."
The military advisors inside the chamber visibly stiffened slightly hearing that.
Because strategically—
It was true.
"By allowing smaller groups to return gradually…"
Darren continued.
"…the expedition remains mentally stable."
One council member quietly muttered—
"So he treated morale as resource management…"
Another slowly added—
"…No."
His gaze darkened thoughtfully.
"He treated survival itself as strategy."
The chamber fell silent again.
Duchess Seraphine quietly rested her chin against interlocked fingers while listening carefully.
Her violet eyes reflected lanternlight softly.
What kind of man thinks this way…?
Meanwhile—
Another noble suddenly asked sharply—
"How much exactly did you recover?"
This question instantly shifted the atmosphere again.
Greed resurfaced visibly.
Darren calmly gestured toward the sealed containers.
"Ancient medicinal records."
"Mana biology studies."
"Dimensional contamination treatment methods."
"Rare fabrics."
"Artifacts."
"Monster resources."
"Ancient crystal archives."
Several nobles visibly inhaled sharply.
Then Darren calmly added—
"And enough gold to fund multiple future expeditions."
The chamber erupted into whispers immediately afterward.
One merchant noble visibly paled slightly calculating the economic implications already.
Another council member stared toward the crystal archives like a starving man seeing food.
Then suddenly—
A scholar quietly asked—
"How did you survive all this without casualties?"
The room quieted again instantly.
Because this question mattered most.
Darren remained silent briefly.
Then answered honestly.
"Because Heral never let us behave like heroes."
The chamber froze slightly.
The older scout's voice remained calm.
"He forced us to think."
Several council members narrowed their eyes carefully.
"He made us stop glorifying death."
The lanternlight flickered softly across Darren's tired expression.
"If something felt dangerous…"
He crossed his arms slowly.
"…we retreated."
Several nobles visibly frowned hearing that.
Not approvingly.
Instinctively.
Because retreat sounded ugly within noble culture.
Darren immediately noticed.
Then calmly added—
"Heral said something during selection for the first batch."
The chamber listened silently.
"He said intelligent people survive longer than foolish soldiers."
Silence followed.
Longer this time.
Because those words sounded simple.
Yet strangely difficult to refute.
One older military advisor eventually leaned backward within his chair while staring toward the wilderness map thoughtfully.
"…That man…"
A faint pause followed.
"…might reshape how southern expeditions operate entirely."
Duchess Seraphine softly smiled hearing that.
Because deep down—
She already realized something similar.
Heral was not merely discovering the wilderness.
He was quietly changing the people walking through it.