The laughter slowly faded.
What had moments earlier sounded lively now became softer beneath the flickering firelight of the cavern camp. Explorers still sat around the fires eating warm food while exhaustion gradually overtook the adrenaline left behind by the drake battle.
Smoke drifted lazily upward.
The chained drakes rested silently near the gigantic nest.
And beyond the cave entrance—
The endless wilderness breathed quietly beneath the night sky.
For a brief moment—
It almost felt peaceful.
Then—
Someone stopped moving.
Near one of the eastern campfires, a young mercenary sat motionlessly against a broken stone pillar. His half-finished bowl of food rested loosely in his hands while firelight flickered across his pale face.
At first—
No one noticed.
People remained busy talking.
Laughing.
Resting.
But eventually—
The mercenary beside him frowned slightly.
"…Daren?"
No response.
The man lightly nudged his shoulder.
"Oi."
A small laugh followed.
"Don't sleep while eating."
Still—
No response.
The explorer's smile slowly faded.
"…Daren?"
Something felt wrong.
The young mercenary's body remained unnaturally still.
Too still.
Then—
The explorer grabbed his shoulder harder.
And the body fell sideways instantly.
THUD.
The wooden bowl shattered across the stone floor.
Silence spread.
Several nearby explorers immediately turned.
"…What happened?"
The mercenary quickly knelt beside the fallen youth while panic slowly entered his face.
"Daren?"
No movement.
Another explorer rushed over immediately and checked his pulse.
Then his breathing.
Then his eyes.
And slowly—
The man's expression changed.
Fear.
"No…"
He whispered softly.
The surrounding explorers stiffened.
"…He's dead."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The fire crackled softly in the background.
Several people froze completely.
As if their minds refused to process the words.
Dead.
The young mercenary sitting peacefully beside the fire moments ago—
Was now a corpse.
One healer rushed over desperately.
Mana immediately flowed from her trembling hands as she attempted emergency restoration.
But after several moments—
Her hands slowly lowered.
"…His mana circuits burned out."
Another healer quietly checked the dried blood beneath the dead mercenary's armor.
Then softly whispered—
"He lost too much blood during the drake battle…"
The realization spread across the cavern like cold water.
Not everyone survived.
The battle earlier had been too overwhelming.
Too violent.
Too exhausting.
And somewhere amidst the chaos—
One explorer silently crossed the line between life and death.
Several female scholars covered their mouths.
One quietly began crying.
A younger mage stared blankly at the body unable to speak.
Another explorer lowered his head heavily while clenching his fists.
Because suddenly—
The atmosphere of victory disappeared completely.
The reality of the wilderness returned.
This place killed people.
Not gloriously.
Not heroically.
Quietly.
Suddenly.
One moment eating beside a fire.
The next—
Gone forever.
The cavern became painfully silent afterward.
Even the chained drakes remained still.
Meanwhile—
Kel calmly stood from beside the drakes.
His expression did not change.
Not even slightly.
The black-haired man slowly walked toward the body beneath the flickering firelight while explorers unconsciously moved aside for him.
Several people watched him carefully.
Wondering—
Would he finally show emotion now?
Yet Kel's face remained calm.
Cold perhaps.
But not uncaring.
He stopped beside the dead mercenary and quietly looked down at the young man's pale face.
Blood still stained parts of the explorer's damaged armor.
His fingers remained slightly curled.
Like he had simply fallen asleep mid-meal.
Sairen softly spoke through the soul-link.
"…You expected casualties."
Kel answered internally.
"Yes."
The guardian remained silent briefly.
Then quietly asked—
"…Does it still bother you?"
Kel's eyes remained on the corpse.
"Every death matters."
A faint pause followed.
"That's why I don't waste them."
Then finally—
Kel spoke aloud.
"People who want to return with the second batch…"
His calm voice echoed softly through the cavern.
"…step forward."
Several explorers slowly lifted their heads.
Kel continued.
"This man will return with them."
The atmosphere remained heavy.
Silent.
Then Kel looked toward the nearby mercenaries.
"Does he have family?"
Several combatants exchanged glances quietly.
Then one older mercenary answered.
"…No."
His rough voice sounded lower than usual.
"He was an orphan."
The man swallowed slightly before continuing.
"He grew up in the Ironroot Orphanage near the southern mining districts."
Several nearby explorers lowered their eyes hearing that.
Kel remained silent briefly.
Then calmly said—
"Then all the money he earned from this expedition…"
His gaze remained steady.
"…will be donated to that orphanage."
Several people looked toward him immediately.
Kel continued calmly.
"Additionally…"
A faint pause followed.
"…his body will be burned by someone who knew him."
The cavern remained silent.
Listening.
"He will not disappear forgotten in the wilderness."
The firelight flickered softly across Kel's calm face.
"He will be remembered."
One of the crying scholars slowly covered her mouth harder hearing those words.
Kel's voice remained steady.
"His portrait will hang within the Hall of Legends inside the Southern Council Headquarters."
Several explorers visibly stiffened slightly.
Hall of Legends.
The place reserved for people who changed the South.
Heroes.
Founders.
Great commanders.
Explorers.
And now—
A nameless orphan mercenary would stand among them.
The older mercenary beside the corpse lowered his head heavily.
His eyes had reddened slightly.
"…Thank you."
He whispered quietly.
Kel ignored the gratitude.
Instead—
He looked toward the remaining explorers.
"Whoever becomes leader of the second batch…"
His dark eyes moved across the cavern slowly.
"…deliver these requests personally to the Southern Council."
No one spoke immediately.
Because the atmosphere had changed again.
Earlier—
The explorers laughed at death.
Mocked danger.
Celebrated survival.
Now—
The wilderness reminded them what price exploration truly demanded.
One body.
Only one.
Yet somehow—
That single corpse felt heavier than the drakes themselves.
Meanwhile—
The young mercenary's body remained beside the fire covered respectfully with a dark cloak.
The flickering orange flames illuminated his still form softly.
Quietly.
And for the first time since entering the wilderness—
Several explorers truly understood what kind of path they were walking.
Not adventure.
Not glory.
History.
And history was always written using the dead.