The Southern Council Headquarters had descended into chaos.
Not disorder born from panic—
But from overwhelming disbelief.
The moment the drakes descended from the southern skies and landed within the secured council grounds, the entire headquarters transformed completely. Guards abandoned formation discipline just to stare upward, scholars nearly fought each other attempting to examine the drake eggs first, and servants rushed endlessly through the stone corridors carrying reports between council divisions.
No one remained calm anymore.
Because reality itself had surpassed expectation.
The South—
The mocked barbaric territory of the Aurelia Empire—
Now possessed drakes.
Not stories.
Not rumors.
Real drakes.
And inside the central council district, the atmosphere only grew more intense.
The enormous council hall blazed brightly beneath golden chandeliers while nobles, scholars, military strategists, merchants, and council officials crowded the chamber completely.
Even the upper observation balconies overflowed with attendants and officials trying to hear the expedition reports personally.
Everyone wanted answers.
Immediately.
At the center of the chamber—
The returned explorers stood beneath countless gazes.
Dust-covered.
Exhausted.
Yet carrying the weight of history behind them.
Teren stood at the front of the group quietly.
His travel cloak still carried dried blood and wilderness dust while exhaustion remained visible beneath his eyes.
Yet despite the pressure filling the chamber—
His posture remained steady.
Because somewhere during the expedition—
The frightened young explorer had changed.
The massive hall buzzed endlessly with overlapping voices.
"How were the drakes captured?!"
"How deep did the expedition reach?!"
"Are there more drakes in the wilderness?!"
"Did they truly discover another ancient civilization?!"
"What happened after the first batch left?!"
"Were there casualties?!"
The questions poured endlessly across the chamber like stormwaves.
Even Duke Altair looked visibly tense now.
Not fearful.
Excited.
Meanwhile—
Duchess Seraphine sat elegantly near the front council seats wearing a dark violet dress beneath silver jewelry, yet even her usually composed expression carried visible anticipation.
Her violet eyes remained fixed entirely upon the returned explorers.
Or more precisely—
Upon the shadow behind their stories.
Heral.
Again.
Always him.
The hall continued descending into noise until finally—
Duke Altair slammed one hand against the blackwood council table.
BOOM.
Silence spread instantly.
The duke slowly leaned forward.
"One person speaks at a time."
The pressure inside the chamber settled slightly afterward.
Then his sharp eyes moved toward Teren.
"Begin your report."
The young explorer inhaled quietly.
The countless eyes watching him felt heavy.
Oppressive.
Yet before answering even a single question—
Teren spoke calmly.
"Before reporting the expedition…"
His voice echoed softly across the hall.
"…there are requests Heral asked me to deliver personally to the Southern Council."
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
Several council members straightened.
Others exchanged glances quietly.
Because instinctively—
Everyone understood.
Whenever Heral requested something—
It mattered.
Teren slowly lowered his gaze briefly.
Then continued.
"One expedition member died during the drake encounter."
The hall instantly became quieter.
Several nobles frowned slightly.
Not because of the death itself—
Casualties were expected in wilderness exploration.
But because this was the first confirmed death tied directly to the Southern Council Expedition.
Reality suddenly felt closer.
Teren's voice remained steady.
"He was an orphan raised in Ironroot Orphanage near the southern mining districts."
Duchess Seraphine's expression softened slightly hearing that.
Then Teren continued.
"Heral requested that all earnings belonging to the deceased explorer be transferred directly to that orphanage."
Silence spread softly through the chamber.
Several nobles visibly blinked.
Perhaps expecting strategic demands instead.
Political requests.
Military expansion proposals.
Yet instead—
The first request concerned a dead orphan.
Teren slowly continued.
"Heral also requested that the explorer's body be cremated by someone who knew him personally."
The chamber grew even quieter.
"And…"
Teren inhaled slightly.
"…his portrait is to be placed within the Hall of Legends inside the Southern Council Headquarters."
Complete silence followed.
Because now—
The nobles truly understood something.
The expedition was no longer merely resource gathering.
It had become legacy.
One older military advisor slowly lowered his head slightly afterward.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Respectfully.
Meanwhile—
Several younger nobles looked visibly unsettled.
A nameless orphan mercenary…
Immortalized within the Hall of Legends?
Such honor usually belonged to founders.
War heroes.
Great nobles.
Yet somehow—
No one argued.
Because deep down—
Everyone understood the symbolism immediately.
The South was changing.
Duke Altair eventually spoke quietly.
"The requests will be fulfilled."
Teren nodded once.
Then finally—
The real questioning began.
And the council lost control immediately afterward.
"What happened after the first batch departed?!"
"How were the drakes found?!"
"Did they attack immediately?!"
"How many explorers fought them?!"
"Did Heral really battle two drakes at once?!"
The overlapping questions exploded throughout the chamber once more.
Teren and the returned explorers spent hours answering.
They described the jungle territories deeper beyond the ruins.
The cave.
The drake nest.
The eggs.
The return of the female drake.
The battle.
And slowly—
The atmosphere inside the council chamber transformed from curiosity…
Into horror.
One scholar visibly paled hearing the details.
"…He restrained one drake while fighting another?"
A returning mage immediately answered.
"Yes."
The hall descended into stunned silence briefly.
The mage continued quietly.
"Through pure telekinetic pressure."
Several nobles exchanged looks instantly.
Unsettled looks.
Because the more details emerged—
The more frightening Heral became.
Another explorer described Kel condensing aura around his sword effortlessly.
Another explained how he redirected dragonfire.
Another recounted how Kel ordered the drakes captured alive instead of killed.
Then Landon's role emerged.
The support formations.
The coordination.
The creature-control restraints.
The chamber listened almost breathlessly now.
One older military strategist eventually whispered quietly—
"…That wasn't exploration anymore."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"That was military-level monster suppression."
Several nearby commanders slowly nodded.
Meanwhile—
Duchess Seraphine remained silent throughout most of the report.
Her elegant fingers rested lightly together while violet eyes reflected lanternlight softly.
Yet internally—
Her heartbeat had gradually quickened with every story told.
Because no matter how much she listened—
Heral only became more fascinating.
More impossible.
A strategist.
An alchemist.
A negotiator.
A scholar.
A monster capable of fighting drakes.
And somehow—
Still a man who remembered an orphan's funeral requests amidst chaos.
The contradiction captivated her completely.
Meanwhile—
Teren continued answering questions steadily.
He explained the rotational return strategy.
The expedition structure.
The route management.
The resource preservation systems.
The drake transport methods.
And gradually—
The Southern Council began realizing something terrifying.
Heral was not merely leading an expedition successfully.
He was creating an entirely new operational model for wilderness exploration itself.
A system.
Efficient.
Scalable.
Repeatable.
And if such a system continued developing—
The South's influence would eventually expand far beyond anyone's current imagination.