"Silence…"
Lioran's cold voice, deep and merciless, cut through the space.
It was just one word. Not a shout. Not a threat. But that single word—like a massive nail—drove itself into the heart of the space. The world inside the hall changed. The air grew heavy, the light dimmed, and it seemed as if space itself had stopped breathing.
Lioran calmly stepped forward. Where his boot touched the ground, a trace of blood remained—not splattered, not flowing—but like a cursed memory on the hall floor.
A dark red aura erupted from all sides of his body; not like ordinary flames, but wild and writhing…
And droplets of blood separated from it.
Drip… drip…
Blood dripped onto the floor, and the sound of the drops in the deathly silence of the hall was louder than any shout. At that very moment—a horse tied near the guild suddenly let out a wild neigh.
Its eyes turned white with terror, and it fled with all its might.
"Hey—what happened all of a sudden?! Stooop—!"
Its owner screamed and ran after it in panic, but the animal seemed to have sensed something that humans still couldn't comprehend.
And inside the guild—
Spells collapsed. The flames died out.
Auras vanished. Swords, axes, spears, bows, and arrows—one by one—slipped from trembling hands and crashed onto the floor.
Thud—thud—thud—
Knees buckled.
The adventurers crumbled where they stood—not from any blow, but from sheer pressure.
Heads dropped. Shoulders shook.
And their eyes—wide, filled with raw terror—overflowed with tears.
No one dared to scream.
No one had the strength to move.
Siko lay on the ground, his arm twisted and broken.
His body didn't move—
But his mind…
was falling apart.
His wide, terror-stricken eyes were locked onto Lioran's back.
His breath caught in his throat.
Tears streamed uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes.
His lips trembled, and in a choked, shattered, desperate voice, he whispered within his mind:
'What… what is this…? No… no… this has to be a nightmare… yeah… just a nightmare…'
He wanted to look away.
He wanted to close his eyes.
But he couldn't.
His body wouldn't obey him.
'I don't want to look at him… I don't want to look at him… so why can't I…? Why… can't I close my eyes…? Someone… please… someone help me… I don't want to see him…'
His breath hitched.
His throat burned.
And his mind…
was trapped in a horrifying truth.
Lioran stood motionless. His gaze locked onto the fourteen adventurers kneeling before him—heads lowered, shoulders trembling, eyes spilling tears without end. None of them dared to take a full breath. It was as if even the air no longer belonged to them.
Among them, only one person hadn't completely collapsed.
Arezo.
Not because of courage—but because she was stronger than the rest. Her magical power stood only one level below Lioran's; a fifth-circle, intermediate-level mage… facing a fifth-circle, high-level mage.
Her mind hadn't broken. Not yet. Thoughts still moved. Understanding still lingered—clear enough to grasp the scale of the disaster before her. Her head remained lowered—not out of respect, but helplessness. Her lips stayed still, yet her mind churned, restless, screaming.
'What just happened…? What kind of magic did he use to force everyone to their knees like this…? Is something like that even possible…?'
The space around her felt too heavy to breathe in. As though the air itself had thickened, pressing down on her shoulders. Her body no longer answered her will.
Her gaze fell on a shadow cast across the floor before her.
Tall.
Stretched.
Merciless.
Her heart caved in on itself.
'He's right in front of me… so why can't I lift my head…? Why can't I look at him…? Is this… the end for me…?'
"This aura worked even better than I expected…"
A faint, cold satisfaction lingered in Lioran's eyes as his gaze swept across the collapsed adventurers.
Drawn by his voice, Anahita drifted closer, coming to a quiet halt beside his shoulder, suspended in the air.
"They're weaker than you—and well within your aura's range. Of course they ended up like this. Right now, none of them even dares to lift their head. And if any of them does… if they look you in the eye, they'll fall into an illusion they won't be able to escape. This aura will be incredibly useful in fights like this… You should be a little more grateful—to me, and to the Mad Demon."
"I am… I am…" Lioran muttered, impatience bleeding into his voice.
Anahita's brow twitched. Without hesitation, her fist came down hard against his head.
"You bastard… you're always like this—never grateful."
"Someday… I'll kill you with my own hands… you damn spirit…"
Without even sparing her a glance, Lioran let the threat slip from his lips.
Anahita laughed. She gave his back a few light taps with the back of her hand, a short chuckle escaping her.
"You joke a lot at times like these, huh?"
Her laughter faded before it could fully form. Her eyes drifted past Lioran's shoulder—then stilled.
Behind him, Siko lay on the ground.
His body didn't move. Not even slightly.
But his eyes…
Wide open. Shaking. Flooded with tears and raw, suffocating terror.
Anahita's expression softened, something heavy and unspoken passing through her gaze. Her voice dropped to a faint whisper.
'Poor thing… his eyes are locked in fear… he can't even turn away… he can't even close them…'
She lifted her gaze again, turning back to Lioran.
"Lioran… the one whose arms you broke is right behind you. Don't turn around. If you meet his eyes… he'll fall into the illusion—and he'll most likely lose his mind."
Lioran gave no response.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Slow. Deliberate.
As if he truly intended to test every aspect of the Mad Demon's aura.
"I want to look one of them in the eye… pull them into an illusion… see how it really works. But I plan on turning these into my dogs—I can't have them losing their minds. I'll try it on someone else… someone I actually intend to kill."
He moved closer, step by step, his presence pressing down even harder on the adventurers.
Then his voice rose—cold, almost amused.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you lifting your heads? Don't tell me you've already decided to accept me as your master…?"
A faint pause.
"Well done… good boys…"
Another step.
"But unfortunately…"
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
"It's too late."
Their heads were lowered, yet their gazes—against their will—clung to Lioran's feet.
With every step he took, the ground beneath him darkened. Fresh, warm blood trailed behind—droplets slipping from the crimson aura and splattering softly against the stone.
Drip…
Drip…
At the sight of those approaching steps, the cloaked girl's breath caught in her throat, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
Like someone on the verge of madness, she kept repeating the same thought, over and over:
'Don't come closer… don't come closer… don't come closer…'
The others weren't any better.
Each time Lioran took even a single step forward, something inside them collapsed further.
Their bodies stayed frozen—but their minds spiraled into chaos.
Fragments of thought spun wildly, over and over, refusing to stop:
'I'm going to die… I'm going to die… I'm going to die…'
With every step he took, the terror deepened, tightening like a noose around their thoughts:
'Don't come any closer… don't come any closer… don't come any closer…'
'I don't want to die… I don't want to die… I don't want to die…'
Their eyes remained wide open. Tears streamed endlessly.
But not a single sound escaped their throats.
Then—
Lioran stopped.
Right in front of Arezo.
The moment her eyes fell on the blood-soaked aura, her thoughts surged forward on their own—sharp, merciless, like blades driving one after another into her mind:
'So this is it…? I'm going to die…? After everything… everything I went through… it was all for nothing…? Where did I go wrong…?'
Before her next thought could fully form, Lioran's hand shot forward. His fingers clamped tightly around her throat.
He yanked Arezo off the ground and dragged her across the stone floor—her body limp, like a discarded doll. Not a single sound escaped her lips. No scream. No whimper.
But inside her mind, everything collapsed into chaos.
'Now I get it… the moment Siko lost, I knew… I knew we never stood a chance. I should've surrendered right then… I shouldn't have ignored that fear… I don't want to die… I have to live… I haven't done anything yet… please… just let me go…'
When Lioran reached the table, his grip tightened around her throat. He lifted her like she weighed nothing—like a piece of meat—and without the slightest pause, slammed her face down onto the table.
A heavy, hollow crack echoed.
He pulled her head back slightly. Blood ran down her face, spreading across the wooden surface before dripping off in slow, thick drops.
In that instant—
Something inside Arezo broke.
A memory surged into her mind without warning.
A young girl… and a boy her age.
Their faces were blurred, as if the memory itself refused to fully reveal them. Flames burned in their hands—small at first, then slowly reaching toward her.
Their laughter echoed—cold… mocking… merciless.
'This is all your fault, sister. You shouldn't have played with fire.'
'You shouldn't have humiliated us in front of everyone…'
Before she could sink deeper into that memory—
The second blow came.
Her face crashed against the table again.
The image shattered like glass, vanishing instantly—replaced by raw pain and suffocating fear.
Her thoughts flooded back, sharp and chaotic:
'I have to survive… I have to survive…'
'I have to get my revenge…'
Her chest burned. Each breath came harder than the last.
And this time—
Unlike before—
A sound finally broke free from her throat. Trembling. Fragile. Accompanied by a faint, broken whimper:
"Please… just… let me go…"
Seeing that Arezo had managed to speak despite the crushing pressure of the aura, Lioran paused for a brief moment. A faint flicker of satisfaction passed through his cold eyes.
"Hm… you can still talk? Not bad…"
A moment later, the demonic aura receded.
The crimson flames vanished. The suffocating pressure collapsed. The blood droplets that had been dripping from the aura—and even the bloody footprints Lioran had left behind—disappeared in an instant, as if they had never existed.
The adventurers let out the breaths they had been holding. It felt as though a mountain had been lifted from their shoulders. The maddening whispers in their minds fell silent.
Yet none of them dared to lift their heads.
Their gazes remained fixed on the ground.
Lioran raised his hand, gripping Arezo's bloodied face and lifting it up.
Drops of blood slid from her cheek, falling onto the table in slow, heavy taps.
He pulled her closer—until their faces were only inches apart—and stared straight into her terrified, hopeless eyes.
His voice came out low… colder than before.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to kill you… though I do hope you can survive what I have planned for you."
And then—
Without warning—
He slammed her face down onto the table again.
This time, with the aura gone, her voice was no longer suppressed.
Her scream tore through the guild hall.
"Aaaah—!"
Raw. Loud. Unrestrained.
It echoed through the walls… and carried beyond them.
Lioran's hand tangled into her long red hair. His fingers tightened, dragging her head up from the table. Her half-lifeless body scraped across the floor without resistance—like a broken doll.
A trail of blood followed in her wake, smeared across the stone.
The adventurers kept their heads lowered—but their trembling gazes betrayed them, drawn helplessly to Lioran's feet… and to their Guildmaster's face—now nothing but blood and broken whimpers.
"Please… let me go… please… it hurts… it hurts…"
The voice was weak. Shattered.
Less a plea… more the cry of a trapped animal.
No one moved.
No one dared to look up.
Their eyes, filled with terror, remained fixed on her dragged body.
And in the silence of their minds, her name echoed—faint… trembling…
'Guildmaster…'