Tallying his gains, it was finally time for Michael to leave the dungeon.
The place was close to collapsing, and he couldn’t afford to linger any longer.
He stored the sword of the Dullahan and departed.
“Huh?
What’s going on?”
The crowd waiting just outside the dungeon entrance caught him completely off guard.
Reynold stood at the front, fully composed but clearly tense.
Jeremy was there too.
A group of fully armed soldiers and adventurers fanned out behind them, weapons ready and posture alert.
And to Michael’s surprise, Cecil was among the group as well.
“Right hand?” Reynold asked, the tension in his face breaking the moment he laid eyes on Michael.
“Is something going on?” Michael asked, moving toward the city lord in search of an explanation.
The soldiers within the group snapped to attention the moment he approached, paying their respects in crisp military fashion.
“We received word from a scout stationed at the dungeon that it had undergone a drastic change,” Reynold replied, visibly easing now.
“A dungeon break was considered likely.”
“Oh,” Michael replied, his tone somewhere between acknowledgement and mild disinterest.
He could already guess what had triggered the alarm.
The Celestial Demon.
Even the faintest trace of that pressure, bleeding out through the dungeon walls, would have been enough to send any scout sprinting back to the city.
“The dungeon is fine.
It was probably a misread,” Michael said, waving it off.
“Are you sure?
We felt a powerful pressure from within the dungeon just moments ago,” Jeremy cut in, his eyes fixed on Michael with an expression that sat somewhere between suspicion and unease.
“Well, you can’t feel it now, can you?” Michael replied evenly.
“Besides, I cleared the dungeon successfully.
It will take at least two weeks before the dungeon charges again.”
“Alright.
That’s good.” Reynold turned to his group.
“Let’s go.”
He was sharp.
Sharp enough to understand that there were things Michael would not say in public, and smart enough not to push for them here.
He would find his answers in a more private setting, and he knew it.
Michael smiled.
He genuinely appreciated a leader who could read the room and know exactly when to move.
“I will follow behind you shortly,” Michael told Reynold, the smile still on his face.
Reynold gave a quiet nod of understanding and turned, his soldiers falling into step behind him without a word.
“Cecil.
It’s been a while,” Michael said, turning toward her.
“Sir Right Hand.
You are quite a special man now,” Cecil returned the greeting, a warm smile on her face.
Michael smiled back.
But the primary reason he had moved toward her had nothing to do with pleasantries.
“Shrewd girl.
So she has had a guardian this entire time,” Michael thought, studying her with quiet, careful attention.
Just how dangerous was the woman he had been acquainted with?
He had been too low ranked to notice it before.
But now, sitting at D rank, the presence was unmistakable.
“Someone on par with Reynold,” he thought.
“Just who is she?”
The curiosity was genuine.
But it wasn’t enough to pull him in deeper.
He already had more than enough demanding his attention.
He wasn’t about to add another mystery to the pile.
“I see you are strong enough to take part in an A rank dungeon,” Michael said, keeping his tone light.
“It’s mostly because of my mana affinity,” Cecil replied.
“But you though.
Clearing a dungeon entirely on your own.
How is that even possible?”
The curiosity on her face was plain to see.
But beneath it, Michael could sense something else pressing quietly against the surface.
A need for a real answer.
“It just happens,” Michael replied, his smile giving nothing away.
“I should take my leave.
I don’t want to keep the city lord waiting,” he told her, offering a brief farewell.
With pleasantries exchanged, Michael turned and walked away.
Cecil watched him go.
“Princess.”
“I know,” Cecil replied to Gerald, her guardian, before he could finish.
“He is far more mysterious than the last time I saw him.”
“And I believe he is aware of my presence,” Gerald added quietly.
Cecil went still.
“That is not possible.
Not even the city lord has seen through your concealment,” she replied, the shock evident in her voice despite her effort to contain it.
“We need to learn more about him.
He may be the one…”
“That is not possible,” Cecil said firmly, cutting Gerald off with a shake of her head.
As for Jeremy, he was the least pleased person standing outside that dungeon.
Michael clearing an A rank dungeon alone was not the kind of news that sat well with a man who already had reason to want him gone.
If Michael was stronger than he had assumed, then everything became considerably more complicated.
“I have to kill him,” Jeremy thought, watching Michael’s retreating figure.
Even if it meant upsetting the city lord.
Even if it meant burning goodwill he couldn’t afford to lose.
At that moment, Jeremy was decided.
Michael had to be put down.
“You have grown more mysterious in such a short time.
Who exactly are you?” Reynold asked, a frown sitting on his face.
He was standing inside the private dungeon Reynold had procured for his use.
In the cell before him, the captured assassin sat chained and waiting, unaware of what was about to change.
Michael unlocked the cell and stepped inside.
“So.
What actually happened in that dungeon?” Reynold asked, watching Michael’s movements closely.
“An unknown being forced his way in through a rift.
Called himself a Celestial Demon,” Michael answered, pressing his bleeding wrist to the assassin’s mouth and making sure he drank.
Why tell Reynold the truth?
Because it wasn’t worth hiding.
Reynold wouldn’t have answers to give and neither did Michael.
So why waste energy concealing something neither of them could explain?
And if anything, it might work in his favour.
Reynold would be left obsessed with finding answers, which meant his attention would be pointed elsewhere for a while.
Michael watched the assassin struggle against the blood being forced into him.
It was useless resistance.
Once he was satisfied the man had taken enough, Michael snapped his neck with clean efficiency.
He stepped out of the cell, retrieved the stored human blood he had set aside specifically for this moment, and returned.
Reynold watched with a critical eye and said nothing.
“How were you able to clear the dungeon alone?” he asked eventually, as Michael went about his work.
“I was suited for it,” Michael replied, his hands still busy.
“I cannot easily die.
I can regenerate even if my heart is destroyed.
I rarely tire.
All I needed was the right strategy to deal with the Dullahan.”
He shrugged his shoulders as if the explanation was barely worth giving.
The assassin stirred.
Consciousness returned slowly, then all at once.
Michael fed him the stored blood, and while the man was still finding his bearings, quietly slid the daylight ring onto his finger.
It was done.
He had his spy.
“You have strength that equals mine, don’t you?” Reynold asked, his voice carrying the particular weight of a man who already knew the answer and was simply deciding how he felt about it.
“Yes,” Michael said, without hesitation and without apology.
“And together, we can deal with the Duke.”
Would that bruise Reynold’s ego?
Possibly.
Michael could not bring himself to care.
He was not about to perform weakness to protect another man’s comfort.
Confidence.
Arrogance.
The absolute willingness to trample everything beneath his feet without slowing down to look back.
That was what the Celestial Demon had embodied without effort.
And that, Michael had quietly decided, was exactly who he intended to become.