The underground chamber was eerily silent.
Ryle stood amidst the ruins of the abandoned city, staring down the young noble who had helped free the elves.
The boy's hands trembled, but his voice was steady.
"You asked for my name," he said. "I am Luce Valtoria."
Ryle narrowed his eyes.
The Valtoria family. One of the Twelve Great Noble Houses of Velbrath.
But before he could respond—
A slow clap echoed through the chamber.
The remaining three nobles—the true masterminds—walked into the room, smirking.
"Well done, Ryle Astoria."
"Truly, a performance worthy of the so-called World's Strongest Journalist."
Ryle didn't blink.
He simply raised a hand.
And sliced the nobles in half.
Blood splattered.
Their bodies collapsed.
For a moment, the elves in their cages gasped in horror.
Even Dante's eyes widened. "Holy—"
But then—
Ryle casually reached down, picked up the halves… and sewed them back together.
His dragon-infused fingers worked with surgical precision.
Threading muscle. Mending flesh. Restoring life.
The nobles screamed in agony as their bodies reformed.
"How—?! This is impossible!" one of them gasped.
Ryle wiped his hands on his coat and smiled coldly.
"Welcome back."
The nobles gasped for air, trembling.
Ryle crouched beside them.
"That was just a warning. If you ever lay a hand on another elf…"
His dragon claws extended, glowing with power.
"I won't be so kind next time."
A Name, A Legacy
Dante adjusted his glasses, stepping forward.
"Ryle. I know who they are."
Ryle stood, crossing his arms. "Go on."
Dante gestured to each of the half-dead nobles.
"These three? They aren't just any nobles. They're from three different houses."
The Bergott family—wealthy traders with deep underground connections.
The Rosenthal family—military elites responsible for the kingdom's enforcement.
The Faure family—royal advisors with influence directly under the king.
Ryle whistled.
"So it wasn't just one noble house. This was an entire operation."
Dante nodded.
"If we expose them, this entire country will shake."
Ryle smirked.
"Then let's shake it."
By dawn, Ryle had written his most explosive exposé yet.
"The Kingdom's Secret Slave Trade: The Truth of the Elven Kidnappings"
Names.
Locations.
Unforgivable details.
The article spread like wildfire.
The kingdom erupted in outrage.
Some nobles denied everything. Others fled in fear.
But the truth?
It could not be undone.
The Bergott, Rosenthal, and Faure families faced immediate backlash.
The king himself was forced to address the scandal.
And Ryle?
He had just brought an entire network of corruption to its knees.
After the chaos settled, Ryle traveled to the elven forest.
There, he knelt before the elven leader.
"…I came to apologize."
The elves watched him with unreadable expressions.
Ryle clenched his fists.
"I killed some of your warriors in battle. I know they were only fighting for their people. I won't ask for forgiveness."
The elven leader studied him.
Then, with a slow nod, she finally spoke.
"You have done more for our kind than any human before you."
The elves did not forgive easily.
But for now—there was peace.
Back in Velbrath, Elden threw a grand celebration.
"Ryle!" He clapped Ryle on the back, grinning. "This is a victory! You should enjoy yourself."
Ryle forced a smile.
But something felt off.
Elden rarely celebrated without ulterior motives.
And when the night was at its peak—Elden turned to him and smiled.
"Let's hunt for a dragon in those mountains."
Silence.
For a brief moment, Ryle's mind went blank.
Then—he smirked.
"…Let's go."
His voice was steady.
His heart? Raging.
Elden had no idea.
But Ryle was already planning his downfall.