The moment Ryle stepped into the journalist office, he knew this was bigger than just the slave trade.
Behind his desk, stacks of reports, interviews, and bloody records covered every inch of space.
The elven massacres.
The nobles' secret parties.
The hunting of dragons.
And now… Duke Valtoria.
A dead man walking.
Ryle leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Where do I start?"
Before he could decide, his best friend Dante stormed in.
"You're not gonna believe this."
Ryle raised an eyebrow. "Try me."
Dante tossed a report onto the desk. "Locals in the elven forest have been whispering about a club."
"A club?"
Dante nodded. "Not just any club. A place where only elf women are allowed inside. No humans. No half-bloods. Just elves."
Ryle's jaw clenched.
That wasn't a club.
That was a prison.
Ryle wasted no time.
The moment he left his office, he borrowed a priestess from Seraphina.
An elderly woman with golden robes and piercing violet eyes. Her name was Mother Gilda.
She followed him into the dark dungeons where the three captured nobles lay in chains.
Mother Gilda raised her staff. "Are you ready?"
Ryle cracked his knuckles. "Always."
With a murmur, Gilda's staff glowed with divine energy.
"By The Will Of God, We Shall Only Hear The Truth."
The nobles' eyes widened in horror as a golden sigil appeared on their foreheads.
The spell forced them to speak the truth.
The first noble trembled. "T-The club… it's in a hidden district outside the capital."
The second noble clenched his fists. "It's a front. The real purpose is… t-to sell the elves to the highest bidder."
The third noble glared at Ryle with pure hatred. "Duke Valtoria funds it."
Ryle's smirk widened. "There we go."
He turned to Gilda. "Thanks, old lady. You're free to go."
She scoffed. "Try not to die, boy."
Ryle left the dungeon, his mind racing.
Minutes later, Ryle and Thea took to the skies.
The moon lit the path ahead, casting silver light over the darkened city.
Below them, the capital stretched endlessly.
But their target was just outside its walls.
After an hour of flight, they spotted it.
A massive estate with golden lights, extravagant decorations, and guards at every corner.
Ryle's stomach twisted.
This wasn't just a club.
This was a palace of suffering.
As they landed in a dark alley nearby, Ryle turned to Thea.
"You're staying here."
Thea frowned. "Why?"
Ryle didn't hesitate.
"I don't want you mistaken for one of them."
For a moment, Thea's expression was unreadable.
Then, she scowled. "I can fight."
Ryle smirked. "I know. But if I walk in with an elf girl, they'll assume I'm a customer. You wouldn't want that, right?"
Thea crossed her arms. "...Fine. But if you die, I'm stealing your notebook."
Ryle chuckled. "Deal."
Ryle stepped through the grand entrance, eyes scanning the room.
The place was packed.
Dozens of nobles lounged on crimson couches, sipping wine.
But the real sight?
The elves.
Dressed in elegant gowns, forced to serve drinks, dance, and entertain.
Their eyes were hollow.
Dead inside.
Ryle's blood boiled.
A man in a silk robe approached. "First time here, sir?"
Ryle forced a charming smirk. "Heard great things. Figured I'd rent an elf for the night."
The man chuckled, leading him to a side room.
Inside, a lineup of elf women stood silently.
The man gestured. "Choose one."
Ryle's golden eyes scanned them.
Until he found her.
A woman with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes.
She looked different from the others. Stronger.
Ryle pointed. "Her."
The man grinned. "A fine choice."
The elf stepped forward. She didn't even flinch.
As they left the room, Ryle leaned down, whispering:
"Where is Duke Valtoria?"
She froze.
Then—without warning—she attacked.
A hidden dagger slashed at Ryle's throat.
But Ryle caught her wrist effortlessly.
She struggled, growling.
"I won't talk."
Ryle sighed. "Wrong answer."
Then, he began.
His dragon claws pierced her arm—just enough to draw blood.
She gasped in pain.
Ryle's voice was cold. "I'm patient."
The wound healed instantly.
Then he did it again.
And again.
Each time, he healed her completely before continuing.
Her body never broke.
But her mind?
That was another story.
After the tenth time, her breath hitched.
Her hands shook.
Finally, she whispered:
"…Duke Valtoria is alive."
Ryle smirked. "And where is he?"
She clenched her jaw.
Ryle raised a single claw. "Don't make me ask again."
Her voice trembled.
"He's here."
Ryle's eyes flashed.
"Where?"
She closed her eyes. "Behind the golden curtain."
Ryle slowly turned his head.
Across the club…
A massive golden curtain concealed a hidden passage.
His smirk widened.
"Well then."
Ryle cracked his knuckles.
"Time to pay the Duke a visit."