Ryle's golden dragon eyes burned as he scanned the club.
The walls turned translucent in his vision. Veins of energy pulsed within the building, and behind the golden curtain, a single heartbeat stood out.
A slow, deliberate pulse.
Duke Valtoria.
Thea remained outside, standing guard, while the nobles inside barely dared to breathe.
Ryle vanished.
One moment, he was standing still. The next, he was in front of the golden curtain, tearing it down with his claws.
And there he was.
Duke Valtoria—a man long thought dead. A legend among criminals.
His long silver hair and piercing violet eyes locked onto Ryle.
"You…" The Duke smirked. "You're the journalist who's been causing me trouble."
Ryle didn't answer.
Instead, he moved.
With a flash of his clawed hand, he tore through the Duke's torso.
Blood splattered across the golden walls.
Valtoria gasped, but before he could scream—Ryle continued.
Slash.
His legs—gone.
Slash.
His arms—gone.
In mere seconds, Duke Valtoria was nothing but a pile of neatly severed flesh.
The room was deathly silent.
Then, Ryle casually pulled out a needle and thread.
With practiced ease, he sewed the Duke back together.
When Valtoria gasped for air, his body whole once more, Ryle grinned.
"Did that hurt?"
The Duke shook violently. "W-What… What the hell are you?"
Ryle didn't answer.
Instead, he turned toward the door.
"Thea."
The elf girl stepped inside, her sharp gaze scanning the room.
Ryle nodded toward the terrified nobles.
"Take care of the customers. Make sure they don't move."
Thea smirked. She walked toward the cowering nobles and placed her sword against one man's throat.
"I'd listen to him if I were you."
The nobles froze.
Satisfied, Ryle grabbed the shaking Duke Valtoria and dragged him out by the hair.
Luce Valtoria—the young noble who once saved Ryle—stared in shock.
"R-Ryle, what are you—?"
"You're coming, too."
With one hand on Duke Valtoria and the other gripping Luce's collar, Ryle took off into the night sky.
As they soared over the land, Duke Valtoria coughed, then laughed.
"You think you're a hero?"
Ryle didn't reply.
"You own an elf, too."
Ryle narrowed his eyes.
Before he could say anything, Thea moved.
With a sharp flick of her wrist, she sliced off Duke Valtoria's ear.
Blood splattered into the wind.
Thea's voice was cold. "I'm not his slave."
Duke Valtoria gritted his teeth in pain, but Ryle noticed something else.
Even as blood dripped from his head… he was still smiling.
Something about that smile pissed him off.
When they landed in the new Valtoria City, gasps filled the streets.
Men and women stared, eyes wide in horror.
Ryle knew why.
They had buried Duke Valtoria years ago.
They had mourned him.
Yet here he was. Alive.
Guards rushed forward, spears raised—until a single voice boomed across the plaza.
"What is the meaning of this?"
The crowd parted as Caelum Valtoria stepped forward.
Tall, dressed in black noble robes, Luce's older brother—the current Duke—was a man of iron discipline.
His eyes locked onto his disgraced father.
Duke Valtoria's smile didn't fade.
"Hello, my son."
Caelum didn't respond.
Ryle smirked and threw Duke Valtoria at his feet.
"Here. Do what you want with him."
Caelum's fingers twitched. "Where did you find him?"
Ryle tilted his head. "In a club. Selling elves. Thought you'd like to know."
For the first time, Caelum looked shaken.
A slow, dark rage built in his eyes.
Then—without hesitation—he kicked his father in the ribs.
"Drag him to the castle," Caelum ordered. "Prepare the execution platform."
Guards immediately moved.
As they dragged Duke Valtoria away, the man kept laughing.
Even as the people cursed him.
Even as Caelum prepared his public execution.
By the time morning came, the entire city had gathered.
The execution stage stood in the heart of the plaza.
Duke Valtoria, beaten and bloodied, was tied to a wooden post.
Caelum Valtoria stood beside him, sword in hand.
"My father," he announced to the crowd, "is a traitor to this land. A man who destroyed our family's name. A criminal who stole and sold innocent lives."
The people cheered in rage.
Caelum lifted his sword.
"May his sins end here."
A single slash.
Blood sprayed onto the wooden platform.
Duke Valtoria's head rolled to the ground.
The people erupted in thunderous cheers.
Ryle watched from the rooftops, arms crossed.
Luce stood beside him, his face pale.
Finally, he turned to Ryle.
"…Thank you."
Ryle didn't respond.
Instead, he pulled out a notebook and started writing.
By nightfall, his new exposé had spread across the country.
And the military—under Seraphina's authority—was already raiding the remaining slave camps.
It was over.
Or so Ryle thought.
As Ryle and Thea walked through the quiet city, a shadow loomed over them.
Then—SLAP.
A force so powerful it made Ryle stumble.
Thea gasped.
In front of them stood Vaelthia.
A tall woman with midnight-black hair, piercing golden eyes, and an aura so powerful it made the air vibrate.
Ryle's dragon mother.
Her voice was icy.
"Come home. Now."
Before Ryle could argue, a second shadow tackled Thea.
Dravenith, Ryle's dragon little brother, grinned as he threw Thea onto Vaelthia's back.
Thea struggled. "H-Hey—!"
Dravenith's grin widened. "You'll see this more often."
Vaelthia's wings spread.
Before Ryle could even resist—
They took off into the sky.