[: 3rd POV :]

The silence was unsettling.

Their boots pressed against mossy stones and tangled roots, yet not a single sound betrayed them.

The stealth skills were flawless, the detection sweeps thorough, and still… nothing.

No alarms.

No traps.

No signs of an ambush.

It was too smooth.

Daniel's gaze swept the ruined path ahead, his expression calm on the surface, but his chest felt weighed down with unease.

The overgrown ruins of Tetaria stretched before them, breathtaking and haunting, yet he could not enjoy the sight.

It wasn't because that he was afraid, but rather, his feelings of suspicion.

His eyes flicked toward the scouts moving like shadows among the trees.

These were no amateurs.

Each one was a seasoned hunter, hardened by countless raids.

Their techniques were precise, their senses sharp.

Even the smallest ripple of mana, the faintest shift in the wind, should have been noticed.

And yet every report that came back was the same.

"Clear."

"Path clean."

"No traps ahead."

'This doesn't make sense'

His fist tightened at his side, a quiet tension simmering beneath his skin.

He had experienced what the Zero Organization capable of and to say that it was this easy was doubtful.

'I'm not looking down on them, but the Zero Organization isn't careless'

'For an organization that has existed for who knows how long, they wouldn't be this foolish'

His brows furrowed, though his face betrayed nothing to the others.

For a moment, he considered voicing his doubts, but he remained silent, his instincts warring with his reason.

The guild members looked almost relieved that their passage was unchallenged.

Their grief-fueled rage had been sharpened into resolve, and for some, this smooth approach felt like fortune.

Daniel wouldn't rob them of that—at least, not yet.

Still, his thoughts gnawed at him like wolves tearing at bone.

'Maybe… maybe I'm just overthinking it,'

Daniel muttered inwardly, though the words felt hollow even to himself.

[: Overthinking, or seeing what others are blind to? :]

Daniel's eyes darkened.

'If I'm right, then this should be like a trap'

The wind stirred through the ruined streets, carrying with it the faint scent of mana-rich blossoms.

Around them, paradise itself whispered beauty, but Daniel's heart heard only the quiet ticking of a trap yet to spring.

He exhaled softly, his voice inaudible, meant only for himself.

"…Zero, I don't know what game you're playing. But I won't be caught off guard."

His steps didn't falter, but his hand brushed against his weapon, his mind sharpening like steel.

No matter how smooth the path appeared, Daniel would not let the illusion lull him.

Not now.

Not ever.

The jungle finally thinned, and the ruins gave way to something far more sinister.

At first, it was only a silhouette in the distance' dark, jagged lines rising against the shimmer of moonlight.

But as the raiding party drew closer, their stealth veils clinging tightly to them, the full structure emerged from the shadows.

The Illegal Facility.

It loomed before them like a scar upon Tetaria's beauty, an enormous warehouse of iron and stone fused crudely into the earth.

The walls were reinforced with thick steel plating, its surface marred with cracks where rust had begun to eat away at the metal.

But what sent shivers crawling down every spine was not the building itself—it was what covered it.

Blood.

The coppery stench hung heavy in the air, cutting through even the island's floral sweetness.

Fresh streaks and splatters stained the steel doors, ran in dark trails across the ground, and painted gruesome smears along the warehouse walls.

The red was too vibrant, too wet to be old.

A low murmur rippled through the ranks as the warriors took it in.

"Blood…"

One of the younger recruits whispered, his face paling as he clutched the hilt of his sword.

"There's so much…"

A dwarf veteran stepped forward, his nose twitching, his voice rough.

"It's still fresh and not more than a day old. Someone died here recently."

Another mercenary muttered darkly, his eyes narrowing.

"Or a whole group. Look at the size of those stains… one person alone wouldn't leave that much."

A beastman sniffed the air, his ears twitching uneasily.

His claws flexed against the ground.

"It reeks of fear. Whoever bled here… it wasn't quick."

The weight of their words sank into the air, each syllable pressing heavier against the others' chests.

The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with the unspoken thought gnawing at everyone's mind.

'Were they victims? Prisoners? Or perhaps… other intruders who had tried to raid this place before them'

One of the elven hunters bit her lip, her voice trembling.

"If this is what we can see from outside, then what horrors lie inside…?"

A hush fell over the group as their eyes drifted toward the warehouse doors.

The steel panels loomed like the maw of some beast, wide and hungry, blood dripping from their edges as though the facility itself had fed not long ago.

Arcturus, standing at the front, clenched his jaw as his hand hovered near his weapon.

His gaze was cold, sharp, but even he could not hide the grim set of his expression.

"This isn't the work of beasts," he said finally, his voice low and edged like a blade.

"This is a work of the devil"

The words sank deep, tightening every chest with dread.

Daniel's eyes lingered on the crimson-stained steel, his expression unreadable.

Inside, however, his thoughts churned like a storm.

'Blood at the doorstep? Fresh enough that we can still smell it?'

He narrowed his eyes, his suspicion from earlier sharpening into something closer to certainty.

'This isn't coincidence. It's too staged. Too… intentional'

His hand flexed slowly at his side, the faintest crackle of power tingling at his fingertips.

'The Zero Organization doesn't leave trails. They bury them. Which means… they wanted us to see this'

He glanced briefly at the guild members, at their unease, their fear turning into murmurs.

'Are they trying to rattle us? Break our focus before the real trap closes?'

Daniel exhaled through his nose, quiet, controlled, but his eyes burned with a dangerous glint.

'If so, it won't work. But it does mean one thing…'

He lifted his gaze to the warehouse again, the metallic doors glistening dark with blood under the pale light.

'They know we're here'

The stench of blood still clung thick in the air as the Guild Master finally broke the silence, his voice steady but firm.

"Enough standing around,"

Arcturus said, his sharp gaze sweeping over his guild members.

"We need information before we act. Detect the interior. I want numbers—enemies and captives."

At once, a slender elf woman with emerald-green eyes stepped forward.

She was a specialist in detection magic, her presence calm despite the grim air.

She pressed her palms together, runes glowing faintly along her skin as threads of mana spread outward, weaving through the warehouse walls like invisible roots.

The group fell into tense silence as her body trembled slightly under the strain of extending her senses so far.

Sweat began to bead on her brow, and her lips parted with shallow breaths as she whispered faint incantations.

Finally, her eyes snapped open, wide with horror.

Her voice quivered as she reported, "Guild Master… I've found them. Inside, there are… more than two thousand hostile presences"

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the group.

Some cursed under their breath, others tightened their grip on their weapons.

"Two thousand?" one of the warriors hissed, disbelief in his tone.

"That's not a facility—that's an army."

Another spat on the ground, his jaw clenching.

"Bastards were waiting for us all along…"

The elf, however, wasn't finished.

Her voice grew even heavier as her gaze fell toward the ground, almost as if ashamed to continue.

"And… below them… beneath the warehouse… I detect… thousands of weaker signatures"

"Their life force is faint, restrained, but still present."

She swallowed hard before finishing, "Roughly… six thousand people. Prisoners."

Her words fell like a hammer.

The group went still, each of them processing the scale of what she had just revealed.

Six thousand souls—men, women, children perhaps—trapped inside the belly of that bloodstained fortress.

A younger mage trembled, his voice cracking as he whispered.

"Six… six thousand? Gods above… how long have they been here?"

One of the beastmen growled low in his throat, his claws digging furrows into the dirt.

"Six thousand innocents. And those animals treat them like cattle."

Another warrior slammed his fist into his palm, rage sparking in his eyes.

"Then we can't wait. Every second we waste, more of them could be dying!"

The elf lowered her head, her voice faint but laced with guilt.

"Their auras… they're weak. Starved. If we don't act fast, many won't last another day."

The weight of her words pressed down on all of them, rage and grief mixing with the chilling knowledge of the enemy's sheer numbers.

Arcturus's eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the chaos like steel.

"Two thousand soldiers… against us. And six thousand lives depending on whether or not we succeed."

He turned to face his people fully, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

"We cannot afford hesitation. Those prisoners… they're the reason we came here"

"If we fail, their blood is on all our hands. Are you ready to bear that weight?"

His words struck deep, silencing the murmurs.

One by one, the guild members straightened, their fear hardening into resolve.

A grizzled veteran nodded, his voice steady.

"Guild Master… my family was taken once by slavers"

"I know what those prisoners feel. I'll die before I let this chance slip."

Another raised her staff, fire burning in her eyes.

"Two thousand enemies or twenty thousand—it doesn't matter. I won't let those bastards have the last laugh."

Even the younger recruits, though pale and trembling, clenched their fists, forcing courage into their voices.

"We'll save them… no matter what."

Through it all, Daniel stood slightly apart, his gaze dark and unreadable.

Inside, his thoughts churned with quiet fury.

'Two thousand enemies'

'Six thousand innocents'

'This isn't just an illegal facility—it's a slaughterhouse'

His hands tightened, shadows coiling faintly at his fingertips.

'Zero Organization… you think this is a stronghold? No. This is your grave'

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