Kellan's eyes turned cold. The warmth vanished as he slowly stood up, watching her clutch her wound. She staggered back, struggling to speak.

But in the next very second,a darkish energy shot at Kella but he ducked down and narrowed the distance.

Kellan pulled a small axe from beneath his cloak and slammed it into her chest.

"Kyaaaa!" her scream tore through the room, muffled only by the heavy curtains.

"Shut up, bitch!" he roared, his voice filled with fury. He struck her again, the sound of steel against flesh echoed brutally.

Any ordinary person would have died instantly, but she writhed on the floor, her eyes flickering with something unnatural.

She whispered under her breath, strange words twisting in the air like curses.

"Tell me," Kellan growled, grabbing her by the hair. "Which group do you belong to? Who gave you the right to cast your nefarious sight on us?"

Her lips moved faster, muttering an ancient tongue. Kellan's expression hardened. Before she could finish, he swung the axe down once more, splitting her head open with a sickening crack.

Blood splattered across the wooden floor. The candles flickered violently, as if frightened.

He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, then wiped his axe clean with the edge of the bedsheet. Without a word, he turned and walked out.

Downstairs, chaos had already begun. In other rooms, his men were tearing through the brothel. Screams of panic and pleading filled the night.

One girl tried to run through the hallway, her half-dressed figure stumbling in terror, but a man caught her by the hair and slammed her face against the wall. Another man dragged a crying woman by her arm and threw her to the ground, his blade flashing as it struck her neck.

Blood sprayed across the cracked floorboards. The laughter that once filled the place had turned into the sound of gurgling cries and collapsing bodies.

Someone begged for mercy, but the only answer was the thud of boots and the sound of steel tearing through flesh. The air grew heavy, thick with the smell of iron and death.

When silence finally returned, only the dripping of blood could be heard.

The door opened once again. A man cloaked in black entered, his face hidden behind a dark mask.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop the moment he stepped inside. A freezing, killing aura spread around him, making even the murderers lower their heads instinctively.

He walked slowly through the hallway while his boots splashed in the blood. His eyes scanned the carnage filled with the limbless bodies, the broken furniture, the faint twitch of a dying hand reaching out for help that would never come.

He stopped in the center of the room, his shadow stretching over the corpses.

"Any meaningful information?" he asked quietly. His voice was calm, almost emotionless, yet every word carried a weight that silenced the room.

One of the men knelt before him, his hands shaking. "Nothing yet, my lord," he said. "They had markings, but none of them confessed. Most were… corrupted already."

The eyes behind the mask flickered coldly as he scanned the blood-soaked room. "What about the Head Matron?" he asked.

"We managed to apprehend her," one of the men replied quickly.

"Take me to her," the masked man ordered.

The soldiers led him deeper inside the brothel, where the stench of blood and burnt flesh hung thick in the air. At the far corner, they stopped beside a broken figure lying in a pool of her own blood.

The Head Matron's body was in a terrible state. Her face was swollen and bruised, and several of her teeth had been knocked out.

Her limbs were twisted unnaturally, and pieces of flesh were missing where her skin had been torn. Blood oozed from open wounds, staining the floor beneath her. She trembled weakly, her breaths short and ragged.

When she saw the masked man, her eyes widened with hatred. "You…" she spat, her voice cracked and hoarse. "Don't think you can make me talk!"

Her mouth twisted into a broken smile. "Kekeke! Every one of you will go to hell! You'll all burn to death!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the cold room. "You will suffer a worse fate than me—"

BANG!

The masked man struck her across the head with the back of his dagger, silencing her mid-sentence. Blood splattered on the floor. He then kicked her hard in the face, making her head snap to the side.

"Shut up, you disgusting whoring bitch," he said coldly. His voice carried no emotion.

"Sorry," he added in a low tone, "but our time hasn't come yet."

He stood up straight and looked around the wrecked room. The metallic scent of blood filled the air. He had already received reports that men who visited this brothel had begun showing strange symptoms. Even trained soldiers were losing their strength and vitality after a single night here. Though most recovered after a few days, such things could not be ignored.

"Stop her bleeding and heal her," the masked man ordered calmly. "We'll present her to the Lord."

He turned his gaze toward the burning torches outside. "Then burn this place," he said coldly. "Make sure to leave no traces behind."

His cloak swayed as he walked out, his footsteps echoing in the silent night. Flames soon consumed the brothel turning the building to curling black ash.

Outside, he glanced back once more. "Inform Sir Richard that it's our doing," he said. "Tell him not to overdo it."

"Yes, sir."

"Now disperse."

As the command resounded,the group vanished into shadow.

The men vanished into the dark alleys as the brothel collapsed into flames.

Meanwhile, far to the east where the mansion of Blanks stood.

Another joyous occasion graces the doors of Blanks.

[DING]

[Detected birth of Host's child.]

[The child has been born with E-rank warrior potential.]

[Reward: Gift *1]

[The child has been born with D-rank warrior and E-rank mage potential.]

[Reward: Gift *1]

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