Everyone stared at him, stunned. The silence in the room was thick, and even Allison and Evangeline kept their eyes locked on Luke, waiting for an explanation. He leaned calmly against the wall, as if the weight of their attention didn't bother him at all.

"You really killed the Beast Lord?" Evangeline asked. Her voice was steady, but curious.

"Yes," Luke said without hesitation.

"Bullshit," muttered Dustin, the bald giant, crossing his arms with clear disdain. "This guy's lying."

"It took all of us to kill the Orc Lord. There's no way he took down the Beast Lord alone," Gilbert added, frowning, his voice full of suspicion.

The tension in the room didn't ease. Their gazes passed between one another in silence, everyone weighing Luke's words with growing doubt. The disbelief was nearly tangible.

"What level was it?" Mason asked, breaking the silence with a low, firm voice.

"High enough to make all of you piss your pants," Luke replied with a half-smile, just shy of a taunt.

An axe sliced through the air, stopping inches from Luke. Miriam had stepped forward, her expression twisted with pain and fury.

"We lost people we loved fighting the Orc Lord. He was surrounded by a whole army of orcs. Making up stories like this is an insult to their memory," she said, gripping her axe tightly.

"What level was the Orc Lord?" Luke asked, genuine curiosity in his voice now.

"Level seventy," Allison replied calmly, though her gaze never left him.

Luke narrowed his eyes, his mind quickly sorting through the information he knew. He compared the data, measured everything he'd experienced. And he realized the truth—the first Lord really had been weaker than the second.

"The Beast Lord's level was higher than seventy," he said, with the unshakable tone of someone stating a fact. "And I killed him alone. It was a duel. He wasn't surrounded by monsters. So, in that sense, it was... slightly easier."

"He's lying," Quinn muttered, folding her arms.

Gilbert stepped closer to the table and stopped right in front of Allison. His stare was sharp, as if he were trying to find even a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

"This is the guy you want us to trust? Not even Evangeline could have beaten the Orc Lord on her own. It's impossible, even if he reached the top of the Rank."

Mason pushed off the wall and walked to the table, now standing face-to-face with Luke. His tone was firm, almost confrontational.

"Prove it."

The room went dead silent. All eyes turned to Luke, the tension now suffocating.

"Allison received a sword when she landed the final blow on the Orc Lord," Mason said, not looking away from Luke for even a second.

Everyone turned to Allison. Luke did too, his gaze shifting with genuine interest.

Without a word, Allison slowly drew the katana from its sheath. The blade gleamed a deep violet, with glowing red lines running along its length, as if containing a restrained fire beneath the surface.

"This sword is the item I received after killing the Orc Lord," she said firmly, raising it slightly for all to see.

Mason turned his attention back to Luke, his stare intense.

"I want you to show us the item you got for killing the Beast Lord."

For a brief moment, something flickered in Luke's eyes. A single thought crossed his mind—maybe it had been a mistake not to go after the Orc Lord when he first left the Great Wild Zone.

That sword… it could've helped Charlie.

"Show us the item," Mason demanded, his voice growing sharper.

"It's a secret," Luke said simply.

A wave of laughter echoed through the room. Some were nervous, others mocking. The atmosphere grew sharper, more tense.

Allison and Evangeline remained silent, observing everything with sharp eyes. They tracked every movement, every word.

"Just pull the item from your inventory, or you're lying," Dustin said, arms crossed like a judge delivering a sentence.

"No," Luke replied, his expression hardening. "If I show it, one of you might get bold enough to try and take it from me. And that won't end well."

Dustin let out a booming laugh as he stepped closer. He was visibly taller and bulkier than Luke and made sure everyone noticed with every heavy footfall. He stopped right in front of him, leaning down, the grin on his face turning into something darker.

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"And you think we're not already planning to take everything you have? You're not walking out of here with anything, Angelica's killer. I want your kukris. Maybe even your boots."

Luke raised an eyebrow, the sarcasm creeping back into his voice.

"Want what's in my underwear too?"

Dustin clenched his jaw and raised a fist, ready to strike. But before the blow could land, something slid between them—a fan snapped open mid-air, intercepting the motion with elegance and precision.

It was Evangeline.

"We're all part of the same suicide squad. We've already got enough people trying to kill us out there," she said coldly, the fan still raised.

Dustin clicked his tongue and stepped back, clearly still fuming.

"No one's taking anything," Allison said. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Did I make myself clear?"

"This guy's gonna stab us in the back just like he did Angelica. I don't trust him," Dustin spat, not even trying to hide the contempt in his tone.

"But I do," Allison replied without hesitation. "So let me make this absolutely clear one last time: no one lays a hand on him. Or do any of you want to challenge me?"

She looked at them one by one. Her gaze was so cold, so piercing, not a single person dared to speak.

The silence that followed was total. The weight of her words was undeniable, and no one seemed willing to test her resolve.

"Our goal is to get out of this world," she continued. "We're all in the same boat. Unlike us, Bartholomew doesn't care about escaping—he has an army and resources at his disposal. So put your grudges aside. Believe in Luke or don't. Teaming up with him is our only shot."

Her eyes scanned the room again, lingering on the most hostile faces.

"We need a guide for the other side. And we need an assassin. Someone to help me activate the second mechanism, the third, the castle... and deal with everything in between. Or do you really think you can handle it on your own?"

She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she drove a dagger straight into the center of the table. The metallic clang echoed through the hall, sealing the tension in steel.

"Any of you know how to loot a chest and escape before a Midnight Warden appears? Anyone here think they could walk into a fortress and make it out alive? What would a warrior do surrounded by five of those guards?"

She paused, holding their gaze with quiet intensity.

"Assassins think differently. They're faster. They have stealth, strike, and escape skills. They know how to act under pressure. They're used to confronting stronger opponents and surviving. That's why they're called assassins—because they overcome level gaps by exploiting weaknesses and landing the killing blow."

Every word landed with conviction, her presence seeming to expand with each breath.

"Do any of you know a good assassin? Preferably one who's already killed a Midnight Warden, activated that gate alone, crossed the barrier, found the third mechanism, made it back alive... and defeated the Beast Lord?"

She raised an eyebrow, defiant.

"If any of you can find someone who meets those qualifications, I'll gladly dismiss Luke's services," she said.

Allison's gaze settled on those who had spoken out against Luke. Her expression was unshakable, and her tone left no room for argument.

"So from now on, don't question me again."

Mason, still leaning against the wall, had been quietly observing. After a few seconds, he stepped forward.

"I trust you, Allison," he said sincerely. "But if we're really going through with this… then I think that trust has to go both ways."

He paused briefly, then turned his attention directly to Luke.

"If the Beast Lord was truly defeated, that's incredible news. When the Orc Lord died, no one outside our party was notified. The same thing happened here. That means we've got a serious edge over Bartholomew."

He looked around, including the others in his thought process.

"It would help if everyone in this room knew what item was granted for killing the Beast Lord. We could factor it into our planning."

Allison looked at Luke. Her tone wasn't forceful, but searching for balance.

"Luke, would you be willing to show us the item you received?"

Once again, all eyes turned to him. But the silence now was different—not heavy with hostility, but laced with quiet expectation. Maybe even hope. The message behind Allison's words was clear: she wasn't asking for proof to shame him. She was offering a gesture of trust—and asking for one in return. A bridge.

"I'm afraid I can't show it," Luke said, voice steady but without arrogance.

Allison sighed—not with frustration, but acceptance.

"All right. That's your right."

"I knew it. He's lying," Dustin scoffed, turning away as if the matter were settled.

But Luke raised a hand and touched the cord around his neck.

"However… I do have something I took from the Beast Lord."

With a simple motion, he pulled something from his pocket dimension and dropped it onto the table. The sound that followed was sharp, metallic, and heavy—a dull thud that seemed to hold the room's breath still.

It was long, white, and jagged—about the length of Luke's arm. It glinted faintly in the light.

"Is that what I think it is?" Miriam murmured, eyes wide.

Everyone stared at the object in total silence, muscles tense, eyes locked. There was something almost reverent in the air.

"The t-the fang… from the monster," someone whispered, hesitant.

Luke resisted the urge to smile.

"The fang?" he corrected, tone just a little ironic. "No. That's actually just the tip of the Beast Lord's fang. The full thing… probably my height. Maybe taller."

He held the shard casually in his hand.

"Whether you believe I killed it or not doesn't matter. What matters is I survived a fight with it. And I brought back a little souvenir."

With the same calm demeanor, he slid the fang tip back into his necklace and tucked it away.

Then, unhurried, he turned toward the door.

"You're welcome, by the way, for killing the monster. I'll gladly accept your thanks."

He opened the door.

"None of you would've survived that fight. I only managed it because of something very specific… an extremely risky gamble."

Luke cast one last look back at the room.

"I accept the job as guide. I'm leaving," Luke said, before slamming the door shut behind him.

"You're really gonna let that bastard walk out like that?" Dustin shouted, still glaring at the door Luke had exited through. His fists were clenched, muscles taut, and his voice trembled with a mix of frustration and fury.

Evangeline turned to him slowly, her voice cold as the edge of a dagger.

"What did you want? For him to sit through a meeting none of you wanted him in to begin with?"

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