[: 3rd POV :]

Even as the guild stormed through the labyrinth of blood and chains, Daniel had yet to unleash the abyss within him.

His skills never flared with the dreadful power his aura hinted at.

No storm of oblivion.

No destruction-born terror.

No singular strike that bent the battlefield to his will.

Instead, he fought with a restraint that few understood—enough to cut down any cultist who threatened the line, enough to break every ambush before it could harm his allies.

But nothing more.

To the mercenaries, it was as if he were a shadow among them—ever present, always there when death threatened to fall upon their heads.

A beastman warrior, panting heavily after splitting open a Zero cult chest, cast a glance at Daniel as he effortlessly deflected three incoming strikes before severing all three attackers in a single, fluid motion.

"What the hell…" the beastman muttered, wiping the blood from his muzzle.

A nearby recruit, wide-eyed, whispered under his breath.

"Did you see that? Three in one stroke. And he didn't even chant a spell, or shout, or… or even try"

An older dwarf, hammer dripping with gore, grunted as he leaned on his weapon for a breath.

"Tch. Lad's not even showing his teeth"

But Daniel said nothing.

His silence was not pride, nor arrogance. It was control.

Inside, his thoughts churned.

'I could end this faster. I could drown this fortress in shadows and leave not a single one of Zero standing…'

His fist tightened at his side, aura flickering faintly before he smothered it.

'But something tells me...there's more about this raid...'

From across the chamber, a guild healer stumbled as a cultist slipped through the line, dagger flashing toward her heart.

Daniel moved before anyone could shout.

One blink—and the cultist was already gone, his body torn apart in silence, blood misting the air.

The healer collapsed back against the wall, clutching her chest, trembling.

She looked up at him, her voice shaking.

"Y-you… you saved me…" It was a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.

Daniel's eyes, cold and calm, met hers for only a moment.

His voice was steady, almost emotionless, yet carried an undertone that made her shiver.

"No one dies. Not while I'm here."

She swallowed hard, nodding as tears welled in her eyes.

"Then… thank you."

The other mercenaries saw it, and whispers spread like wildfire.

"He was across the room… how did he reach her so fast?"

"Guildmaster Arcturus, who is this man you brought with us?"

Arcturus himself had noticed.

He fought with the ferocity of a commander determined to see the mission through, but in the quiet between swings, his sharp eyes always drifted toward Daniel.

He saw the way Daniel cut down threats with surgical precision.

Not too much, not too little—just enough to keep the guild alive and moving forward.

And in that restraint, Arcturus felt something that unsettled even him.

'Tch'

As the hours bled into one another, exhaustion began to gnaw at the mercenaries.

But Daniel?

Daniel never faltered.

His movements remained sharp, his strikes lethal, his stance unbroken.

To him, it was as if he was taking a stroll in a park.

A beastman stumbled, his leg wounded, and two cultists lunged in to finish him.

Daniel's shadow blurred past, and the cultists were shredded before they touched the ground.

The beastman gasped, clutching his leg as he looked up at him.

"You… you've saved me thrice already, stranger," he said hoarsely.

His tail lashed once before curling low in respect. "What's your name?"

"Daniel" He simply replied.

Even among the chaos, Daniel's presence spread like a silent command—an assurance.

Wherever he walked, the tide of the battle bent away from his allies.

Wherever his shadow touched, death followed for the enemy.

And though none could truly see the depths of what he held back, every single guild member and mercenary felt the same quiet, unsettling truth.

He's a different world from them.

When the last cultist in the room fell and the echoes of battle faded into a suffocating silence, the guild members gathered their breaths.

The rescued were being tended to—healers weaving what magic they could, warriors carrying the weak upon their backs, and Arcturus standing in the center like an iron pillar, his eyes sharp but weary.

And then, almost without meaning to, many eyes drifted to Daniel.

He stood apart from the others.

The aura around him was calm, too calm, compared to the carnage they had just endured.

The mercenaries whispered first.

"That kid… fought like ten men."

"No… more than that. If it weren't for him, half of us wouldn't be standing."

"Look at him—doesn't even look tired."

One of the younger guild members, still shaking from the battle, stepped forward hesitantly.

His voice cracked, but he forced the words out anyway.

"Sir… Daniel, right? You saved me back there—when the cultist almost cut me down. I owe you my life."

Daniel gave him only a faint glance, then shook his head.

"You owe me nothing. Just survive."

The young man looked stunned for a moment, then bowed deeply.

Soon after, the beastman warrior who had nearly fallen earlier limped over, his leg freshly bandaged.

He let out a deep, guttural chuckle, despite the pain in his voice.

"Daniel… was it? You've got the makings of a warlord in you"

"Ever thought of joining a guild?"

He pounded a fist against his chest with a grin.

"The Blue Moon Guild could use someone like you."

An elven huntress, her bow slung across her back, smirked lightly as she added.

"Rare to see someone so young wield a blade with that kind of precision"

"You'd rise through the ranks fast with us. Might even outshine the veterans."

A couple of mercenaries murmured in agreement.

"Aye, it'd be an honor to fight with someone like him."

For the first time, Daniel's lips curved—not into a smile, but into the faintest trace of acknowledgment.

"I appreciate the offer,"

He said quietly, his tone polite, almost gentle compared to the cold finality of his combat voice.

"But… I walk a different path"

"The guild deserves warriors who fight with their hearts bound together"

"Mine belongs elsewhere."

The beastman tilted his head, then let out a rumbling laugh.

"Ha! Fair enough, lad. Not all blades belong to the same sheath."

The elf gave him a respectful nod.

"Then at least know this—we'll remember your name, Daniel"

"If fate crosses our paths again, may it be as allies."

Arcturus had been silent, watching the exchange.

His eyes lingered on Daniel, sharp and calculating, but he did not speak.

And though they never pressed him again, the truth remained in every warrior's heart today.

Eventually, the descent into the facility's depths was silent, save for the faint drip of water echoing against the stone walls.

Each step felt heavier than the last, the flickering torchlight painting grim shadows across the guild members' weary faces.

Arcturus walked at the front, cloak trailing behind him, his voice low but firm.

"Stay close. What lies beneath will not be easy to witness… but it is something you all must see."

There was a strange weight in his tone—commanding as always, yet edged with something that stirred unease in the hearts of those who followed.

Daniel's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the man's back.

'He speaks as if he already knows what waits for us below. Strange… far too strange.'

The stairwell ended in a massive set of iron doors, their surfaces carved with twisted glyphs that seemed to writhe when the torchlight touched them.

The very air around the threshold hummed with a foul, unseen energy.

When Arcturus pushed them open, a wave of stench rolled out.

The guild members froze.

The chamber was vast, stretching wider than any hall they had yet seen.

The air was thick with the copper sting of blood, mixed with the rancid odor of decay.

Along the walls, corpses were stacked like grotesque offerings—humans, elves, dwarves, beastmen, even creatures from beyond the continent.

The flesh of some still clung to bone, while others were nothing but husks drained of life.

A young recruit gagged, his hand flying to his mouth.

"W-what… what is this place?"

A hardened mercenary clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened, his voice shaking with rage.

"They butchered them… all of them, thrown here like kindling."

But the center of the chamber was worse.

An altar stood there—monolithic, carved from black stone that seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive.

Around it rose statues of beings no one recognized, each one looming tall, their features alien and incomprehensible.

Their eyes, though stone, seemed to bore into the intruders, pressing a weight upon their souls.

The elf huntress staggered back a step, clutching her bow tighter.

"W-What are these...?"

A beastman growled low in his throat, ears flat against his skull.

"They...aren't gods..."

Arcturus stepped forward, his face cast in shadow by the torchlight.

His expression was unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze lingering on the altar for a moment too long.

"Do not falter," he said, voice steady, though softer than before.

"This… is the heart of Zero's blasphemy. Look upon it, and remember why we fight."

But his words, though righteous on the surface, carried a subtle cadence—like a man speaking not with shock or horror, but with familiarity.

Daniel caught it.

His eyes narrowed, shadows flickering faintly in the corners of his gaze.

'Doesn't it seems like he's a little bit too calm...?'

'And the way he walk...it's as if… as if he has walked this path before.'

One of the younger mages fell to his knees, trembling as his eyes darted between the corpses and the altar.

"It's wrong. All of this… it feels wrong"

The dwarf slammed his hammer against the stone floor, the boom echoing across the chamber.

"We'll smash their altar to rubble!"

"No," Arcturus interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade.

Everyone froze, surprised by the intensity in his tone.

His eyes glinted faintly, as though a spark of something darker flashed behind them.

"Not yet… we must understand before we destroy."

The guild exchanged uneasy glances.

Daniel's hand rested on his weapon, his gaze never leaving Arcturus's back.

'Understand before we destroy…? Odd words, for a man who despises Zero. Strange indeed.'

Around them, the silence deepened, broken only by the soft groan of the iron doors closing behind them—sealing the chamber in.

And though none could yet name it, there was a sense of unease crawled into their hearts.

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