"We need to part ways from now," Kaelen whispered from behind a jagged stalagmite.

Fifty yards ahead lay the second-floor safe zone. Heavy iron barricades, reinforced by glowing holy crystals, actively repelled the toxic purple miasma. Beyond the gates, adventurers’ tents and roaring campfires dotted the cavern.

Seraphina knelt in the shadows, pulling her white Paladin cape tight to obscure her golden hair.

"There are Vanguard Templars at the gate," she observed. "If they use a resonance crystal, they will detect the Abyssal magic in your core."

"They won’t scan me," Kaelen replied confidently. "I’m a Level 1 Mana Transfusionist. In their records, I don’t possess enough mana to threaten a goblin, let alone harbor heresy."

"Just be careful," she warned, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "A cornered coward with a greatsword is still dangerous."

Kaelen looked at her. Her genuine concern felt so foreign. For three years, nobody cared if he bled out in a ditch. Now, the strongest woman in Aethelgard was looking at him as if he were her entire world. The Mana-Binding had fundamentally rewritten her loyalties.

"I want him cornered," Kaelen smiled sarcastically. "Find a high strategic position. Stay out of the light and wait for my signal."

"Yes, Master."

Seraphina melted into the darkness. Utilizing her high-level agility, she silently climbed the rough wall, hiding perfectly among the stalactites.

Kaelen turned back to the safe zone. He scooped up some damp, ash-colored mud and smeared it across his cheek. He tore his sleeve further, exposing jagged bruises. Suppressing his Abyssal Aura, he forced his posture into a hunched position. The domineering Level 38 Mana-Binder vanished. In his place stood a pathetic, broken leech.

Kaelen limped out of the shadows toward the iron gates.

"Halt!" a Vanguard Templar barked, crossing spears with his partner. "Introduce yourself!"

Kaelen fell to his knees, coughing violently. "Kaelen Vance," he gasped, clutching his ribs. "Support class... Roderick’s party."

The Templars exchanged bewildered looks and lowered their weapons.

"By the light of the Tree," the second guard murmured as he lifted Kaelen. "We received word about you. Your party leader reported you slipped into the third-floor ravine during an ambush."

’Slipped,’ Kaelen thought, his blood boiling.

"I survived," Kaelen whispered, lowering his head. "Please. I need my party."

"Bring him inside, fetch a potion," the first guard ordered. "The Silver-rank party is by the central fire."

The heavy gates screeched open. Kaelen limped into the crowded campsite. Adventurers stopped to stare at the mud-covered boy. Everyone knew the mortality rate for support classes in the Chasm. Seeing a Level 1 Transfusionist walk out alone was impossible.

Kaelen ignored the stares, locking eyes on a large bonfire near the center.

Sitting on a wooden crate was Roderick, his new armor gleaming as he held a large mug of ale. Beside him sat Lyra the fire mage, chewing roasted meat. They looked completely relaxed. Several older Gold-rank adventurers stood around them, listening intently.

"It was a tragedy," Roderick sighed, wiping his mouth with his gauntlet. "The mutated crawler emerged from the darkness. I held the line, naturally. But the poor leech... he panicked."

"Support classes always lack discipline," a Gold-rank warrior scoffed.

"Exactly," Lyra chimed in. "He broke formation, ran toward the ravine, and lost his footing."

"I tried to grab him," Roderick lied smoothly, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "But the stone gave way. May the World Tree guide his weak soul."

"You’ve done all you could," the warrior patted Roderick’s back. "A knight cannot save those who refuse to stand their ground."

Kaelen stopped walking and pushed the Templar’s arm away. He stood up straight, his previous pathetic slump posture vanishing. The air around him seemed to drop a few degrees.

"That’s an fascinating story, Roderick," Kaelen’s voice rang out. It was no longer hoarse. It was cold, sharp, and full of hatred.

The camp fell dead silent.

Roderick froze. He slowly turned his head. When his eyes met Kaelen’s, all color drained from his face. His jaw dropped in unadulterated terror—the exact look he had given the crawler.

"Kaelen?" Lyra shrieked, dropping her meat into the dirt. "Impossible! You fell!"

"I did," Kaelen said, taking a deliberate step toward the fire. "It was a very long drop."

Roderick scrambled backward, knocking over his crate. He reached for his greatsword, his hands trembling so wild. "A ghost..." he stammered. "A shape-shifter trick of the miasma!"

"I’m flesh and blood, coward," Kaelen spat, making sure his voice was heard clearly. "He didn’t try to save me. When the crawler attacked, Gael was hit by acid. Lyra ran screaming."

"Lies!" Lyra yelled, her face turning bright red.

"And you, our fearless vanguard," Kaelen continued, piercing Roderick with his gaze. "You dropped your shield. You grabbed me by the collar and throw me into the monster’s jaws so you could run."

The crowd was shocked. Using a party member as monster bait was the ultimate taboo, leading to an instant expulsion and serious criminal charges.

The Gold-rank warriors stepped away from Roderick, their hands drifting toward their weapons.

"Is this true, Roderick?" the Gold-rank warrior asked dangerously.

"No!" Roderick shouted, drawing his greatsword. He pointed the blade at Kaelen’s chest. "He’s a bitter, worthless leech! He’s trying to ruin my reputation! Don’t listen to him!"

"You pointed your sword at an unarmed civilians inside a safe zone," Kaelen observed calmly, crossing his arms. "Are you going to kill me in front of the Templars to keep me quiet?"

Roderick sweated profusely. He was trapped. His panick and aggression only proved Kaelen’s story.

"Put the sword away, knight," a deep and authoritative voice echoed.

A large man pushed through the circle. He wore a black coat over silver armor, bearing the golden emblem of the Adventurer’s Guildmaster.

Roderick swallowed hard and lowered his blade. "Guildmaster... you must understand, he’s lying."

"We’ll find out who’s lying," the Guildmaster said firmly, noting the severe bruising on Kaelen’s body. "It’s a miracle you survived, boy."

"The World Tree protected me," Kaelen lied seamlessly.

"Your accusations are very serious," the Guildmaster stated. "Using a party member as bait breaks our foundational laws. Roderick, you and your mage are confined to your tents. Tomorrow morning, you will face an Inquisition’s trial. They will use a truth-seeker crystal on both of you."

Roderick’s eyes widened in fear. A truth-seeker crystal would rip the lie straight out of his mind. He would lose his knighthood, wealth, and freedom.

"This is madness!" Roderick protested.

"It is the law," the Guildmaster countered. He turned to Kaelen. "Boy, go to the clerics’ tent for medical attention. We will take your statement in the morning."

"Thank you, Guildmaster," Kaelen nodded respectfully.

As the crowd dispersed, murmuring about the scandal, Kaelen caught Roderick’s eye. The knight glared with absolute hatred and cornered desperation.

Kaelen smiled—a tiny, mocking smirk only Roderick could see.

The trap was set. Kaelen knew a cornered coward wouldn’t wait for a trial. Roderick would try to silence the only witness in the dark.

Kaelen turned toward the medical tents, his mind connecting with the silent shadow above.

’Get ready, Seraphina,’ Kaelen projected through their Abyssal bond. ’The prey will leave the light.’

’Understood, Master,’ her voice echoed warmly. ’I will prepare the altar.’