Chapter 188: Settlement

Rey—maintaining his Eru persona with practiced ease—allowed Kaela and Jaren to guide him through Salimoor’s districts, their enthusiasm for helping their "savior" providing perfect cover for gathering intelligence about Aether society.

Rey catalogued details methodically—merchant hierarchies, pricing structures, quality indicators that distinguished legitimate goods from counterfeits. Information that would prove useful for future operations.

"Where would someone like me be expected to live?" Eru asked with appropriate uncertainty.

"Nephilim typically settle in the western district. It’s not officially segregated, but... social pressures tend to cluster people by heritage."

They continued walking, and Rey noticed the subtle reactions his appearance generated—suspicious glances from some pedestrians, religious gestures from others, occasional open hostility quickly suppressed when they noticed his Guild identification.

And exploitable, if managed correctly.

"We can help with that!" Kaela said eagerly. "Jaren and I know landlords who prioritize character over heritage. Let me make some inquiries."

That evening, Kaela invited Eru to her home—a modest two-story building in the middle-class residential district that showed signs of careful maintenance despite its age.

Rey accepted graciously, recognizing the social integration opportunity this represented.

"Mira, Thomas, this is Eru," Kaela introduced. "He’s the Searcher I told you about. The one who saved Jaren and me in the dungeon."

"You’re really strong?" Thomas asked with childish directness.

Mira approached more cautiously. "Kaela said you used Technniques like the Paladins. That you made fire and lightning and saved them from monsters."

Kaela watched the interaction with visible emotion. After the children returned to their studies, she spoke quietly to Rey in the kitchen while preparing tea.

Rey listened with appropriate sympathy while internally noting the information for potential exploitation.

"Until the Dungeon of Malice," Rey observed gently.

Rey felt nothing about this revelation except recognition of its strategic value. Kaela’s gratitude wasn’t just professional courtesy—it was a deeply personal obligation rooted in family preservation.

"I’m glad I could help," Eru said with warmth he didn’t feel. "Family is precious. Protecting those bonds matters more than individual survival."

******

"I wanted to talk about my situation," Jaren explained once they were seated. "My fiancée—her name is Elise—she’s been worried sick since the expedition. When word came back about the casualties..."

"We’re planning to marry next spring," Jaren continued. "I’ve been saving money from Guild missions to afford a proper ceremony and establish a household. But after what happened in the Dungeon of Malice, I’ve been reconsidering whether Searching is worth the risk."

"Possibly join the city guard," Jaren replied. "More stable income, less mortality risk, still using my Spirit Art training productively. Elise supports whatever I choose, but I know she’d prefer I take safer work."

"If you hadn’t saved us, I’d never have seen her again. Never had the wedding we’ve been planning. Never built the life we’ve been dreaming about. You gave me a future I thought I’d lost."

All of it based on manipulation and calculated murder of people Jaren had considered friends.

Jaren nodded enthusiastically.

******

The first two landlords showed immediate skepticism when they noticed Rey’s Nephilim features.

"Guild members only, I’m afraid," the second said, despite Rey’s visible Guild identification.

"Eru saved our lives," Kaela stated firmly. "He’s a Gold-rank Guild member with verified capabilities and character. His heritage is irrelevant compared to his demonstrated integrity."

Marion studied Rey with experienced eyes that suggested she’d seen her share of prejudice and recognized its stupidity.

She quoted reasonable rent for a small house with basic furnishings—not charity, but fair market rate without the inflated pricing Nephilim typically faced.

******

Perfect foundation for long-term operations.

’Adonis,’ Rey thought, allowing himself a rare moment of genuine remembrance. ’Always optimistic, always believing the best in people. You’d probably like Kaela and Jaren—they have that same naive goodness you valued.’

’You’d see through my act immediately,’ Rey admitted internally. ’Call me out on the manipulation, demand I stop using people. But you would also understand why I’m doing this, would’t you? No, you wouldn’t approve. Still... revenge against the gods requires resources I can’t acquire honestly.’

Esme, Noah, the others who’d died at some point in H’Trae—each face carried weight that Rey had learned to compartmentalize rather than process.

"If things were different..." Rey murmured to the empty courtyard. "If I hadn’t lost everything. If I wasn’t committed to revenge that requires becoming a monster..."

"Kaela and Jaren could have been my friends. Real friends, not just useful tools. We could have shared meals without ulterior motives, trained together because we enjoyed it, and built trust that wasn’t based on manipulation."

"But that’s not our reality," Rey continued, his voice hardening. "I am what I need to be. They’re resources to be exploited. Nothing more."

Work awaited.

Strength to acquire.

Nothing else mattered.

Meanwhile...

The investigative team surrounded the Labyrinth entrance with professional wariness—eight Category S Guards under command of a Devil named Conrad Zevalis

"What do we know about conditions inside, sir?" one of the Guards asked.

He stopped mid-sentence.

A figure emerged from the darkness—stumbling, clearly injured, barely maintaining consciousness.

Silver-white hair matted with blood and dirt.

Equipment torn and scorched. Mystical pressure suggesting Category S capability despite obvious depletion.

"Medical support now!" Conrad ordered, kneeling beside the fallen woman while others activated healing techniques.

The woman’s eyes focused briefly, recognition dawning.

"The rest of your team?" Conrad asked urgently. "Valdris? The other Guards?"

"Dead," she stated flatly. "Everyone... dead. Valdris, Kira, Theron... all dead."

Amara tried to respond, but consciousness fled before words could form.

The medical Guards worked frantically while Conrad processed the implications.

Three Category S Guards, dead.

Whatever existed in the Labyrinth’s depths had killed forces that should have been able to handle anything short of Archduke-level threats.

They lifted Amara’s unconscious form carefully, her silver hair catching the dim light as they carried her toward waiting transport.

Comrad frowned deeply as a dark gleam flashed in his concerned eyes.