[Chapter 266. The Wolves Den]

Rayan shifted his weight, pushing away from the cold stone wall. His nervous gaze swept across the vast hall, lingering on the pulsating blue energy of the dungeon portals before returning to Searanox. The lines etched around his eyes seemed deeper, speaking of sleepless nights spent wrestling with an unsolvable problem.

Searanox followed his gaze, taking in the small crowd milling about the spire entrance. A handful of bronze-ranked citizens in loaned armor chattered nervously near one portal, while two silver-ranked adventurers examined another with practiced eyes.

"So, what is the problem?" Searanox asked. "I assume there is a reason you aren't at the tower."

"Yes. We might have a problem. We are still not sure, but..." Rayan dropped his voice to a hushed whisper, stepping closer. "Samantha and I have been looking into the Wolves of the Spire. Something doesn't add up."

Searanox dismissed his travel drone with a subtle gesture, the blue light winking out as the machine dissolved into particles. He closed the remaining distance between them, casting a long shadow over Rayan. "Stop speaking in riddles and give me the facts."

"We sent in two of our Awakened to join them as clients. We haven't heard back from them since they left yesterday." Rayan's voice grew urgent. "One was a middle aged woman, the other an older man. Desperate people. The kind the Wolves usually target."

Searanox shrugged casually, though his eyes sharpened with interest. "People die every day in the dungeon, Rayan. That's the price of advancement."

"That's the problem—they haven't entered the dungeon," Rayan interrupted with sudden intensity. "We ordered the staff to log when their groups enter and return. The Wolves of the Spire have gone in several times, but the two we sent to join them? Their names never appeared on any entry log."

"I see," Searanox said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So you're camping out at the Spires to see if they enter through some alternate means?"

"Not quite." Rayan shook his head, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Even if they had secretly entered, they should have reported back to us by now. Samantha believes something else is going on."

"Hand over everything you know," Searanox said calmly. Five teardrop-shaped forms materialized in the air around him. The recon drones shimmered into existence with a soft hum, their metallic surfaces gleaming before they shot upward, exiting the spire and dispersing across the city like silent, watchful eyes.

"Yes, of course, my Lord. They are a ragtag group of Awakened who have already made it to silver rank. As far as we could find out, they work in two teams. That is all we've been able to learn." Rayan forced himself to maintain eye contact, despite an obvious instinct to cower.

"That's barely anything, Rayan. But I remember Samantha mentioning them. They take others into the dungeon, asking nothing in return." Searanox looked over the people milling about the spire. "Now that you mention missing Awakened, it does sound highly suspicious for someone to provide such a service for free."

Rayan scanned the room again, as if the Wolves themselves might materialize. "They operate out of the west side of the city. If you want to join one of their runs, you just visit them and ask for help. I can guide you to their house." He swallowed hard. "They have a reputation for being... persuasive. Their clients never seem to have anything but praise for them."

Searanox nodded, looking toward the blue vortex at the far side of the hall. The swirling energy cast an ethereal light across his sharp features. "Let me first clear the dungeon, then you can show me where these people are."

`I need to stop summoning drones right before I head into a dungeon.` He noted to himself.

Searanox walked toward the dungeon entrance. Just a few minutes later, he stepped back out of the portal, his gear completely untouched by the grime of the dungeon. He returned to Rayan and summoned two travel drones, their streamlined forms appearing with a burst of blue light. "Get on."

Rayan nodded, his eyes wide with awe as he mounted the spare drone. He gripped the handlebars with white knuckles.

A short time later, they arrived at the building Rayan had indicated—a two-story stone structure nestled between similar houses in a quiet residential district. The drones vanished in a cloud of blue sparks, causing Rayan to stumble and hit the ground with a thud as the vehicle disappeared beneath him.

"It's this building right there. Would—" Rayan pointed a finger at the unremarkable structure, but he couldn't finish his sentence. Searanox was already marching toward the door, leaving the administrator standing alone on the cobblestones with his mouth hanging agape.

From the side of the door, a guard shouted, "What are you doing here? Entry only with permission." He was a burly man with a scarred face, resting a threatening hand on the hilt of a sword. His aggressive stance suggested he had stood this post many times before, intimidating hopeful newcomers.

Searanox grabbed the man by the face and slammed his head into the wall. The impact echoed through the quiet street with a sickening thud. "What kind of residential building needs an armed guard?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. The guard's eyes rolled back as he slid to the ground in an unconscious heap.

With a sharp pull, Searanox opened the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. Without his sharpened hearing, he wouldn't have perceived the faint sounds of weeping mingling with the rhythmic creaking of furniture and masculine laughter from within. The modest building—a standard house given to every citizen upon arrival—had been transformed into something grotesque. The air was thick with the stench of stale sweat, spilled alcohol, and a faint coppery tang that spoke of recent violence.

He walked deeper inside and found a scene reminiscent of the ruined city hotel. A dozen men lounged comfortably in the spacious room while half-dressed women danced and served them. The women moved with mechanical grace, their eyes vacant and distant. They were covered in bruises that suggested the deliberate application of pain. Their movements were constrained, their smiles fixed and brittle like painted porcelain dolls.

"You should have invited me if you were throwing a party," he called out, taking another step deeper into the room.

His presence immediately silenced the revelry. The laughter died as the men turned to face him, surprise shifting to alarm.

"I thought you ran a dungeon group, not a brothel." His voice was cold as he took in the glint of weapons resting near the loungers and the terrified, hollow-eyed young women who flinched at his every word.

The men began laughing again, their rough voices filling the room with arrogant confidence. One of them—a compact, powerfully built man with a jagged scar running down his bare chest—stood up and approached Searanox. He wore a smug expression, resting his meaty hands on his hips as he looked up at the intruder, easily a full head shorter than the Dhampir.

"Well, it's a bit of both. We help out the less fortunate in this city in exchange for their bodies," he said with a wicked grin, baring yellow teeth. "Since you barged in here without permission, I'm guessing you're one of the less fortunate."

The other men laughed, their eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. Some idly stroked the bruised arms of the women, who flinched but were forced by the System's Geas to remain still.

Searanox looked at him, thoroughly unimpressed. His expression remained cold and detached as he turned his head to look back at Rayan, who was still standing in the doorway, pale and wide-eyed with horror. "Do you see anything that would stop me from doing what I am about to do, Rayan?" His conversational tone made the situation even more terrifying.

Rayan shook his head, the shock making it hard to form words. "No, my Lord," he finally choked out, his eyes darting nervously between Searanox and the armed men rising from their couches.

The shorter man raised an eyebrow, his confidence unshaken. "Do what you are about to do? I'd like to see you try." He snickered, looking at Searanox with contempt. "You and what army?" As he spoke, he subtly shifted his weight, his hand moving closer to the dagger at his belt.

The other men pushed up from the couches, shoving the women off their laps as they grabbed their weapons. The women stumbled to the floor, their faces twisted with pain and resignation as they scrambled out of the way.

"Rik, we got a situation in here!" one of the thugs called out, his voice laced with excitement rather than alarm.

A voice echoed from deeper in the house, carrying an air of authority. "Remember guys, don't kill him. Just make sure he can't move. We'll take him to the dungeon and finish him off inside." The calm calculation revealed this was not the first time they had dealt with intruders.

Searanox turned back toward the scarred man, his pale face a mask of indifference. "I don't need an army for the likes of you."