Chapter 86: Arya’s Questions

The night was drawing to a close, and the Jeju Forest slowly descended into a hushed stillness.

By the time Ser Hughway had finished the execution of the assassin’s true duplicate and the eradication of the mutated 3rd-Tier Lycan Abomination, the hunting expedition had officially reached its conclusion.

Word of the operation’s end spread rapidly across the treelines.

The knights and retainers who had witnessed the terrifying ascent of Dark Sister and the subsequent return of Ser Damian from the central sector were immediately met by the First Dragonknight’s stern commands.

Gathering the three loyal Sword Sages assigned to the expedition force, Ser Damian swiftly briefed them on the situation.

He disclosed the presence of the five ghost-masked Ranker assassins who had dared to infiltrate the domain to execute their Lord Viscount, and revealed the monumental news of Craig’s successful ascension into the Sword Runner class.

Understanding the grave security implications and the absolute necessity of fortifying the stronghold, the three Sword Sages obeyed Ser Damian’s directives without question, immediately rallying the troops to withdraw back to the Viscounty.

They left Ser Hughway behind in the scorched central grove without fear, knowing full well that the veteran knight possessed the overwhelming strength of a Sword Master.

Ser Hughway himself wasted no time in exiting the Jeju Forest after securing his gruesome trophies.

Though he moved with urgency, his mind was largely at ease; he knew Ser Damian was already standing guard at Heaven’s Net Castle, ensuring that no lingering threats could approach the young Viscount.

Inside the quiet, heavily fortified walls of Heaven’s Net Castle, Craig von Darkstar lay peacefully across his massive, velvet-draped bed, taking a deep and necessary nap.

For any Superhuman who had just shattered their limits and ascended into a higher martial class, rest was not merely a luxury.

It was a vital biological imperative.

The strain of forcing an ascension, combined with the raw influx of fresh mana pathways, placed immense pressure on the mind.

Sleeping immediately after an evolution allowed the soul to settle, stabilizing the practitioner’s sanity and mental anchor.

Without this crucial period of rest, a newly ascended Ranker ran the terrifying risk of having their emotions overridden by volatile energy, sparking an irreversible Abyssal corruption.

Outside the castle walls, far toward the perimeter of the Old Valley, Dark Sister had already retired to her designated territory.

Construction on the monumental Dragon’s Pit was still actively underway, with teams of earth mages and stonemasons working around the clock.

The 4th-Tier Dragon exercised incredible discipline, maintaining a wide distance from the human builders so as not to crush them or shatter their nerves with her overwhelming pressure.

Instead, she lazily coiled her massive, obsidian body inside a deep, earth-carved pit, feasting quietly on the heavy pile of 1st and 2nd-Tier Abomination carcasses that had been harvested and stored for her feed.

Back in the Viscount’s private quarters, the silence was broken by a soft, rhythmic sound.

Knock. Knock.

Craig’s golden-crimson eyes snapped open instantly.

Despite having been asleep moments prior, his mind as a Peak-stage Sword Runner was razor-sharp, his newly expanded senses picking up the delicate footfalls outside his heavy oak door.

“Who is it?” Craig asked, his voice steady, carrying the natural weight of a sovereign.

“My Lord Viscount, it is Arya,” a quiet, melodious voice answered from the corridor.

Craig’s eyes flickered with a subtle, icy glint as he lay in the dim room.

A barrage of rapid questions instantly crossed his mind.

Why has she come to my chambers at this hour?

Did she come to finish what those five Rankers failed to achieve?

Is she aware that the ambush in the central grove was utterly wiped out, or is she acting on separate orders entirely?

Despite the cold suspicion swirling behind his eyes, Craig maintained absolute composure.

He did not reveal a shred of hostility or alter the rhythm of his breathing.

“Come in,” Craig commanded calmly.

The heavy door creaked open smoothly. Arya stepped into the grand chamber, her posture graceful and refined.

She wore her immaculate maid’s uniform, her dark hair neatly tied back, and her hands delicately holding a silver tray.

Resting upon the tray was a polished glass cup filled with a steaming, greenish hot tea that wafted a faint, aromatic herb fragrance into the cool room air.

She offered a gentle, flawless bow, her lips curving into a warm, respectful smile.

“My Lord Viscount,” Arya greeted softly, her eyes shining with apparent relief. “I offer my humble congratulations on your safe and successful return from the Jeju Forest hunting expedition.”

She stepped closer, placing her hands together as she gestured toward the glass. “I noticed your exhaustion upon your arrival, so I took the liberty of brewing a batch of rich tea produced directly from the rare Hannrosa flower of the East.

It is renowned for soothing the nervous system and easing the mind into a deep, restorative sleep.”

Craig looked at the glass, his expression unreadable. “Thank you, Arya. Leave it on the wooden table beside the bed. I will take it later.”

Hearing those exact words, Arya’s subtle smile faltered for a fraction of a second. A faint, almost imperceptible frown twitched at the corner of her brow.

It was the exact same script as before—whenever she presented him with specially prepared brew, Craig would casually instruct her to leave it on the table and dismiss her, refusing to consume it in her presence.

Yet, despite the hidden irritation flitting through her thoughts, she remained a maid in status.

She possessed neither the authority nor the standing to challenge the direct orders of the ruler of Heaven’s Net Castle.

Recomposing her expression instantly, Arya glided toward the side of the gigantic bed, carefully setting the glass cup onto the dark wooden nightstand.

“As you wish, My Lord,” she said smoothly.

Instead of turning to take her leave, however, Arya lingered by the edge of the bed.

She folded her hands over her apron, her eyes fixing upon Craig with a sudden, sharp curiosity that departed entirely from her usual deferential routine.

“If I may be so bold as to ask a question before I take my leave, My Lord…” Arya began, her voice dropping into a lower, remarkably serious tone.

“…I have heard whispers regarding your upcoming strategic directives for the Viscounty. How does My Lord Viscount plan to establish his independent private military company, and what structure will it take?”

Craig leaned back against his propped pillows, his golden-crimson eyes narrowing as he locked his gaze onto his maid, the air in the chamber growing instantly heavy.