Hearing those words, Silas let out a silent breath of relief. Thank goodness, he had gotten through to them.
He knew most of these Centaur Clan members were reckless and single-minded, blinded by a fierce pride. He had been forced to lay out the situation in minute detail, appealing not to their sense of morality, but to their pragmatic fear of greater losses. If Titus and Locas had been as blinded by rage as Lulufu, this entire situation would have collapsed into immediate, futile bloodshed.
The response from the Centaur leaders meant they were still capable of thought and willing to talk. This was not yet a fight to the death—it was a political negotiation waged on a field slick with gore.
Silas maintained his composure, but shook his head firmly. "The explanation you demand will not be given. As I stated, it was your Centaur Clan that instigated this, not humanity. If you insist on that apology, we have nothing further to discuss. Count the cost. Many of our people have died here, too. Should you not be offering us an explanation?"
He cast a look over the ravaged field, his voice dropping slightly. "This is war. Once it starts, no one controls its reach."
"No! No explanation means we fight now!" Lulufu immediately roared, his eyes wide and burning with a savage fury that seemed to defy reason.
Silas ignored him completely and addressed Titus. "Enough blood has been shed today. I propose both sides step back and let the silence settle. Let us discuss this another day. Whether it is a war or peace we choose in the end, we humans will meet you there. What say you?"
Titus's harsh expression flickered, clearly wrestling with the sudden offer of reprieve.
"Don't trust the humans! They are masters of sweet talk! Our Centaur Clan warriors will never yield!" Lulufu shouted from the side, trying to reignite the standoff.
"Lulufu, you're so eager to fight?" Fred's cold voice cut through the tense air, sharp as a whetted blade. "Come, I'll take you on. We'll decide who's superior right now, life or death. Do you dare?"
Lulufu's head snapped up, glaring at Fred, veins throbbing tight on his neck. "Afraid of you? Never."
"Step out. No one else interferes. No reinforcements, no support." Fred declared, moving forward from the line of human Professionals.
Lulufu started to take his own step, his muscles coiling, but Locas caught him—his hand clamped down hard on the impulsive centaur's flank, holding him in check.
Lulufu wrenched his head around to face him. "Locas?"
Locas gave him a slight, warning shake of his head. Then, he turned his gloomy gaze toward Silas and the human group. "We can talk, but Lulufu is right. You will give the Centaur Clan an explanation. Otherwise, this matter has no end. You are correct; enough blood was shed today. I will grant you humans some time to discuss among yourselves how you plan to appease the anger of our people. If you do not deliver a satisfactory answer, the war will resume in earnest."
The faces of many human Professionals darkened, their eyes darting fiercely to Locas. They felt the trap being set—the Centaur Clan demanding tribute to avoid further war.
Silas's expression remained steady. "Then let us talk tomorrow. Both sides take a step back today."
"Agreed." Locas pondered the situation for a moment, weighing the benefit of a regrouping period against Lulufu's rage, then nodded a grim acceptance on behalf of the Centaur Clan.
"I disagree!" Lulufu immediately burst out, his stance rigid with objection.
Locas pulled him back again, leaning in to whisper a few urgent words into his ear—a mixture of strategy and threat, no doubt.
The distance made the exchange impossible to overhear. All the humans could see was Lulufu's expression changing from fury to frustrated acceptance. For a long moment, he clenched his teeth, snorting with unwillingness, but in the end, he dropped the subject and fell silent.
With this brief consensus reached, the temporary truce was established.
Both sides began the somber task of collecting their fallen. The air was thick with the scent of pine needles, copper, and fresh soil. Seeing the bodies, both human and Centaur Clan members lost their emotional control several times, bringing them to the brink of fighting again. In each case, their respective leaders intervened to suppress the renewed aggression.
Finally, they stood, staring at each other with bloodshot, weary eyes, the truce hanging by a single thread.
Locas gritted his teeth one last time. "Tomorrow, the explanation must be given."
He then led the Centaur Clan members away, turning and disappearing into the dense forest. Lulufu did not cause any more trouble, only glaring fiercely at the humans until the trees swallowed him whole.
As Silas and the others watched them leave, the air was heavy and cold. After a long pause, Silas spoke in a deep voice. "Let us go, too."
A young Professional gently supported a comrade's corpse, tears streaming down his face as he murmured, "Brother, I'll take you home…"
A great battle had concluded, paid for with a heavy cost on both sides.
Soon, the Gloomy Jungle was empty, leaving behind only the churned earth, broken branches, and the deepening bloodstains telling the silent story of the cruel war that had just passed.
After both humans and the Centaur Clan had retreated, two figures stepped out of the shadows near the Gloomy Jungle Instance boundary. Vincent looked out over the blood-soaked ground, silent and still, absorbing the grim scene. Thalia stood beside him, her gaze vacant as she contemplated the consequences of the rising violence between the races.
Back at Undead Mountain, no one yet knew of the deadly second encounter in the Gloomy Jungle. Because the nearby Rabbit Instance was currently occupied by the Centaur Clan, Undead Mountain was uncharacteristically crowded. A large number of 0-level Centaur Clan Professionals were present, pushing the boundaries of the fragile peace.
Due to the previous skirmish at the Rabbit Instance, the human crowd was palpably hostile towards the centaurs. Despite the deep tension, however, the humans were very restrained, largely ignoring the interlopers. The Centaur Clan naturally noticed the simmering resentment and the sharp, averted glances. Although they were clearly annoyed by the lack of respect, they did not dare to mock or provoke the humans as their kinsmen had before, keeping to their own section of the Instance queue.
The two sides kept a wide, clear distance, focusing on their own Instances, coexisting in a fragile, temporary peace.
That peace shattered without warning.
A brilliant, pulsing blue light suddenly erupted from the Undead Mountain Instance entrance, drawing every eye away from the crowded queue.
When both humans and Centaur Clan members saw the text that appeared across the luminous banner, their mouths went dry, and their eyes widened in unison.
"The Undead Mountain Hell Instance speedrun record… was broken?"
"Holy smokes, and it was a solo clear? Impossible!"
"Record breaker… Paradise, Frost?!"
The realization hit them like a physical blow, silencing the entire mountain. Everyone stared at the text in stunned disbelief. Humans were paralyzed. The Centaur Clan members were equally dumbfounded, their racial arrogance momentarily forgotten in the face of this impossible feat.
From the Instance's white light, a young Priest girl walked out. She glanced up and saw the record-breaking text floating above the entrance.
A rush of adrenaline and quiet excitement brightened her eyes, and she clenched her fists tightly within her gloves. She had done it. Solo. Clearing the Undead Mountain Hell Instance. And she had done it while deliberately holding back some of her full speed, maintaining the mysterious aura of the Paradise group.
After a moment, she recovered from the thrill, her eyes sparkling with cold satisfaction. She pressed her lips together, pulled out her phone, and quickly typed a message.
"Hell Instance record broken. Proceeding with Phase Two."
She hit send, but no reply came through right away.
She was momentarily puzzled. Was he in an Instance, or merely busy? Never mind, she thought, returning the phone to her pocket. His last message had been clear: complete the mission and then disappear. Now, it was time to leave.
The thought of leaving made Lyra feel a small pang of disorientation. Iron Fang City—she had been here for four years, training, adapting. It wasn't her original home, but it felt close enough. Now that she had truly decided to depart, a wave of melancholy washed over her.
But the memory of her sister, whose fate remained unknown and whose rescue demanded this sacrifice, hardened her gaze. She would not linger. She put her phone away and turned to leave, walking toward the city gates.
Just then, a familiar voice, loud and filled with profound astonishment, reached her.
"Hey, hey, hey! It's Paradise again! This time, a new codename! Frost? Solo record-breaking? Could this really be… a third Epic Professional? We need to find this person now!"
Lyra subconsciously turned her head. She saw a Mage girl in the crowd, Lisa, staring up at the floating text with a shocked expression, surrounded by her small, familiar group of teammates.
Lyra hesitated for a brief second, noting the eagerness in Lisa's face, then she lowered her head and resumed her journey. After joining the mysterious collective known as Paradise—a group that required ultimate anonymity—she knew her former teammates could no longer interact with her. She was a ghost now, a cipher named Frost.
I wish them all the best, she thought, and kept walking, melting into the passing crowd.
The long march back was silent and weighted. A somber procession carried the dead. Silas and the Director of the Long Reach City Combat Affairs Department walked side by side, both men speechless, the atmosphere oppressive. Every step was a testament to the sacrifice, and every face was etched with the grim reality of the war to come.
Then, cell phones suddenly began to ring. Almost simultaneously, more than a dozen phones chimed along the line of march. Silas and the Combat Affairs Director both automatically reached for theirs.
"Hello?"
"Who is this?"
The men answered their calls, their voices flat with exhaustion. The other Combat Affairs members were too dispirited to care, their heads bent as they carried their fallen comrades.
But then, a series of astonished, sharp exclamations made everyone look up, breaking the funereal silence.
"What did you say? A third suspected Epic Professional has appeared?! And they're from Paradise?!"
"Are you certain? Who gave you this data?"
"Codename 'Frost'?! That's the third one this month!"
All the calls were carrying the same astounding news. The revelation sent a shockwave through the weary group, momentarily eclipsing the tragedy of their losses.
After hanging up, everyone instinctively looked at Silas and the Director. The two leaders exchanged a long, meaningful glance, the same level of profound astonishment mirrored in their eyes. The threat of the Centaur Clan had just been complicated by a new, unpredictable internal force.
After a long pause, the Director of the Long Reach City Combat Affairs Department spoke, his voice laced with confusion. "Is it possible that one of those first two children simply changed their codename to throw us off track—a clumsy attempt at misdirection… or has a third Epic Professional truly emerged?"
Silas's eyes were wide with shock. After a moment, he murmured, "I don't know. But if it's the latter… this group, Paradise, is far more important, and far more mysterious, than we ever imagined. The world is changing faster than we can track it."
At the exact same time, back on the Centaur Clan's side, the news also arrived, causing chaos in their retreating ranks.
"What did you say? Paradise has a third member? And they solo-cleared the Undead Mountain speedrun record? That's human territory! How dare they!" Lulufu's incredulous roar sliced through the forest, shaking the leaves from the branches and causing all the Centaur Clan members nearby to look over in utter astonishment, their anger over the truce forgotten in the face of this baffling new development.