Alfred said to Vaelor, "We don't need to choose. After all, Clarence already wants us."
His voice was calm, almost detached, as if he had already accepted the outcome.
Clarence smiled faintly and said, "Yes. But you still have to prove your worthiness."
His eyes slowly moved between them, measuring their reactions.
Vaelor stepped forward and said, "If we don't…?"
The question remained unfinished, heavy in the air.
Clarence didn't answer directly. Instead, he looked toward the masked men who were holding Perun and Serin unconscious, their bodies hanging loosely in their grip.
That single glance was enough—it was a warning.
If they didn't cooperate, they had to be ready to face all consequences, no matter how cruel.
Vaelor stood there hesitantly, his fists clenched, torn between rage and helplessness.
After a brief moment of thought, Alfred raised his hand and gave a subtle sign to one of the masked men.
The gesture was quick, deliberate.
Vaelor turned to him in shock and said, "Why did you—"
Alfred interrupted coldly, "No one here is innocent. They are part of this shit by choice."
His eyes showed no regret, only resolve.
Clarence nodded approvingly and said to that man, "Step up."
The man moved forward hesitantly, fear visible in every step, until he stood beside the small stone pillar.
The moment he trying to touch it, his body stiffened—
and within seconds, he turned into ashes, scattering across the ground.
The sight was horrifying.
For Vaelor, this moment was deeply traumatic. He had always stood on the side of justice, always believed in saving lives—and now, even indirectly, he was part of a killing.
The weight of it crushed him from the inside.
After that, Clarence walked toward the third pillar.
He lifted the magma stone in his hand, its surface glowing with unstable energy, and placed it carefully into a small case—the same case where he kept the blue stone.
Without another word, Clarence left with all his men,
leaving Perun and Serin unconscious on the ground.
Vaelor rushed toward them, kneeling down, shaking them gently, trying to wake them up.
Alfred also stood there, silent, watching everything with unreadable eyes.
At the mansion, Junwell and Caeson were with a Senate Third Division executive,
who had been locked inside a room.
They were forcing information out of him.
Junwell said, "Don't you know about the First Division?"
Caeson watched the man closely and said, "It's like he doesn't even know."
With nothing more to gain, Junwell and Caeson left the room, locking it again behind them.
As they walked away, Junwell said, "Do you see Alfred?"
"I haven't seen him for a long time. It's like he just disappeared."
Caeson replied, "What if someone captured him?"
Junwell shook his head. "Well I believe on his capabilities but we'll have to check ourselves."
Caeson smirked slightly and said, "Yeah. And those Senate dogs who were searching for us—Caeson smirked slightly and said, "Yeah. And those Senate dogs who were searching for us—
it's time to strike now."
Junwell replied confidently, "You prepared? Because I am."
Caeson said, "As always. I've got my Beretta."
"Let's take the car."
After that, they reached a bar which was a popular hangout spot for the Senate—mostly lower and mid-level members, though a few high-ranking figures were sometimes seen there.
Junwell and Caeson entered wearing black hats, moving calmly.
The bar was full of hustle— thugs, smugglers, rough men laughing loudly.
At one table sat four big men in jackets, who was the same, searching for them.
Junwell approached the bartender and showed him a picture of Alfred.
"Have you seen him?"
The bartender narrowed his eyes and said, "You're not from the Senate, are you?The bartender narrowed his eyes and said, "You're not from the Senate, are you?
Are you guys new?"
Junwell and Caeson slowly removed their black hats.
Junwell said coldly, "Yeah. We're new, fuckers."
The entire bar fell silent.
Everyone recognized their faces instantly.
One of the jacketed men with a scar on his face stood up and said loudly,
"They're Junwell and Caeson… heads of the Three Families."
Every person in the bar rose to their feet with killing intent.
The bartender quietly slipped away from the counter.
Caeson raised his Beretta and said, "Hey— all of you have one option."
Surrender."
But the people in the bar pulled out weapons—
swords, knives, and even guns.
Junwell said calmly, "I'll take them."
Caeson nodded and put his gun back in his pocket. "Alright."
The people advanced toward Junwell.
Moments later, the bar exploded into chaos—
glass bottles shattered, tables broke apart, bodies flew across the room. It felt like a disaster had struck.
Junwell stood in the middle of the wreckage,
holding the scar-faced man by the collar in one hand and a broken glass bottle in the other.
He leaned closer and said quietly, "Now tell me. Did you see him?"
The man was completely terrified. He peed his pants and fainted from sheer fear.
Caeson turned to another jacketed man with a beard and asked, "You seen him?"
The bearded man stammered, "We… we saw someone like him.
There was an old guy who looked similar." "I think he took the old man's get-up… and then a mad guy with red eyes appeared—
and after that, the old man was disappeared."
Caeson froze. A flashback of Vaelor's red eyes crossed his mind.
He believed the man and asked, "From where?"
The bearded man replied, "Near Norus Public Library… on a street nearby."
Caeson and Junwell left the bar without another word.
As they walked away, Junwell said, "Why did you get so quiet after hearing that story"? It's not like it makes sense. Why would Alfred wear an old man's get-up?"
Caeson replied slowly, "I don't want to believe it… but I think it's true."