Every Debtor has its Own Creditor

Night had fallen, and the full moon in the heavens bathed the land in a beautiful silver glow. It was breathtaking—anyone who looked up would surely be captivated by its serene brilliance, especially with the countless stars that shimmered around it.

While war and chaos raged on in the Aurora Town, the entire Alchemist Association remained quiet and peaceful. To them, it was nothing more than an ordinary night. Each member was absorbed in their own pursuits—some trained as Adventurers, others devoted themselves to refining their mastery of alchemy. Nearly everyone was preoccupied, so few souls wandered the grounds outside.

Like many factions, the Alchemist Association also possessed a forest within its territory. But unlike the perilous wilds elsewhere, this woodland was tranquil and calm. No Vicious Beasts lurked in its shadows; only the soft chorus of insects could be heard amid the stillness. Their songs were a gentle backdrop to the moonlit trees, inviting peace into the hearts of any who listened.

Deep within this quiet grove, a young man slowly made his way along a narrow path. He wore a green uniform, and the aura surrounding him unmistakably belonged to an 8th Level Scarlet Gold Rank Adventurer.

That young man was none other than Hitch Dreo.

Hitch had once been one of the Alchemist Seven who competed in the Seven Great Faction Games on the Floating Island. He was also among the young Adventurers who escaped the Mystic Treasure Realm alive—all thanks to Finn. Back then, he had only been a 6th Level Scarlet Gold Rank. But now, through Finn's help once more, he had risen to 8th Level.

He was one of the Adventurers who had been enslaved by the Tenth Prince. When Finn came to reclaim Lore and Leo, Hitch followed him, determined to put an end to the Tenth Prince's arrogance.

Finally free to claim the treasures he'd earned, Hitch had poured everything he'd gathered into advancing his cultivation. And yet—even with all that effort—even standing at 8th Level Scarlet Gold Rank, he felt far from satisfied.

Because of Brien.

After returning from the Mystic Treasure Realm, Brien's power had immediately broken through to 9th Level Scarlet Gold Rank—surpassing Hitch by a level.

That single level was enough for Morris to lavish Brien with favor. Even the elders never ceased their praise.

And so, Hitch had thrown himself entirely into training and the study of alchemy and battle. He was desperate—driven—to one day surpass Brien. He could no longer stand Brien's smug superiority or the way everyone treated him as their favorite.

Always second. Always behind. No matter what he did, he could never pull ahead.

While Hitch continued along the moonlit trail, he suddenly froze. Voices—low and secretive—drifted to his ears. He immediately searched for their source. When he saw who it was, his eyes widened in shock.

In the distance, partially hidden in the trees, he saw Brien speaking with a figure cloaked in a black mantle.

Hitch quickly suppressed his aura and crouched behind a patch of thick grass. He focused all his attention on listening.

"Brien, you nearly revealed your true identity with that selfish stunt," rasped the cloaked man's voice. "I've already warned you—you cannot use that technique while you're in this kingdom."

"Hmph! I refuse to accept that I could be defeated in that moment," Brien spat back, voice sharp with resentment.

"But you were defeated regardless," the rasping voice replied calmly. "More importantly, you allowed Noah Vildar to sense and witness that technique. He is almost certainly suspicious of you by now."

"Who cares about Noah Vildar?" Brien snapped. "Yes, he's a prince, but his influence isn't what it once was. Even that old fool Helbram didn't notice the technique I used."

"I didn't tell you the truth," said the cloaked figure, "because I knew you'd act rashly if you learned of it. But clearly, I was wrong—your recklessness knows no bounds. Over eighteen years ago, Noah Vildar was present the moment your father died."

Brien's expression changed in an instant.

"What?!" he shouted. "Why did you keep that from me?!"

His fury erupted in a wave of killing intent so intense that Hitch felt it wash over him like a freezing wind. His heart lurched with horror.

'A 4th Level Profound Rank?! How?! And what are they talking about?!'

"Calm yourself," the cloaked figure murmured. "Everything has been arranged. The Crimson Blood Kingdom has wagered countless resources on this plan. We cannot afford to fail now. Tomorrow—when Morris Haqin leaves to visit the king at the palace—we will move first. We will eliminate him."

'Crimson Blood Kingdom…? Brien Latter is from the Crimson Blood Kingdom?! What in the world is going on? I have to report this to Association Master Morris!'

"I understand," Brien said coldly. "Just remember the justice you promised me."

The cloaked man nodded once. Then he shifted his gaze—straight to Hitch's hiding place.

"Your fellow Alchemist Association member has heard far too much. Wouldn't you agree it's time to silence him?"

Hitch's eyes went wide. A chill flooded his veins. He scrambled to his feet to flee—

But he was too late.

Brien appeared before him in the blink of an eye.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you that eavesdropping is rude?" Brien whispered, a sinister smile curving his lips. He drew a blade and began pressing it slowly against Hitch's chest.

"You traitor!" Hitch snarled, hatred blazing in his eyes. "When Association Master Morris and Elder Alicia learn of this, they'll see you for what you are—and you'll die!"

Brien's smile widened. He leaned close until his face was only inches away.

"By the time they learn the truth, you'll already be dust."

The blade ignited in a wicked red flame that slithered down its length.

"And your pitiful kingdom will be next. Consider yourself lucky, Hitch Dreo—you won't live to suffer any longer."

He drove the burning sword into Hitch's heart.

"EAAAAAAAH!"

BANG!

A muffled explosion rocked the quiet forest. But aside from Brien and the cloaked man, no one would ever hear it.

--

Silence fell over the battlefield in Aurora Town. The chaos, the screams—it was all gone. No one dared to speak. No one even breathed as they stared at the young man standing among the corpses, the shattered rubble heaped over Gastavo's lifeless body.

"Who…who are you?! Why would you interfere in this war?!" one Rogue Adventurer finally shouted, though his voice trembled. He was a mere 3rd Level Profound Rank. Wealth and survival were all he cared for, so when he'd learned the Nine Ice Family was hiring mercenaries, he'd joined without hesitation.

"Finn…Doria?!" an Elder of the Nine Ice Family cried out, face ashen. "No—that's impossible! You've been dead for over three months!"

Panic rippled across the Nine Ice Family forces. One by one, every man and woman there turned pale as the young man's eyes swept over them—eyes that burned with a cold, merciless light.

"This is nothing but a nightmare! You're dead!" the elder shrieked again.

He charged, swinging his chain armament with a howl.

Finn didn't even flinch. A sword shot through the air and—

Spuuurt!

The elder's head separated cleanly from his neck. Blood spurted in a high arc, drenching the stones. His body dropped to its knees, then crumpled face-first in the spreading pool of red.

At that moment, the Nine Ice Family's courage collapsed.

"Where are you going?!" Finn roared as they turned and fled in terror. "You dared come here—did you think I'd let you leave alive?!"

He lunged after them.

"EAAAAAH!"

"HELP ME!"

"I'm an Elder of a Noble Cla—EAAAAH!"

"NO…WAIT…PLEASE—I WAS JUST FOLLOWING ORDERS—AAGH!"

One by one, their screams were cut short. Blood soaked the stones like a river.

The warriors of the Azure Wood Family could only watch, speechless, as Finn slaughtered every last enemy. Some dropped to their knees, unable to believe what they were seeing.

"Elder Caesar…am I dreaming? Is that really Finn Doria?" Augustus whispered hoarsely.

Both men were drenched in blood, their bodies barely able to stand. But as they watched Finn's unrelenting retribution, strength flickered back into their limbs—just enough to stay conscious.

"…I don't know," Caesar murmured. "But Family Head Augustus—we must tend to the wounded. So many are already dead. If we don't act now, more will follow."

Augustus blinked, as if waking from a trance. He turned, taking in the devastation—the fallen, the maimed, the dying.

"Listen to me!" he shouted. "All those still able to move—help the wounded! Treat their injuries! We've already lost too many. I will not stand by and watch another life slip away through our negligence!"

The survivors jolted into action. Recovery pills were forced between cracked lips. Bleeding limbs were bound. No one knew whether their efforts would be enough—but it was all they could do.

Finn's steps echoed over the stones as he approached the last survivor—a trembling Scarlet Gold Rank on his knees, tears streaming down his face.

"M-mercy, Finn Doria—please… I was only following orders. If you must, make me your slave—but don't kill me…"

Finn's gaze was icy.

"I will spare you," he said at last. "You will return to the Nine Ice Family. Tell them this: their greatest nightmare has come back to collect his debt."

The man scrambled to his feet and fled so fast he nearly tripped over his own legs.

Finn watched him go, then turned and began walking back through the battlefield. His eyes took in every broken body, every face twisted in grief.

A mother knelt, clutching her child's lifeless hand. A young man wept beside the body of his dearest friend—Sig, cradling Damian's corpse to his chest.

Memories rose unbidden.

Their laughter as boys. Their mischief. Their shared trials at the Sacred Dragon Institute—only Finn had passed. The day he'd sent them to gather azure leaves.

And now, Damian was gone forever.

Finn's vision blurred with tears.

He walked on until he reached the cold remains of the Elders—First, Second, and Fourth. Pillars of the Azure Wood Family, struck down by mercenaries.

Then he saw Neleos—unconscious, one leg severed.

Augustus and Caesar were watching him. Their eyes were as hollow and grief-stricken as his own.

"…Finn Doria," Augustus whispered, voice breaking.

At last, Finn came to a stop. Before him, slumped against a wall, was a man whose arms hung useless at his sides. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to remain conscious.

"S-son…" the man rasped through bloodied lips. "I knew…you were alive…"

THUD.

BANG!

Finn dropped to his knees. Tears fell freely. He pressed his forehead to the blood-soaked ground.

"Father…! This is all my fault! I'm nothing but a worthless son! If it weren't for me…if it weren't for me, none of this would have happened! Please—please forgive me!"