Clayton grumbled in frustration.

"Damn it! I seriously need to buy a defensive formation for this place. If this keeps up, I'll never have peace or privacy!"

He stormed out of his house, only to find a group of familiar faces waiting for him.

"What is it?" Clayton asked, his tone clearly annoyed.

Bravus scowled at his expression.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean, Clayton? Why do you look so pissed off? You think you're better than us now?"

"No. I'm just busy. If you've got something important to say, just say it," Clayton replied, clearly impatient.

The tension thickened. Sensing the mood, Arthur stepped in quickly.

"Ah, sorry for the sudden visit, Clayton. Actually, it was my idea to come. I noticed you've been staying home a lot lately, so I thought maybe you'd want to join us on a hunt. Sorry if we're bothering you."

Arthur's polite tone helped soothe Clayton's irritation.

"It's fine. I've just been focused on training lately, so I haven't gone out much. That's also why I can't join you guys right now."

Arthur looked slightly disappointed. He'd hoped to build a stronger relationship with Clayton. After all, strong allies meant more ways out of trouble when things got messy.

He was also becoming more and more certain that Clayton had real potential as a scroll maker. A few days ago, Arthur had tested one of his scrolls—just for fun—and was shocked at how effective the water pistol spell was.

He imagined how valuable it would be if his party had a steady supply of those scrolls. That's why he had invited Clayton along.

But Bravus didn't take the rejection well.

"What the hell, Clayton? You turning us down? Who do you think you are, some young master from a noble family?"

Clayton completely ignored the outburst, as if Bravus wasn't worth acknowledging.

"Thanks for thinking of me. But I'm really busy right now," he said, trying to remain polite.

Bravus clenched his fists.

"You bastard, Clayton! How dare you ignore me like that?!"

Still, Clayton didn't respond.

Bravus snapped.

"Clayton, you—!"

He lunged toward Clayton, hand outstretched, face twisted with rage.

But before he could even touch him, Clayton's hand shot up and caught him mid-air.

The sudden stop was deafening.

A chilling magical pressure swept over the area, laced with the scent of blood. The air felt thick—like death had arrived.

Even those further away were frozen by fear. Bravus, caught at the center of it, began to tremble violently.

Then, under the weight of that pressure—he broke.

He wet himself.

The crowd stared, stunned, until the smell made it painfully real.

Bravus didn't realize what had happened right away... but when he did, the shame hit him like a brick wall.

Clayton shoved him aside in disgust and turned to leave without a word.

The others, still shaken, followed suit in silence.

Bravus was left standing there—alone and broken, like the soul had been ripped from his body.

…

Arthur had watched the whole thing in stunned silence. His suspicions were all but confirmed—Clayton was far from ordinary. He glanced at Equus, who stood frozen in place, deep in thought.

Arthur assumed Equus must be glad they had made peace. Lucky to be safe.

But the truth was, Equus was more terrified than ever.

He had long suspected that Clayton was the one who killed Hank. But he'd buried that thought, refusing to believe it.

Now, after what he'd just witnessed, denial was no longer an option.

"How terrifying must someone be to hide that much strength… pretending to be weak this whole time?"

Equus began to panic.

Should he apologize?

Or… hire someone to get rid of Clayton?

He deeply regretted ever crossing him.

…

In a small, dark hut, a man sobbed uncontrollably.

Anyone who saw him would feel uneasy.

"Damn it… damn it… damn it…"

"That bastard Clayton…"

The grinding of teeth echoed in the still room, soaked with hate and despair.

"Why?! Why did everything turn out like this?!"

The man was Bravus.

Today, his pride had been utterly crushed.

He had imagined himself as the underdog hero, clawing his way to victory. A comeback story.

But reality had other plans.

When Clayton began helping local farmers—offering advice in exchange for magic crystals—Bravus had scoffed. He thought it was nonsense and refused to follow the instructions.

The others who listened had successful harvests. He did not.

He blamed Clayton.

When his crops failed, he begged to borrow grain. No one helped. Not even Clayton.

Again, he blamed him—despite knowing, deep down, it was his own fault.

Then one night, on his way home from yet another failed attempt to borrow food, Bravus stumbled upon something bizarre.

In the woods, a man and woman were… embracing. But their auras were terrifying—far beyond normal.

Just as he tried to sneak away, the man's body suddenly began to shrivel and dry. Before he died, he shoved a glowing bead into the woman's chest.

She screamed as her body erupted in wounds and fire. A terrifying magic battle ensued.

Frozen in fear, Bravus could only watch from the shadows. Even after it was over, his body wouldn't move.

Eventually, he approached and found only two things left behind: the bead, and a small bottle of pink perfume.

The bead was a charm—one that repelled unholy creatures. He now wore it around his neck.

The perfume was something else.

It attracted monsters.

He nearly died when a rank-0 beast was lured by its scent. But once he understood how it worked, an idea formed in his mind.

What if he used it to draw out stronger monsters?

Despite his fear, he tried—and it worked.

But in one careless accident, he spilled some on himself.

That had been the worst day of his life. Until today.

Until Clayton shattered what was left of his pride in front of everyone.

Now, remembering both days, Bravus's face twisted into a manic grin.

"Hahaha… Clayton… Just you wait…"

His laughter filled the hut, eyes gleaming with madness.

His sanity had begun to unravel.