The academy formally declared victory. The assassins had been repelled, the Macab's influence was sealed, and the city was safe once more. However, some threats had managed to slip away into the shadows, waiting for another chance. But for now, at least, they had earned a moment of respite.
The air was still thick with the scent of burned mana and blood when Kalem and his companions gathered in his forge.
The place was cluttered as always—metal scraps, half-forged weapons, and old designs scattered across the workbenches. A warm glow emanated from the forge, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The scent of heated iron and oil mixed with the lingering traces of battle.
Nara leaned against the wall, her left arm in a sling. She winced slightly as she adjusted her position. "So, I guess it's over." Her tone was casual, but there was an exhaustion beneath it.
"Yeah, I suppose," Lyra murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the bandages wrapped around her forehead. A nasty cut had nearly cost her consciousness during the fight, but she had stubbornly pushed through.
Jhaeros sat near the forge, quietly stroking Velka's fur. The dire wolf had suffered deep gashes from the frenzied assassins, and while the academy's healers had done what they could, she was still recovering. Her massive frame shuddered slightly as Jhaeros ran his fingers through her fur.
"Well, at least we now have a peaceful time ahead of us," Isolde said, adjusting the bandages wrapped around her torso.
Kalem sat on a stool by his workbench, staring at his hands. They were covered in burns, cuts, and bruises—some from forging, others from the battle. His fingers flexed slightly, aching with every movement.
"Yeah," he echoed, though his tone lacked conviction.
The room lapsed into silence for a moment, each of them lost in thought. The weight of what they had just survived was settling in.
Lyra eventually spoke up, her voice steady despite the exhaustion in her eyes. "The Blood Nights are over."
Nara raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"
Lyra nodded. "The way it works is simple. Multiple assassins from different factions get hired for different reasons—some are meant to kill, others to sabotage, others to test. But the moment something like the Macab happens, the event is over."
Jhaeros frowned slightly. "Because it violates the rules?"
"Because it disrupts the balance," Lyra corrected. "The Blood Nights are a war in the shadows. It's meant to be precise, calculated. When something like the Macab's influence starts affecting the city on a large scale, it turns into open warfare. That breaks the unspoken agreement. If the chaos spreads too far, the wrong people start getting involved."
Kalem nodded slightly. "So, whoever hired the assassins failed, in the end."
"More or less," Lyra agreed. "Some of them might try again, but not under the Blood Nights. This was their best shot."
Nara exhaled, shifting against the wall. "Good. I'd rather not go through that again."
Jhaeros continued stroking Velka's fur, his expression unreadable. "That doesn't mean they won't try something else."
"Let them," Kalem finally said, his voice steady. "Next time, we'll be ready."
The forge crackled softly in the background, filling the silence with its steady heat.
As the night stretched on, the others gradually left. Isolde, who had found a new place to stay, was the last to depart, giving Kalem a nod before vanishing into the darkened streets.
Once he was alone, Kalem moved with quiet precision, securing the doors and windows of his forge. He checked them twice, ensuring no one could see or enter before making his way to his workbench.
Reaching under it, he pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle, its fabric stained and heavy. Carefully, he unfolded it, revealing a collection of bloody items—rings, amulets, scraps of enchanted cloth, and shards of infused metal. These were the spoils he had taken from the fallen assassins, their tools, their secrets.
He had looted their bodies in the aftermath, not for wealth, but for knowledge. Something had allowed these assassins to resist the Macab's influence. If he could unravel that mystery, he would gain an edge—one that might prove invaluable in the future.
His fingers brushed over a cracked gemstone, its surface pulsing faintly with lingering mana. A charm, perhaps? A ward? Whatever it was, it had worked.
Kalem exhaled and reached for his tools. He had a long night ahead of him.