The air in the room turned heavy, thick with an unspoken tension as Varek sat up straighter, his instincts kicking in at Dvalin's ominous words. His brows furrowed as he studied the principal's face, searching for any sign that this was just another lesson wrapped in one of the dwarf's usual stories. But there was none of that.
Dvalin, for all his jovial demeanor, was a man who knew when to be serious. And right now, his expression was carved from stone, his sharp eyes carrying the weight of something far more troubling than a mere disciplinary matter.
"Principal, what do you mean by 'situation'?" Varek asked, his voice firm, laced with the kind of concern that came only from someone who had lived through more than his fair share of bitter realities.
Dvalin let out a long, slow exhale, rubbing his thick-knuckled fingers along the braided strands of his silver beard. "Hmmm, your boy isn't the first to try having a double identity—being both a hunter and a student. There've been plenty before him, some successful, others… well, not so lucky." He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle before delivering them. "But the problem isn't just that."
Denwen felt a slow chill creep up his spine. His fingers curled slightly against the hospital sheets, the distant pain of his wounds overshadowed by the gnawing anxiety clawing its way into his chest.
Dvalin's eyes flickered toward him, his voice dropping to a grave tone.
"Emberfall has been making a lot of moves recently on this continent. There've been multiple reports, multiple sightings. And if our intel is right, then we may very well be their next target."
The room went completely still.
A thick silence stretched between them, the kind that suffocated, the kind that made the blood in one's veins turn cold.
"You all know how Emberfall operates." Dvalin's voice was grim, a stark contrast to his usual gruff warmth. "Wherever they appear, they leave nothing behind but ash and ruin. No survivors, no mercy. You've heard about the fall of Flendon Town."
Varek visibly tensed. Of course, he had heard of Flendon. A town with thousands of people recently wiped off the map in a single night. There were whispers of what had happened, rumors too terrifying to confirm.
Dvalin's gaze then flicked to Denwen. "Even the village from your last dungeon outbreak…" His words carried weight, heavy and suffocating. "It's suspected that Emberfall was behind it."
Denwen's breath hitched.
The images of that day surged back to him—the chaos, the screams, the devastation.
His hands clenched around the sheets.
"…So what are you saying?" Varek finally spoke, his voice low and steady, but there was a storm brewing beneath his words. "That there's some sort of connection between Denwen and Emberfall?" His eyes darkened with disbelief, his posture shifting as if preparing to defend Denwen with his very life.
"I won't stand for that," Varek continued, his voice firm. "I swear on my honor as a warrior, on my very life—Denwen has nothing to do with those bastards."
Dvalin raised a hand to stop him. "Hale, I never said I believed it," he said simply, his expression unreadable. "But the law enforcement agencies… well, they don't operate on belief. They operate on facts. And the facts, unfortunately, don't look too good for the boy."
Denwen's stomach twisted painfully.
Dvalin continued, his voice steady, but there was a sharpness to it. "Think about it. He was the only survivor of a dungeon that collapsed in a way it shouldn't have. The readings before the collapse? They weren't normal. It was like the gate was trying to break out." His eyes bore into Denwen. "And when he came out? He was covered in wounds—wounds that, by all accounts, match the weapons of his own teammates."
Denwen stiffened, his mind racing.
No… it's not like that…
He wanted to argue, to shout that it wasn't what they thought, that he had barely escaped with his life. But how could he explain? How could he put into words what had happened in that forsaken place? The cursed game, the queen's eerie smile, the terror of watching his teammates die, one by one, knowing he was powerless to stop it?
Dvalin sighed. "The families of the deceased… they want someone to blame."
The words hit like a sledgehammer.
"They're calling for his head," Dvalin said bluntly. "And right now, the enforcement agencies are leaning in their favor. As far as they're concerned, Denwen is a prime suspect."
Denwen's heart pounded in his chest, a sick feeling curling in his gut.
"I swear—I have nothing to do with Emberfall," Denwen finally managed, his voice hoarse.
A gentle pressure on his leg made him look up.
Agrona had placed a hand there, a familiar softness from her usual demeanor. "We believe you," she said simply, her voice calm and measured. "You don't need to prove anything to us. But you do need to tell us everything that happened in that dungeon."
Denwen's body felt unbearably heavy. His chest ached with something deeper than just physical wounds.
He didn't want to relive it.
Didn't want to say the words.
But if he didn't…
He swallowed hard, then slowly, painfully, began to speak.
He told them about the Bladed Tigers. About the boss they had fought, and how easily it had fallen—too easily. He recounted how their attempts to collect cores had failed, how the bodies had turned to dust in a way that defied nature. Then he spoke of the second dungeon. The statues. The chess game of death.
He left out some things—the queen's cryptic words, the unsettling feeling of being known by something beyond human comprehension.
And finally, he spoke of the moment he had barely escaped, the ring Roy had given him saving his life at the last possible second.
By the time he finished, the room was silent.
Varek moved first, pulling him into a firm, steadying embrace.
Agrona, deep in thought, pushed her glasses higher, her expression unreadable as she processed everything he had said.
Vorden let out a slow exhale, scratching his bald head. "Damn. That's rough, kid."
Dvalin, for his part, looked more troubled than before. "This is worse than I thought."
He stood up, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "Tell the agencies exactly what you told us. Don't embellish, don't leave anything out—except maybe the part about that queen," he muttered. "Emphasize the ring, that's your only solid alibi. They have ways to check if someone's lying, so don't try to overcompensate."
Denwen barely had time to process before Dvalin added, "And you're suspended for now."
The words slammed into him like a blow.
"When the situation is better, we would inform you to return." Dvalin's voice was authoritative, leaving no room for argument. "Let's give time for things to settle."
Denwen barely nodded. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or devastated.
Agrona stood as well, her voice carrying final words: "That is the best possible outcome, in worse case scenarios, you would have been expelled. Be thankful you have Vorden and I by yourside"
Vorden cracked his knuckles, giving him a solid pat on the shoulder. "Take this time to train. If you fall behind, you'll regret it"
And just like that, they were gone.
Leaving Denwen alone with Varek, both of them staring into the heavy silence of the room, uncertain of what lay ahead.