Hours melted away in the silent throne room.
Arachne, recovering slowly, answered Fin's questions. Her voice, still raspy, painted a picture of dungeon ecosystems, mana flows, spawn cycles, and the delicate balance maintained by Lords under the watchful, iron fist of the Admins.
He absorbed it all. Information flooding into a mind supercharged and stabilized by warring power sources. It was knowledge no Hunter was ever meant to possess. Knowledge that painted the Guild, the rankings, his entire life, as a meaningless footnote in a cosmic conflict.
He didn't react outwardly. The blank mask held. The cube pupils remained flat, absorbing light.
But inside? A silent earthquake was leveling everything he thought he knew.
Finally, he focused on her. The girl who tried to kill him, who he drained near-death, now sat explaining the universe's cruel mechanics with the patience of a weary librarian.
