Chapter Seven, Fury.

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  In the center of Tilmont stood a massive manor, directly lined up with the adventurers guild, just far deeper in the city. Tilmont was rather small, just barely qualifying for its title, but the residents still considered it a town.

  Within this manor, resided a decently sized family, and within a study on the upper floor, sat a middle aged man.

  He was engrossed in his work, equipped in his everyday robes. He had a rough look, scruffy. His hair was long and black, unkempt and reaching his shoulders. He had a full beard, not much space left on his face. It seemed like he didn't care much for his appearance...

  Smack dab in the middle of his face were two scars, crossed on his face. The history of an attack that nearly took his life. His skin was tanned, from the years he spent basking in the sun. Perhaps, his most noticeable feature were his eyes.

  His sclera were black, and his irises purple, a small mist of mana emanating off of them as he quickly dealt with the paperwork at his desk.

  And then.

  BOOM!

  "SIR!" The door to his office burst open, a young man equipped with glasses stumbling inside.

  The man lifted his head, sending a questioning brow furrow towards the young man.

  "U-Uhm, Lord Tilmont... Adventurer Ryan Sarcosa's lifeline has gone dark!" The guild representative spoke.

  Instantly, anger and concern seemed to find it's way onto the man's face, fright appearing on the boy’s face in response..

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  (Lord Tilmont)

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  Just like that, the room was empty besides for the nervous boy, leaving only him to break the silence.

  "Why's it always me that has to deliver him the scary information..."

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  A figure appeared within a room, two other people already present.

  "Ah! The great [Martial Sage]! Thanks for joining us so quick!" A woman spoke, her naturally crazed expression showing itself. Her messily tied back purple hair swayed in the wind of her approach. Her hand that was equipped in a fingerless glove attempted to pat down on the new figures shoulder.

  But she was only met with air.

  A frown appeared on her scarred face, her thin scarf fluttered with her movements.

  "So on guard all the time, Tilly." She frowned, feigning hurt feelings, and returning to her original spot.

  This woman was the head of the the Magic Union here in Tilmont, the other man who was seated at the desk, being the Adventurer's Guild Manager.

  "Ryan Sarcosa's lifeline. He is dead. Why is a member of my sons party dying in a lowly D-rank dungeon." The new appearance, Sir Tilmont, questioned the Guild Head. There wasn't any hostility, just an intense straight forward approach.

  It wasn't anything unusual.

  "We have already sent reinforcements to the dungeon. We noticed a mass death of the parties that entered this morning, my people should be near arrival. We can't know for sure considering I didn't send any adventurers in personally. We will just have to wait for the reinforcement scouts to relay information once they arrive." The Guild head replied.

  "I have a suspicion that it's a [Thread Warper]!" The head of the Magic Union spoke. Tilmont raised a brow.

  "Why?" He questioned.

  "Well~... You know I'm just sensitive towards those kind of things... It just makes sense. I can't figure out why the Dungeon Core would put resources into a [Thread Warper] this early on in it's life cycle, so there must be something else inside that is disturbing it... But that's the only creature that a fledgling Arachnid Dungeon could possibly create that could wreak havoc throughout without being confined to the Bossroom." She explained.

  "And we've taken Agatha's prediction into account. I've sent three C-Rankers, one with [Novice Space Magic]. She should be able to lock down any spatial distortions and easily handle the [Thread Warper] herself, if that is the problem." The Guild head added in.

  Lord Tilmont squinted his eyes at the two people before him.

  "How about I put the whole Dungeon in a spatial lock. I'd rather not risk any harm to my son. A few young C-Rankers can't guarantee much more safety than his party already can. They're nearly a C-Ranker together, and they faced a casualty. Who knows if they managed to defeat their foe. They could have been forced to retreat and it could very well still pose a threat." He suggested, Agatha, the Mage, shook her head no.

  "That would render Randall's space magic obsolete. If the threat if greater than a [Thread Warper], she will need access to all of her power to guarantee survival of your son and his party. There are still a few high D-ranks within, we hope they can meet with the reinforcements to tackle the Dungeon in it's entirety. We don't care for the stability of a dungeon that is willing to produce creatures beyond it's rank so easily. We already have [Firehold], an Arachnid Dungeon would just be a mob farm anyway. Dividing resources between the two would be a waste of time until they both reached higher ranks." She rambled.

  Tilmont did not care much for her opinions, but he understood her words.

  "..." He became thoughtful for a moment. "Alright, do it your way. But I want the Dungeon stabilized. I will find a way to monopolize it personally. Finding it at it's breaking point, when it's still fresh, means the Core is less mindless than the average. We could have good relations with it, perhaps change it's type with the right deals." He spoke.

  The Guild head and Union lead, both nodded.

  "Will do Tilly!" Agatha shouted.

  Without much of a goodbye, Tilmont disappeared from the room, leaving the two behind.

  There was silence for a moment, a frown emerging on Agatha's face.

  "He gets so much... Blander... With each level." She murmured.

  "[Martial Sage] is a high rated class, and with his [Talent], he's going to grow far into it... Forty years old and nearly mid A-rank... We're all prodigies and even we are still barely A-rank." The guild head replied.

  "It's just a shame that [Martial Sage] clears the mind in the way that it does, Zen." Agatha scooted herself off of her friend's desk, the two making eye contact.

  "We all knew we would reach high ranks since we were young. It's just a shame we aren't doing it together any more." He shrugged, his short white hair falling into his face.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Yeah... A real shame."

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  Jora pat his stomach, finishing the small spider meal that had waltzed its way into his mouth.

  A smile was plastered on his face. He was fully satisfied with his current growth. From the vague memories he had inherited from his devoured corpses, he was able to figure that none of the same level would be able to beat him.

  He was already far beyond the power of the Ice mage that had fallen to his prey, despite still being four levels lower. His base stats was just barely more than his, and although that was great, and perhaps not unheard of...

  He had barely even been putting attribute points into them. He was dumping mostly everything into his hidden attributes... That was what was putting him far above average competition.

  That's what he assumed at least.

  That's what his intuition told him, his [Sensitivity].

  BOOM!

  The tunnel he was in, shook. He misplaced a step and stumbled a bit, the shaking soon dying down.

  A burning smell wafted into his nose from far in front of him.

  He could see the tunnel coming to an end, another identical clearing. He could see the dim light from a distance, and he could see the explosion of flame that seemed to cause the rumbling.

  "A battle..." He murmured.

  He walked forward, not sparing a glance towards the drop of blue blood on the ground that stemmed from his short lived meal.

  "Boreas' party had retreated far back... This must be a new group... What could they possibly be fighting?" He questioned.

  He continued to stride, quietly, melding into the darkness.

  The earth masked him, his body hunching over as he approached the opening.

  Thankfully the tunnel was still dark, and not much light funneled into it.

  He peered around the corner, his presence hidden extremely well.

  And then it hit him.

  One of the greatest smells he had ever smelled.

  No, the greatest smell he had smelt since his awakening.

  A smile emerged, but he swiped the screens away.

  His eyes locked onto three bodies within the room.

  A girl, unconscious, and slung over a mans shoulder.

  The man who had the girl slung over his shoulder.

  And the corpse of what he had been attempting to find.

  His brow furrowed.

  Heat rose in his mind.

  "You killed my fucking food." He murmured.

  Rage bubbled within, his hands reaching up to his head.

  They squeezed.

  "I was anticipating it! The taste. The power! The threads! With it's body so destroyed will I even be able to obtain it's skills?" His eyes started to change color. He glanced towards the body of the massive spider.

  It's rear was completely obliterated. Only its head and a small portion of its body was left. Three front legs remaining.

  His eyes became bloodshot.

  Involuntarily, he entered his state of [Fury], emotions overwhelming him.

  His body threatened to pounce from the darkness, killing everyone in one go.

  But he restrained himself, with intense struggle.

  Just from the smell, he could tell that the man and woman had power he had yet to encounter. Strength he wanted for himself.

  But he had to be sure he could take them on.

  The world was telling him not to take it lightly.

  So...

  He dug into a household spell he obtained from Boreas' high level magic skills.

  He murmured, "Observe... [Analyze]."

  His eyes hummed, and a panel appeared before his face.

  Each line made Jora warier and warier.

  It was the final one that made him understand.

  "Lucky bastard."

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