Two hours had passed. The area around the hotel remained silent. Damian had erased every trace—leaving behind only faint cracks in the hallway walls as remnants of the earlier chaos.
Outside the hotel, the searchers continued to scatter, sweeping through area after area, unaware that Sofia was still inside the building.
And in that very room, Damian sat at Sofia's side, his eyes fixed on the girl who had yet to regain consciousness. Meanwhile, within his own body, he felt an overwhelming surge of energy coursing wildly.
"If I'm correct, this must be a mana core," he muttered softly, a satisfied smile curling on his lips as one hand clutched his right chest. "Now, I can harness the magical forces within me!"
The Sage Realm. Even for a genius, reaching it would take decades. But he—Damian Archfindor—had achieved it at just 18 years old.
It was hard to describe the satisfaction flooding through him. Now, he belonged to a revered caste in this world—a Magus, a true wielder of magic.
"Alright, now, what should I do with you?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes locking onto the still-unconscious Sofia.
He remembered clearly—he had used a high dose of midazolam. That drug usually knocked people out within seconds. And it seemed the dosage he administered was enough to keep Sofia sound asleep until now.
In fact, in the original timeline, Sofia remained unconscious throughout the night.
An idea flickered in his mind. Slowly, a wicked grin returned to his face.
"Hmm... that doesn't sound like a bad idea."
---
Meanwhile, at the party, music and conversation still lingered in the air. But the earlier festivity had long faded. Around 40% of the guests had already left. Sofia Valemont's disappearance had changed everything.
Some guests genuinely hoped the girl would be found soon. But others—those who harbored resentment toward the Valemont family—secretly wished otherwise.
They sat among the other guests, faces warm and smiling, but hearts full of malice.
In the middle of the crowd, a middle-aged man patted Gustav on the shoulder before sitting beside him. His brother—Erik.
"I don't know what to say," Erik said, shaking his head slightly. "I can hardly believe someone dared to kidnap Sofia. But her soul fire still burns. She's alive."
Gustav raised his wine glass, sipping slowly. His face still showed deep concern.
"I want to join the search," he said firmly, his voice filled with resolve.
Erik sighed. "You're the man of this banquet. This whole event was made for you. Just leave it to Rowan. He's reliable."
"Hopefully," Gustav replied quietly, taking a deep breath.
Tonight's banquet wasn't just any event. It was a celebration of his recent achievement—breaking through to the Origin Realm after months of stagnation.
But before their conversation could continue, a commotion suddenly erupted near the mansion's gate.
The crowd began moving toward the source of the noise. Whispers spread quickly.
"What's happening?" Gustav frowned, narrowing his eyes.
A servant rushed toward him, breathless.
"Patriarch—the young lady has been found!"
"What?!" Gustav and Erik instantly stood.
They turned toward the crowd and hurried forward.
There, a young man in a white shirt was walking forward, carrying Sofia gently in his arms.
As he approached, Gustav's expression shifted at once. "You're... young master Damian," he muttered.
"I accidentally found her near the hotel, about two kilometers from here," Damian said calmly, handing Sofia over to Gustav.
Gustav immediately checked his daughter's condition. Thankfully, there were no visible injuries or alarming symptoms. But for some reason, his expression didn't show full gratitude—rather, there was doubt. Something felt off.
Erik felt it too. In fact, for a moment, his mind accused—could Damian be the mastermind behind all this?
Gustav looked at Damian. "Is there any other detail you can share, young master?" he asked seriously.
"Of course. She was kidnapped by two men in all-black clothing. My bodyguard fought them, but they escaped. I didn't have a chance to ask them anything, but I saw something that might ring a bell," Damian said, his tone sounding as if he was baiting attention.
"And what is it?" Erik asked quickly.
"I saw a tattoo—three skulls—on their wrists. I don't know what it means, so I thought... maybe you would."
Gustav and Erik exchanged a look. Shocked.
"Three skulls... was it a tattoo or a symbol? Can you explain in more detail?" Gustav asked, his voice growing more serious.
"Yes, a tattoo. And there was a fire symbol too," Damian replied.
Upon hearing that, Gustav's doubt slowly faded. His gaze shifted—turning into realization.
His expression froze. Erik also nodded, coldly. "No doubt about it."
Fury instantly clouded Gustav's face. Behind him, a shadow emerged—a massive, three-eyed, single-horned wolf. Its magical pressure exploded, making the guests hold their breath. His miracle spirit, Storm Wolf—A-Class.
Everyone stood in awe.
Damian, meanwhile, merely smirked inwardly. Here we go.
Gustav turned around. Calmly, he raised his hand. Violet energy surged out, pressing down on one of the guests in the crowd.
Other guests quickly moved aside, opening a path. A man in his 40s, short-haired with a scar running from lip to nose, was pinned to the ground—crushed under Gustav's energy.
"What the hell is this, Patriarch Gustav?!" the man shouted, angry and disbelieving.
Gustav strode forward, pulling up the man's jacket sleeve, revealing the tattoo of three flaming skulls etched into his skin.
"Is this what you saw, young master?" he asked Damian.
"I'm pretty sure it is," Damian nodded calmly.
The man looked on in utter confusion, while Gustav—furious.
Without hesitation, Gustav grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him.
"A dog from the Hounder family... so this is how you repay my kindness? No wonder your patriarch didn't attend tonight!"
The man broke into a cold sweat. "What do you mean, Patriarch Gustav? You believe that guy's words? Wasn't it already explained that Patriarch Leister didn't come due to technical issues?!"
"Yeah, technical issues," Gustav snorted.
Then, with his power, he flung the man into the air—sending him flying past the gates and slamming hard into the ground.
"Tell your patriarch—the truce is over," Gustav said coldly.
The man slowly got up, his face grim.
"Your behavior is outrageous, Patriarch Gustav... He won't be happy about this."
Then, his eyes locked onto Damian. He pointed straight at him.
"And you!"
Damian stayed calm, expression unreadable.
But the man suddenly froze. Reality sank in. Challenging young master Archfindor could mean destruction.
"Forget it," he finally muttered, expression shifting. Without another word, he turned and left the Valemont estate. In his mind, only one thing mattered—delivering this news to his family.
The crowd started murmuring. Curious whispers filled the party area. Many didn't know what had happened. But for those who understood... this was the beginning. The beginning of a conflict. Maybe even—a war.
And the only person smiling with satisfaction... was Damian.
Gustav's expression now shifted—filled with genuine gratitude. No more doubt remained.
"Thank you for your help, young master Damian. I mean it," he said sincerely.
"It's okay. I just happened to be nearby," Damian replied casually.
Gustav nodded, then pulled something from his spatial ring—a golden card.
"I know this gift may not match your status, given your origin from an ancient family. But... at the very least, please accept this," he said, handing it to Damian.
Damian looked at the card. His face remained calm, but inside, he was grinning with satisfaction. This was a VIP card for the Golden Emporio auction—one of the most exclusive in all of Lutherville.
"I'll take it. And I'll take my leave. Goodnight, Patriarch Gus," he said lightly.
Then he turned and walked away—leaving the crowd behind.
Gustav and Erik watched Damian's departure. And after a moment, Gustav glanced at his brother.
"Check the hotel."
Erik nodded.