After subduing the Netherworld Wolf, Lynn stepped out of the light gate, and the projection of the Stigmata Domain withdrew into his body.
He sat in the chair beside Grom, picked up the teapot, and poured himself a cup of tea.
The tea was cold, but he did not mind. It still tasted better than River Styx water.
"Lord Grom, there's no need to make such a grand affair of this." Lynn set down his teacup. He had clearly heard Grom's instructions.
Grom waved a hand. "Times have changed. Lord Lynn is a powerful Stigma. When a Stigma comes to Soul-Sinking Valley, we have to mark the occasion."
"The Wizards stationed here were overjoyed when they heard you had arrived. A Stigma—how many times could they possibly see one in their lifetimes?"
Lynn did not refuse again.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
He had spent half a month walking beneath the River Styx. Though his body had been tempered stronger by the river, the exhaustion in his mind could not be dispelled.
That loneliness, that darkness, that feeling of having lost all his strength, that endless walking—it all weighed on his heart like a stone.
Only now, back in the main world, seated in the familiar stone hall and listening to Grom's voice, did he truly relax.
Grom did not disturb him and went out to arrange the evening banquet.
By evening, the banquet hall of Soul-Sinking Outpost had lit up.
The lights were crystal lamps set into the walls, casting a soft glow.
White tablecloths covered the long tables, which were laid with silver cutlery and wineglasses.
The cooks busied themselves in the kitchen, and enticing aromas drifted through the cracks in the door.
People began arriving one after another.
The first to arrive