The group turned down a street, and the Grayfeather Family residence stood ahead.
The gray-black gates resembled the open maw of a beast, its family crest faintly visible through the morning mist.
The young adventurer's legs went weak. "Boss, are we really going in?"
"If we don't go in, what can we do?" The short man looked utterly despairing.
"I only regret not drinking more yesterday. Today, I'm heading for the grave." Another adventurer muttered.
The burly man said nothing.
As he watched the gates draw closer, the last trace of luck in his heart vanished.
Getting into this place was easy. Getting back out would be harder than ascending to heaven—unless they were thrown out like dead dogs as corpses.
Lynn, the Grayfeather Family patriarch, was a One-Ring wizard, the ruler of all Graystone City.
To him, people like them were no different from stray dogs on the street.
We absolutely can't go in. That was the only thought left in the big man's mind.
The faction behind him had agreed readily enough when it came time to pay, but if something truly happened, those people would only hide away.
No faction would wage all-out war against a One-Ring wizard family over a few errand runners.
They would merely be treated as disposable pawns, dying in the dungeon without anyone hearing a sound.
The burly man did not turn around. He merely shot several of his subordinates a quick look.
The signal was subtle. The short man beside him froze for a moment before understanding.
The others caught on as well.
Their boss's meaning was simple.
Run! If they did not run, they were all finished!
The group continued forward.
City guards escorted them on either side, their spears gleaming, though their attention was focused on the Grayfeather Family