Crimson Overlord-Chapter 305: This isn’t too bad

The dance had come to an end, but the melody was far from reaching its final note. With a lingering glance at the scene of chaos, Orpheus seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving behind only an eerie silence and unanswered queries echoing through the blood-soaked corridors.

In a mere moment, with a nearly imperceptible snap of his fingers, the barrier surrounding the Blood Hall shimmered and dissolved. The once vibrant crimson glow faded to a faint afterglow, casting an unsettling twilight upon the carnage.

The weight of the events that had unfolded hung in the air, the silence broken only by the sound of blood dripping. Sebastian, once a feared leader, now lay broken and lifeless—a testament to Orpheus’s unwavering power. The remaining assassins, reduced to mere dust and bones, served as a chilling reminder of the consequences that awaited those foolish enough to defy the progenitor.

Yet, amidst the destruction, a strange sense of anticipation lingered. Orpheus’s departure was not an end, but a pause. One could only hope that his return would bring with it a sense of excitement, as he had anticipated.

In the heart of the Blood Hall, bathed in the fading crimson light, a solitary raven perched upon a shattered pillar. Its beady eyes, filled with intelligence and curiosity, surveyed the scene. With a harsh caw that reverberated through the silence, the raven took flight, soaring into the night sky.

The vibrant crimson glow of the Blood Hall faded into the distance as Orpheus returned to the comforting warmth of the familiar tavern. The air was thick with the scent of spilled ale and the sound of boisterous laughter, a stark contrast to the carnage he had left behind.

For now, Lily and the others would have to wait. Another kind of thirst gnawed at him, one that couldn’t be quenched by the essence of blood alone. Sliding onto a worn leather stool at the bar, Orpheus found solace in the cool surface beneath him. The jovial tavern keeper, a burly man with a perpetually surprised expression, looked up and a flicker of recognition crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by a nervous twitch. Orpheus offered a faint smile, enough to put the man at ease, but not enough to erase the chilling memory of his previous visit.

"The usual," Orpheus murmured, his voice low and smooth.

The tavern keeper scurried to fulfill his order, fetching a goblet filled with the strongest vintage they had. As he placed it before Orpheus, his voice trembled slightly.

"Did you happen to... take care of that little problem down the street, sir?"

Orpheus chuckled, a dry sound devoid of humor.

"Let’s just say the Blood Hall won’t be troubling anyone anymore."

The tavern keeper gaped at him, then swallowed heavily.

"Well, good riddance, I say! Those fellows always gave me the creeps."

He retreated, wiping his brow with a greasy rag. Orpheus raised the goblet to his lips, the ruby liquid catching the flickering lantern light. He took a long, deliberate sip, savoring the burn as it traveled down his throat.

But even with the familiar ale in his hand, a restless energy pulsed beneath his skin. The dance in the Blood Hall had revealed more than he had anticipated - a glimpse of power that resonated deep within him. The whispers of the relic, the secrets guarded by Sebastian, they were like unfinished notes in a symphony, demanding to be played.

He finished his drink with a sigh.

Casting a final glance around the smoky tavern, Orpheus pushed himself off the stool. The night was still young, and the song, though momentarily silenced, was far from over. With a subtle touch, he ensured that the memories of those present would be erased, leaving no trace of his visit behind. Stepping into the cool night air, Orpheus embarked on the next Chapter, ready to have more fun, creating more memories.

Orpheus stealthily returned to the crumbling ruin, slipping past his sleeping comrades like a ghost emerging from an unseen realm. Inside his tent, he finally released the tension that had clung to him like a suffocating shroud.

While the others peacefully slumbered, oblivious to the echoes of violence that had shaken the city’s very foundation, the night unfolded like a dream. As the dawn painted the sky in a captivating palette of rose and gold, a new day began.

Emerging from his tent, Orpheus couldn’t help but contrast the memory of the Blood Hall with the gentle breeze ruffling his hair. Inhaling deeply, he felt the cool air fill his lungs, a stark reminder of the precarious balance he walked between - the shadows and the light.

A genuine smile graced his lips as he observed Lily wrestling with the breakfast fire, her white hair a striking contrast against the flames. Her good-natured grumbles were a familiar and comforting soundtrack. Nearby, Ilya, always helpful, offered his assistance. Orpheus and Hellion leaned against the crumbling wall, a silent tableau of camaraderie.

In this moment, surrounded by the mundane routines of their makeshift existence, the weight of the previous night seemed to diminish. Here, in the company of his comrades, he found a semblance of normalcy, a sanctuary where the thirst for blood and the whispers of forgotten relics could temporarily recede.

"Well, well, look who decided to join us," Lily called out, her voice laced with playful mockery. "Breakfast is almost ready, mighty leader."

Orpheus chuckled, the sound resonating deeply within him. "Just needed a moment to bask in the beauty of the sunrise, my fiery cook."

As the day unfolded, filled with shared meals, hushed conversations, and the simple act of existing together, Orpheus realized a profound truth. The melody he now followed required more than just his solitary instrument. He needed the loyalty, strength, and perhaps even the blissful ignorance of his companions to confront the symphony of secrets that awaited them.

The events of the previous night had undoubtedly changed him, but they hadn’t erased the essence of the man beneath the newfound power. And as he watched his companions laugh and banter, he couldn’t help but think,

"This isn’t too bad."