Rebirth of the Disgraced Noble-Chapter 117: The Effects of a Breakthrough
Aden remained on the floor, his back against the cooling wood, listening to the rhythmic sounds of a house trying to settle. In the kitchen, the soft clink of ceramic and the slosh of water signaled Lorelei’s attempt to salvage breakfast. In the corner, the low, synchronized breathing of the three boys created a fragile layer of normalcy.
But beneath the floorboards, Aden could feel the city waking up in a panic. The Resonance spike from Eren’s breakthrough hadn’t just been a light show; it had been a physical blow to the local atmospheric aether.
"Master," Lorelei’s voice drifted from the kitchen, devoid of its earlier sharp edge. "The tea is steeping. It is not the high-grade leaf from the inner courts, but it will settle your nerves."
Aden grunted, pushing himself up. His joints protested, a lingering ache from acting as a literal anvil for an Attuned-level explosion. He walked into the small kitchen area. Lorelei stood by the stove, the steam from the pot curling around her translucent fingers. In the morning light filtering through the grime-streaked window, her features were striking, ethereal, yet grounded by a strange, domestic grace.
She handed him a chipped mug. Her fingers brushed his, and for a second, the cold, spectral chill of her touch sent a stabilizing shiver through his core.
"You’re thinking about the Guild," she stated, not asking.
"I’m thinking about the Silver-Crest shipment," Aden corrected, taking a cautious sip of the bitter, earthy brew. "They were already on edge. Now they think a high-level Abyssal beast or a rogue cultivator is nesting in the south waste-lands. They’ll accelerate their departure. They’ll want to move before whatever ’it’ is decides to hunt."
Lorelei leaned against the counter, her violet eyes tracking a stray spark from the hearth. "And you want to be there when they move."
"The kids need more than just tubers and a leaking roof, Lorelei. They need a path that doesn’t lead back to a cage," Aden said, his gaze drifting toward the room where Eren slept. "That shipment is the only thing moving through the Black-Stripe gorge this week. If the Gloom-Creepers are as active as the Guild says, that caravan won’t just be carrying silver. It’ll be carrying a death toll."
Lorelei straightened, her expression clouding. "You intend to shadow them. Not as a guardian, but as a scavenger?"
"As an insurance policy," Aden replied. He set the mug down, the ceramic clicking sharply against the wood. "If they make it through, I get the coin the Adventure Guild promised. If they don’t... well, the Abyss doesn’t have much use for refined ores and spirit-silk. We do."
’Practical,’ the Entity hummed, its voice vibrating with a dark approval. ’A scavenger king for a brood of monsters. It suits you better than playing the weary hero, Aden.’
A sudden, sharp knock thundered against the front door.
The sound wasn’t the polite tap of a neighbor. It was the heavy, rhythmic strike of a gauntleted fist. Armin and Reiner bolted upright in their corner, their eyes darting to Aden in terror. Even Eren stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as his newly formed meridians flared in a defensive reflex.
Aden didn’t move toward the door immediately. He looked at Lorelei, who had already begun to fade into the shadows of the rafters, her violet energy simmering just below the surface.
"Stay with the boys," Aden commanded softly.
He walked to the door, his hand resting casually on the latch. He didn’t feel fear, only a cold, simmering annoyance that the peace had ended so quickly. He pulled the door open just wide enough to see the visitor.
Standing on the threshold was a man clad in the heavy, slate-grey leather of the Adventurers’ Guild. He was tall, with a face mapped by scars and eyes that had seen enough death to be wary of a shadow. Behind him, two younger scouts stood with their hands hovering near their hilts.
The man looked Aden up and down, his gaze lingering on the singed hem of Aden’s cloak and the faint, lingering scent of ozone that clung to the room.
"Good morning," the man said, his voice like grinding gravel. "Guild-Master sent us. Seems the south waste-lands decided to spit fire an hour ago. We’re checking every house within three miles of the blast radius for... displaced entities."
Aden leaned against the doorframe, his expression as blank as a fresh sheet of parchment.
"Entities?" Aden asked, his voice tilting into a feigned, tired confusion. "I thought some Alchemist broke a formula. Is there a problem, Officer?"
The Guildsman’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of the medicinal tea and the faint, underlying hum of a high-level cultivator trying to look like a civilian.
"The problem," the man said, stepping a fraction closer, "is that the Black-Stripe gorge is crawling with Abyssal filth, and someone just rang the dinner bell with a crimson flare. We’re looking for volunteers. Or suspects. Which one are you?"
Aden’s eyes narrowed slightly, a coldness flitting behind his eyes at the question. "What are you trying to say?"
The man’s face remained passive, but the two scouts shivered subtly, a low clanking of their short-swords breaking the stifling silence that had taken abode in the small room.
The leader’s eyes moved to the corner and took in the change in their countenances. His battle-honed instincts had already begun to flare to life, but an altercation with a strange man living in the slums with his family wasn’t on the itinerary.
"I understand the tension is high, but you have to understand that we mean no harm. Just tell us what all of you were doing from two hours ago till this moment."
Aden turned his head to face the three kids. Their prior states of drowsiness had been replaced by a brimming state of vigilance as they knelt side by side. Eren’s eyes remained coldly fixed on the Leader’s face as his mind had already begun running scenarios where a battle would break out.
The other scouts didn’t even register in his mind as threats, to him they were less than shadows despite being in the same realm with him.
