Chapter 71: Worst Mayor

Chapter 71: Worst MayorChapter 71

The air was thick with grief. Sobs echoed through the burial grounds as mourners, dressed in black, gathered beneath the grey sky. Faces were etched with sorrow, their eyes heavy with loss. Han stood among them, silent, his expression unreadable as the weight of the moment pressed down on him.

They were all here to mourn those who had fallen in the Red Vanguard attack. It had only been two days, yet the pain still felt raw—like a fresh wound that refused to close.

A solemn prophet stood at the head of the field, speaking sacred words that offered peace to the fallen:

"They fought with courage and held their ground when darkness tried to claim this land. Let their bravery echo for all eternity."

Han closed his eyes. Over a hundred lives had been lost. To some, that number might not seem so great—but to Han, each one was a failure. Each one was a burden he bore alone. Serenya was his responsibility. And he had failed.

Not far away, Ronan stood still, staring down at the rows of graves. He had seen death before, had buried comrades and friends. But this time felt no easier. The pain didn’t lessen. It only dug deeper.

He had made promises—promised to protect them. And yet, they were all gone.

A hand gently rested on his shoulder. Ron was there, face grim, eyes filled with quiet understanding.

"You don’t need to blame yourself," Ron said softly. "You did everything you could."

If Ron hadn’t known the power the Red Vanguard possessed, he might’ve been furious. But Ronan had fought off three of them on his own—an act beyond expectation. Even Ron had been surprised.



Ronan clenched his teeth. "But my best wasn’t enough," he muttered, his gaze falling on a young girl sobbing beside the grave of her older brother. The sight tightened something in his chest.

"That cursed organization..." he whispered. "I swear, I’ll burn every last one of them. There won’t be anything left to bury."

Right now, he didn’t know which he hated more—the Cursed Organization, or that monster.

The funeral stretched on for hours. Slowly, the crowd thinned. One by one, people departed, but Han remained. He stood in silence, looking at the pictures of each life lost—most of them his guild members.

"Mom... Dad... I’m sorry," he whispered. "I couldn’t save them."

He had believed Serenya could remain a sanctuary, untouched by war and corruption. That illusion had been shattered. And the ones responsible... were the Cursed Organization.

"You don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know," came a familiar voice beside him.

Han didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

"Old Elder... You don’t need to say anything to make me feel better," Han said quietly. "I know where the blame lies."

His fists trembled slightly. "If they’d just been stronger... If I had helped them evolve their skills sooner... maybe they’d still be alive. But I was afraid. Afraid of what power might do to them. And because of that... look how many are gone."

He closed his eyes, unwilling to let tears fall.

The old man furrowed his brows.

He knew the truth—he had been the one who insisted Han not evolve their skill ranks too quickly, fearing corruption. And the worst part? He had been asleep while the battle raged. While lives were being lost, he was unaware, snoring peacefully in his chambers.

A wry smile twisted on his lips. If Han was a bad leader... then I must be the worst City Mayor this world has ever seen.

"Old Elder," Han said, his voice low as he glanced at the man beside him. "What would you have me do now? If I start evolving their skill ranks... will it really make a difference?" There was hesitation in his voice—he wanted to act but feared acting in haste.

The old man opened his eyes and stared at Han, the lines of fatigue and guilt etched deep into his face.

"If you have the power to evolve them," he said slowly, "then do it. Evolve as many as you can. Make them strong. Make them unbreakable." His gaze turned to the distant horizon. "We will suffer no more losses. Not on our watch."

Han nodded silently. No more waiting. It was time to act.

The old man watched him walk away, then turned his gaze to the sky.

"Troy... where the hell are you?"

---

A few hours later — Tryst Guild Hall



Despite the heavy losses, the surviving guild members had gathered. Mourning still hung in the air, but their faith in Han remained unshaken. He stood before them, addressing the crowd with a calm, reassuring voice.

"I know the pain is fresh. But I swear this to all of you—those deaths will not be in vain. I have gained a powerful artifact from the Red Portal... with it, I will evolve your skills."

Only a handful of them knew the truth about his unique ability, and he intended to keep it that way.

One by one, he evolved their abilities. The sheer volume of monsters slain, and the reward he earned from taming Thunderwrath, gave him a massive CP reserve.

D-rankers were promoted to C. Many rose to B. A select few even reached A.

By the end, not a single D-rank remained in Tryst. The guild now stood as a wall of strength, from C to A.

Han’s eyes settled on Ron, already an A-ranker. He debated pushing him to S-rank, but the cost would drain the last of his CP—and a few more still needed evolution. He would have to wait.


Earlier, he had given Nathan the rare artifact—the throne he’d found in the Red Portal. According to the system, it was a treasure of immense power. If Nathan could forge weapons from it, their strength would increase even more.

Just as Han approached the final member to evolve, a guild scout rushed in, breathless. "There’s a commotion at the gate! A group is demanding to speak with you!"

Han’s eyes narrowed dangerously. In a flash, he vanished.

Aiden shook his head. "Who dares cause trouble at a time like this?"

---

At the Tryst Guild Gate

Eleven figures in sleek silver uniforms stood outside. Though united in color, each wore their gear with a unique flair.

"I need to see your master," said a black-haired youth at the front, clearly the leader.

"No," one of the Tryst guild member responded curtly, annoyed by the arrogance.

The youth’s patience snapped. Energy condensed around his fist as he moved to strike—

—but he never got the chance.

His hand froze inches from the guard’s face.

In the blink of an eye, he was lifted clean off the ground, unable to move, energy suppressed.

A cold voice cut through the air.

"If you dare lay a hand on my people, you’ll regret ever stepping foot in this world."



Han had arrived.

The youth, suspended midair, recognized immediately that he was completely outmatched.

This must be the guild leader...

"I-I have a message," he stammered, struggling to speak. "From the Silver Guild... for the Tryst Guild."

Han’s grip loosened. The man fell, landing hard on the ground. Coughing, he looked up at Han’s ice-cold eyes.

"Speak," Han ordered.

The youth hesitated. The weight of Han’s presence made his tongue feel heavy.

Finally, he managed to get the words out.

"The Tryst Guild... is charged with committing great crimes across multiple cities."

He swallowed hard.

"You are hereby summoned... to stand trial."

To be continued...