An hour later, at the underground bar of the Blue-Eyed Hunters.
The lighting was dim, creating the unique haziness of a bar, with its minimalist decor lending an ambiance neither ostentatious nor dull. A soft melody flowed through the air, laced with the faint fragrance of alcohol.
At this time, The Blue-Eyed Hunters' Bar would usually be raucous. They were hunters, bread from a young age to live life on the edge. With skills far surpassing ordinary people, they nonetheless had inner turmoil that never ceased to accumulate.
The Blue-Eyed Hunters' Bar was both a gathering place for intelligence and a place to vent. Many hunters would take a drink before a mission and a bottle afterwards. They would mingle and chat, sometimes singing loudly or getting a bit rowdy. However, today, it was unusually quiet.
Half the seats were occupied, a rare congregation of hunters that moved with unfamiliar subtleness.
