Prologue

This story begins several days before Ryuto slew the Evil Dragon.

I first learned what love meant a year ago, buried between the pages of a book.

My name is Lilith. I’m a fifteen-year-old girl without a surname.

My chest—or, more accurately, my lack of one—could best be described as a cutting board. I still hadn’t hit one hundred fifty centimeters in height, and honestly, I’d never met another girl who fit the word “runt” quite so well. Even I could admit that much.

I worked as the librarian in the Dragon King’s archives; not exactly a high-demand job. Dragons, after all, were creatures of brawn, not brains. Most wouldn’t know the difference between a book and a brick unless one of them caught fire. That was probably why the job ended up so blissfully uneventful.

When there was nothing else to do, it was only natural to start filling the silence with stories.

Spellbooks and academic tomes were my usual fare. They took time to digest, sometimes an hour per page, and I liked that, as well as the challenge of unraveling their complexity. Still, sometimes, I’d reach for something lighter: a legend, a tale of heroes.

The first time I read a story like that was about a year ago.

Heroic sagas always seemed to follow a pattern: a brave warrior, a dangerous quest, a beautiful girl. The heroine always fell in love, and they lived happily ever after.

After a few of those, I understood the idea of love well enough—as a concept, at least.

Unfortunately, understanding something intellectually and truly grasping it were worlds apart. After all, you can’t feel a concept or breathe in a definition and come away changed.

Still, I am a girl. And deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder…

What does it actually feel like to be in love? What is it really like to be a maiden lost in those emotion? Not in theory, not in stories, but in reality?

Not just knowing love.

To actually experience it.

“Love… Huh.”

The word slipped from my lips like dust from an old page, quiet, accidental, hardly more than a breath. The air inside the library was always thick with stillness, a dry, sleepy kind of silence. I sat curled up in my usual corner, eyes drifting over the dense script of a spellbook I’d already read twice this week, struggling to keep them open.

Why did he come to mind just now?

I scowled before the thought had even finished forming.

Honestly, what is he even doing these days?

It had been two years since Ryuto had left the village. Two years since he’d stormed out of the dragonkin homeland like a spark on dry leaves, leaving scorched silence in his wake. After the Trial, after he killed my father, he became my guardian, at least on paper. It wasn’t something either of us had asked for. It just… happened. Then, not long after, he vanished. Off on some grand journey, no explanation, no farewell beyond a few parting words.

I still remembered what I’d said to him, how desperate I’d sounded.

“Let me come with you.”

Ryuto had only shaken his head, calm and resolute.

He insisted that if I wanted to grow strong, I had to stay here. That this place—the Dragon King’s Library, with its mountain of forbidden tomes and dusty corridors—was the ideal environment. Not the road. Not the world beyond. Here, with silence, solitude, and shelves taller than a house.

Looking back, he wasn’t wrong.

You’d struggle to find another place in the entire world where volumes guarded tighter than royal vaults were left unattended in musty backrooms. Even the most prestigious magical academies wouldn’t dream of letting students handle the kinds of books I had free access to every day.

Before he left, he’d made me three promises.

First, that he’d return in two years, and if I had followed his instructions to the letter, he’d take me with him next time.

Second, that I had to master the basics of magic. Truly master them down to the marrow. Not just memorize spells, but actually understand the flow of power behind them.

And the third promise…

Gong. Gong.

A deep, solemn chime echoed through the building. The bells marked sunset. Time to close.

I stood from my chair with a stretch, brushing dust from my sleeves as I gathered the day’s scattered papers. The Dragon King’s library also handled village records and other bureaucratic oddities, but truth be told, it was mostly dead quiet. Most dragons wouldn’t come near the place unless forced. Books didn’t bleed, after all.

From beneath the counter, I pulled out a worn knapsack and fished out a wrapped sandwich and my canteen. I took a bite as I moved, chewing absently while I secured the locks on the doors.

Chew, chew.

The silence that followed was familiar. Not exactly comforting, but expected.

I cast one last glance across the dim, empty aisles before stepping outside.

I didn’t head for the exit; instead, I turned deeper into the library, toward the sections no one else dared approach, heading into the kind of silence that didn’t just whisper but watched. Dust lay thick across the stone floor, undisturbed by time or touch. The corridor stretched ahead like some ancient artery carved into the bones of the world, lit only by faint glimmers from worn enchantment stones embedded in the walls. The further I walked, the heavier the air became, as though the very history trapped within these walls pressed inward with each step.

At the far end stood a door unlike any other, made of thick steel reinforced with layer upon layer of protective wards. Magical sigils shimmered faintly across its surface, not just for defense, but as a declaration: You don’t belong here. I reached into my robe and pulled out the key, a solid piece of runed iron that pulsed with faint heat. It slid into the lock with resistance, and when I turned it, the door let out a deep, metallic groan, shifting open like a stone beast reluctantly waking from slumber.

A spiral staircase unfurled beyond the threshold, descending into shadow. Without hesitation, I stepped onto the first stair. The air changed instantly. It was cooler, denser, stiller than the quiet above. I followed the spiral downward, hand trailing the stone wall for balance, thoughts drifting as rhythmically as my footsteps. I didn’t know how long I'd been walking. Time unraveled in places like this. Every sound was absorbed, every breath muffled. It was like sinking.

Eventually, another door emerged from the gloom, nearly identical to the last but without a keyhole. I pressed my palm flat against its surface, and after a heartbeat, it accepted me.

Fingerprint recognition, I noted, lips curling slightly. Security this deep isn’t just about protection. It’s a ceremony. I stepped through as it opened silently and kept going down.

Another door awaited, but I didn’t stop. “Librarian Lilith,” I said clearly, voice steady in the hush. The lock clicked open, confirming the voiceprint. How many more layers? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I kept going down and down, like peeling back the skin of the world. It felt less like walking into a room and more like walking into a secret.

When I finally reached the bottom, I stopped. There was no more stairwell. Just a final door, plain, silent, waiting. I reached once more into my robe and drew out the last key: a small, glowing orb that pulsed softly in my hand, etched with the Dragon King’s royal crest. Not just access. Authority. Trust. Proof that I belonged here in a way no other did.

“All right,” I murmured, mostly to steady myself, and raised the orb.

The orichalcum door stirred. With a deep hum, it unfolded inward—not pushed or pulled, but opened as if in recognition. Metal parted like silk, elegant and deliberate, and for a moment I simply watched. All the barriers, all the enchantments, all the layers of ancient secrecy had allowed me through.

There it was.

A room no wider than five meters in any direction. Stark, geometrically perfect, and silent.

In its center stood a single desk, unadorned.

Atop it rested only one book: thick, old, and untitled.

Waiting.

The moment I sat down, my hands moved on their own. I reached for the book.

It was heavier than it looked, ancient and silent in its authority.

Secret Grimoire: Exio Dragdingen.

The name flashed through my mind like a spark striking oil. I didn’t need to say it aloud. Down here, words didn’t need to be spoken to carry weight.

This was the reason for it all—the vaults, the wards, the endless descent into shadow. Every layer of security, every seal, every forbidden lock existed solely to protect this one book. It wasn’t just a collection of spells. It was the summit. It was the culmination of everything the dragonkin had ever achieved in the field of magic. Their pride. Their legacy. Their final threshold.

In the world of magic, everything fell into two broad categories: general-use spells and original spellcraft. The former included staples of every mage’s arsenal. They were standardized, efficient, predictable. For fire-based magic, it followed a path most practitioners knew by heart: Fire, Fireball, Flare, and finally High Flare.

Fire and Fireball were the basics, entry-level spells taught in the first month of any academy. Flare and High Flare stepped into the realm of advanced and peak-tier casting, the kind of magic only experienced combat mages could wield. For most, High Flare was more than enough. If you could cast it reliably, you’d be considered a veteran in any adventurer’s guild: capable, respected, maybe even dangerous.

If you wanted to go beyond that, to stand not among fighters, but among legends, then the rules changed. You couldn’t just rely on what others had created. You had to forge your own magic. Develop original spell structures. Build power that had never existed before you.

That was the wall. The place where most stopped. The place where people like Ryuto kept going.

And that’s where the real problem began.

General-use magic was something you could train into, given enough time, talent, and effort. The formulas were known, the structures laid out, the elemental flows mapped in ink. If you had the aptitude, you could learn it. In theory, anyone could.

I’d been taught magic since childhood. My father had trained me personally. And for the past two years, I’d buried myself in study, poring over tomes until my vision blurred and my thoughts bled ink. I knew the basics. Not just in one field but all of them. My fundamentals were complete.

Alas, knowing something wasn’t the same as wielding it.

When it came to the upper-tier spells, those high-order formulas that demanded not just knowledge but power, I was still far from ready. My stats, my level, my resonance thresholds… None of it was enough. In truth, most of those spells were still beyond me. I couldn’t cast them. At least, not yet.

Until I could, I had no hope of touching the kind of magic sealed within this book.

Still… I had learned the theory.

Even if I couldn’t use the highest-tier spells yet, the knowledge was already mine. The moment my stats met the requirements, I’d be ready. Not in years. Not in months. Immediately.

And right now, what I’m doing here in this room…

I was attempting something far beyond general-use magic, even beyond the highest standard spells. I was reaching for knowledge that lived in a different realm entirely: original spellcraft. Custom-built, one-of-a-kind magic born not from tradition but from vision.

In most cases, the only way to obtain that kind of magic was to apprentice under a grand mage. That was the most common path. Similar to martial arts, magic had its own schools, styles passed down through generations. And original spellcraft? That was the secret technique. The hidden scroll. The treasured art handed down only to the most trusted disciples.

To put it simply, it was the magical equivalent of a hereditary martial technique—refined, perfected, and guarded within a single lineage. Original spells were never written down for public use. They were legacies. Crystallizations of blood, discipline, and sacrifice across generations of masters and students, passed in whispers and never taught outside the family.

Even if you were lucky enough to be chosen as a student, it could take years, decades, before they even let you glimpse the real material.

Which was why the book sitting in front of me right now was, by all logic, something I should never have been allowed to see.

The dragonkin, in general, weren’t exactly known for their scholarship. Most of their culture revolved around strength and physical power, not magical refinement. But there were exceptions. Outliers. Oddities who devoted themselves to spellcraft instead of brute force.

My father had been one of them.

This book, Exio Dragdingen, was born from mages like him, a forgotten few among the Earth Dragons who poured their lives into magical theory rather than combat. What lay within these pages was a complete system of original spell design, crafted in secret by their hands. An entire legacy sealed behind lock after lock.

It was never meant to be read by outsiders, and it certainly wasn’t meant for someone like me.

By all rights, I should have been denied access altogether. I wasn’t part of their lineage. I wasn’t chosen. I wasn’t anyone.

But Ryuto had spoken to the Dragon King.

I could almost hear the conversation playing back in my head, as dry and absurdly casual as it had been.

“Hey, Dragon King.”

“What is it, Ryuto?”

“Give Lilith full clearance for Exio Dragdingen.”

I could still remember the way he had said it so casually, like he was asking for a spare key instead of rewriting the rules of who was allowed to access forbidden magic.

The Dragon King had chuckled, not with hostility, but with the bemused air of someone who found Ryuto’s tone more surprising than the request itself. “That’s an odd thing to say… or more like, you’re giving me an order? Ha. Well, whatever. But you do realize that’s dragon magic, right? A normal human can’t use it. Dragons and humans have fundamentally different brain structures. That means the way we construct and cast spells in our minds is entirely incompatible.”

Ryuto hadn’t blinked. “Yeah, I figured. It’s like trying to run a program made for a PC on a smartphone. Different hardware, different systems.”

“Program?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Hmph. Well, fine. I don’t mind giving her access. But you do realize we’ve got plenty of high-tier magic books written for humans, too? Sure, the quality doesn’t compare, but at least she’d be able to use them. Wouldn’t that be enough?”

“Nope. That won’t cut it.”

“It won’t… cut it?”

“Lilith wants to come with me.”

There’d been a pause, a moment of silence that felt heavier than the words themselves.

“So, if she’s going to stand beside me, she needs to be able to use dragon magic. Otherwise… I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

The Dragon King had laughed then, low and dry. “Calling dragon magic ‘no big deal,’ huh? That’s a new one. Fine. You’re right. There’s no spell in this library stronger than what’s in that book. I don’t know how you plan to break the species barrier, but I’ll allow it. Do as you like.”

And so I had.

From that day on, I hadn’t missed a single night. After finishing my shifts in the library, I stayed behindlong after sunset, long past the hour any sane person would call it a day. While the rest of the world slept, I was still here, seated in the deepest chamber of the Grand Library, copying spells into my mind one sigil at a time. I didn’t just read the book. I inhaled it. I pressed every line into memory until the structures felt like my own thoughts.

I lived here now. Slept here, in the quiet shadows. Every night, I turned the same pages, traced the same forbidden patterns with my eyes until I could draw them in the air with my breath alone. There was no shortcut. No miracle. Just repetition and the endless grind of obedience.

Every single night. No rest. No variation. Just one instruction, obeyed to the letter.

Tonight was no different. I turned another heavy page and exhaled, a slow breath fogging the cold air. My voice escaped before I could stop it, low and dry.

“I can memorize the spell structures. I can input every symbol, every logic tree… but I’m not a dragon.”

I could feel it now just how much was already inside me. About seventy percent of the grimoire’s content had been absorbed. Not just remembered but internalized. And I understood it, too. I had enough magical background to break down the structures, to grasp how they fit together. And that was the problem.

I grasped the essence of what was lacking. I recognized just enough to sense the outline of what I had yet to become.

The spells listed in this grimoire were truly extraordinary. Calling them “ultimate magic” wasn’t an overstatement. Each spell pushed beyond the limits of what most mages could even imagine, featuring immense scale and absurd complexity. They held the power to reshape a battlefield or erase a target from existence entirely.

No matter how many lines I memorized, no matter how precisely I inputted the formulas into my mind, I couldn’t change one fundamental truth: I’m not a dragon.

The problem wasn’t the knowledge. It was the interface. The moment I tried to activate one of the rituals, my internal mana circuits—the very pathways that shaped magical thought—glitched. The energy dispersed, chaotic and incomplete. There was no spell. No output. No effect. Just failure. Silent, constant failure.

It was like trying to teach a dog or a cat to speak a human language using vocal cords they didn’t have. The mechanics simply didn’t exist. And that was the reality of it. No matter how I tried to bend the logic of this magic to fit inside my head, the system rejected me.

In theory, using dragon magic is impossible for a human.

I stared down at the open page, the words blurring slightly in my vision, and the question I’d been swallowing for weeks finally slipped loose.

“What’s the point of any of this?”

The sigh came before I realized it, long and low, trailing out of my chest like smoke. But I shook my head immediately, hard enough to chase the thought away. I’d asked myself that question too many times already. The answer never changed.

Because Ryuto told me to.

That was it. That was the whole reason. He’d told me to study this magic, and I had obeyed. Not because I believed it was possible. Not because I had faith in some miracle. But because I didn’t know what else to do.

He had left me behind that day, just turned around and walked away, his eyes set on the horizon and never once looking back. He had told me he’d return in two years. And if I completed the task he’d given me, I could go with him.

That was seven hundred and sixty-some days ago.

The promise has long since passed.

The realization hung over me like cold stone. I’d told myself over and over again that he would return, that I just had to be patient, just had to work harder, but now, looking back…

Maybe he never meant it.

Maybe those words were just something he’d said to shut me up. A temporary excuse to make me stay put, obedient and quiet. Something to keep me out of the way while he chased whatever it was he truly wanted.

After all, when he killed my father, the only thing he really needed was the skill, Divine Dragon’s Blessing. That was what he came for. That was what mattered.

Maybe the whole “I’ll take you with me” speech had just been heat-of-the-moment bravado. Something he regretted the moment it left his mouth. Maybe, when the excitement faded and he thought about it clearly, he realized I’d only slow him down, only become a burden. And since saying “I’ve changed my mind” outright would’ve been too awkward, too cruel, he’d left me with a condition he knew I couldn’t meet.

So, here I was, still trying to meet it.

“Haa.”

The breath left me again, longer and heavier this time. Over the past month, ever since the day the promise officially expired, my life had been buried under sighs.

Like everything I’d built had been quietly rotting behind the effort.

He… could’ve just let me go.

Did he really have to give me hope? Did he need to leave me with that so-called task, that empty promise tied up in conditions? If he’d just cut me off back then—no dreams, no expectations—it wouldn’t have hurt this much. It would’ve been cruel, yes… but cleaner.

I’d lived a life of misfortune from the moment I was born. By the time I was old enough to think for myself, I was already someone’s property, a slave. My father had been the only one to see me as something more, and when he died, something inside me died too. The rest of the world had frozen over, enveloping me in its embrace. Cold and distant, I learned to survive without feeling.

That day… the day Ryuto asked me, “Are you coming with me?”—it was like sunlight broke through the permafrost. Just for a moment, something warm stirred inside. Something dangerous.

I let myself imagine it: the outside world, vast and unknown, waiting just beyond the library walls. I pictured myself beside him, walking, talking, seeing the things he saw. It was foolish, childish even, but that one simple question made my heart leap before I could stop it. I had believed him.

Now, remembering it, my vision blurred. I blinked rapidly, doing everything I could to keep the tears in; I looked up at the ceiling, jaw tight and throat clenched. If I cried now, it would feel too final, like I was admitting that everything I’d done for the last two years had meant nothing.

“Pathetic,” I whispered. “Honestly, this is just… pathetic. Seven hundred and sixty days, and I’ve been keeping a promise he probably forgot the second he walked away. Every day. Every single—”

The grimoire snapped shut in my hands, the sound hollow and loud in the silence. I pushed back from the desk and stood. The decision was quiet, but absolute. If the only thing holding me together had been a lie, then I didn’t need it anymore.

I drew in a long breath and gave a single, deliberate nod to myself.

Fine. I’ll freeze my heart again.

If it doesn’t move, it won’t hope. If it doesn’t hope, it can’t break. That was the lesson. If I locked my emotions away, nothing could ever touch me again.

This library would become my world, my shelter. My tomb. I’d live here, surrounded by ink and dust, until the day my body gave out. What did it matter? Life was nothing more than a drawn-out distraction before death. At least here, I’d never run out of distractions. Even if I spent every remaining day reading, I wouldn’t make it through a tenth of the archive. That was more than enough to keep me occupied.

“Pathetic,” I said again, voice cracking. “Truly… pathetic.”

A tear slipped down my cheek as I turned toward the door. I wiped it away with the hem of my robe, steeling myself. One last breath. One last motion.

Then… the door handle moved.

I hadn’t touched it.

It turned from the other side.

Suddenly, I was completely still, frozen, hardly breathing, as if time had stopped. The lock clicked, the door creaked open, and then I heard his voice.

Carefree. Light. Unbelievably real.

“I’m a bit late. Looks like it’s been… two years, and a month? Give or take.”

I stared as he stepped inside like nothing had happened, taller now, broader in the shoulders, his presence more grounded than before. The boy I remembered was gone, but the smile was exactly the same. That ridiculous, unshaken grin that could turn a battlefield into a joke.

My voice came before I could think, small and hollow.

“Ryuto?”

He, on the other hand, didn’t waste a second.

“Straight to the point,” he said, his tone brisk and maddeningly casual. “That task I gave you. Can you use their magic now?”

I stared at him, utterly at a loss. He’d come to the dragonkin village without warning, left just as suddenly, and now, after two years, stood in front of me as if nothing had changed. No hello, no explanation, just straight to business, like we were picking up a conversation from yesterday.

He really is an exhausting man.

“The basics,” I replied slowly, voice tight. “I’ve mastered all of them. As long as my stats meet the conditions, I can use every general spell, including high- and peak-tier magic.”

“Dragon magic?”

“That’s not something I can use.”

“I know that,” he said, waving a hand like I was the one missing the point. “I’m not asking whether it works or not. I’m asking how far you’ve gotten with it.”

I hesitated.

“If I were dragonkin and if my stats were high enough, then I could cast about seventy percent of the spells in the grimoire.”

“Good.”

Before I could respond, he beamed and without any warning, reached out and mussed my hair with both hands. No gentleness, no restraint. Just that same old clumsy affection that had always made him impossible to understand.

His fingers ruffled through my hair like I was some kid who’d just passed a test.

The moment his hands touched me, my brain went silent. My body locked in place. I stood frozen, overwhelmed by the familiar, simple weight of contact I hadn’t felt in over two years. The flutter in my chest came without warning. I dropped my gaze, lashes falling low as my cheeks flushed hot—suddenly, violently, and shamefully warm.

I could feel my face burning so intensely I had no doubt it was bright red by now. Not just my cheeks, but down my neck and across my collarbones, a full-body flush bloomed under my skin. I knew I looked ridiculous, and yet Ryuto stood there without the faintest trace of hesitation, as blunt and casual as ever.

“What about the Item Box skill?” he asked, like we were still in the middle of that old conversation from two years ago. “You’ve been training that too, right?”

It hadn’t been part of the assignment, not formally, but I remembered the way he’d said it: “If you’ve got time, you should work on that too.” So I had. I’d made it part of my routine, squeezing it in between spell memorization and spell reconstruction until it became second nature.

“I did what you told me,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Trained it every day. It’s maxed out now. I can freeze time inside the box just briefly, but enough to preserve perishables. And with normal use, it holds up to a ton.”

He grinned—broad, warm, a little reckless—and before I could react, his hand landed on my head again. He gave my hair another wild ruffle, this one rougher and less careful than before. He’d always been like this: no sense of boundaries, no filter between thought and action. It should’ve irritated me. Should’ve made me pull away. But somehow, it didn’t. His palm was solid, warm, real, and as it moved through my hair, something inside me softened, just slightly, just enough to ache. My chest felt tight in a way I couldn’t explain, my pulse hammering in my ears, loud and rapid and impossible to ignore. My skin felt too warm, my breath too shallow, and all I could do was lower my eyes and hope he didn’t notice the trembling.

“Lilith,” he said gently, “you did great.”

Those three words hit harder than any praise I’d ever received. My whole body seemed to react, as if I’d been lit from within. Not just my cheeks. Everything flushed at once, a rush of heat that spread like wildfire through my limbs. I turned my face slightly, not wanting him to see. Not like this. Not when I didn’t even understand what I was feeling.

Still smiling, Ryuto added, “I’m serious. That skill’s a huge help. I couldn’t do anything with it myself. Class restrictions. Villager types don’t get far with that sort of thing. But with you covering it… It’s a relief.”

I nodded slowly, my lips parting before I realized I was speaking. The question that had been buried under months of silence rose on its own, quiet but sharp. “Ryuto?”

He looked at me, curious. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did it take so long?” My voice was barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you just take me with you back then?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment before he answered. His voice was softer this time, not evasive, not guilty, just honest. “Because I had to get stronger first,” he said. “Everywhere I’ve been since leaving… has all been dangerous. I couldn’t afford to bring someone I couldn’t protect. I needed to know I could keep you safe.”

“I see…” I murmured. My eyes flicked up to meet his. “And?”

He tilted his head slightly, confused. “And?”

“Did you get there?” I asked again, my tone steadier this time. “Are you strong enough now?”

That was the first time he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, Ryuto looked me dead in the eyes and nodded once, slow and sure. “If I didn’t think so,” he said, “I wouldn’t have come to get you.”

Come to get me.

The phrase echoed through me, leaving ripples in its wake. I didn’t know why those words undid me so completely. Maybe it was because they came so casually. Or perhaps because I’d given up on ever hearing anything like that. But when I heard them, my heart leaped. Not gently. Not hesitantly. It crashed against my ribs with something dangerously close to joy.

My mind was a mess. An absolute, spiraling mess.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. Everything Ryuto had just done—the sudden return, the praise—had thrown my thoughts into such chaos I couldn’t even hold onto a single coherent sentence. But even in the middle of that mental storm, one truth floated to the surface. Clear. Unmistakable.

This is my reward for waiting.

Everything I’d endured here—two years locked away in this silent library, clinging to his instructions like they were the only thing holding me together—all came rushing to a point in this one moment. My efforts, my pain, my loyalty… They hadn’t been wasted.

“Also,” Ryuto said casually, almost as an afterthought, “Lilith?”

I turned toward him, still dazed. “What?”

He reached into his coat and pulled something from an inner pocket. “While I was away, I was looking for this. Took longer than I thought, but I finally got one. It’s for you.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he stepped forward and gently took my left hand in both of his. The warmth of his touch spread across my skin as he lifted my fingers.

Then, without hesitation, Ryuto slid a ring onto my middle finger.

“Huh?” I blinked in confusion and stared at the silver band now resting on my hand.

It wasn’t just a decoration or some meaningless trinket. This was a ring.

On my left middle finger.

My heart skipped, then slammed back into motion so hard I thought I might collapse. I looked down at it again, just to be sure, but there was no mistaking it. On this continent, this finger, this ring, meant something.

Betrothal.

No part of me knew how to react. My body was frozen, and yet everything inside me was spinning: Ryuto’s smile, his touch, the pressure of the ring. It was all too much. Too close. Too real. I didn’t understand what he meant by it, not really, but even if my brain couldn’t make sense of any of it, my heart had already leaped off the edge.

Still, in the middle of that confusion, one thing pulsed brighter than anything else.

I’ve never been this happy.

Not ever. Not once. The warmth flooding my chest, the ache in my throat, the way my lungs trembled with every breath. I didn’t need to analyze it. This wasn’t logic or training; it was emotion, pure and wild.

I had waited. And he had come for me.

Ryuto turned as if none of this had just happened, voice light and utterly oblivious to the emotional devastation he’d just unleashed.

“All right then,” he said, already walking, “let’s go.”

I blinked, still staring at the ring. “… Go?”

Ryuto glanced over his shoulder.

“To slay the Evil Dragon, of course.” There was no pause or humor in his voice. He meant it. “We’re heading back to my village. The Dragon King had a prophecy: my childhood friend is fated to die unless someone steps in. I’m going to help her.”

My lips parted, but all that came out was, “What?”

“And that’s just the start,” he added, throwing a thumb over his shoulder like he was inviting me to a stroll. “Do you have any idea where I’ve been the last two years?”

“Outside the human sphere?” I echoed, still trying to wrap my head around the scale of what he’d just said.

Ryuto nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Exactly. Places ruled by demons and monsters—the so-called Demon Realm—or unexplored frontiers where no one’s ever set foot. That’s where I’ve been. Remote strongholds, lost continents, uncharted wilderness. Dangerous, sure, but nothing too serious. Most of it was easy enough, places even an S-rank adventurer could clear without breaking a sweat.”

He paused, his tone sharpening with intent. “But now… we’re heading deeper. Places even I haven’t gone before. What comes next will be tough. Really tough. I’m going to drag you across the entire world and train us both into something unstoppable. And then… in one year…”

“One year?” I repeated cautiously, blinking.

Ryuto gave a brisk nod, grinning. “My childhood friend will turn sixteen and enter the Royal Magic Academy.”

“And?”

“We’ll be attending, too,” he said, as if the conclusion was obvious. “You and me, enrolling alongside my friend. Our mission will be to support the Hero quietly, from the shadows.”

I couldn’t help it. A dry laugh escaped my lips. “You’re unbelievable…”

Back when he left the dragonkin village, Ryuto was already solidly above average and a genuinely respectable force, strong enough to stand toe-to-toe with C- or even B-rank adventurers. But from the way he talked now, it was clear he’d surpassed even that. No, he hadn’t just surpassed it.

He’d broken the ceiling.

In just two years, he’d climbed all the way past A-rank and now stood in the realm of S-class adventurers. The kind of people who weren’t just powerful; they were strategic threats. A single S-ranker had the firepower to level a kingdom if they felt like it. They didn’t just bend the rules. They were the rules.

Now he wanted to drag me into that world.

Ryuto stepped toward the door and glanced back with that same easygoing confidence. “I know I’m late, and I’m sorry. But time is tight. I’ll need you to pack up before dawn.”

“Understood,” I replied with a small nod.

Honestly, he’s exhausting.

Like a storm, he came crashing in, turned everything upside down, and was already halfway out the door before I had time to catch my breath. If I let my guard down for even a second, I knew I’d be left behind. That was just the kind of man he was.

Nevertheless, despite everything, I found myself smiling.

He came back.

I thought of the ring on my finger. Of the pressure in my chest. Of the things I’d never dared to admit. And with the faintest, breathless laugh, a thought returned to me, one I hadn’t touched since all this began.

The first time I learned what love meant… was in a story I read, a year ago.

That was true in a way. I had learned the word through fiction, through heroines and happy endings. But now I understood something far more profound.

The moment I met him, that day, just over two years ago, I think I already knew exactly what love was.

Not as a word.

But as a feeling.

Name: Lilith

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Age: 15

Status Condition: Charmed (Severe)

Level: 38

HP: 650 / 650

MP: 2,100 / 2,100

Attack: 105

Defense: 150

Magic Power: 420

Evasion: 350

Enhanced Skills

【Physical Enhancement: Level 10 (MAX)】

Combat Skills

【Basic Self-Defense: Level 10 (MAX)】

Magic Skills

【Mana Control: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Life Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Offensive Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【Advanced Healing Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【High-Tier Offensive Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【High-Tier Healing Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【Dragon Magic: Level 7 (Partially locked: Race and stat restrictions)】

Special Skills

【Item Box: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Divine Guardian Spirit: Level 10 (MAX)

Chapter 1: Lilith and the Slave Crest

After slaying the Evil Dragon and parting ways with Cordelia, Lilith and I found ourselves walking along a broad trade road stretching northwest through the continent. The path connected the inland region to a bustling port town along the coast, and it served as the main artery for sea-based commerce. Everything from imported goods to smoked fish, such as mackerel and salmon, moved along this route.

As a result, the road was well-maintained, with a steady stream of travelers going in both directions. It wasn’t uncommon to see roadside stalls or small inn towns along the way, and honestly, it made the journey more convenient than I’d expected.

I’d heard rumors that up in the port cities, you could even find salted fish guts—shiokara, they called it. Supposedly, it paired really well with white wine. It was a shame I couldn’t try it over hot rice like it was meant to be, but still, it was one of those small indulgences I wanted to experience someday, if our finances ever allowed for that kind of luxury.

As I was entertaining those thoughts in the back of my mind, I heard a quiet, sulky voice beside me.

“You didn’t tell me.”

I glanced over at Lilith, who was clearly in a mood. “Didn’t tell you what?”

She narrowed her eyes, voice dropping lower. “That your childhood friend, the Hero, is a girl.”

Ah, right. I… might have left that detail out.

To be fair, things had gotten pretty chaotic back there. Cordelia had been radiating pure murder from her temple, and with Lilith glaring at me like I’d just kicked her familiar, the entire room had felt like it was about five seconds from imploding. I’d panicked, grabbed Lilith, and run. Now here we were, on the road again, back to training, like none of it had ever happened.

“Come on, Lilith. Don’t be mad,” I said, trying to keep things light. “It’s not like I was hiding it or anything. I just didn’t think it mattered.”

Lilith crossed her arms as she walked with stiff, irritated steps. “I still think supporting the Hero from the shadows is a terrible idea. I don’t know this girl. I don’t care about her. And this ‘world-ending catastrophe for all of humanity’ nonsense? It has nothing to do with me or you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I sighed.

According to the Dragon King, the moment I saved Cordelia, the timeline started diverging. The events that were supposed to happen, the ones that did happen the first time around, had already been significantly altered. History was bending in a new direction.

And because of that… there was no going back now.

Originally, Cordelia’s awakening as a Hero was supposed to begin with the goblin incident. That would’ve been her turning point, the trauma that pushed her to start training like someone possessed, driving herself to the brink in pursuit of power.

Unfortunately, thanks to me… that moment never came.

I saw the consequences of that with my own eyes when we fought Amanta, the Evil Dragon, just days ago. In the original timeline, Cordelia had defeated Amanta alone. It had been her first true battle as a Hero, her first impossible victory. But what I witnessed was nothing like that.

There was a massive gap between Cordelia and the enemy. So wide, I was almost embarrassed for her. Honestly, it would’ve taken two of her, maybe three, just to hold even footing against that thing.

There was no doubt about it: the Cordelia I saw was weaker than the one I remembered at fifteen.

Still, no one else knew that. No one had seen the shift. Everyone around her would still treat her like the Hero, the symbol of humanity’s last hope, just as history dictated. But history had changed, and she hadn’t changed with it. Now, expecting her to face those same battles alone was… reckless. Dangerous.

Unfair.

“Man… this is such a mess,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

“If it’s a mess,” Lilith said, voice flat, “then why don’t you walk away from it?”

I sighed. “Because I can’t.”

Lilith puffed out her cheeks and stepped slightly ahead of me, turning just enough to hold out her left hand. Middle finger extended, just enough to show the ring glinting there without saying it directly.

Then she turned and glared, her tone sharpening like a blade being unsheathed. “Let me ask something, though I shouldn’t even have to ask. You gave me this ring on my left middle finger. So answer the question: who’s more important to you? Me… or your childhood friend?”

Her expression was somewhere between triumphant and murderous, like a predator certain the prey had walked into its own trap. She looked absolutely certain she had me cornered.

I blinked. “Oh, right. That ring is a super-rare item called the Night Fiend’s Ring. It lets you drain MP from nearby sources. Whatever you do, don’t lose it.”

Lilith froze.

For a moment, her expression went utterly blank, like her mind had short-circuited halfway through a thought.

“Wait, what?”

“Huh? Something wrong?” I looked at her, genuinely puzzled.

“MP drain… Rare item… But… middle finger on my left hand…” she muttered, each word lower than the last.

She stared at the ring, then at me, then at the ring again, like it had betrayed her on a profoundly personal level.

“Huh? I mean… You could wear it on your right middle finger instead, if you want,” I offered, trying to be helpful.

Then, without warning, Lilith crouched where she stood, buried her face in her hands, and started to tremble.

“Lilith?” I frowned, stepping toward her. “What’s wrong?”

As I got closer and came to a stop, I finally saw her face: she was crying.

Not in that subtle, misty-eyed way either. She was really crying. Big, wet tears rolling down her cheeks, one after another, dripping onto the cobblestone road like she didn’t even notice them.

“W-Wait, Lilith?! Why are you crying?!”

I barely had time to finish the sentence before she stood up and slapped me. Hard. The flat crack of her palm against my cheek rang out like a whipcrack.

“You’re completely… completely hopeless,” she muttered, shaking with frustration. “No common sense… at all.”

I staggered back, rubbing my cheek. I had no idea what just happened.

Seriously, what’s the big deal with the ring? It’s not like I put it on the ring finger of the left hand or anything. Just the middle finger. Who even cares? Women are impossible to understand sometimes.

Still rubbing my face, I turned to keep walking, only to notice something strange. The road ahead was still busy with travelers, but everyone had shifted to the sides. People were making an exaggerated effort to avoid the center of the path, leaving a wide, empty space straight down the middle.

“Huh?” I muttered. “Why’s everyone walking around the middle of the road?”

Lilith didn’t even try to hide her disgust anymore. She glared at me like I was a fungus. “Unbelievable… Ryuto, you really don’t know anything. You don’t understand the meaning of a ring on the left middle finger. And now this… this situation… I can’t believe you’re still not getting it. My head hurts.”

I scratched at my scalp. “Well, yeah, I grew up in the countryside. Nobody wore jewelry, let alone rings. And after I moved to the Dragon’s Domain, I started bouncing between the Demon Realm and unexplored wilderness… So, you know, I’m not exactly up on fashion trends.”

“I was the same,” Lilith replied flatly. “I was born a slave. Then one day, I ended up in the Dragon’s Domain. I didn’t exactly get a normal education either.”

“Then why do you know all this common sense stuff?”

“I’m the librarian of the Dragon King’s Library,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I live surrounded by books. Reading is basically breathing for me.”

“Hey, I’ve got the Wisdom skill,” I shot back. “In my previous life, I read tons of books.”

“Yes. Only the ones that would help you get stronger,” Lilith deadpanned. “That’s why you have no common sense.”

“Fair point.”

We walked a little farther, and I glanced around again. People were still avoiding the center of the road, giving us way more space than necessary.

“So,” I asked slowly, “why exactly is everyone walking around us?”

“A noble convoy’s coming up behind us,” Lilith said flatly, eyes narrowing as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Huh? What the hell’s that supposed to be?”

I turned around and saw several large carriages rolling up the road, flanked on all sides by mounted knights in full armor. There were at least a dozen of them, their gear gleaming in the sunlight. Around them marched foot soldiers and servants in plain clothing, probably squires, pages, and other attendants. The whole group moved with practiced formation, surrounding a single, outrageously ornate carriage at the center.

If I had to guess, that one held a noble, or maybe even royalty.

“That’s got to be someone from the royal family or very close to it,” Lilith muttered, her voice colder now, more calculated. “They’re traveling overland with a full escort.”

“That many people, though? Isn’t that… kinda excessive?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “There’s gotta be close to a hundred of them.”

“They wouldn’t risk a high-ranking noble being attacked by bandits or rebels. The scale is meant to prevent even the chance of an incident. And,” she added, folding her arms, “it’s also a way to flaunt power. Make sure everyone who sees them knows exactly who’s passing through.”

I let out a long, exhausted sigh as I watched the gaudy procession slowly move forward. The carriage was so overly extravagant it almost seemed satirical, featuring gold trim, velvet curtains, and jewel-studded fittings. Every detail shouted of wasted money, not to mention the wages for all those guards and attendants…

This was where the kingdom’s taxes went. Meanwhile, back in the village where I was born, out in the muddy, no-name countryside, my parents were still breaking their backs from dawn to dusk just to get by.

Even with both of them working themselves to the bone, we never had enough.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, the people around us began to stop. One by one, travelers along the road dropped to their knees and bowed low, foreheads nearly touching the dirt. Their faces were stiff, tense, nervous. They were clearly not doing this out of devotion, but fear. No one wanted to test how this noble would react if the road weren’t cleared.

“Should I be bowing too?” I asked, watching them.

“Do as you like,” Lilith replied curtly, without even looking at me.

“‘Do as I like’?” I repeated, glancing her way.

Her tone sharpened, and she snapped back without a trace of patience. “If you want to get beaten bloody by some noble’s knights or thrown in a dungeon for high treason, then by all means, do whatever you want. I’m done caring.”

“Beaten bloody?” I frowned. “Come on, Lilith, it’s not that serious.”

There was no mistaking it now. Her shoulders were tight, her jaw clenched, her eyes cold enough to freeze a bonfire. I’d seen her angry before—plenty of times, actually—but this wasn’t just irritation. This was personal.

She’s pissed.

And that made me pause.

Has she always been this easy to read?

No, not really. If anything, Lilith had always kept herself tightly controlled, emotionally closed off. Which meant… I’d really done it this time.

Whatever line I’d crossed, I hadn’t just brushed it; I’d stomped on it in steel boots.

So, I did what common sense demanded: I dropped to my knees and bowed.

“Ryuto?” Lilith blinked, caught off guard. “What are you doing?”

“Same as everyone else,” I said without looking up. “Trying not to make trouble.”

A moment later, Lilith followed suit. She knelt beside me, her voice quieter than before. “I’m surprised. That was more obedient than I expected.”

“Did you really think I’d go picking a fight with a noble entourage on a public road?” I gave her a sideways glance. “Not exactly my style.”

She let out a breath, half sigh, half surrender, and raised her hands in mock defeat. “Fair enough. With your strength, you probably could overpower a noble’s entire escort. If it came to that.”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m at that level now?”

I knew I’d grown stronger. I felt it in every movement, every spell. But actually hearing someone say it out loud? That hit me in a way I didn’t expect.

Still, even if I could win, that wasn’t the point. Beat a noble into the dirt, and you weren’t a hero; you were a criminal. Even if you got away with it once, the kingdom would come for you next. Then, the allied kingdoms. Eventually, the world.

And what if the whole world was against me? Even with all my strength, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

So, in the end, bowing was the wise choice.

Just as that thought settled in, one of the carriages stopped directly in front of us.

I lifted my gaze just enough to see what was happening. The door opened, and a heavyset man stepped down. He was middle-aged and round-bodied, with a wispy mustache clinging to his upper lip like an afterthought. His robe was extravagantly tailored, studded with gaudy gemstones, and dripping with wealth he clearly hadn’t earned.

He walked with a swagger meant to fill the road, stopping just short of stepping on my hands.

Then, he barked a single command: “You, girl. Raise your face.”

Lilith hesitated but obeyed. Her eyes lifted slowly, her mouth a tight line.

The man smiled. No, he leered. It wasn’t kindness or curiosity. It was hunger.

He reached down and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it slightly as if inspecting merchandise. His fingers pressed into her skin with familiarity that sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

“Hmm… I see. You’re a runaway slave, aren’t you? A pleasure slave, no less.”

Lilith’s voice came out cold and sharp, trembling with restraint. “How do you know that?”

The man didn’t hesitate. He seized Lilith’s right wrist and gave it a hard yank.

“Get in the carriage,” he said, already dragging her toward it. “Once we reach the next town, I’ll hand you over to the slavers. Though, depending on how the mood strikes me… I might buy you outright. Give you a more personal arrangement.”

He pulled her roughly to her feet, clearly intending to haul her into the carriage whether she agreed or not. His grip didn’t loosen for a second. It was force, not suggestion.

Lilith didn’t scream. She didn’t struggle.

She simply looked at me.

Her eyes found mine, wide, terrified, but quiet. A single glance that said everything: Help me.

That was when it hit me.

I never erased her slave crest.

I exhaled, long and tight, irritation prickling in my gut. Of course, I hadn’t. I’d been so focused on magic, on training, on surviving, that part of her past had faded into the background. And now it had come back to bite us.

In this world, a captured runaway slave was legally returned to the slaver’s guild, who would then transfer them back to their original owner. And thanks to the slave crest, essentially a binding curse inscribed into their body, there were conditions. Specifically, if someone declared they were turning a runaway over to the guild, the slave could not resist, at least not within the bounds of what was considered “reasonable enforcement.”

That’s how it worked. The command didn’t need magic to enforce it. The curse handled that part.

“Hey, old man,” I said.

The noble turned, clearly annoyed to be addressed. He narrowed his eyes at me, his lip curling in distaste. “What is it, cur? I hope you realize who you’re speaking to. I am the younger brother of His Majesty, King of the Fasilia Kingdom. That makes me a grand noble. Are you sure you want to address me so casually?”

His voice was pure contempt, his words coated in disdain. I stared at him, stunned—less by his title, more by the sheer audacity of his tone.

“I’ve got a few questions,” I said, ignoring the bile in my throat. “First one: how did you know Lilith was a slave?”

The noble raised an eyebrow, then chuckled softly. “Hmph. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to converse with the lower classes every once in a while. Consider it charity, an opportunity to expand your limited worldview.”

His eyes never stopped mocking me. There wasn’t even a trace of shame.

A real fantasy noble, I thought grimly. Twisted just right to match the setting. How fitting.

“I own a great many slaves,” he said proudly. “Naturally, someone of my standing possesses the proper tools.”

“Tools?”

He snorted. “You don’t know? Of course not. You wouldn’t. A slave crest detector. A magical device that reacts to the signature of the brand. My pleasure slaves tend to run, you see. My methods are a bit… harsh. So, I keep one on me at all times.”

“I see.” My voice had gone cold. My hands had curled into fists without me realizing.

“One more question,” I said. “What exactly did you mean by buying her out?”

“When a runaway slave is found,” the noble began, tone smug and instructional, “they’re typically returned to the slaver’s guild, who then compensates the finder and transfers the property back to the original owner. However…”

He gave a self-satisfied pause, as though explaining a loophole he personally enjoyed exploiting.

“If the slave’s been missing for a significant period, ownership becomes… ambiguous.”

So basically, statute of limitations for human property, I thought bitterly, just like expired deeds on land.

I didn’t say it aloud, but I understood what he meant. He wasn’t wrong, legally speaking. But the next partwas when the real poison came out.

“And before such slaves are returned,” he continued, “well… the guild allows for certain privileges. Particularly when the slave is female. A bit of a preview, you might say. A taste. Naturally, men of my status are often given first rights.”

He smiled openly.

“And in this case? This one’s a prize. Top grade. Even as a high noble, it’s rare I get to see one so exquisite.”

He looked Lilith up and down, his gaze lingering on her face, her body, her silence. It wasn’t just lecherous; it was degrading. He was stripping her down with his eyes, piece by piece, and savoring every second of it.

Disgusting.

I didn’t have to deny it. Lilith was beautiful. But not like Cordelia. Cordelia had that almost sculpted kind of beauty, elegant and arresting, like she’d stepped out of a portrait. Lilith was different. She was softer, smaller, her features more “cute” than regal. If Cordelia was a high-born actress meant to play the noble heroine, Lilith was the quiet, deadpan idol from the back row. Expressionless, sharp-tongued, but impossible to ignore.

I nearly laughed aloud at the thought.

Lilith, in an idol group? Not a chance. She’d kill the audience with a single glare. Still, her looks matched the type.

They were both stunning in their own ways, just on entirely different axes.

“So? What happens if I do take a liking to her?” he said, as if enjoying the hypothetical. His question pulled me back to reality. “Well, that’s where it gets interesting. There’ve been… disputes. Quite a few, actually. Slavers fighting over rights. ‘I saw her first!’ ‘I paid for her!’ ‘She ran from my estate!’ That kind of thing.”

He chuckled. “Even for sex slaves, matters of the heart come into play. Lust, jealousy, possessiveness… sometimes even love. Things get complicated.”

I stared at him. My jaw clenched.

“And?” I asked, my voice quiet.

The noble raised his hand and extended three fingers.

“They call it the Three-Year Rule,” the noble declared, fingers spread like a merchant unveiling a prized item. “If a slave’s been missing for more than three years, ownership becomes murky. And under the law, anyone can claim them for ten gold coins.”

Ten gold coins. In this world, that was no trivial amount. A single gold piece was worth about a million yen in Earth terms. So ten? That was a fortuneenough to buy a manor, launch a business, or apparently, buy a person.

I slowly rose from my kneeling position and dusted off my hands, my voice calm as I stepped forward. “My lord… I’m going to have to ask you not to take her.”

He raised an eyebrow, more amused than alarmed. “Oh? And why would I grant that request?”

“I’m the one who found her,” I said. “I was escorting her to the city’s slave guild. I had every intention of paying the fee, ten gold coins, fair and legal.”

The man scoffed. “You?” His eyes swept over me like I was mold on bread. “And I’m to believe that someone of your… condition has that kind of coin?”

Without a word, I reached into my coat and pulled out a soft leather pouch. I loosened the drawstring and tipped it forward just enough for the sunlight to catch. Gems tumbled into my hand, raw-cut, flawless, radiant. Sapphires. Rubies. A single large diamond, big enough to anchor a royal tiara. Each one alone was worth ten gold coins, if not more.

The noble’s gaze snapped to them, and for a moment, he went silent. His pupils dilated with recognition, maybe even greed.

“I’ve got more than enough,” I said quietly. “So, again, I’m asking you. Let her go.”

For a moment, I thought he might actually consider it. He stroked the end of his curled mustache like a man weighing options. Then, without a word, he turned back to Lilith and resumed dragging her toward the carriage.

“My apologies,” he said, voice thick with mockery. “But I see no reason to acknowledge the claims of a commoner. Not when I’ve already made my decision.”

“Wait, what the hell are you doing?” I snapped, taking a step after him. “I found her. You can’t just—!”

“I can,” he snarled, whirling on me. “I will. I have chosen to sample her. And no half-blood, dirt-stained mongrel is going to deny me.”

I stopped cold.

His grip on Lilith’s wrist tightened. His breathing grew heavier, and his face flushed, blotchy with heat. And even through the silk of his trousers, I could see it, clear as day. He was hard. Fully erect. The outline of his arousal pressed against the fabric like some sick, flagrant badge of power.

That was it.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. My voice dropped to a whisper.

“Yeah. Maybe she still has the crest. Maybe technically you’ve got the right.”

The noble wasn’t listening anymore. His mind was already gone, drowned in lust, in power, in the sick thrill of knowing no one around him dared stop him. His breathing came in ragged bursts, each one heavier than the last, and his free hand hovered near his belt as if preparing to strip right there in the open.

He doesn’t care anymore.

Which meant I didn’t have to, either.

If he dragged her into that carriage, it would happen within a minute. There’d be no stopping it.

The realization struck like a migraine, sharp and sudden.

She’s not a thing.

My body moved before my mind caught up. My fist connected with the noble’s face in a clean, brutal arc like gravity itself had lent me a hand. There was no resistance. No time to react. Just the wet crack of bone and flesh as my knuckles buried themselves in his jaw.

“Ghuh— Bluh!”

He flew. The man actually flew. His bloated frame lifted off the ground and tumbled back nearly a full meter before slamming down, rolling across the dirt like a sack of meat. He finally skidded to a stop two meters out, limbs splayed, carriage guards frozen mid-breath.

A shriek burst from his lips, high, panicked, humiliated. “Eek! Eek! Eeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!”

Still on his back, he lifted his torso, groaning. A massive purple welt ballooned from his forehead, pulsing visibly with every heartbeat. I’d definitely cracked the surface of his skull.

“You… you… you…!” he sputtered, his voice jumping an octave. “You hit me! ME! A grand noble! What… What have you done?!”

I scratched at my cheek with a lazy sigh. “I punched you. That’s it.”

He blinked at me, stunned, like the act itself hadn’t fully processed. “Y-You can’t just… I mean… that’s not…!”

Before he could fumble through the rest, I realized I was surrounded.

Knights on horseback, clad in steel, were already closing in, forming a circle around us. Five of them, maybe more. Their hands hovered near their weapons, eyes darting between me and their lord, caught between duty and self-preservation.

I didn’t wait.

For the briefest second, I let it out. It wasn’t magic, but something more profound. My battle aura. My killing intent. The kind of presence that made mountains flinch and beasts forget how to breathe.

The horses understood before the men did.

Their instincts screamed danger. Ears flattened, eyes wild, hooves drumming in panic. Suddenly, they broke ranks. With a chorus of frightened whinnies, the horses bolted, ignoring every command, every pull of the reins. They scattered, riders and all, breaking formation and fleeing in every direction, like leaves swept away by a storm.

“Where are you going?! Knights! KNIGHTS! You can’t even control a damned horse?!”

Honestly? That’s not their fault.

If I were a horse, I’d be running too.

Before I could enjoy the quiet, someone else stepped forward. A new figure emerged, placing himself protectively in front of the noble’s shaking, sprawled form.

Tall. Muscular. Shirtless. His skin was darkened by the sun, his torso built like a war golem, pure muscle, coiled and ready.

The noble’s face lit up with sudden relief. “Ah… good. You’re here.”

“Hehehe… I’ve been waiting for this,” the noble announced with theatrical glee, his voice practically trembling with anticipation. “Feast your eyes, commoner! This is no ordinary fighter. Before you stands the mightiest of brawlers, a warrior who has earned the coveted title of B-rank, granted only to the elite of the Adventurer’s Guild! And not just any B-rank. He’s ranked among the top! I give you Melissa!”

The shirtless mountain of muscle gave a single, silent nod. No words. No bravado. Just a slight shift in his posture: calm, fluid, lethal.

He raised his guard and sank into a stance. Feet angled, weight distributed perfectly, arms lifted like twin steel coils ready to strike.

I watched him carefully. “From that stance… Looks like kickboxing. No, closer to Muay Thai,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes. “Which means… he’s giving me the opening move.”

At my remark, it wasn’t Melissa who replied but the noble, who clearly couldn’t resist the sound of his own voice.

“Kickboxing? Muay… What nonsense are you babbling about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, shrugging. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Ha! Then listen well. Do you even know his moniker? The name whispered with fear in the underworld?”

I raised an eyebrow. “He has a nickname?”

His grin widened with the satisfaction of dropping what he clearly believed was a bombshell. “They call him the Scarlet Killzone.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! His limbs form a sacred perimeter, a range of two and a half meters. Within that radius lies his absolute domain. Step into it, and…”

He paused for effect, then finished with reverence: “All shall bleed.”

I let the silence sit for a moment. “So, he’s a close-range counter specialist.”

“Indeed!” he roared. “Those foolish enough to enter his reach are reduced to pulp! His fists, his knees, his elbows. They are death itself! His counters defy human speed! It’s suicide to rush him!”

Theatrics aside, the analysis wasn’t wrong. Melissa specialized in maintaining a brutal, controlled zone, his body a fortress of timing and power. Anyone who entered his range without precision was crushed: he was efficient, cold, untouchable.

Fortunately, I was already thinking three steps ahead.

We’d been shifting back and forth, subtly adjusting our footing, trading micro-feints like chess masters. Our current distance? Ten meters.

I glanced at the dirt beneath my feet, then looked up and smiled slowly and deliberately.

I crouched low, planting my fingertips on the ground in a sprinter’s start. The dust stirred as I dug in.

That one motion… changed everything.

Melissa’s stoic mask twitchedslightly. His mouth curved upward, not in mockery, but in something sharper. Challenge accepted.

From behind him, the noble exploded with laughter, nearly shaking with delight. “Hahaha! He’s going to charge him head-on? What an idiot! He doesn’t understand pugilists at all! He’s walking right into his range! Into the zone where not even gods survive!”

Still cackling, he turned and shouted toward Melissa, who nodded once in acknowledgment. He didn’t speak or move. But in his stillness, he conveyed everything: come. And I was happy to oblige.

Apparently, my charge had been mistaken for recklessness.

Judging by the way the noble grinned and Melissa’s stillness as he dropped into a guard, they clearly thought I was walking into a trap. I let out a slow, exasperated breath and tilted the corner of my mouth upward in a half-smile.

No, really. I was annoyed.

Seriously? This is the best a top-tier B-rank has to offer? He’s going to try to counter me? Seriously? That’s just sad.

“He doesn’t even realize the gap between us,” I murmured, barely loud enough to hear myself. “Trying to land a counter on me? He’s twenty years too early.”

The second the words left my lips, I exploded forward.

I didn’t activate any buffs. No physical enhancement spells, no support skills, nothing magical. This was pure baseline movement, and even so, I broke the air like a launched projectile. The earth blurred underfoot as I closed the distance in an instant.

To his credit, Melissa reacted.

I caught it. A sharp shift in his eyes, the twitch of his lead foot, the split-second pivot of his hips. He had speed, form. Even unbuffed, he tracked me.

“Heh,” I muttered, breath catching in a quiet note of surprise. “So, you’re not completely hopeless.”

His fist snapped forward in a clean, tight right straight, fast and heavy. From the angle, he was aiming right for my face. The timing? Impeccable.

Too bad it wasn’t going to land.

“But it’s not enough,” I said under my breath.

Just before his knuckles reached their mark, I shiftedthirty degrees to the right, a lightning-fast sidestep paired with a drop in my center of gravity. The change in angle was abrupt and violent, like snapping a slingshot line. His fist sailed through empty air as I veered past his dominant side, tracing a curve around his body and slipping straight into his blind spot.

His guard didn’t even twitch.

“Gotcha,” I said casually, launching into a crouched jump and twisting into a spin.

The heel of my boot arced through the air and struck the back of his head with a snap. Not full power. Just enough to shut him down without shattering anything.

The kick landed perfectly. His body stiffened, spine locking in reflex. Then, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed face-first into the dirt like a puppet cut from its strings.

Thud.

He didn’t move. Not even a twitch.

A cloud of dry earth swirled around him when his body struck the road. His limbs lay in a slow, awkward sprawl, utterly limp.

A heavy, stunned silence hung in the air.

It took the noble nearly ten seconds to process what had just happened. For a while, he just sat there, stunned, his eyes fixed on Melissa’s unconscious body sprawled in the dirt. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. When it finally did, it was a pitiful, broken stutter, high-pitched and hollow.

“Ah… ahhh…”

I gave him a slow, deliberate wink.

“So?” I said, voice calm and casual, almost lazy. “What now?”

“Fa… fa…” he choked, completely frozen.

I stepped toward him with the same wide grin still plastered across my face. It wasn’t friendly. It was too sharp, too gleaming, too controlled. To him, it must’ve looked like madness. He stared up at me, eyes wide and skin pale, and the moment I moved, his legs gave out completely. He collapsed where he stood and began to tremble violently.

Then I heard it. A faint, unmistakable wet trickle. A dark stain spread across his expensive silk trousers, followed by the sharp smell of urine.

He’d pissed himself.

Unbelievable.

Still smiling, I turned my head slightly and gestured toward Lilith, who remained quiet behind me.

“Look,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “maybe she does have a slave crest on her. I’m not denying it.”

The noble’s lips moved again. Foam bubbled at the corners of his mouth. All he could do was let out a high, gurgling whimper.

“Eek… Eek…”

“But she’s not a thing,” I continued, stepping closer. “She’s not some collectible for bored nobles. She’s not a toy, not a product. Not yours. Not anyone’s.”

I paused long enough for the weight of that to settle, then let my tone harden.

“She’s mine. One of the people I protect. One of the few things in this world I actually care about. You could’ve insulted me. You could’ve drawn your sword. I’d have let a lot of things slide. But the moment you looked at her like that… the moment you touched her…”

I leaned in close so that my voice barely carried beyond us.

“That was the moment I stopped caring what laws protect you.”

Then, slowly and deliberately, I raised my right hand and extended one finger. I brought it to hover just in front of his trembling nose.

“Don’t. Ever. Touch her again… you filthy pig.”

Then I flicked him.

Whack.

The sound was almost comedic, but not the result. His nose crunched under the pressure, shattered instantly. A geyser of blood erupted from both nostrils, and he let out a shriek that was more beast than man.

“YEEEAAARRRGH!!”

He toppled over, thrashing in the dirt and clutching at his face as blood poured down his front in torrents. I rose to my feet without so much as a backward glance.

Reaching behind me, I took Lilith’s hand. Her fingers slipped into mine like they belonged there. She said nothing.

Together, we turned and started walking down the road.

Alas, we didn’t get far.

A group of guards stepped in to block our way. There were at least a dozen of them. The noble’s personal soldiers, armed and armored. Their stances were professional, controlled, but I could see it in their eyes: they weren’t nearly as confident as they pretended to be.

They didn’t draw their weapons. Not yet.

But they stood in our path, ready to test their luck.

The two unlucky soldiers standing directly in front of me never saw it coming. I didn’t punch them. I didn’t kick them. I simply leaned in and gently flicked each of them under the chin. To the untrained eye, it probably looked like a joke.

If you’ve ever seen what happens when a world-class boxer lands a perfect uppercut to the jaw, you can imagine the effect. Their heads snapped back as if yanked by invisible strings, their eyes rolled, and their knees gave out. The two of them dropped like marionettes with their cords severed, limp, unconscious, and entirely out of commission.

Around them, the remaining guards froze. A wave of silent dread spread through their formation as they realized just how hopeless it was. They didn’t move. They didn’t even breathe.

“Move,” I said.

I didn’t raise my voice or add any theatrical flair. I let the weight of it land, slow and heavy. The silence that followed said everything. I could feel it ripple through them.

Like the parting of the Red Sea, the path ahead cleared. The guards stepped aside in a stunned daze, as if their bodies moved before their minds had decided anything.

Behind me, I heard a strangled voice, nasal, wet, and half-breathless.

“Wha… what… what are you…?”

It was the noble. He was still slumped in the dirt, blood pouring from his ruined nose, gasping between bubbles of red.

I didn’t bother turning around. Just raised one hand behind me and gave him a lazy wave.

“I’m the world’s strongest Villager,” I said, and walked on.

※※※

Two hours later, Lilith and I were walking down a different stretch of the highway. The road was quiet now, lit by the golden hue of the sinking sun. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the only sound was the crunch of our boots on gravel.

It should’ve felt like peace.

Instead, I was uncomfortable.

Not because of anything external, but because Lilith hadn’t let go of me. Since we left the scene, she’d been clinging to me nonstop. Sometimes she intertwined our fingers. Sometimes she hugged my arm tightly against her chest. She hadn’t said a word about it, and every time I tried to subtly pull away, she just gripped tighter.

It was… a little much.

“Lilith,” I said at last, trying to keep my tone even.

She didn’t look at me, but her voice came quiet and firm. “You said it.”

“Said what?”

“That I’m important to you,” she replied without hesitation.

“Well, yeah,” I admitted, scratching my cheek. “I said you’re one of the people I care about.”

“Heh… heh heh heh…” Lilith started laughing under her breath, and it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made me feel reassured. “I’m… Ryuto’s special person… heh heh…”

“Lilith?” I asked warily, casting a glance her way.

She wasn’t listening.

“Ryuto said it,” she murmured, almost breathless. “He really said it. That I’m someone important to him… heh heh… heh heh heh…” She covered her mouth, stifling laughter that sounded just a little too delighted. “The ring… on my middle finger… It wasn’t meaningless. Ryuto knew what it meant all along… He just pretended not to, because he was embarrassed… Heheheh…”

No, seriously. Her vibe was getting a bit scary.

Like, genuinely unsettling.

I mean, sure, it was flattering that she was happy, but this was veering into new territory. Still, I figured it was better to redirect her before her brain melted completely.

“Right… Anyway, the slave crest,” I said, steering us back to practical matters. “What are we doing about it? It’s a binding brand, yeah? An enchantment that ignores the target’s magical resistance. Classic forced obedience magic.”

Lilith blinked, then slowly nodded. “The buyer… I never even saw their face. I was transferred while unconscious and ended up in the Dragon’s Domain. But if what that noble said was true… then the current ownership is legally undefined. If someone pays ten gold, they can become the new master.”

“So… what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You want me to…?”

Lilith nodded, completely serious. “You should be my owner.”

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

She looked me dead in the eyes, not a trace of sarcasm or hesitation on her face.

“I don’t get it,” I muttered. “You’re not making any sense.”

As I stared, I noticed her cheeks beginning to flush, a soft pink spreading across her face like ink blooming in water. “Idiot,” she whispered.

Finally, with a look that could melt steel, she said it.

“I want the slave crest… to become our bond. If I’m bound to anyone, it should be you. I want you to do whatever you want with me. My body, my thoughts—everything. Just… do what you want.”

A thick silence fell between us.

I was at a loss for words. She stood there, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, giving me a look so intense and sincere that it felt like a punch to the stomach. I couldn’t look away, and she kept her gaze steady, never blinking.

“…”

“…”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Still nothing.

She didn’t move. Just stared at me with a gaze that was equal parts bold and shy, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides. She looked like she was bracing for something. Rejection, maybe, or embarrassment. But she didn’t take it back.

I, on the other hand, was still completely frozen.

We stared at each other for what felt like a full minute, maybe more. Neither of us spoke. Her eyes were steady, unwavering, while mine probably looked like a man watching a lit stick of dynamite slowly rolling toward him.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I mean, seriously,” I said, breaking the silence with a frustrated sigh. “I really don’t get it. Like, at all.”

Lilith tilted her head and gave me a slow, exasperated shrug, as if she were explaining something to a particularly dense child.

“You don’t have to understand,” she said softly. “But at the very least, I want you to understand this much. I want this. That’s all.”

“Fine, whatever,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Do what you want. But if I do go through with the purchase… how does that work? What happens with the restrictions?”

She nodded thoughtfully. “It should count as a re-contract. That means you’ll be the one who decides all the parameters. The crest will recognize you as the new master.”

Restrictions. Now that was a heavy word. With slavery contracts, the restrictions defined everything: what kind of commands the crest would enforce, how far you could go, and what level of obedience was magically compelled. Labor contracts were bad, but sex contracts? Bottom of the barrel. They granted complete dominion—body, mind, everything.

“Just so we’re clear,” I said, giving her a sharp look, “I’m leaving almost all of that blank. I’m not doing any of that crap.”

Lilith immediately puffed up one cheek in a pout, clearly displeased.

“I want you to restrict me,” she mumbled under her breath. “To bind me completely… because that’s what would make me feel… closest to you. This is truly a blessing. The timing is perfect, a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Now I’m ahead of the childhood friend, just a little…”

“Hmm?” I blinked. “What was that? I thought I just heard something seriously alarming. Like, ‘textbook emotional landmine’ alarming.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she replied quickly, face turned slightly away. “If that’s what you want… then I’m fine with it.”

Even so, I was pretty sure I heard her muttering again under her breath. Her voice was too quiet to catch, but I noticed a few ominous words like “blessing” and “ahead of the childhood friend.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, she looked up at me and tilted her head innocently.

“By the way, Ryuto?”

“What?” I asked, wary.

“Why exactly are we heading to the port town? Are we taking a ship somewhere?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Then, what for?”

I looked back at the road, the sunlight stretching ahead of us like a golden thread.

“Have you ever heard of the Tower of Mirage Flame?”

“The Tower of Mirage Flame,” Lilith echoed, her voice turning thoughtful. “That’s where they say the holy sword is kept. The one passed down through generations of heroes. If I had to guess… it’ll eventually become Cordelia Allston’s weapon.”

I nodded. “Exactly. And I’ve got two goals tied to that tower.”

“Two?” she asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“The first is near the port town of Thales,” I explained. “Before anything else, I want to train you. Push you to the minimum combat threshold you’ll need to survive even outside the human realm. We don’t have time for slow progress anymore.”

“And the second goal… is the tower itself?” she asked, her gaze sharpening.

“You think I’m planning to steal the holy sword?” I replied, letting out a dry laugh. “No need. Even if it’s called ‘the divine blade of prophecy,’ it’s really just an anti-magic weapon. A decent artifact, sure, but not worth the hype. My Excalibur’s got a divine-slayer enchantment. Way more useful.”

Lilith listened in silence as I continued, my tone turning a shade more serious.

“Besides, stealing it would only weaken Cordelia further. She needs that sword. It’s the best weapon available in the human realm. I don’t want her crippled. I want her ready. That blade belongs at her side.”

I paused a beat, then shrugged. “Anyway, that’s not the point.”

By the time we finished talking, the road opened up to a broader path, and the scent of salt and sea breeze filled the air. Ahead, rooftops shimmered in the heat rising from sun-warmed stone, and the buzz of voices and carts echoed off narrow alleys.

Just like that, we had arrived at the bustling port city of Thales, one of the busiest trade hubs on the northwestern coast.

※※※

The Demon Realm, I remembered, wasn’t one unified territory.

The land was split into two distinct regions. On one side, the demonkin ruled—the demi-human demonkind who built empires, enforced hierarchies, and held court beneath black banners. The other side was nothing but wild chaos: a sprawling, untamed wilderness where feral monsters prowled freely, governed only by raw instinct.

Right now, this particular stretch of land sat perched on the fragile line between the two worlds, the border where order ended and survival began.

Put simply, this place was the buffer zone between two worlds, the no man’s land caught between human territory and the domain of the demonkin.

The demonkin, on average, were more powerful than humans. Their bodies held more magic, and their lives were less burdened by pretense or social niceties. But aside from their uninhibited nature, they weren’t all that different. They had laws. Looser than human ones, yes, but enough to keep society intact. They had order, ruthless and sharp-edged, but still recognizable. They weren’t savages, just free.

This place… This wasn’t demonkin land, and it sure as hell wasn’t human land either.

This was the Borderworld, a lawless strip of earth where the rules of both realms ceased to apply. No kingdom held sway here. No crown, no council, no faith. Only survival, indulgence, and raw coin.

Nestled within this chaos was the city of Vishmel.

Vishmel was the ultimate middle finger to order. This was a city that reveled in vice, built from the ground up by the wealth of both humans and demonkin who needed a place to indulge in everything their own laws forbade.

Take the casinos, for example. If you ran out of money, no problem. You could sign a slave contract on the spot and get a fresh line of credit. There were labor contracts for men and pleasure contracts for women. Everything was conveniently priced to match your market value.

Then there were the brothels and slave markets. Gender? Species? Age? It didn’t matter. Man, woman, child, beastkin, magical creatures, even endangered monsters on the edge of extinction. If you had the gold, you could buy anything.

Walk into a bar, and you’d see narcotics—real, alchemical, soul-cracking drugs—casually listed on the same menu as the house wine. The party never stopped. It was all for sale, all consumed openly, all beneath flickering chandeliers and blood-soaked floors.

Weapon shops sold cursed blades and forbidden spell-artifacts like trinkets at a market stall. Blood magic, necromancy, mindbreak hexes—you name it.

It was, in every sense of the word, an outlaw city.

Still, even Vishmel had rules.

Murder, rape, and assault were off-limits.

Not because anyone cared about justice, but because Vishmel wasn’t built on morality; it was built on money. And you don’t scare off paying customers with street crime.

This city was a playground for the rich, human and demonkin alike. A monument to vice, funded by the deep pockets of nobles and warlords who wanted a place where anything was possible. And to keep their money safe, they’d backed the Merchant Guilds, who ruled the streets with hired muscle and iron discipline.

If you crossed the line in Vishmel, you didn’t get a trial; you disappeared.

Towering above it all, its centerpiece and crown jewel, stood one of the city’s most infamous attractions: the arena.

The arena was a coliseum, a massive structure nearly two hundred meters across. At its center stretched a circular battleground, paved with thick stone tiles and reinforced to withstand chaos. The wide floor, a full fifty meters in radius, was clearly designed to accommodate full-scale battles, even between groups.

By mid-afternoon, the place was packed to the brim, and the heat from the crowd had turned feverish. The roar of thousands echoed off the stone, rising like smoke into the open sky. Excitement. Hunger. Bloodlust. It boiled in the air like a drug.

There were two kinds of seating.

The free stands were exactly what you’d expect—open to the public, overcrowded, and swarming with the dregs of society. Gambling addicts with bloodshot eyes, men who’d burned through their life savings before noon, day laborers wearing rags soaked with sweat and despair. The stench was overwhelming. The desperation was worse.

Then, there were the observation suites, luxury booths that cost a small fortune to enter. Lavishly decorated with chandeliers, velvet curtains, and thick red carpet, they looked more like ballroom lounges than part of a coliseum. Inside, well-dressed nobles and wealthy merchants sipped wine and exchanged polite conversation while occasionally glancing down at the killing floor.

Their suits were tailored. Their jewelry glittered. Their titles, if you asked, were Duke, Viscount, Chairman, or Guildmaster.

Alas, it was all just polish.

No matter how elegant their clothes or refined their manners, these people had come here for the same thing as everyone else: blood. They didn’t really pretend otherwise. Some of them wore masks. Simple disguises. Thin excuses. A nod to modesty. A formality to distance themselves from the filth they consumed.

The whole thing resembled a masquerade, halfway between a high-society gala and a butcher’s stall.

Even so, every eye in the building, noble or commoner, gambler or dignitary, was turned toward the arena.

There, on the stone floor, a man in a black tailcoat and top hat strode confidently toward the center of the ring. He walked with purpose, the heels of his shoes clicking crisply across the tile.

A hush rippled through the crowd.

The show was about to begin.

※※※

“Laaaaaadies and gentlemeeeeeen!”

The announcer’s voice tore through the arena like thunder, amplified by wind magic and projected across every inch of the coliseum. The sound rolled off the stone walls, vibrating through the audience’s bones and rattling their blood.

“Thank you for your patience, everyone! Now thennnnnn, let’s kick off tonight’s main event!”

A roar erupted from the stands; the air itself seemed to crackle with anticipation.

“In the challenger’s corner! From the western territories… the holy spear himself… Orsted Yogsten!” The man’s voice rose to a fever pitch. “Twenty-two years old! The only current-generation Hero to have already reached adulthood, and I do mean adulthood in every sense of the word! A walking strategic-class weapon!”

The stadium exploded. The force of the crowd’s response sent a low, vibrating pulse through the entire arena. Even outside the coliseum walls, the sound would have been impossible to ignore.

“And that S-rank certification at the youngest age in history? Not just for show, folks! In his spectacular debut two events ago, he turned this very arena into his private slaughterhouse!”

The announcer paused for breath, then grinned wide beneath his black top hat.

“He didn’t just defeat the rookies. He annihilated them. Crushed the arena’s reigning hound, an A-rank threat-class monster: Cerberus, in a single, clean strike!”

The crowd screamed their approval, stamping feet and pounding fists against the rails as if trying to shake the heavens.

“And let’s not forget his second fight! Twelve victories. Twelve kills. That was the record held by the mad eastern swordsman, the S-rank berserker samurai: Kajiwara! And Orsted? He broke the man’s sword and walked away without drawing a drop of blood!”

The tone shifted for a beat. The announcer leaned into the irony.

“And of course, that ridiculous sense of honor earned him one of the only no-kill victories in this arena’s brutal history. A rare clean match in a blood-soaked ring, aaaand one that filled this entire coliseum with boos so loud we thought the roof would collapse!”

Right on cue, the crowd responded, an avalanche of boos crashing down from every tier. They remembered.

“And now, the third and final match of his contract! One last fight as he challenges for the throne! One final test before this gallant saint walks away from our humble pit!”

The cheers came like a detonation, deafening, raw, volcanic. The very air seemed to expand under the weight of the sound, trembling with collective bloodlust as thousands of bodies rose to their feet.

“And now, what you’ve all been waiting for…” The announcer spread his arms wide and shouted with all the flair of a man offering up the world itself. “THE REIGNING CHAMPION ARRIVES!”

The arena went absolutely feral.

“Sixty-seven wins, zero losses! The blade that cuts beyond S-rank! The silver-haired demon swordswoman, Eslyn Macbeth!”

The crowd’s response was deafening. A tidal wave of cheers shook the arena, and the announcer, feeding on the fervor, raised his voice even higher.

“And because no standard wager would balance the odds against such overwhelming dominance, today’s match will be a handicap battle in favor of the challenger!”

At that, a murmur rippled through the audience. Even the frenzied gamblers paused, some blinking in confusion. Down in the ring, Orsted furrowed his brow and muttered under his breath, voice laced with dry disdain.

“A handicap? Against a Hero?” He shook his head. “They’re really mocking me now.”

The crowd parted as two massive men emerged from a side gate, each carrying something—no, someone—between them.

Orsted narrowed his eyes.

“What… is that?”

The thing they placed in the center of the arena wasn’t a weapon. Wasn’t armor. It wasn’t even a beast.

It was a woman.

Late twenties by the look of her. Her figure was striking, voluptuous, with generous curves at the chest, a narrow waist, and hips sculpted with almost exaggerated sensuality. Her skin was a deep bronze, smooth and gleaming under the sun. Waist-length silver hair spilled over her shoulders like silk, accenting the thin veil of cloth barely covering her body. No weapons. No armor. Nothing even remotely suggesting combat readiness.

Orsted’s voice turned sharp with disbelief.

“That… That’s the champion?”

He looked to the announcer, who was already grinning like a jackal.

“There must be some mistake,” Orsted said, his tone caught between offense and confusion. “She’s missing her limbs. She doesn’t even have arms or legs!”

It was true.

Eslyn lay flat on the cold marble floor, torso exposed, expression unreadable. Her limbs were… gone. Severed cleanly at the shoulders and thighs. She wasn’t bound. She didn’t need to be. She just lay there, breathing slowly, gaze fixed somewhere far above the arena ceiling.

“And that, dear audience,” the announcer cried, sweeping one hand toward her with theatrical pride, “is today’s handicap! The reigning champion will be fighting in a condition of complete limb loss!”

The coliseum exploded.

Laughter. Cheers. Screams of delight. It was madness. The kind of collective hysteria that made blood feel like wine and cruelty like art.

“Worry not, dear patrons!” the announcer continued. “We have highly skilled medical mages on standby! Thanks to advanced surgical magic, the champion’s limbs were removed cleanly and painlessly! Full regeneration is guaranteed within hours after the match!”

Bloodstained bandages were wrapped around the stumps of her arms and legs, still fresh with crimson. Not old wounds. Not scars. These had been taken from her recently. There was no time for healing, no prosthetics or clever tricks. Just raw absence. And yet, there she lay, limbless, exposed, and utterly composed.

Orsted stared at her, dumbfounded. His voice, when it finally emerged, was hoarse with disbelief.

“They say you’re a swordswoman,” he said slowly. “But in your condition… with no arms, no legs… how exactly do you plan to fight me?”

Eslyn grinned, her lips curling with amusement as her voice slurred slightly, casual, mocking, and disturbingly calm.

“I’m still a bit high from the mandragora,” she said, eyes half-lidded. “Painkillers, you know? Keeps the screaming down. But really, kid… do you think someone like you can beat me just because I’m missing a few limbs?” She gave a soft, contemptuous chuckle. “What a joke.”

Orsted blinked. “This is absurd.”

“Absurd?” Eslyn’s grin widened. “I’m too strong. That’s the problem. If we fight normally, nobody bets. So… this. This is my handicap. It keeps the house running. It’s part of the game.”

He looked at her, truly looked at her, and for a moment, even Orsted, the stoic Hero, faltered. “You… you’re fighting like this by choice?”

“That’s right,” she said, her voice silky with confidence. “I always do.”

Before he could respond, the bell rang, a heavy, resounding gong that shook the coliseum. Instantly, the crowd ignited, cheering and howling in animalistic anticipation. The noise swallowed everything.

Then Eslyn moved.

With no legs, no leverage, no momentum, she launched herself upright, abdominal muscles flexing with inhuman precision. Her body coiled, then sprang, lifting clean off the marble in a motion that defied explanation. Like a grotesque gymnast, she twisted through the air, a blur of silver hair and bronze skin.

“She jumped,” Orsted muttered, his brows drawing down, “with just her core…”

He didn’t panic. He didn’t falter. Calm and composed, he slipped into a readied stance, spear leveled, muscles coiled like a spring. He calculated her angle, tracked her descent, and prepared to intercept.

“She’s fast,” he murmured, “but not beyond expectation.”

He tightened his grip. His stance narrowed.

“It’s over.”

The spear thrust forward in a clean, perfect strike.

It hit nothing.

For a second, he stood frozen, the shaft of his weapon extended through open air. No resistance. No impact.

Just a blur, dissipating like heat off stone.

“What?” he breathed.

Eslyn was gone.

Not parried. Not evaded.

Gone.

All that remained was the ghost of her momentum, an afterimage suspended in the air, vanishing into silence.

“Gah!”

Orsted cried out in pain, a sharp hiss escaping his throat as he immediately launched himself forward with a full-bodied leap. He landed ten meters away in an instant, heels skidding across the blood-slicked stone as he spun around to face his attacker.

His hand went to his neck.

Blood was pouring down his right shoulder like water from a broken dam.

“What… did you do to me?” he demanded, eyes wide, voice trembling between confusion and rising panic.

Behind him, lying sprawled on the ground where he’d stood just moments ago, Eslyn spit something out onto the floor: a red, steaming hunk of flesh.

“The carotid,” she said casually. “I slipped behind you… and bit off a chunk. That’s all.”

“What?”

He barely had time to react before she vanished again.

Gone. Silent. Instantaneous.

His instincts screamed. He pivoted hard and thrust his spear over his right shoulder.

“There!” he roared. “I’ve got you this time!”

The spear struck true. He felt the impact.

Then, he realized something was wrong.

His weapon had connected… but it hadn’t pierced her.

Instead, impossibly, Eslyn had caught the blade. With her teeth.

Her head hung in midair, suspended in a blur of movement, and the spearhead sat clenched between her jaws, not embedded. Caught. Like a sword trap in a child’s stage trick, only this was real.

“What the hell are you?!” Orsted screamed, panic overtaking form.

He ripped the weapon free with a violent sweep, flinging Eslyn’s body into the air. She spun mid-flight, a twisting blur as she was hurled away, crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

Even thenshe was laughing.

“Heh heh…” Her voice rang clear through the din. “Didn’t think you’d dodge that one. You’ve done well, little hero. Truly… I didn’t expect a human like you to get this far.”

Something cold slid down Orsted’s spine.

His instincts flared a moment too late.

Mid-sentence, the source of her voice had changed. What had begun from across the arena—twelve meters out, front-right—was now whispering directly into his left ear.

From behind him.

Within inches.

“Still,” she purred, voice laced with promise, “this is where it ends.”

“W-Wait! No!”

A scream tore from his throat.

Pain exploded through the side of his neck, sharper and deeper than before.

The second bite tore open Orsted’s left carotid artery.

It was over.

His body, already reeling from massive blood loss, couldn’t keep up. His consciousness wavered and his balance slipped away, but even then, a sliver of pride remained. With what little strength he had, he raised both hands in surrender.

“I yield.”

He knelt before the figure lying motionless on the floor, breath trembling, vision warping at the edges. His knees touched the blood-slicked marble, and his body swayed under its own failing weight.

Eslyn’s voice met him with a grin.

“Oh my… raising your hands during battle?” Her tone was lilting, sing-song, almost amused. “That’s rather careless.”

Pain exploded across both wrists.

Orsted gasped, jerking as fresh agony flared. When he looked down, blood sprayed anew from fresh punctures. His wrists had been opened cleanly, surgically. He hadn’t seen her move, hadn’t sensed a thing.

Across the floor, Eslyn was already rolling away, spitting another pair of glistening red chunks onto the ground.

“I figured I’d finish the set,” she said cheerfully. “Carotids and radial arteries. You’re a fountain now.”

Orsted clutched at the wounds, trying in vain to staunch the flow. His vision went white. His voice was barely a breath.

“W-What is this…? I can’t see… can’t react… Are you… freezing time? Manipulating it?”

Eslyn only chuckled, low and lazy.

“Wouldn’t that be fun? But no,” she whispered, “you’re just too slow.”

He collapsed without another word.

His body fell to the marble with a dull, wet thud, arms splayed, spear clattering beside him. Blood pooled outward in slow, rippling waves. It crept past the tiles like it was claiming the arena as its own.

Then, cutting through the silence, a new voice rang out.

High-pitched. Feminine. Bored.

“That one was supposed to be a Hero, you know.”

Eslyn didn’t need to turn to recognize the voice. Her gaze flicked backward as she twisted upright, using the strength in her core to sit up.

The girl who stood there was small. Maybe ten years old, if that. She clutched a tattered teddy bear in both hands, wearing a pristine gothic-lolita dress of black velvet and lace. Her pale, porcelain-like limbs looked like they’d snap if you breathed too hard. Her golden hair shimmered to her knees, smooth as silk, untouched by the grime of the battlefield.

She looked like a child.

She wasn’t.

“You know,” the girl said, her voice laced with an airy detachment, “he was still developing. Twenty-two may sound seasoned, but for a Hero, he had plenty of room to grow. Lower S-rank, sure, but in a few years? He might have become one of our trump cards, especially when we start folding the beastkin and demonkin factions into the restructured frontier.”

Eslyn narrowed her eyes. Her voice dropped.

“Merlin Onyx,” she growled.

The girl smiled softly.

“Ah, you do remember me. That’s flattering.”

With effort, Eslyn dragged herself upright, shoulders squared despite her condition. Her teeth were gritted. Her eyes burned.

“And what? You’re here to scold me? Or are you just here to gloat over the corpse of another ‘potential asset’ I ruined?”

Merlin gave a dainty shrug, the kind that would’ve looked adorable if it hadn’t come from something so impossibly dangerous.

“Well,” she said, cradling the bear, “if you’re feeling feisty, I could step into the ring. You’re not too injured to die, are you?”

“Let’s not joke around,” Eslyn muttered, her voice suddenly tight with a familiar caution. “You and I are a terrible match. If I can help it, I’d rather never have to deal with you again, Merlin.”

The tiny girl, still cradling her stitched-up bear, offered no rebuttal. Instead, she extended a single, pale hand toward Orsted’s crumpled body. In an instant, the young Hero was bathed in a faint green shimmer, like a mist of glowing particles. Before their eyes, the gaping wounds across his neck and wrists began to heal. The torn flesh rejoined, the skin knit itself closed, and little by little, his breathing eased back to something steady.

“I could restore your limbs as well, Eslyn,” Merlin offered without turning, her tone maddeningly casual.

Eslyn scoffed. “Why the hell would I let you do me any favors? I’ve got enough debts I never asked for. I’m not about to owe one to you.”

Merlin gave a little shrug. “You haven’t changed,” she said, almost wistfully. “In any case, that aside… I met someone recently. Rather interesting, actually. A fifteen-year-old.”

Eslyn raised an eyebrow. “Fifteen? Don’t tell meit’s the youngest of the Hero lot? That northern girl? I’m not here to judge your preferences, but I thought meddling with bleeding hearts was exactly how you kept getting into trouble.”

Merlin’s smile widened, catlike. “Not a Hero. Just a Villager.”

Eslyn stared at her.

“A Villager?” she repeated flatly. “You took an interest in a Villager?”

“Well,” Merlin said, lifting her bear and tapping its nose with one delicate finger, “calling him just a Villager would be misleading. When I first encountered him around half a year ago, he was maybe mid-tier A-rank. At best.”

“Fifteen years old and already A-rank mid-tier…” Eslyn muttered, then shook her head. “Tempting to be impressed, I’ll admit. But ultimately?” She narrowed her eyes. “Still a gnat. Not worth thinking about.”

“Is that so?” Merlin’s voice tilted upward, amused. “That was six months ago. Knowing him, he’s likely surpassed mid-tier S-rank by now. Perhaps even higher.”

Eslyn’s laugh was dry. “Sure, the kid’s got potential. Ridiculous growth curve, no doubt. But until he can stand in our ring, he’s just background noise.”

Merlin’s eyes glittered.

“Oh, he’ll get there,” she said softly. “Of that, I’m certain. He will enter this domain. My domain.”

She paused, then smiled with a strange, knowing warmth.

“Shall I make a prophecy for you?”

Eslyn’s eyes narrowed. “A prophecy?”

Merlin nodded. Her voice lifted. It was still bright, still girlish, but it was now tinged with something deeper. Something ancient.

“You’ll meet him,” she said. “That Villager boy. You’ll cross paths with him soon.”

Eslyn frowned. “And why, exactly, are you so sure of that?”

“Because his next destination is the Tower of Mirage,” Merlin said, voice light but certain. “And he’s not after the Hall of the Sacred Sword. His goal lies deeper. Far deeper.”

Eslyn’s lips curled into a small, dry smile. “I see. Then it’s inevitable. We will meet. And let me guess…” Her tone turned pointed. “You’re the one who told him what lies beyond?”

“That’s right,” Merlin admitted, nodding. “Or more accurately… he already knew. A rumor, an old legend, just hearsay. I merely gave it weight. Turned a whisper into truth.”

Eslyn narrowed her gaze. “And you knew he’d die going there. So why tell him?”

Merlin’s golden eyes drifted toward the arena floor, to the blood still glistening where Orsted had fallen.

“He asked me,” she said softly, “with unclouded eyes. Asked me how to become stronger.”

Eslyn tilted her head, studying the girl’s expression. “If he were a mage, you’d have locked him away and trained him for thirty years. But he’s not, is he?”

“No,” Merlin said, “he’s a swordsman. And for someone like that… there’s only one path to power.” She looked up. “The Tower. The same path you took.”

The silence stretched. Eslyn’s voice came quieter now, tinged with something unreadable.

“You… would’ve taken him as a student?” she asked. “You, of all people? The great Merlin Onyx, the one who loathes humanity more than anyone?”

Merlin’s smile turned wry. “Strange, isn’t it? I don’t quite understand it myself.”

“Then what did you see in him?” Eslyn pressed.

For a heartbeat, Merlin hesitated. And then, with a small sigh, she said, “I thought maybe Ryuto could beat you.”

Eslyn blinked.

She almost laughed it off. Almost. But something in Merlin’s voice—the absence of irony, the way she didn’t blink when she said it—stopped her cold. Her expression turned serious.

“I don’t think I’ll lose to him,” she said, quiet but firm. “But… if you believe he’s capable of standing on my level… then at the very least, he’s someone worth paying attention to.”

Merlin nodded slowly.

“I don’t think he can defeat you yet,” she said. “But that’s not the point.”

She turned then, gaze far away, as if seeing the path Ryuto walked, the monsters ahead, and what he’d become if he survived them all.

“The trial that waits inside the Tower,” she said, “it will raise him. Force his evolution. It’s the clearest path to transcendence, the surest door to a new tier of existence. If he survives, he will find you.”

She paused before continuing, her voice quiet but with a note of finality.

“Ryuto Maclaine will come to you, Eslyn. Sooner than you think.”

In the bloodstained coliseum at the border between the Demon Realm and the Human World, the undefeated champion Eslyn Macbeth, still unconquered even in handicap bouts with all four limbs severed, awaited the next who would dare.

And far from that darkness, under clear skies and sea winds, the strongest Villager alive, Ryuto Maclaine, was drawing closer.

Their meeting was inevitable. And it would happen soon.

※※※

The port town of Thales was alive with chaos and sunlight.

Seagulls wheeled overhead in the salt-crisp air. Fishermen shouted coarse orders over the clatter of crates and iron winches. Sailors and stevedores swore like it was a second language, muscles straining as they hauled barrels, nets, and catch-of-the-day up and down the piers.

This was the starting point of the famed Mackerel Route, and the main artery of trade to the northwest coast.

Through the maze of shouting, fish-stink, and sun-bleached wood, we made our way inland toward the town center. The further we walked, the wider the stone-paved roads became and the more elegant the buildings grew, plaster and wood giving way to solid brick and narrow alleys replaced by open promenades lined with well-kept stalls.

Skewers sizzled over open flames. Merchants hawked bundles of herbs, trinkets, and tools. Somewhere nearby, a bard’s lute danced above the din.

Just past a corner lined with food carts and textile stands, we saw the shop.

“Amris Jewelers,” read the faded wood sign hanging above a two-story brick storefront. The structure looked old, weather-beaten but sturdy, the kind of place that had weathered decades without ever updating its windows.

According to what we’d heard, it was the only proper jeweler in the entire port.

We stepped inside, the old door creaking softly behind us as I knocked once on the frame for form’s sake.

A few minutes later, the shop’s owner, a broad man with a trimmed gray beard and warm eyes, examined one of the gems I’d spilled from the pouch. His fingers were calloused but careful. He turned the jewel in the light and let out a short, hearty chuckle.

“Hah,” he said, eyes twinkling with disbelief, “now don’t go joking with an old man like me.”

Still smiling, he looked back at me, but the disbelief hadn’t faded from his face.

“This one,” the jeweler said, holding up a gem the size of a baby’s fist, “you’re trying to tell me is a black opal, right?”

He turned the stone between his fingers, the soft glow of the shop lamps catching in its violet depths. His tone was half-mocking, half-incredulous.

“If it’s real,” he added, “I could buy it for ten gold coins. Ten. For just this one.”

His hand shifted to the next jewel. His expression changed from amusement to something almost wary.

“And this? You’re saying this monster is an amethyst? You know, pieces like this only ever show up at royal auctions? I’ve never seen one outside a collector’s tome.” He chuckled, but it was strained now. “And that’s not even the crazy part.”

One by one, he laid the pieces outcarefully, as if they might bite him.

“Dragon pearls. King’s-grade diamonds. Blue crystal matrices. A ring worked in orichalcum, by the gods. This is royal treasury-level stuff. And you two, some scuffed-up kids with a filthy pouch full of legendary-grade loot, walk into my store?”

His voice dropped, suddenly sharp. “Either you’re lying… or you robbed someone very important.”

He wasn’t wrong. We’d found the stash deep in the frozen reaches of the north, an abandoned vault beneath what had once been a capital of the old world. Whoever it belonged to had been dead for centuries. A king, maybe. Or a dragon-blooded aristocrat.

Still, that didn’t change the facts.

“I get it,” I said, raising my hands slightly. “It sounds crazy, but this stuff is real.”

Beside me, Lilith stepped forward, tone calm but firm.

“Ryuto isn’t lying,” she said. “Just buy the cheapest one. The black opal. Half market price. Five gold coins. That’s all we’re asking. It helps you, it helps us.”

The shopkeeper scoffed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You think I’m an idiot? Try to sell this garbage in my shop and expect me to play along?” His voice grew cold. “Keep this up, and I’ll call the guards.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. “We’ve done nothing wrong. We brought gemstones to a gemstone merchant. Why would that be a crime?”

Alas, the man had already turned away, calling over his shoulder.

“Hey! You, boy!”

A scrawny kid, twelve at most, peeked out from the back room.

“Y-Yes, sir?”

“Run and get the guards. Now.”

The kid was halfway to the door when a bolt of pain lanced through my skull.

I’d had enough.

With a sigh, I reached out as the boy passed and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him clean off the floor.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered, setting the kid down gently on the floor. “No need to call the guards, yeah? And… Lilith? Mind packing the gems back up?”

She didn’t move right away. I could feel the heat rolling off her glare as she all but scorched the shopkeeper with her eyes, but she did as I asked, quietly collecting the gemstones and slipping them back into the pouch without a word.

I turned to the man behind the counter and dipped my head. “We’ll leave it at that. Our bad, old man.”

The jeweler huffed, puffing out his chest like a rooster who’d chased off a fox. “If you’re gonna try scamming someone, at least make it believable,” he snorted. “Not that it matters. A sharp eye like mine? Nothing short of the real deal’s gonna fool me! Hah!” He barked out a laugh, smug as a noble on tax day.

Lilith looked like she was two seconds away from biting his throat out. I tugged her sleeve before she got any ideas and pulled us both out of the shop.

We made our way back down the stone-paved street, the salty breeze off the bay brushing against our clothes. On the way, I stopped at a food stall and picked up three skewers of something-meat roasting over open coals. I handed one to Lilith and kept the other two for myself.

“Guess it was too much,” I said, chewing around a bite of charred mystery meat.

“They were not fakes,” she muttered, still bristling.

“Sure, but that’s not the point,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, imagine some random high schooler walking into a Tokyo pawn shop with a billion-yen gem. You think anyone’s gonna believe them?”

Lilith didn’t respond at first, her mouth a thin line of displeasure.

“But they weren’t fakes…” she repeated under her breath, softer this time.

I smiled, shaking my head. “You’re not wrong. But that’s not the hill we need to die on today.”

With that, I took another bite and froze. Whatever this meat was, it was damn good. Rich, a little spicy, and dripping with grease in the best possible way.

“Lilith,” I said around a mouthful, “try yours. Seriously, this stuff’s amazing.”

She hesitated, then took a bite. And her eyes lit up.

“Delicious.”

“Told you,” I said, tearing into another bite of the skewer. “It’s life-changing, right?”

Lilith looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Life-changing? It’s good, yes. But it’s just… good. In the normal sense of the word.”

I snorted. “Wow. Tough crowd. Guess your standards are pretty damn high.”

She blinked. “My lifestyle has always been… modest.”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered, rubbing at my temples. “Anyway, that’s not the problem right now.”

Right there on the street, I groaned and grabbed my head. This wasn’t good. We had a real problem on our hands.

“How the hell are we gonna get our hands on some cash?”

The unfortunate reality was this: liquidating the treasure trove of ancient gems we’d recovered wasn’t going to be easy. Not here. Maybe if we hauled everything to the capital or one of the major royal auction houses, we could make a killing. But we didn’t have that kind of time. The round trip alone would eat weeks, maybe months, and Cordelia’s enrollment at the Academy was already less than a year away.

That didn’t leave us much room to breathe.

The plan had been simple: spend a few months power-leveling Lilith to get her battle-ready. Then, push out to the fringes of the world—beyond the human realms—and deep into the demon territories, the frozen wastelands, and the ancient ruins, where the highest-tier monsters roamed. The idea was to hunt them down and grow stronger with every fight, wasting no time along the way.

However, to do that, we needed provisions. Lots of them. And for that, we needed Lilith’s Item Box skill.

Up until now, I hadn’t tried anything that ambitious because, frankly, I hadn’t been strong enough to survive it. But now? Now I was ready. I could feel it in every inch of my body—my instincts, my mana circuits, even my grip on my sword. I wasn’t the same guy I’d been two years ago.

The second problem, though, was logistics. I didn’t have Item Box. That meant any long-term expedition meant living off the land, which was suicide in unexplored zones.

Fortunately, Lilith had it. Maxed out. Fully operational. Our storage problem was solved.

Yet here we were.

“I can’t even afford to buy basic supplies, let alone buy you out of slavery,” I muttered.

Lilith turned to me, frowning. “Wait… what do you mean we can’t make money? Didn’t the Dragon Lord give you a pouch of gold coins?”

I blinked.

“Oh. That.” I rubbed the back of my neck, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, uh… I threw it out.”

“You threw it out?”

She stared at me, her crimson eyes wide with disbelief.

“In town, sure, gold’s useful. But out on an expedition?” I waved my hand dismissively, the last of the skewer still clutched between my fingers. “It’s nothing but dead weight. Gold coins are heavy, you know. If I’ve gotta choose between hauling a sack of money and packing extra water, I’ll take the water every time.”

Lilith blinked at me, face blank. “Heavy? You mean, gold coins?”

“Yeah,” I replied, frowning at her confusion. “Why?”

“… Huh?”

“What?”

“… Huh?”

“What?”

She pressed a finger to her brow and exhaled a long, weary sigh, like she was suddenly too tired for the entire conversation.

“This isn’t making any sense.”

I stared at her. “What’s not making sense? Gold’s useless when you’re trekking through frozen hellscapes.”

“Yes, I understand that,” she said, nodding slowly, as if placating a particularly stubborn child. “But your MP is practically limitless. Your Item Box storage is absurd. So…” She paused, her tone tightening. “Why would you need to carry anything in the first place?”

I tilted my head. “What are you trying to say?”

“You’ve got tons of high-value items in your inventory. If we needed something to exchange for cash, even something less valuable than the gemstones, you’d still be covered.” She folded her arms, expression flat. “But more importantly, why in the world would you throw away the gold coins the Dragon Lord gave you?”

I blinked again. “Huh?”

“Item Box is a hybrid of spatial and gravitational magic,” she said, clearly shifting into ‘lecturer mode.’ “The weight of an item is meaningless once it’s inside. Mass remains, but weight disappears. That’s basic magical theory. So, your comment about gold being ‘too heavy’—”

“Oh. That’s what this is about.”

I scratched my head, suddenly remembering that detail. Of course, she was right. Inside an Item Box, a mountain weighed nothing. I should’ve known she’d catch that.

“I mean, that’s why I had you max out your own Item Box skill,” I said, shrugging. “I travel light. Always have. What’s in my pack? Water. That’s it. Life-or-death survival doesn’t leave room for luxuries. Gold just got in the way.”

“Wait, what?” Lilith blinked.

“I said I can’t use Item Box,” I repeated, as if that weren’t obvious by now.

She stared at me like I’d just declared I’d never learned to walk. “You’ve got over five digits of MP, and you can’t use Item Box? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Wild, huh?”

Lilith let out a breath that could’ve powered a windmill. “Unbelievable. You’ve been wading through ancient ruins, slaying monsters, collecting relics, and you just left it all behind?”

“Most of it, yeah,” I admitted. “I mean, it’s not like I could carry it.”

Her jaw dropped. She wasn’t even trying to hide her disbelief anymore. “You’re saying that treasures, rare monster materials, ancient artifacts, things worth more than what some countries could ever hope to possess, are just… lying around in caves somewhere?”

“Pretty much,” I said with a shrug. “But hey, what’s done is done.”

“What’s done is done?” she repeated, eyes wide. “You’re just going to write that off like it’s nothing?!”

I gave a helpless smile. “Yeah. I mean, you can’t undo the past.”

“But you can learn from it,” she snapped. “Honestly… if you’d even put a fraction of that effort into learning how to manage your resources, we wouldn’t be broke right now.”

“Well, I did pack a pouch of gems,” I muttered. “Didn’t expect the guy to freak out and call the guards. I haven’t been in a town for over a year, all right? I’ve been sleeping under trees and punching dragons in the face. I’m a little rusty on civilian etiquette.”

Lilith sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Even so, you’re carrying gemstones that could fund a kingdom. How could you not realize this would raise suspicion?”

“Okay, but in my defense—”

“There is no defense,” she cut in flatly.

We exchanged a long, weary look, and both let out twin sighs that said, “We’re going to die poor, aren’t we?”

After a pause, Lilith tilted her head. “By the way, Ryuto? You said earlier you only carry water.”

“Right.”

“So, what exactly have you been eating this whole time?”

I thought about it for a second, brows furrowing. “Monster meat. Lots of it.”

Lilith’s expression turned wary. “You mean, like wild boars and stuff?”

“Those are the good ones,” I said, nodding. “Bears, lions, that sort of thing.”

“Lions?” she echoed, frowning. “I heard lion-type monsters taste terrible.”

“Nah, they’re actually decent if you sear the fat right. The real nightmares are the zombie-types.”

Her face contorted in horror. “Wait. You… ate zombies?”

She wasn’t just confused anymore. Lilith was outright recoiling, her expression tightening in visible discomfort. I could practically see her mentally filing me away under “irredeemable.” Clearly, the word zombie had conjured the wrong image in her mind.

I gave a sheepish laugh and tried to clarify. “Hey, I meant animal zombies. Like, reanimated boars and wolves. I’m not out there gnawing on dead people or anything.”

Lilith didn’t look any more reassured. “Ryuto… wait.”

“Yeah?”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said.”

I tilted my head. “Like what?”

“A zombie,” she said slowly, “is a rotting corpse. That means it’s decomposing.”

“Well, yeah,” I replied with a shrug. “What’s your point?”

“The point,” she said, nearly choking on her words, “is that even if we’re not talking about human zombies—which, obviously, we shouldn’t be—you still don’t eat zombies!”

I crossed my arms. “If it’s edible, and I haven’t eaten in two days, I don’t exactly have the luxury of being picky. Gotta get protein somehow.”

“You’re calling undead flesh a protein source?”

“Look,” I said, exhaling, “it’s not ideal. But it works in a pinch.”

Lilith turned away with a quiet groan and muttered, “Let’s change the subject before I lose my appetite.”

“Fine by me.”

She took a breath and composed herself. “Okay… I get it. You didn’t carry money. Your circumstances were beyond normal. But surely, you weren’t always wandering around outside the human realm.”

“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “Once in a while, I’d pass through a border village. Real backwoods stuff. Places between the human lands and the demonkin territories.”

“And when you did,” she asked warily, “where did you stay?”

“There weren’t any inns that took gems, and I wasn’t exactly carrying small change,” I said. “So I didn’t stay anywhere.”

Her brows drew tight. “You camped outside?”

I nodded. “Pretty much every time.”

“And food?”

“If I couldn’t hunt, I went without. Sometimes I found scraps behind taverns or bakeries. That was a good day.”

Lilith froze. Her eyes slowly lifted to the sky. Then, with a reverent sigh, she raised one hand and made the sign of the cross over her chest.

I stared at her. “What… are you doing?”

She didn’t answer.

“Lilith?”

Still nothing. Just that somber, almost funereal expression on her face.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” I muttered.

The silence deepened. I sighed and scratched the back of my head, trying to ignore the weight of her judgment. Maybe I deserved it. But still…

Okay, yeah. Maybe it was that bad.

The silence dragged onlong enough to be suffocating. And then, at last, Lilith turned to me with tears welling in her eyes. Her expression had softened into something almost saintly, like the gentle smile of a Madonna.

“Ryuto,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re strong. So strong it’s almost frightening. If you wanted to, you could earn more than enough to live comfortably.” Her smile deepened, full of warmth and quiet conviction. “So, let’s make money. And then… let’s eat something delicious for once. Not every day, but sometimes. And maybe not feather beds, but at least… a warm one.”

Delicious food, huh?

For some reason, what flashed through my mind was a plate of steaming curry—my mother’s, from back when I lived in Japan. I hadn’t thought about that in forever.

My stomach, clearly in agreement, let out a monstrous growl. Loud enough to echo in the street.

Lilith raised an eyebrow. “Ryuto?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s splurge a little. Eat something good. I still have a few large silver coins on me.”

A few large silvers was worth a few hundred thousand yen at least. Enough to keep us fed for a little while. I exhaled slowly, a mix of gratitude and resignation pressing in on my chest.

So, this is what it feels like… being a freeloader.

Ryushoken. The name sounded Chinese, but it was actually a Western-style restaurant. A decent one, too, by the look of it. Their specialty was roasted meat. Bird and lizard, apparently. Fairly upscale, but not so high-end that we’d get kicked out for looking like traveling vagrants.

Seated at a modest wooden table and stuffing my face with roast chicken and fresh-baked bread, I couldn’t hold it in.

“Holy crap, this is good!”

“Well… I mean, of course it tastes better than animal zombie,” Lilith muttered, her voice trailing off like she was trying to rationalize the universe.

“No, no, seriously, it’s way better than lion meat too!”

“Uh… well… I mean… yeah… I suppose it would be… It’s chicken, after all,” she said, wearing an expression that hovered somewhere between pity and existential concern.

I grinned around another mouthful, savoring the crisp skin and juicy tenderness, but when I looked up, Lilith was staring at me with a strange, almost distant look in her eyes. It took me a second to realize what it was.

She was genuinely disturbed.

“Wait,” I said, setting my fork down. “You’ve never eaten zombie meat before?”

“I’ll say it again,” she replied, deadpan. “Zombies are not food. They are rotting corpses.”

Her voice was flat, her eyes vaguely accusing. Yeah… she was definitely pulling away, at least mentally. I could practically hear the trust meter ticking down.

I leaned forward, trying to explain like a professor indulging a very naive student. “Listen, you’re seriously underestimating zombies. I mean, have you even heard of fermented foods?”

“Fermented foods?”

“Yeah, like cheese, pickled vegetables, wine. Technically, those things are all created through controlled decomposition. In a very broad sense,” I added quickly, “it’s kind of similar to—”

“Zombies are not cheese.”

That was her immediate response. No hesitation. Just flat rejection.

Okay, fair. I was pushing it. Even I knew that. Still, I couldn’t help feeling a little miffed at how hard she shut that down.

“Hey, Ryuto?” Her voice shifted, quieter now, more serious.

I glanced over at her, the last bite of chicken halfway to my mouth. “Yeah?”

“What if… What if something happens to you? Say, you lose all your money, you’re hurt, and can’t fight, and the only food left is whatever rotten scraps you can find, zombie meat, spoiled leftovers, things no one else would touch.”

Her voice trembled just slightly. Her expression was drawn tight with something heavier than concern. I could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t just talking about food.

She was talking about helplessness. About fear. About me, reduced to that.

I set the fork down and looked at her properly. “And?”

Lilith took a breath, then looked straight into my eyes.

“If something like that happens, I want you to tell me. No matter what. Even if it means I have to throw away everything… even if I have to sell myself. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything—anything at all—so you’ll never have to eat something like that again.”

“…”

“…”

“… Huh?”

I didn’t say a word. I just sat there, blinking at her in silence. Lilith, meanwhile, offered me a soft, almost serene smile.

“If our future ends up… less than fortunate, if we never get lucky with money, I still think we should live simply,” she said, her voice calm but full of quiet conviction. “If we’re poor, I’ll help however I can. Of course, I’ll work too. That’s just normal. But if things ever get so bad that nothing we do is enough… then I’ll do anything. Literally anything.”

Her gaze locked onto mine, steady and unwavering. Her eyes sparkled with something fierce, something solemn. Something I couldn’t quite name.

Now… we were just staring at each other. I had no idea what she was talking about anymore.

Something about “our future.” Something about being poor together. Something about doing anything for me. And that look in her eyes—that heated, sultry glimmer that didn’t match the serious words coming out of her mouth.

What was this? What was she?

How the hell was I supposed to respond to that?

Just as my brain began short-circuiting from the sheer emotional ambiguity of it all, a loud, slurred voice erupted from the table behind us.

“You mean you didn’t know?!”

The sudden shout startled me into turning around.

Two young men sat at a table a few feet away. One a bald swordsman, the other a long-haired mage. Both of them reeked of booze, their faces flushed crimson as they knocked back another round. Judging by their mismatched gear and fresh scars, they were probably newbie adventurers.

Definitely had too much to drink.

The swordsman was waving his mug in the air now, his speech slurred but oddly passionate.

“I mean it, man. You seriously didn’t know about the expiration date on slave crests?”

Wait… what? Did he just say what I think he said? An expiration date?

My ears perked up instantly. This… This might be something I really need to hear.

Lilith and I exchanged a brief glance and nodded. Without a word, we leaned slightly toward the drunken conversation behind us, angling our ears to eavesdrop.

“The slave crest,” the swordsman was saying, his voice just loud enough to carry, “is basically a kind of contract magic circle.”

The mage across from him rolled his eyes and swirled his mug. “Oh, please. A swordsman trying to give a lecture on magic? That’s rich.”

Still, the swordsman had it right. Slave crests were a type of contract spell, a cursed seal that bound the target with a potency that bordered on the grotesque.

“But,” the swordsman continued with a smug grin, “I bet even you didn’t know about the ten-year time limit, did you?”

The mage hesitated, then leaned back thoughtfully. “In theory, sure. Any long-term contract spell could fail without a constant supply of mana to maintain the array. But ten years…?”

He was right again, and I knew it firsthand. Usually, a slave crest was linked to the master through a persistent, low-level mana connection. The crest carved into the slave’s flesh acted as a receiver, drawing minuscule amounts of mana from the master to sustain its function. If that flow were cut off, either by distance, death, or abandonment, the spell would begin to decay.

“But—” the mage began again, only for the swordsman to wave him off.

“I know what you’re gonna say. Doesn’t matter. You’re not wrong, but runaway slaves don’t tend to last ten years anyway. If they hide in human lands, they get caught. If they don’t, they starve or get eaten. Ten years? Nobody makes it that long.”

I couldn’t help but agree. Lilith only survived because she’d ended up in the Dragon’s Domain, protected, sheltered, far from the reach of her former owner. Most wouldn’t be so lucky.

She’d been separated from her master for years now. Long enough that, if this theory held true, the mana connection keeping her crest intact should’ve ceased entirely.

“Anyway,” the swordsman went on, “I saw it for myself, at this rundown brothel outside the southern ridge. The girl had originally been a sex slave. Got bought by some depraved noble freak and eventually escaped.”

The mage leaned in. “And?”

“She hid the crest and started working at the brothel. She was doing fine until some idiot set a room on fire, and she got her face half-burned off. That accident is what blew her cover. They saw the crest.”

“And the master?”

“Didn’t want her anymore. Wouldn’t even come to pick her up. Guess a burned-up face wasn’t worth the effort. She got stuck at the brothel, working behind the scenes.”

“For how long?”

“Ten years,” the swordsman said, leaning in with emphasis. “She worked there for ten whole years. Scrubbing floors, doing laundry, whatever it took to eat. And one day—bam. The crest just faded. Completely gone.”

“Fascinating,” the mage whispered.

Lilith and I didn’t dare move. My hands tightened slightly beneath the table. Her expression was unreadable.

Could it really be that simple? Was the curse that bound her finally about to vanish?

“Even if we cleared up the issue of slave ownership, you know how much it would cost to renew a slave contract, don’t you?”

“It would cost at least one gold coin… That was a foolish question. So what?”

Well, the contract probably wasn’t renewed after that, and the slave mark was just left alone.

“After that, the slave became a wreck of a person.”

“A wreck… you say?”

“Yeah,” the swordsman nodded.

“The first sign is that the slave mark’s color starts to fade. Then, about two months later… along with the mark’s disappearance, the worst kind of magic activates as a final parting shot. In other words, the brain gets… burned out.”

“I see. Most likely, at the time of the contract, a time-delayed explosive… that sort of magical formula is set in the brain. Then, the magic activates when the conditions are met. Still… it’s the worst possible method for preventing escape.”

The swordsman nodded vigorously and gulped down his ale.

“That woman had her entire nervous system burned out… She was left drooling, barely able to breathe or control her own body. Eating was impossible, so she wasted away and died soon after.”

“By the way, how do you know such details about this story?”

At that, the swordsman let out a vulgar laugh.

“Well, because I did it.”

“Did you… really do it?”

“Why do you think the brothel didn’t throw such a person out but took care of her until she died of weakness? In the end, that woman was able to fulfill her role as a sex slave precisely because she was in that state.”

At that point, the magician shook his head left and right in disgust.

“There are… various fetishes in this world.”

“Well, naturally, it was dirt cheap. Not only was it an unusual condition… but you could also do whatever you wanted to her, so it seems she was quite popular.”

“The death from weakness wasn’t due to being unable to swallow food…”

“The customers probably went too far.”

The swordsman’s crude, cackling laughter echoed throughout the tavern.

At that moment, my gaze met Lilith’s.

“Hey, Lilith,” I said.

“What is it?”

“When did you… you know… become a runaway slave?”

She went quiet for a moment, eyes drifting slightly. “I don’t really remember. I’ve been a slave for as long as I’ve had memories. But… I think the brand was carved into me when I was a little older. Not right away.”

“Can I see it?” I asked gently. “The slave mark.”

“Okay.”

Without a word of protest, Lilith slipped open the front of her robe just enough to bare the skin beneath her collarbone. And there it was.

Faint, but still there. Like old ink smudged on paper, the sigil had lost much of its original severity. The edges had worn down, almost as if time itself had rubbed them away. But even dulled and faded, the symbol carried an oppressive weight.

It hadn’t disappeared yet. But it was close.

“Damn… Yeah, that confirms it,” I muttered, eyes narrowing as I studied the faint, worn mark on Lilith’s chest.

“I’ve kind of noticed it was getting lighter,” she admitted quietly.

“When did it start fading?”

“About… a month ago, I think.”

Ten years. That was the lifespan they’d mentioned. If I traced things back, factored in the timeline of everything she’d told me… Yeah. It lined up.

“And according to those guys, it takes about two months from the time the mark starts fading until it fries your brain.”

“Which means I’ve got one month left,” Lilith said calmly, but her voice was paper-thin.

One month. That was all the time we had to legally reestablish ownership and then somehow get the mark removed.

“Shit… we’ve gotta move fast,” I muttered.

I was pretty damn sure that story wasn’t some drunken campfire tale. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could almost picture the page in one of the old tomes I’d read with my Wisdom skill. Yeah, the detail had been there, buried in obscure text most people wouldn’t bother reading.

I flagged down the waiter, tossed a few silver coins onto the tray, and stood.

Without hesitation, I reached out and took Lilith’s hand.

She looked at me, eyes questioning. I didn’t answer. I just led her out, pace quickening with each step.

“Ten gold coins…” I muttered under my breath. “Gotta come up with that fast. Real fast.”

Even as I said it, neither of us hesitated.

We already knew where we had to go.

“Damn it, I really wanted to keep a low profile, too… Guess that’s not in the cards, huh?”

We had two immediate goals.

First, scrape together ten gold coins.

Second, power-level Lilith until she could stand on her own, no matter where we ended up.

And there was only one place that could realistically help us kill both those birds with one stone.

Which was how we ended up standing before a massive, weather-beaten set of iron doors.

With one deep breath, I reached out and opened the doors to the Adventurers’ Guild.

※※※

In the port town of Thales, a three-story red brick building loomed along the central avenue. This was the local Adventurers’ Guild. Considering that the tallest building in the area only reached four stories, this place might as well have been a high-rise. All around were administrative offices and the headquarters of prominent merchant associations. It was, without question, prime real estate.

From the entrance, it was about ten meters to the reception counter, flanked on either side by oversized bulletin boards plastered with job listings. Paper rustled in the breeze of passing adventurers. Steel bootsteps, murmured conversation, the faint clink of weapons. The usual ambiance.

The receptionist was a short-haired redhead with sultry eyes framed by teardrop-shaped lashes. She leaned forward slightly across the counter, resting her chin in one palm as her eyes appraised us.

“Hmmm… don’t you two think you’re just a tad too young for the whole adventurer business?”

She spoke with the casual warmth of someone about to send you home with a lollipop and a pat on the head.

“You’re, what, fifteen? That’s still below the standard admission age for the Magic Academy or Knight School, isn’t it?”

Great. Just what we needed. Condescension with a smile.

I scratched my head and tried to keep my tone civil. “Isn’t the minimum registration age for the Guild twelve? I don’t see a problem here.”

“Oh, that rule,” she said with a sigh. “It’s meant for supervised work. You know, like when a fledgling adventurer takes a kid sibling along to pick fruit in a safe zone. That clause assumes there’s an experienced chaperone involved. What you’re suggesting is something entirely different.”

She folded her arms across her chest and gave us a knowing look. “Seriously, don’t do this. Trust me.”

I shrugged. “It’s not like we have another option.”

Even if we wanted to be subtle, even if we wanted to take the long way around, there just wasn’t time anymore.

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, her tone growing firmer. “Let’s say you do register. You’re still going to die out there. Unless you’ve got someone to watch your back, you won’t last a week. And guess what? The seasoned veterans know better than to babysit. They survive because they don’t carry dead weight.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” I asked, my tone flat.

She leaned in slightly, voice lowering with serious weight. “I’m saying, you’re going to die. Guaranteed. And I don’t want to be the one who signs the paperwork that leads to two kids bleeding out in a ditch.”

“Even so,” Lilith said quietly, “I told you. We’re not asking for permission.”

The redhead’s hands slammed down on the desk with a bang.

“No! Absolutely not! Life is precious! I don’t care what you think this is; I won’t let you throw it away!”

“Uh… right,” I mumbled, raising a brow. Well, this was escalating fast.

The sheer force of her outburst left us momentarily speechless.

“If you don’t have some powerful connection to a veteran adventurer or some rare and useful skill, then no one is going to take you seriously. Just give it up. I mean it. I won’t approve a registration if it’s going to end with two kids getting themselves killed.”

She was serious. Genuinely concerned, even. Her objection wasn’t born of arrogance or condescension; she actually cared. That made it harder to just brush her off.

How the hell were we supposed to respond to that?

“Rare skill…” Lilith murmured under her breath.

I blinked, then clapped a palm into my other hand. “Right. She’s got the Item Box skill maxed out.”

The receptionist froze.

“Wait… what?”

Her expression went slack with disbelief. Yeah, not surprising. Even among B-rank parties, military-level elites who could turn the tide of a skirmish, that kind of ability was rare. And even then, “rare” didn’t mean “maxed out.”

“You’re telling me… a fifteen-year-old girl has a skill that most seasoned adventuring parties would kill to have?” she asked, incredulous.

She wasn’t wrong.

The Item Box skill wasn’t just a magical trick; it was a sophisticated fusion of dimensional magic and cognitive load management. It wasn’t about raw power. It was about understanding complex spatial theories and stabilizing interdimensional fields. Stuff only the sharpest magical minds could even begin to grasp.

Lilith hadn’t gotten there by accident. She’d been trained from a young age by the elder dragon of the Dragon’s Domain, basically the arcane equivalent of a Nobel laureate and black-ops instructor rolled into one. And she’d risen to the challenge with brilliance that could only be described as unnatural.

By the age of fifteen, she’d already memorized every known generalized magic spell, regardless of whether she could cast it, and mastered seventy percent of the dragonkin’s ancestral magic. That alone would put her knowledge base on par with a doctoral graduate from any major magical university.

Actually, scratch that. Most professors would probably be bowing before her.

Actually, all of this? This wasn’t even the peak. This was the minimum I’d demanded of her to ensure she wouldn’t drag me down. A baseline. And she’d surpassed it. Just like I’d known she would.

Of course, getting there hadn’t been easy. Not by a long shot.

I knew I’d given her an impossible task—plunging into the depths of advanced magic in just two years. I’d always considered the possibility that she wouldn’t make it. But somehow, through raw talent and sheer force of will, Lilith had gone above and beyond.

Honestly, that alone made her adorable. And not just in a figurative way. There was something small and soft about her, like a cautious woodland animal that had decided to trust you after months of coaxing.

Then, from behind us, came a pair of approaching footsteps, accompanied by the unmistakable stench of alcohol.

“You said she’s got the Item Box skill? And it’s maxed out?” one of them slurred.

We turned to face them, and sure enough, it was those same two drunks from the restaurant: the bald-headed swordsman and the long-haired mage. Late teens, maybe twenty if they were lucky. They had the scruffy, mismatched gear and overeager expressions typical of rookie adventurers.

All around us, murmurs were starting to ripple through the guild. Apparently, Lilith’s casual declaration about her skill had lit a fuse.

“You’re the brats from the tavern earlier, right?” the swordsman asked, swaggering forward with a smirk. “We’ve got a little business to discuss. You cool with that?”

I sighed. “Sure, but aren’t you still drunk? I’m not really in the mood to babysit someone who reeks of cheap ale.”

The man’s grin twisted into a sneer. “Oh, we’ve got ourselves a mouthy one. You little punk. Maybe you ought to show some damn respect to your seniors.”

Ah, there it was.

The worst flavor of “sports club seniority.” The kind where age or status trumped merit, where bullying passed for mentorship. And here I thought this world might have been free of that particular disease.

Never mind that we weren’t even guild members yet, so the whole “senior” bit didn’t even apply.

I felt a dull headache coming on, right around the time the swordsman reached out and grabbed Lilith by the shoulder.

“Hey, girl. You really got that Item Box skill?” he demanded.

Lilith glanced at his hand, then at his face, with all the energy of someone being forced to endure an especially boring insect buzzing in their ear. She gave a small, noncommittal nod.

“Perfect. That settles it, then!” the swordsman said with a clap.

Lilith tilted her head. “Settles what?”

“I’m a swordsman. I fight on the front lines,” the warrior declared bluntly.

“Anyone can see that just by looking,” I replied dryly.

The swordsman pointed at his companion. “And this guy is a magician. He’s the main artillery in the rear, handling area magic and such,” he explained matter-of-factly.

“That’s also obvious,” I responded with growing irritation.

“Our job… mainly involves monster hunting,” the swordsman continued.

“And?” I prompted impatiently.

“We camp in the forest for days at a time. The amount of gear we can carry is inevitably limited. Water, food, sleeping bags, and such add up to a considerable load… It’s just inefficient,” he explained with a calculating tone.

“So… what exactly are you getting at…?” I asked with obvious exasperation.

The two men looked Lilith up and down with predatory gazes, taking in everything from her feet to the top of her head.

“We’re saying we’ll keep one little brat who’s still wet behind the ears, one just about to register with the guild. The reward split will be nine to one. Nine for us, one for you,” the swordsman announced with crude authority.

The magician continued smoothly, “You should be thankful. When seniors look after juniors like this, it’s uncommon to receive any share of the rewards. And of course, we’ll have no need for your companion there.”

Oh come on, come on, come on. These guys are talking complete nonsense. Well, basically, they want to use Lilith and her rare skills on the cheap.

The swordsman then grabbed Lilith’s right hand forcefully.

“So, it’s decided then. Let’s toast to our new team member joining us… Time for another round,” he declared with false cheer.

“Yes, let’s do that. And… be grateful. We’ll cover the drinks,” the magician added with mock generosity.

“Hey, little brat? Don’t order anything expensive, got it? Also… you smell like piss, kid, but whatever. When we get to the place, sit next to me and pour my drinks,” the swordsman commanded crudely.

“Hahaha. Not just pouring drinks. You’re planning to get her dead drunk on cheap liquor and force her to give you oral sex at the end, aren’t you?” the magician observed with amused cynicism.

“Oh, did I give it away?” the swordsman replied with mock surprise.

“Your lolicon tendencies are hardcore, after all,” the magician noted with casual cruelty.

“Hahaha! You got that right!” the swordsman laughed without shame.

At that, Lilith shook off the man’s hand with a disgusted expression.

“Oh?”

Furious, she continued, spitting out the words like venom.

“Your breath stinks. Get lost, you pieces of garbage.”

The men made dumbfounded expressions like idiots, and then asked Lilith:

“Hey, little brat? What… did you say?” the swordsman demanded, his voice rising.

“You’re extremely unpleasant, so I said it would help if you could disappear from within a twenty-meter radius of me right now. And to put that in simple, concise terms, these are the words I just spoke: ‘Your breath stinks. Get lost, you pieces of garbage,’” Lilith explained with cold precision.

Upon hearing Lilith’s words, a vein bulged on the swordsman’s temple.

“I’m an upper E-rank adventurer! I’m not some rookie F-rank like you guys! Don’t you dare look down on me!” he roared furiously.

To summarize, he’s someone with abilities barely above those of an ordinary person. From what I can see, he probably couldn’t handle even ten goblins by himself.

In contrast, Lilith’s abilities as a magician would probably rank around mid D-rank by adventurer guild standards. She can use ordinary magic ordinarily and fight at an ordinary level. She should be at the level of a promising young talent who graduated from the Magic Academy and has accumulated several years of experience as an adventurer.

Naturally, if she were to get into a serious life-or-death fight with this swordsman, Lilith would be far superior.

However, drawing weapons or using magic in the middle of town like this is strictly forbidden. In that case, any fight would have to be settled with fists…

“Now wait a minute. Judging by her equipment, this girl is a magician… It would hardly be fair for you, a swordsman, to step in,” the magician interjected, stepping between the swordsman and Lilith.

“That said… she did speak rudely to us. She’ll have to be prepared for a bit of pain, won’t she?” he said with menacing calm.

With that, the magician grabbed Lilith by the scruff of her neck.

“Let’s step outside for now,” he commanded coldly.

Just as he was about to drag her outside, the man was slammed to the floor.

“Heh… so your old man really did train you properly,” I observed with surprise.

What Lilith did was simple. She grabbed the right hand that had seized her neck with both of her arms. Then, rotating her body while putting her weight into it, she twisted and locked both his wrist and elbow joints. It’s a standard standing joint lock technique from unarmed self-defense, but what came next was brutal. With swift movements, she dropped him to the ground while simultaneously breaking his elbow.

With a sickening crack, the magician collapsed to the ground, his face filled with shock.

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!” he screamed in agony.

Well, of course, it hurts when it’s broken.

Lilith stood up and glared at the swordsman.

“You, come at me too. I’m angry,” she declared with cold fury.

No, no, Lilith! That’s a bit reckless, isn’t it? It’s definitely bad to challenge a close-combat class to a fistfight.

Wait, this idiot… I was left speechless.

Magical power was gathering in Lilith’s palm. And that could only mean one thing.

This girl plans to cast magic indoors!

She’s going to do something completely reckless… I thought, making an exasperated face.

Well, conversely, this probably shows just how angry Lilith is. She was raised in the dragon village. Therefore, she’s had almost no contact with humans other than me… I suppose it was inevitable that she’d be somewhat of a troublemaker.

“Now, what to do?” I muttered to myself.

Lilith using magic here would be a clear rule violation, so the guards would obviously be called. In the worst case, she’d be thrown in jail, which would be troublesome. Breaking out would be easy enough, but that would likely lead to even more trouble.

Guess I’ve got no choice. Knocking Lilith out with a clean blow was probably the smartest move. Quick, decisive, and it’d stop her spell from going off before things got out of hand. I didn’t like the idea of hitting a woman, but in this case… Well, it’s not like I’ve got the luxury of being picky.

Just as I started to shift my weight, she hesitated. Her expression twisted into something uncertain—confused, even.

I couldn’t blame her. One moment, she’d been drawing magic into her palm like it was second nature, raw energy pulsing at her fingertips. The next, it just… vanished. Gone without a trace, like mist scattered by the wind.

So, the Guild’s got someone serious watching this. I’d underestimated them. Somewhere in that circle of so-called spectators, someone had slipped in, someone sharp enough to hijack her spell mid-cast and snuff it out before it could ignite.

It worked out great for me. But for Lilith? That kind of interference was catastrophic.

Her bravado crumbled. The steel in her eyes dulled, and panic started to creep in. She wasn’t dumb. She knew exactly how bad this was. Without her magic, she was out of her element. Outclassed. Vulnerable.

The swordsman picked up on it, too. He stepped forward with a slow, smug swagger, winding back his fist like he was performing for an audience. It was so obvious it was laughable.

Lilith dodged it easily, slipping past the punch with a twist of her body. She countered on instinct, driving her elbow into his gut just below the sternum, all her weight behind it.

“You hit like a girl, you filthy sow!” he barked, voice thick with contempt.

Honestly? She should’ve gone for a throw or a lock. A counter like that made no sense with the kind of strength difference she was up against. It was either a clean takedown or nothing. But she was a mage, not a brawler. Can’t really blame her for not having perfect combat instincts.

He shook off the hit almost immediately, catching her arms and locking them behind her back in a bear hug. She thrashed, but it was too late. He lifted her like a ragdoll, turned, and slammed her down hard in a brutal, no-technique suplex.

She hit the stone floor spine-first with a deafening crack, the sound echoing like a firecracker going off in a cave.

“Damn… she took that one hard.”

Lilith lay motionless, sprawled across the cold stone.

She lay sprawled across the stone like a fish flung onto dry land, her body twitching in shallow spasms. A sharp breath escaped her lips with each involuntary jerk, pain etched deep into her face.

“Heh… You broke my partner’s arm, remember?”

With no hesitation, the swordsman stepped in and drove a brutal kick into Lilith’s stomach, the force of it reverberating through the chamber like a drumbeat. Her body folded around the blow, then rolled across the floor, tumbling until her back slammed hard against the wall. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even cry out. Just a low, ragged exhale as she lay there, motionless.

“We’re not done here. Not even close!”

He cracked his knuckles and stalked toward her with deliberate, heavy steps, savoring the power, the control. He looked like he was just getting started.

That’s enough.

“Hey,” I called out, my voice low but sharp. “Trash heap.”

He paused mid-stride and slowly turned his head. “Trash heap?”

“Yeah. What else would you call some meathead who goes all out on a girl half his size? You look like a pile of muscle someone forgot to throw out. Honestly, I should be charging you a disposal fee. But hey, walk away now, and I’ll let it go.”

The swordsman’s lips curled into a smug, teeth-baring grin. His eyes glinted with contempt.

“Let it go? Are you serious? Where was that mouth of yours when she was getting beat down?” He took a step closer, sneering. “You just stood there. Didn’t do a damn thing. And now you’re playing the tough guy?”

I didn’t flinch. “It was her fight. I respected that.”

Then I raised my middle finger, slow and steady, like driving a nail into the moment.

“But if you’re gonna start kicking someone who’s already down, that makes it a different kind of fight. One I will step into. So yeah, come at me.”

The swordsman blinked, then glanced around as if making sure I wasn’t talking to someone else.

“‘Come at me’? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

I gave him a flat look. “You, obviously. Unless there’s another shiny-headed moron in the room I missed. What? Losing hair’s not enough, you’re losing brain cells too?”

The vein in his temple bulged. His jaw tightened. That one landed exactly where I’d aimed.

“You’ve got guts, kid. I’ll give you that,” he muttered, voice low and hard. “But thinking you’ve got a chance against someone like me? That’s a death wish.”

Then something flickered behind his eyes. He snapped his fingers and smiled as if inspiration had struck.

“Oh, I just thought of something real nice.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

He chuckled darkly, casting a glance at Lilith’s crumpled form.

“That brat’s little elbow jab from earlier? That was nothing.”

The way he smiled—slow, cruel, almost playful—sent a chill crawling down my spine.

“Well, to be fair, the kid’s a mage,” the swordsman said, nodding toward Lilith’s limp form. “She was never gonna win a straight-up brawl. Not enough muscle on her bones.”

Then his gaze shifted to me, eyes narrowing.

“And you? You look like just another scrawny brat. Picking a real fight with someone like you? Yeah, that’d be just as pathetic as you said. Which is why I’ll be generous.” He tilted his head, smug grin widening. “First hit’s on me. Free shot. Make it count.”

He leaned in and offered me his face, chin out, cheek turned slightly like a boxer baiting a rookie into swinging. He wanted to prove a point. To show everyone just how far above me he stood, even after taking a direct hit.

Ah. So that’s the game. Let me have a punch, then flatten me in front of the whole guild. Classic move.

I smiled back at him, calm and pleasant.

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”

The moment I finished speaking, my fist lashed out. A sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by the dull, wet crunch of cartilage and bone. My right straight slammed directly into the bridge of his nose with surgical precision.

There was a sickening crack and a wet, squelching resistance that I felt all the way through my knuckles.

His head snapped back, then his whole body followed, flung like a rag doll. He soared nearly seven meters through the air before crashing into the far wall of the guild. There was a hollow boom as he hit, followed by a brief, grotesque pause as his body clung to the stone like a dead insect. Then, gravity reclaimed him, and he crumpled to the floor with a limp thud.

E-rank. Figures.

The guy had some muscle, sure, but in the end, that was all he had. A one-trick brawler, and nothing more. Someone like that wasn’t going to attract much attention. At least, not the kind that mattered. And that worked just fine for me.

The last thing I need is to get famous. Not right now. Not when I’m about to enroll at the Academy. Not when Cordelia’s watching me from the shadows. If word starts spreading about me and Lilith, things could get messy real fast. I’ll have to keep a lower profile in the future.

I clapped the dust off my palms, scooped Lilith up under one arm, and headed for the counter like nothing had happened.

“I’d like to register,” I said flatly.

The receptionist jolted as if waking from a trance. “Y-Yes! Of course! Right away, sir!”

She scrambled behind the desk, fumbling through papers. A minute ago, she’d looked at me like I was some reckless brat. Now? Her eyes had that wide, awestruck gleam. She saw me as an adventurer, a real one.

Then, just as I was about to fill out the form, a voice spoke behind me, calm and unmistakably intrigued.

“Humble, aren’t you?”

I turned. A silver-haired young man stood a few paces away, one eye hidden behind a dark eyepatch. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with a calm, composed airand something else. A pressure. Like standing too close to a storm that hadn’t broken yet.

“Hm?”

“I think you’re hiding your strength,” he said simply.

His tone wasn’t accusing, just observant. But there was weight behind the words. A presence I couldn’t ignore. The kind of presence that made your instincts flare up before your thoughts caught up.

This guy… He’s no amateur.

I met his gaze, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about…” I said, eyes narrowing. “But if you’ve got business with me, then just say it.”

The silver-haired man’s smile deepened. He had the kind of presence that made you feel like your armor had already been peeled away, layer by layer. His tone was light, almost amused, but it carried weight.

“You’re surprised I saw through you, aren’t you?” he said. “That you’ve been hiding your strength? At your age, with that level of power… You’re a terrifying one, truly.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. No probing, no guesswork. Just quiet, absolute certainty.

A cold bead of sweat rolled down my back.

He’s not bluffing. He really saw through it.

“What are you getting at?” I asked, my voice low, guarded.

“Simple,” he said. “You’re not the kind of person who should be starting at F-rank. We both know that.”

So much for playing the beginner. He wasn’t just suspicious; he’d already made up his mind.

“And?”

He tilted his head slightly, almost casually. “Oh, and in case you were wondering. It was me. I was the one who unraveled that girl’s spell mid-cast.”

So that was him. I’d figured as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a deeper weight sinking into my gut. Anyone capable of cleanly interrupting Lilith’s invocation had to be more than competent. Probably far more.

I locked eyes with him. “Who the hell are you?”

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of white hair from his face. “Me? I’m Gilmennas. Some call me the Sage of Sublimity.”

The Sage of Sublimity… The name hit like a drop of ink in still water, rippling through my thoughts. I’d heard of him. Rumors, whispers, cautionary tales whispered among elite ranks. If half of it was true, this wasn’t someone I could afford to antagonize.

His gaze sharpened into something piercing, evaluative.

“But the real question is who are you?” he asked. “Judging from what you just showed, from how you’ve been holding back… I’d say there’s a chance you’ve already stepped into the same realm I walk.”

The same realm…

No. No way.

He’s an S-rank. That much is obvious now. But what he’s suggesting, that I might be in that same class?

This is bad. Really bad. I hadn’t planned for this. Not here. Not now. I’d come to this backwater guild to keep a low profile, to prepare, to quietly watch over Cordelia from the shadows, not to cross paths with a walking disaster like Gilmennas.

I can’t afford this kind of attention. Not while I’m still in training.

I let out a quiet breath, steadying myself. “So tell me, Sage of Sublimity… Where exactly do you fall on the S-rank scale?”

Whether he was friend or foe, I needed to know. I was top-tier S-rank myself. But if he was stronger… or worse, far stronger…

That’s what I have to find out. Now.

“I see,” Gilmennas said, squaring his shoulders with theatrical pride. “So there are still people in this town who haven’t heard of me. Well, no matter. Allow me to enlighten you.”

I swallowed, more out of reflex than intimidation, watching him closely. The way he carried himself, the aura he projected—it all screamed high-level veteran. Everything about him suggested danger.

Then, with the smug confidence of a stage actor delivering the climax of his monologue, he declared, “I am Gilmennas, the Sage of Sublimity… and a top-tier B-rank adventurer!”

I nearly tripped where I stood.

That’s it? Seriously? B-rank?

After all that ominous build-up, the dramatic air, the piercing aura, he wasn’t even A-rank? I’d been bracing for some legendary S-rank threat, a walking calamity, and instead I got… a smug mid-tier adventurer.

He stood there, chest puffed, grinning like he’d just revealed he was royalty. I stared at him in disbelief, trying not to let my expression crack. Honestly, it took effort not to laugh.

Then, still basking in his own self-importance, he raised a finger and continued lecturing. “Also, I’d watch your tone if I were you. Based on what I’ve seen, your actual strength puts you at lower-tier B-rank, at best. And unlike you, I won’t be stuck there for long. I’ll likely be promoted to A-rank within six months.”

Right. Great. Good for you.

Still, I had to admit he wasn’t totally wrong. Even a high B-ranker could sense that I’d been holding back. I’d been too careless during that punch, too raw, too unrefined. I wasn’t used to barehanded combat, and that showed. And in a place like this, word would spread faster than I wanted.

That could get messy.

“Anyway,” Gilmennas went on, “if you really are B-rank material, then it’s only a matter of time before we cross paths again.”

“Cross paths? Why’s that?”

He stepped in close and placed a hand on my shoulder, his expression turning oddly solemn—like a teacher bestowing final wisdom.

“Because the strong are drawn to one another. Whether as allies… or as enemies. When that time comes, for your sake, I hope it’s the former.”

“R-Right… sure.”

With a satisfied nod, he turned his back to me, raising one hand lazily as he walked away. “Well then… adios.”

Just like that, Gilmennas disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind nothing but his booming ego and the faint echo of his ridiculous farewell.

So, after all the chaos and unexpected encounters, Lilith and I were finally registered as F-rank adventurers at the guild.

Not exactly the smooth, low-profile start I was hoping for… but it’s a start.

After registering at the guild, the first thing we did was secure a base of operations. We scouted around the city until we found a decent inn and paid up front for seven nights. The cost wiped out nearly forty percent of the coin Lilith had on her, but we didn’t have a choice. No matter what we planned to do from here on out, we needed a place to sleep.

The inn itself was a two-story building nestled near the coast. A little weathered, sure, but well-maintained, and more importantly, the view was spectacular. And the fact that it had a bath? That alone made it worth the price.

In this world, cheap inns rarely came with bathing facilities. If you wanted to clean yourself up, you either had to splash cold water on your body out back or pay extra for a spot in a public bathhouse. So yeah, this place was a rare find.

※※※

Now, a few days later, Lilith and I were back in the adventurers’ guild, standing in the lobby, facing down a bulletin board plastered with job postings.

We’d been staring at it for a while, both of us dead silent, scanning every corner of the cluttered wall.

Man… making money really is a pain in the ass.

I let out a sigh and muttered aloud, “Still, earning cash is rougher than I thought.”

Lilith didn’t respond.

I glanced over and saw her expression had changed. Her lashes were lowered, her mouth drawn into a tight line. She looked like she was struggling to say something. Finally, her voice came out, small and uncertain.

“I’m sorry, Ryuto.”

“Huh? Sorry for what?”

“It’s because I’m a slave. That’s the real problem.”

I frowned. “What the hell are you talking about? That’s not your fault.”

Where the hell did that come from?

She met my eyes for only a moment, then quickly looked away, shaking her head.

“You’ve got your own training to focus on. And instead, you’re stuck wasting time trying to scrape together money for both of us…”

“That’s nothing to worry about. I already made my peace with it.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” she whispered.

“Pretend?” I blinked. “You think I’m just humoring you or something? I haven’t ‘pretended’ anything.”

“I’m the girl who got beaten by an E-rank swordsman,” Lilith muttered, barely above a whisper. “Someone like that doesn’t deserve kindness from an S-rank. It just makes me feel… pathetic.”

So that’s what this is about. It finally clicked. That beatdown the other day had hit her harder than I’d thought. Not just physically, but mentally. She was the serious type, always trying to do things properly. Which meant when things went sideways, she didn’t just brush it off; she internalized everything.

She was spiraling.

“Come on, don’t start thinking like that,” I said gently. “You’ve got your own role to play. Like the Item Box. You’re the only one between us who can use it.”

“Being able to manage that skill isn’t enough to make up for everything,” she murmured, her voice hollow.

She wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, she stared down at the floor, her shoulders hunched and her whole posture folding inward, as if she wanted to disappear.

“I mean, we’ll run into situations soon where your Item Box will be critical, like transporting supplies, securing monster cores, all that—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, cutting me off. “I still lost. I lost to an E-rank rookie. And now I’m just dragging you down. I’m a burden. A walking curse.”

Damn it.

Her eyes had gone glassy, unfocused. And now that I really looked, there were dark circles under them. She hadn’t been sleeping. Physically and emotionally, she was worn down, cornered by her own thoughts.

“Look, Lilith, seriously—”

“Ryuto.” Her voice was dead calm. “You need to face reality. I’m the girl who got taken down by a beginner. And I’m the reason we’re bleeding money.”

Ugh, she’s a mess. And yeah, maybe it was annoying, but I couldn’t blame her. Not really. She’d grown up as a slave. After that, she’d spent her formative years in the dragonkin village, a place crawling with powerhouses. In that kind of environment, someone like Lilith who was quiet and cautious was always going to feel like dead weight.

Now she was out in the world, away from any place she could call safe, with nothing to fall back on but a fragile sense of pride and the weight of her past. No wonder she was cracking.

On top of that, she picked a fight with those thugs the other day probably not because she thought she could win, but because she needed to feel like she could still do something. Like she had some agency left.

It had been a self-defense mechanism. Acting out, flaring up, anything to avoid feeling helpless. But the way it ended had only made things worse.

Great. And now she’s stuck looping through the worst version of herself, dragging all that baggage into the present.

Then she’d gone and lost the fight on top of everything else. Yeah. No wonder she’s in pieces. Anyone would be after that kind of humiliation.

“So,” Lilith asked, voice still barely above a murmur, “which request are we taking?”

Hmph. I turned back to the bulletin board, letting my eyes skim over the dense wall of papers until I reached the section for monster extermination jobs.

Difficulty B

Subjugation Request – Wartiger.

Target Material: One complete set of Wartiger fangs.

Difficulty C

Subjugation Request – Ogre General

Target Material: One pair of Ogre General horns.

Difficulty C

Subjugation Request – Lesser Vampire

Target Material: Two dozen Lesser Vampire eyeballs,

etc.

Looks like a bunch of basic pest control work. Each job was posted by a different client, some from merchant guilds, others from local lords. The goblin hunt, for instance, was commissioned by a provincial noble.

Among the stack, only one B-rank job was currently up: the Wartiger.

Right. Let’s talk about rewards. The B-rank Wartiger request paid out five large silver coins. Meanwhile, the vampire extermination, C-rank, netted just eight regular silvers.

Lilith had clearly been doing the math too. “So? Which one do we take? Our target is ten gold coins. If we can bring down the Wartiger, we’d get five large silvers in one go.”

I turned to her, expression flat. “Were you even listening to the receptionist earlier? We’re F-rank adventurers.”

“I was. I mean, I heard it,” she said softly. “It just… didn’t really stick.”

Yeah, no kidding. Ever since that fight, she’d been completely spaced out. Makes sense. Most of what was said probably went in one ear and out the other.

“Look,” I said with a sigh, “we’re the absolute bottom of the barrel. Dead weight. If we don’t take a job within the next six months, our registration will be wiped. That’s where we stand.”

“And?” she asked, like she hadn’t fully processed what that meant.

“We’re only allowed to take on E-rank jobs at best,” I explained, keeping my tone level. “Anything higher is off-limits for now. Too dangerous, they say. If we want to move up the ranks, we’ve gotta prove ourselves by taking jobs and building a track record.”

“I see,” Lilith murmured.

“Now, if we joined a high-ranking adventurer’s party as assistants or porters, we might be able to tag along on tougher jobs under their name. But we’d basically be baggage.”

That shut her up for a moment. Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flicking back to the job board.

“The best-paying E-rank extermination job still only offers two hundred copper coins,” she said quietly. “And that’s for taking out a full dozen monsters. It’s nowhere near enough.”

She wasn’t wrong. Subjugating high-tier monsters did come with huge payouts, sometimes in the range of hundreds of thousands of yen. However, those jobs didn’t come easy. Even after accepting a request, you had to track the beast down, prep your gear, set a strategy… All before putting your life on the line.

Yeah, this business definitely isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. It was dangerous work, with real risks and little margin for error. Most people just heard “adventurer” and pictured treasure and glory. They didn’t think about the part where you bled out in a ditch over a bad swing.

“If we’re serious about earning real money in just one month… then maybe we should avoid extermination requests altogether. At least for now.” I tapped the section labeled “Gathering & Collection” on the board. “How about something like this instead?”

Lilith followed my gaze. Her brow creased.

“Gathering requests?”

Difficulty F

Medicinal Herbs – Buy price: 10 copper per 100 grams

Difficulty F

Rainbow Fruit – Buy price: 1 silver per fruit

Difficulty D

Killer Bee Hive Honey – Buy price: 1 silver per 100 grams

Difficulty B

Mandragora – Buy price: 1 large silver per 100 grams

“Rainbow fruit,” I said, tapping the paper. “It’s a pretty rare delicacy, right?”

“I know what it is,” she replied flatly.

Right. Of course she did. With its unnaturally vibrant, tropical coloration and seven-colored sheen, rainbow fruit looked more poisonous than edible. But the taste? Like a perfectly ripened musk melon. I’d only ever had it once or twice myself. It was way out of reach for someone from a backwater village.

“And yet,” I said, tapping again, “it’s still listed as F-rank. Weird, right? Especially for something they’re buying at a silver a piece.”

“The difficulty rating most likely refers to the danger involved during gathering,” Lilith said, eyes still scanning the request. “In this case, the rainbow fruit comes from a harmless plant that grows in multiple regions. However…”

“It’s extremely rare and hard to find,” I finished for her.

She nodded slightly. “Exactly. So then… which request are you thinking?”

“This is about making money, right?” I reached out and plucked the request sheet from the board, the one for the rainbow fruit. “Then there’s only one choice.”

“You’re serious? The rainbow fruit?” she asked, blinking in confusion.

Yeah, I couldn’t blame her for the look. This was the fantasy world equivalent of someone in Japan saying, “Let’s go forage for wild matsutake mushrooms.” Technically possible, but not exactly what you’d call a reliable plan.

That was precisely why the buy price was so high. The clients posting this request knew what they were asking, an absurdly low-yield gamble with no deadlines, no penalties, no acceptance restrictions. Most adventurers only took it as an extra, something to do on the side while working other more reliable jobs. If you happened to find one? Great. If not, no real loss.

I wasn’t treating it like a bonus.

This was our main plan.

After all, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve.

“All right,” I said, turning to Lilith. “First stop: supply run.”

“Supply run? You mean for rations?”

“Nope.” I grinned and shook my head. “We’re buying soap.”

“Soap?” she echoed, clearly lost.

※※※

The next morning, just after dawn, we were already making our way up the side of a mountain.

The port town of Thales was built on a slope, wedged between sea and mountain, like it had been poured into the crevice by a careless god. It reminded me of places like Yokosuka, Kobe, or Nagasaki back in Japan, coastal towns with winding roads, sharp inclines, and streets that always seemed to lead either up or down.

Why is it that port towns always seem to grow out of this kind of terrain? Maybe it was just me, but the pattern felt oddly consistent.

We’d been climbing the mountain for just over three hours now. Pushing through thickets and beast trails, we finally stumbled upon a small clearing, just enough open space to breathe. I dropped down onto a boulder, letting the cool stone steady my legs, and called for a short break.

Lilith quietly reached into her item box and pulled out a waterskin and two chunks of black bread. She handed one to me without a word.

“Ryuto?” she asked after a moment, her brow furrowed in visible annoyance.

“What?”

“Why did you need that much soap? And that huge stew pot?”

Ah, so she’s been holding that one in. Not surprising. We’d spent what little money we had left. After picking up a couple meals’ worth of dry black bread, the rest had all gone into buying up soap like I was planning to start a back-alley apothecary. Which meant we were flat broke at this point.

The inn didn’t come with meals, and if we didn’t find any rainbow fruit out here, we’d be going hungry starting tomorrow.

“Look, I don’t know if we’ll find anything today,” I said, stretching my legs, “but if we’re lucky enough to come across a lake, then we’ll need that soap.”

She narrowed her eyes. “A lake? Don’t tell me you spent all our money so you could take a bath?”

“It’s not a bath,” I said flatly. “And hey, what’s wrong with the food we did buy?”

Without a word, she held up the black bread she’d just bitten into. It was still nearly whole.

“I’m not asking for white bread,” she said, voice low. “But this? This isn’t food.”

I took it from her and bit into the crust. My jaw worked once… then stopped.

“Okay, yeah. That’s terrible.”

“It’s not just terrible,” she said grimly. “It’s wrong.”

I split the bread in half to check the inside. Sure enough, there it was. A faint, blotchy patch of blue-green mold blooming just beneath the crust. The right side was practically inedible, but the left half was still mostly clean.

Great. Moldy bread and no money. We’re really living the dream.

Just maybe… I broke the black bread again, splitting the already “less moldy” half into another section. Taking a closer look, I saw it. The leftmost side had even less mold. Barely visible now, you’d have to squint to notice it.

“Yeah. Looks like about half of this half is… visually speaking, just barely within the acceptable range!” I declared with an odd sense of triumph.

“It is not acceptable!” Lilith snapped. “It has mold on it!”

She was practically yelling. And considering how composed she usually was, that was saying something.

Wow. Lilith getting halfway pissed? That’s new.

“Okay, fine. Maybe it’s not technically safe,” I conceded. “If we’re talking flavor, even that animal zombie from the swamp probably tasted better than this stuff.”

It really did feel like chewing on something scraped off a dungeon floor—gritty, bitter, and dry enough to pull the moisture from your soul.

“Moldy bread doesn’t qualify as food!” she barked, clearly at the end of her patience.

“Then here, eat this instead.” I reached into my coat and tossed her a small pouch.

She caught it, blinking in confusion. “What is it?”

“About a week before I met up with you, I ran into a merchant caravan getting attacked by bandits,” I said casually. “I lent a hand, and this was part of the thank-you gift. There’s not much left, but it’s edible. I guarantee that.”

Lilith hesitated, peering into the pouch. Her frown wavered, but only for a second before returning in full force.

“But if I eat this, then what will you have?”

“I’ve got the black bread.”

“That’s moldy black bread. You’ll get sick.”

“I’ve got a status ailment resistance skill, remember? I’m not gonna keel over from a little fungus.”

“That’s not the point!” she said, gripping her temples. “This isn’t about whether you can survive eating it. It’s about basic standards of living!”

“Yeah, well… too late for that conversation.” I shrugged, unapologetic.

Lilith groaned into her hands, muttering something under her breath, then fixed her gaze on me again.

“Ryuto. Even setting aside the food situation, do you really think you’ll be able to collect enough rainbow fruit? Do you understand just how difficult that actually is?”

I met her eyes without hesitation. “They’re incredibly sweet and rare, yeah. Super high-end ingredients. They grow on larnet trees, common enough, but the fruit? Hardly ever there. The real issue is that anything with a pulse and a nose goes after them first. Birds, beasts… They’re flashy as hell. In a forest, something that glows in seven colors is basically wearing a ‘come eat me’ sign.”

Lilith nodded slowly. “So… you do know.”

“Yeah. Which is why humans only really have a shot at picking them while they’re still green, before they ripen. Once the color shows, they’re gone within the hour.”

“But that leads to the real problem,” she murmured.

Lilith stared at me, wide-eyed in disbelief.

I met her gaze with an exaggerated sigh. “Seriously? I’m a farming expert, remember? Stuff like this is basic. When the fruit’s still green, the same color as the leaves, it blends in perfectly. Finding them is a nightmare.”

She nodded slowly. “Exactly. The fact that they’re unripe doesn’t matter. They’ll continue ripening at room temperature just fine. Actually spotting them out here? That’s the real problem. Unless you happen to get lucky while wandering the forest, it’s not worth doing as a dedicated job. It’s far too inefficient.”

“Sure. If you’re normal.”

“What?”

She blinked, confused.

I grinned. “I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.”

I reached inward, pulling at the web of sensory skills woven deep into my interface. First came Enemy Detection, then Presence Detection, and finally Danger Sense, each one at max level: 10.

Activating all three at once, I layered them together, letting them merge into a single heightened state. Threads of perception wove tighter, condensing into something new, something sharper.

Advanced Skill

【Absolute Domain: Level 10 (MAX)】

In this mode, I was basically a human watchtower. No, more than that. Think of it like having the most advanced military-grade radar system in existence embedded in my brain. With this, I could read the entire five-hundred-meter radius around me without even opening my eyes.

Subtle magic signatures. Shifts in heat. Variations in mass. It all painted itself in my mind like a living map.

A fist-sized fruit clinging to a larnet tree? No chance I’d overlook it.

“All right,” I said, grabbing the oversized stew pot with one hand and flashing a grin over my shoulder. “Time for a little marathon.”

Then I was gone, darting into the woods with speed that tore through the undergrowth like a bolt of lightning. I weaved through the mountain forest, a blur of motion too fast to follow, scanning everything, leaving no corner unchecked.

※※※

Two hours later, sweat was streaming down my face as I dropped to all fours, gulping down air like I’d just crawled out of a collapsed mine. My arms trembled beneath me, and each breath came with a burning tightness in my chest.

Yeah… okay. Maybe sprinting around the mountains at near-full speed with a giant stew pot in one hand for two hours straight had been pushing it.

“Haa… haa… finally… haa… I can breathe… again…” I panted between gasps.

“Are you all right?” Lilith asked softly, stepping toward me with concern written all over her face.

I held up a hand without looking up, then took three long, slow breaths. The burn in my lungs eased. My heartbeat settled. I finally sat back on my heels and exhaled.

“Man, rainbow fruit really are as rare as they say,” I muttered. “I went through this whole side of the mountain… and this is all I could find.”

I gestured toward the pot beside me.

Lilith’s eyes widened as she peered inside. “You… found a hundred?” she breathed. “All of that… in one trip?”

“Yeah.” I let out a tired chuckle. “And with only a handful of high-end restaurants and luxury hotels in the whole city… this haul could crash the local market.”

Lilith stared at the fruit in stunned silence, then said, “That many at once… this could flood the supply. It’s rare enough that even seeing one in a shop is a novelty.”

“At harvest value, that’s about a gold coin’s worth,” I added, “but if you sold them as finished product through high-end channels? Could be worth five times that.” I rested a hand on the pot and smiled faintly. “Still, if the price drops a little, it might finally reach normal people. Wouldn’t be the worst outcome.”

I stood up and stretched, the pot still hanging from one arm. “Anyway, I’ve cleared everything from this side of the mountain. Didn’t find the lake I was hoping for, either. Guess we’ll try the western slope tomorrow. Same request.”

Lilith looked like she wanted to say something, her lips parting before slowly closing again. She let out a quiet breath and gave me a faint, understanding smile.

“All right. Let’s head home,” she said.

I turned to leave, but after a few steps, I noticed she hadn’t moved.

I glanced back over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Lilith didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the tree line, her posture tense. Then she said, softly but seriously, “Ryuto? You really haven’t noticed?”

I furrowed my brow, then followed her gaze. The wind had gone still, and the underbrush was unnervingly quiet. There was a subtle shift in the air, a hint of musk and damp leather hanging on the breeze…

Then I saw them: shadows in the foliage with green skin and yellow eyes.

We were surrounded.

“Orcs?” I murmured, blinking. “Huh. Didn’t expect to run into them here.”

Lilith looked at me, her tone suddenly sharp. “You really didn’t notice? With your abilities?”

I scratched the back of my neck, trying to play it off. “Well… yeah, I can detect them. If I’m using the right skills.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And you weren’t?”

“I had Danger Sense running,” I replied. “That one only pings me if something actually plans to attack.”

Expecting my skills to react to anything that might be dangerous, even if it’s not currently hostile? Yeah, that’s a bit of a tall order. I wasn’t omniscient. My Danger Sense was just that—a warning system, not a crystal ball.

Now that I had a clearer view of the threat, the enemy numbers came into focus: about twenty goblins, all armed, and ten orcs, also kitted out with rough armor and crude weapons. The orcs were the real problem. They were bigger, stronger, and far more aggressive than goblins.

“Welp.” I dropped onto a large boulder with a theatrical sigh. “I’m feeling a little wiped out. So… let’s say dinner’s gonna be roast orc tonight. I’ll leave the rest to you.”

I tossed a glance at Lilith. She gave a slight, resolute nod.

Without hesitation, the goblins broke from cover, charging forward in a tight wave, howling as they closed the distance. From the trees, from behind rocks, they came all at once, eager and chaotic.

Lilith didn’t flinch.

Wordlessly, she raised her staff.

“Firewall.”

Her voice was quiet, calm.

In an instant, a wall of fire burst into life—two meters tall, seven meters wide, and half a meter thick. The flames roared outward in a line, swallowing the goblins in one sweeping blaze. Screeches rang through the clearing, bodies collapsing into the inferno before they even had a chance to react.

I watched from the boulder, arms folded.

“Well, yeah. That’s the bare minimum, really,” I muttered. If you’re going to call yourself a mage, you’d better be able to take out two dozen goblins with a single cast.

The real test was still waiting.

“The orcs are the problem,” I said under my breath.

Just in case, I activated my physical reinforcement spellwork, my body humming with latent power, ready to spring into action if needed.

Individually, orcs are bottom-tier E-rank threats. But in a group of ten, that makes them collectively low-end D-rank.

Not unmanageable, but certainly not fodder either.

Incidentally, a standard bounty for one orc was fifty copper coins. Ten of them? That added up to five hundre, which meant five silver coins, around fifty thousand yen in Japanese money.

Which, considering the life-risking nature of the job, feels like a fair payday.

The orcs made their move.

Just like the goblins, they burst from the trees in a coordinated charge, snarling with raw aggression. With heavier footsteps and louder roars, the ground trembled beneath them as they stormed forward.

Lilith, unfazed, raised her staff again.

“Firewall.”

The word left her lips exactly as before. And once again, a sheet of fire roared into existence—two meters tall, seven across, and half a meter thick—cutting clean through the clearing and slamming into the orc line with devastating force.

The spell engulfed the attackers in a wave of searing flame. Their howls echoed in the forest, and I watched their silhouettes writhe and fall through the wall of fire.

“Hmm… yeah, not enough firepower,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at the charred form of the smallest orc.

It had dropped to the ground, twitching once before going still, its skin seared black. That one was done, out of the fight entirely. If I really wanted to be thorough, a fireball would finish it, but there was no need. It wasn’t getting back up.

The problem was the other nine. They were still on their feet.

Lilith raised her staff again, her voice quiet but firm. “Firewall.”

Flames roared to life once more, erupting in a broad horizontal wall that engulfed the advancing orcs. The fire surged through their line, consuming everything in its path. A few of them screamed, the harsh sound cut off almost as soon as it started. Five of the orcs collapsed under the assault, limbs twitching as they hit the ground.

The others? They didn’t stop.

“Still not enough,” I muttered again, watching the remaining orcs break through the fire with smoke trailing from their armor and skin. The flames hadn’t stopped their charge; it had merely pissed them off.

They were close now. Too close.

The gap between them and Lilith was shrinking fast. Five meters. Maybe less.

Then I saw her face. Her composure cracked. Panic flickered across her features for the first time.

A wounded beast is the most dangerous kind, I thought grimly. The orcs weren’t charging anymore; they were hunting. Bloodshot eyes, snarling mouths, blistered skin. They were beyond reason now, half-mad from the pain, driven by a dying fury.

Lilith? She was a mage. Range was her battlefield. Wide-area spells like Firewall worked beautifully when there was distance. But this? This was too close. She couldn’t charge a big spell in time. Not now.

In desperation, she cast what she could.

A Fireball burst from her staff, hitting one orc square in the chest and blasting it off its feet. She followed up with a Wind Edge, slicing clean through another’s leg and dropping it to the dirt. Two down.

That was it.

The last of them was already on her.

It let out a savage roar—“Grubuh… BUOAAAA!!”—and raised its axe with both hands, using its entire body to spin the blow downward with brutal force. The blade came at her neck in a clean, vicious arc.

“This is where it ends,” I muttered. And then I moved.

Not even a blink passed. In one seamless step, I slid between them, sword already drawn. With a single, fluid motion, I brought it down in a diagonal slash. The steel cleaved through the orc, through its axe, through bone and sinew and armor. The creature didn’t even realize it was dead.

“Namu,” I said quietly, more out of habit than a prayer.

I pivoted without looking. My blade snapped to the side, arcing through the space behind me where I’d sensed movement. A heartbeat later, I felt the soft resistance of flesh, and then the thud of a body hitting the ground.

Silence fell over the clearing.

Lilith was still standing, but barely. Her lips were parted, her breath caught in her throat. Her skin, usually pale, had gone icy blue, as if the color had been drained straight from her blood.

She’d just come within inches of having her head taken off by an orc’s axe. No wonder she was shaking.

Lilith stood there, trembling faintly, her breath shallow. I turned toward her, my voice calm but direct.

“Lilith,” I said, “do you know what it is you’re missing right now?”

She looked at me, her voice small. “What?”

“Levels,” I answered simply.

Lilith’s knowledge of magic was nothing short of phenomenal. Theory, mechanics, incantation precision. She could probably outlecture half the instructors at a royal academy. But all that knowledge meant little when her body and stats couldn’t support the spells she wanted to use.

“You’ve got the brains, no question,” I said. “But your body can’t keep up with what you know. You’re trying to cast spells that demand power you haven’t earned yet.”

“I know that,” she muttered. “I already know that.”

We stood in silence. Her arms were still trembling, though she tried to hide it. I stayed silent for a long moment, and so did she.

“Ryuto?” she said eventually, blinking. “Why are you just standing there? You froze up.”

I didn’t respond.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Quiet.”

I lifted a finger to my lips and motioned for her to stay still. Her brow furrowed in confusion as I leaned slightly forward, my eyes scanning the thickets, my senses straining.

Then I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, “Found it. I’ve been waiting for a trace. There were reports that one of its minions had been seen in this area. That’s why I took this request. That’s why I bought the soap and the stew pot.”

A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling crawling over my skin ever since we’d dealt with the orcs. Now I was sure.

This was it.

It’s here.

“‘It?’” Lilith repeated quietly. “You mean… that thing?”

“Yeah. That thing. Whatever it is, it slipped past my detection before. Means it’s using some kind of advanced presence-concealment skill. A damn good one, too.” I gave her a sharp look, my tone suddenly turning approving. “You did good, Lilith.”

“I did?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Your brawl with the orcs distracted it. Forced it to divert some of its power to monitoring and defense, weakening the concealment just enough for me to pick up its presence. That fight may have just saved our lives.”

I turned toward the brush, tightening my grip on my sword. “Come on, Lilith. We’re moving in.”

She hesitated for a heartbeat, then followed without another word.

Together, we pushed into the undergrowth, straight toward the hidden predator.

We walked in silence for several minutes, following a narrow animal trail through the brush. Neither of us spoke. The only sounds were the faint rustle of leaves and branches, the soft crunch of our footsteps, the rhythm of our breathing… and the occasional distant birdsong.

The quiet wasn’t oppressive; it was sharp. Clear. The kind of silence that didn’t dull the senses but honed them. There’s something about this kind of stillness in nature. It heightens everything. Tightens the world around you. I don’t hate it.

Eventually, the thicket thinned and the undergrowth fell away. We stepped out into an open area, and as our view cleared, Lilith finally broke the silence.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

“Just what it looks like,” I replied. “A lake.”

In front of us stretched a shallow, still body of water, no more than ten meters across. At its deepest, it probably didn’t even reach the knee. The surface reflected the canopy above, perfectly stillsave for the dark silhouette drifting just near the center.

Floating there, like some delicate horror, was a spider-like creature. Its body was roughly the size of a tennis ball, but with its spindly legs extended, the whole thing spanned nearly seventy centimeters.

“What is that?” Lilith asked, frowning.

“That,” I said, pointing toward it, “is a Mad Water Strider. Or rather… a mutant strain of one. A rare variant of an already rare species. A freak among freaks.”

Lilith’s brows furrowed. “Mad… Water Strider?”

“Think of it as a monstrous water skimmer,” I said. “Giant body, long legs, and way more aggressive than it has any right to be. This region is saturated with magical particles. That kind of environment tends to trigger spontaneous mutations. It’s the perfect breeding ground for variants like that.”

She stared at the creature, its form casting faint ripples across the still surface.

“But why were you looking for that thing in particular?” she asked slowly.

“Look at it,” I said. “Its torso’s barely larger than a clenched fist. Even with its legs, it’s under a meter wide.”

Lilith nodded silently, her expression guarded.

“But if you judge it by appearance alone…” I continued, voice low, “you’ll be dead before you know what hit you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, eyes flicking back to me.

“That thing,” I began, pointing toward the spindly creature drifting across the lake’s surface, “can actually move on land, at least for short distances. If you provoke it from the shore, it’ll usually leap straight off the water and strike. And its weapons? Those six legs. They’re covered in hardened carapace—tough as steel.”

I rolled up my shirt and let the fabric bunch around my ribs, revealing a jagged scar stretching across my abdomen. My voice turned grim.

“This is what happens if you take one of those hits full force.”

Lilith’s eyes widened.

“Half a year ago, I fought a creature of the same species,” I added. “Took a strike from one of those legs right here. It nearly killed me. I was in and out of consciousness for days. If you took a hit like that, Lilith… it’d be instant death. No question.”

She swallowed hard. I heard it, a quiet gulp that cut through the silence like a blade.

“And its defenses?” I continued, tone dropping lower. “They’re no joke.”

“Defenses?” Lilith echoed hesitantly.

“Even when I went all out with Excalibur,” I said, “I could barely scratch it.”

Her eyes widened even further. “You’re saying… even the Godslayer Blade couldn’t cut it?”

“Not properly,” I said, shaking my head. “I had to lure it out of the water, slow it down on land, and then just whale on it. And even then, it took over three hundred strikes to wear it down. Every swing, full force. I finally got tired, dropped my guard for half a second, and it got me with a parting shot. Knocked us both out cold.”

Lilith stared at me, stunned. “And that was you six months ago. Just how strong is that thing…?”

“Honestly?” I shrugged. “It doesn’t leave the lake, so it’s harmless to most people. That’s why, even though it’s easily S-rank in practical terms, the guild classifies it as A-rank. No threat to towns or trade, so they underplay it.”

“I see…” she murmured.

I crossed my arms, exhaling slowly. “Anyway, while I was lying there, half-dead, I got to thinking. There’s gotta be an easier way to take this thing down. Some trick, some workaround. Something cleaner.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head.

I reached out and gave her a couple of light pats on the head, grinning.

“I mean, this guy’s perfect for your level grinding.”

“What are you talking about?” Lilith blinked, deadpan.

I smirked. “Hmm?”

“I’m supposed to do something about a monster you couldn’t even scratch?” Lilith said quietly, disbelief clouding her voice.

Well, yeah. She wasn’t wrong.

Of course, I never actually planned to have her fight it head-on.

Ignoring her protest, I continued. “If my theory’s right… There is a way to take it down easily. These things tend to live in shallow, stagnant lakes, really just glorified puddles. I figured the odds were high we’d find one in terrain like this… and I was right.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Let me ask you something else,” I said. “What’s the condition for earning experience?”

She frowned but answered. “I asked you what you meant… but fine. To earn experience, you have to defeat your target. That means delivering the killing blow. Experience, in its essence, is the act of consuming another’s life force—or their soul—and converting it into your own vitality.”

“Okay. Then let me rephrase the question,” I said. “What’s the requirement for gaining experience in a party battle?”

She paused, then replied in a measured tone. “It depends on the contribution. If you’re on the front line dishing out damage or casting high-powered spells, that’s obvious enough. But even support roles—healers, buffers, control casters—earn experience when their contributions are meaningful. It’s proportional to how much you impacted the outcome.”

Right. That part’s always been a bit of a mystery. The rules of this world didn’t always align with logic from back home. Magic existed. Physics bent in places. It wouldn’t be wrong to say the entire system felt like a game, but with much higher stakes.

“I think I get what you’re trying to do,” Lilith said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“You’re going to go in and do all the actual fighting,” she continued, her voice flat, “and I’ll hang back and toss spells from a safe distance. Attack the Mad Water Strider from range while you keep it busy.”

I tilted my head, unsure why she sounded so unconvinced.

“But that won’t work,” she added. “My level won’t go up like that.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have contributed. Not in a meaningful sense. If I can’t even damage it, then I’ve added nothing to the fight. No matter how many spells I throw, they won’t count. I’ll get no credit. No experience.”

I stayed quiet. She was absolutely right.

The bigger the gap between your level and your target’s, the higher the potential reward, but only if you actually left a mark. If you managed to deal real damage to something that far above you, the payoff in experience points would be massive.

On the other hand, defeating something far below your level would barely net you anything.

In my case, even if I killed a billion goblins, my level wouldn’t budge. Not even a fraction. That’s just how diminishing returns work. For adventurers ranked B and above, leveling up becomes a near-impossible grind, and that’s why increasing your level turns into an obsession once you reach that tier.

The problem is, monsters that can give you meaningful experience at that level are exceedingly rare. And the few that do exist? They’re barely documented, rarely hunted, and usually too dangerous to engage without significant risk. There’s little data, no standard strategy, and absolutely no guarantee of survival.

That’s why, once most adventurers reach B-rank, they stop pushing higher. They plateau. Settle. Focus on culling weaker monsters, earning safe money. At that level, you can live like a king without ever risking your life again. So most choose comfort over progress.

But not me.

I wanted more. That was why I left the safety of human territory and spent my years hunting monsters across the far edges of the world.

Anyway, that wasn’t the point right now.

I clapped a hand on Lilith’s shoulder.

“Thing is,” I said with a grin, “this time, you’re the one taking it down. All on your own.”

She turned to me slowly, brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make any sense. What do you mean?”

“Tell me something,” I said. “Do you know why water striders float?”

“No,” she admitted cautiously.

I’d half expected her to know—she had a habit of surprising me—but this wasn’t common knowledge. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t seen it explained on TV back in Japan.

“You know oil and water don’t mix, right?”

“I know that much,” she replied.

“Well, that’s the trick. Water striders stay on the surface because their legs are coated in oil. The oil repels the water, triggers surface tension, and creates lift. That’s what keeps them afloat.”

Lilith blinked, then suddenly slapped her palm into her forehead. “I see. The oil repels the water, creating a tension barrier… and that tension creates buoyancy. That I can understand. Barely.”

“Didn’t your people only just start to grasp gravity?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lilith gave a slight nod. “Gravity… yes. It’s a concept that was only confirmed about twenty years ago.”

“Lilith,” I said, squinting at her thoughtfully, “you wouldn’t happen to be… a genius, would you?”

She glanced away, just a little self-conscious. “I mean, I did spend most of my childhood reading books.”

“And just to confirm, normal people wouldn’t know any of what we just talked about, right?”

“Unless they were scholars in theoretical physics? Probably not.”

“Good. That’s a relief,” I said with a sigh.

Come to think of it, this girl had every general-use spell formula memorized by the age of fifteen. She couldn’t cast them all yet, but even the structure of dragon magic was stored in her head.

Yeah. Genius doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Still, that worked in my favor. It meant I didn’t have to oversimplify anything. I could talk through the logic, and she’d follow.

“So, to summarize,” I continued, “why do water striders float? Simple. They’re light. Their legs are coated in oil, which repels water. That repulsion creates surface tension, which gives them lift.”

“I told you, I understand that much,” she replied flatly.

I smiled. “Exactly. Which brings us to the real trick. Remember how we bought all that stuff earlier?”

“You mean when you spent almost all our money on an absurd amount of soap?” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“Right. Now, do me a favor. Pull out all the soap we’ve got from your item box, and start filling that stew pot with water.”

Lilith crossed her arms. “What exactly are you planning?”

Without answering, I grabbed the pot, set it over some stones, and started building a fire beneath it. As she began pulling out bars of soap, I uncapped our remaining waterskins and started pouring.

“Step one,” I said casually, “is turning this into hot water. Step two, melt all the soap into it.”

Lilith tilted her head slightly, a puzzled frown forming on her face. “You’re… making soapy water?”

“Yup.”

She looked at me like I’d just proposed fighting a dragon with a wet towel.

Then, an hour later, the massive stew pot, easily capable of holding thirty liters, was now filled with warm, cloudy soap water. It sat ready by the fire, steam curling gently from the surface. Once it was prepared, we moved quietly, suppressing our presence as we crept closer to the edge of the lake.

“Is this really going to work?” Lilith whispered beside me, skepticism thick in her voice.

“Probably,” I said with a shrug. “And hey, worst-case scenario? I can solo it now without breaking a sweat. So relax.”

With a grunt, I hoisted the heavy pot and carried it to the water’s edge. “All right… Here we go.”

Lilith hesitated beside me, watching the lake. “I get the logic,” she said, brows furrowed. “But even so… I still can’t believe this will actually kill it.”

She didn’t wait for my reply. With a doubtful frown, she brought her foot up and kicked the stew pot forward. It toppled with a splash—dobon—and sank into the shallows. Soap-laced water spilled into the lake, spreading outward in slow, swirling clouds.

Five seconds passed.

Ten seconds.

Fifteen.

Then Lilith froze.

Her hand rose slowly, pointing toward the lake’s center.

“Eh—?”

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes locked wide as her brain failed to process what she was seeing.

She stared in silence, completely stunned and at a loss for words.

I chuckled under my breath. “Yeah. That’s the part nobody expects.”

“This is… I mean, I know the theory, but… I still can’t believe it,” she murmured, eyes still locked on the scene in front of her.

I gave her a satisfied nod.

“Water striders,” I said, “drown.”

That’s right.

Once the oils on their legs are dissolved, water striders can’t float—they drown.

I’d only ever seen it on some variety show back in Japan. Some silly little science segment tucked between skits and celebrity cameos. At the time, it felt like trivia you’d forget the next day.

Turns out, it wasn’t “tomorrow’s useless knowledge.”

It was lethal-level tactics in another world.

“Honestly,” Lilith murmured, still staring at the lake in disbelief. “It’s absurd. I remember now… back in the dragonkin Labyrinth, you pulled the same kind of nonsense. Taking down high-level monsters with ridiculous tricks.”

She let out a quiet giggle, caught somewhere between amazement and exasperation.

I shrugged. “Hey, don’t expect stuff like this to work every time. This kind of level grinding? You only get lucky like this once in a blue moon.”

It wasn’t just the method that was rare—it was everything. The mutated water strider was already a one-in-a-thousand oddity. Add to that the random chance I’d even heard about it from another S-rank adventurer, and the fact we’d stumbled on the right lake in the right region?

It was a one-shot miracle. A cheat that worked exactly once.

“Still,” I added, glancing over at her, “I’d say this little trick gave your growth a serious boost.”

Lilith looked down at her hand, flexing her fingers slowly. Her eyes were still filled with disbelief.

“It still feels impossible,” she said. “I didn’t even touch it. And yet…”

“You soloed an S-rank monster,” I said, grinning. “Kind of.”

“Can we really call that a subjugation?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” I replied with a smirk. “Dead is dead.”

With that, we turned and made our way back down the forest path. No dramatic exits, no victory cries. Just the quiet satisfaction of a problem solved and a little bit of absurdity that worked better than it had any right to.

The next morning, we returned to the Adventurers’ Guild, ready to report one of the strangest F-rank subjugations they’d ever recorded.

Name: Lilith

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Age: 15

Status Condition: Charmed (Severe)

Level: 38 → 68

HP: 650 / 650 → 1880 / 1880

MP: 2100 / 2100 → 4420 / 4420

Attack: 105 → 323

Defense: 150 → 361

Magic Power: 420 → 1054

Evasion: 350 → 635

Enhanced Skills

【Physical Enhancement: Level 10 (MAX)】

Combat Skills

【Basic Self-Defense: Level 10 (MAX)】

Magic Skills

【Mana Control: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Life Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【High-Tier Offensive Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【High-Tier Healing Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【Dragon Magic: Level 7 (Partially Usable: Race and stat restriction)】

Special Skills

【Item Box: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Divine Guardian Spirit: Level 10 (MAX)

※※※

“… Eh?”

The receptionist blinked at me, her expression frozen in a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“I said,” I repeated patiently, “I’ve got a hundred rainbow fruit, and I want to cash them in.”

“… Eh?”

She stared harder, as if repeating the word might somehow change what I’d just said. I sighed and kept going.

“Also got the goblin and orc parts from yesterday. That brings the total payout to one gold, five silver, and twenty copper. Sound right?”

A quick mental conversion put that at 1,052,000 yen. Not bad for a day’s work. That left just under nine million to go before we hit our target. Still a mountain, but hey, the first foothold’s solid.

Oh, right. I almost forgot. Once I buy Lilith’s ownership, I’ll need to pay for the transfer of the crest contract, too. That’ll cost another gold coin. It wasn’t optional. Without it, legally, she’d still belong to someone else. That couldn’t stand.

As I laid everything out on the counter, I noticed the receptionist giving me a look.

“You’re staring,” I said, frowning. “What? The payout’s not that high. A-rank adventurers probably haul in more on a good day.”

She cleared her throat, clearly trying to keep things professional, but the suspicion was obvious. “This particular request… well… Rainbow fruit aren’t the kind of thing you collect. They’re more like, if you’re lucky, you find one. Maybe two. A hundred…”

Her voice drifted off. No accusation, just open disbelief.

Perfect. Precisely what I was trying to avoid. I hadn’t wanted to stand out. That was why I hadn’t joined a high-tier hunt, even though that would’ve been the fastest way to earn cash. I knew if I soloed a battlefield under someone else’s banner, people would talk.

This? This was supposed to be discreet.

Instead, I’d gone and crushed a “rare if you’re lucky” quest like a production line.

“Well, I’d still like the payout, thank you,” I said flatly.

“Right,” the receptionist sighed, clearly suppressing several questions. She leaned down, carefully counted out the reward, then handed it to me. “This totals to one gold coin, five silver, and twenty copper.”

I took the pouch and dropped the coins into it, feeling the familiar weight settle at my hip. Heavy, sure, but mostly because of the copper.

Just as I turned to leave, I heard Lilith’s voice from behind.

“Ryuto?”

I glanced back. “Yeah?”

She walked up beside me, quiet for a moment before speaking. Her tone was soft but resolute.

“Let’s get food.”

“Food?” I blinked.

“Real food,” she clarified. “No dried rations. No moldy bread. Just… a proper meal. First.”

I stared at her for a second. Then I smiled faintly. “Yeah… that sounds good. I haven’t eaten anything decent either.”

We stepped outside together. The early morning air still carried a hint of sea breeze from the harbor. As we walked, I looked over at her again.

“So, Lilith,” I asked, “what do you want to eat?”

She didn’t answer immediately. But for the first time in a while, I saw her lips curve into something that might’ve been a smile.

“I want to eat meat. Until I’m full.”

Lilith’s voice was calm and composed as ever, but there was a sharp hunger in her tone that caught me off guard.

She looked like some pale, delicate herbivore. The kind of girl who’d live off soup and steamed vegetables. But maybe she was a closet carnivore. Then again, dragonkin did love their meat. The village she grew up in mainly dealt in oily, rich cuts. I guess it tracks.

“Yeah, I’m not against meat myself,” I said with a shrug. “All right, let’s treat ourselves a little. Real lunch. Good place.”

Right on cue, Lilith’s stomach gave a soft, traitorous growl.

We both froze.

Eyes wide, we turned to each otherand burst into laughter, each of us holding our bellies like we were trying to soothe the noise away. For a brief moment, all the tension, all the exhaustion, just dissolved into something light and human.

Unlike last time, we weren’t ducking into a daytime tavern doubling as a greasy dive. This was a real restaurant. Classy, polished, with a front that actually sparkled in the sunlight.

Lilith fit in just fine. Her long hair and calm presence gave her a quiet elegance. Me, though? I looked like a background NPC. Modest gear, nothing flashy. I might as well have walked in with a “generic Villager” tag floating above my head.

I half-expected the host to turn us away at the door, but they didn’t even blink.

Apparently, in this world, even the wealthy adventurers swimming in gold didn’t fuss over appearances. After camping in mud and blood half the year, you stopped caring about creases in your shirt. And a place like this, popular with seasoned adventurers, wasn’t going to enforce a dress code on the people who kept monsters from flattening the city.

Still, this wasn’t cheap. The lunch alone cost forty copper for the two of us.

“That’s about what you’d pay for a buffet at a decent hotel,” I muttered, watching Lilith delicately spear a cube of grilled meat while I poked at a fruit tart.

“Buffet?” she repeated, blinking. “You mean… bouquet?”

I chuckled. “No, it just means all-you-can-eat, but don’t worry about it.”

It was a nice place. Too nice for our situation, honestly. We were supposed to be saving money—desperately, in fact. But even I had to admit it was worth the splurge, just this once.

Lilith set down her utensils and sat perfectly straight, her face still expressionless.

“It was delicious,” she said simply.

Lilith didn’t show much on her face. She never did. Throughout the meal, she kept her usual unreadable expression, calmly chewing in silence. At first, I was honestly nervous. She’d been the one constantly complaining about food, and this entire lunch—this slightly irresponsible splurge—was my way of trying to lift her spirits. If she didn’t enjoy it, the whole thing would’ve felt like a waste.

Then, I noticed the bread basket.

Places like this, even in this world, charged a service fee that often included refills. And sure enough, the moment she finished her first roll, she quietly requested another. Then another. And another. By the time we reached dessert, she’d gone back four times.

That was all the confirmation I needed. She liked the food. Probably more than she let on.

Only the final dish remained, an elegant slice of fruit tart. I raised my fork, ready to take that last satisfying bite, when it happened: I let out a burp. Sharp, sudden, and completely unintentional.

Ah, crap.

Even if it was just Lilith, and even if this wasn’t exactly a date, there were still basic manners. Sharing a meal with a girl, even one like her, should probably involve not making pig noises at the table.

“Sorry about that,” I mumbled, mildly mortified.

Lilith surprised me. Instead of frowning, she gave me a small smile. Not a sarcastic smirk or a condescending curve of the lips. A real, honest-to-goodness smile.

“Burping isn’t proper,” she said gently. “But… it makes me a little happy.”

I blinked. “… Happy?”

She nodded with a faint, almost contemplative look. “People don’t let their guard down when they’re distant. They stay polite. Careful. So… if you can burp in front of me, it means we’re getting closer.”

I stared at her, completely thrown.

“That’s why,” she continued, tone still perfectly serious, “you don’t need to hold back. Whether it’s a burp… or a fart… you can let it out as much as you want.”

“Uh, right,” I managed, my voice cracking somewhere between horror and disbelief.

Lilith looked utterly serene, as if she’d just recited the final line of a romantic poem. Meanwhile, I was pretty sure my face had gone slack with the emotional equivalent of a pulled handbrake.

Just as I was deciding whether to laugh or run, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder from behind.

“Oh,” I muttered as I turned. “It’s you guys.”

Standing behind me were the swordsman and the mage.

The mage’s arm, snapped clean by Lilith not long ago, looked fully healed. He must’ve gone crawling to a high-tier cleric for recovery. Expensive, but effective.

The swordsman, on the other hand, didn’t waste time. He marched right up to me and grabbed a fistful of my collar, yanking me forward so we were nose to nose.

“Hey, you,” he growled.

“What now?” I asked flatly.

“That little scrap back at the guild? Don’t think that means you beat me. I wasn’t at full power, all right? I had the runs that day. Barely running at half capacity.”

Seriously? That’s the excuse?

I almost laughed. Of all the things he could’ve said—an injury, poison, a cursed item—that was the best he could come up with? It was so pathetic, it was almost impressive in its own way.

“So, you’ve got a grudge to settle, huh?” I said, brushing his hand off my chest. “You here to pick a fight? I’m not exactly in the mood, but I’ll take the challenge if you’re buying. Fists again, or what?”

Just then, I noticed Lilith beside me. She wasn’t saying anything, but I could see it. The faintest tremble in her shoulders. Her fingers clenched in her lap.

Right. This guy was the one who’d beaten her senseless not long ago. That wasn’t the kind of thing you shook off overnight.

“Fighting?” the swordsman scoffed. “What are you, an animal? This is a restaurant. You really wanna brawl here?”

That was rich, coming from the guy who had started a brawl inside a guild last time. Still, he had a point. The establishment wasn’t exactly thrilled by the growing tension.

“We could always take it outside,” I said casually. “Or do you just like making scenes in nice places?”

He ignored the jab and leaned in with a cocky grin.

“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s settle this with an arm-wrestling match.”

“Arm wrestling?” I raised an eyebrow. “Fine by me.”

That’s when one of the restaurant staff came rushing over, clearly panicked.

“S-Sir, please,” the employee stammered, “you can’t—”

The swordsman cut him off with a sharp glare, his voice laced with threat. “What?”

The poor guy flinched but stood his ground, swallowing hard. “It’s just… last time, you challenged one of the rookie adventurers to multiple rounds of so-called ‘educational’ arm wrestling. You slammed his hand into the table again and again, until… Well”

“Ah, yeah,” the swordsman said, recalling it like an amusing memory. “That.”

“The table was destroyed,” the employee continued, his voice rising slightly. “And the rookie’s hand was shattered, several bones fractured in a spiral pattern. He’s still recovering!”

Well, that explains the tension.

In that moment, it all clicked. And judging by the grin curling at the edge of the swordsman’s mouth… he knew I’d figured it out, too.

This wasn’t a match. It was bait.

He was planning to crush my arm through the table and take a bit of his pride back in the process.

“Heh… even if I wasn’t at my best that day,” the swordsman muttered, cracking his knuckles, “your moves were unreal. Not something a rookie should be pulling off.”

Funny. You couldn’t even see what I was doing, I thought, holding back a smirk. He had no idea, just throwing words around to cover his bruised ego.

“Let me guess,” he continued, eyes narrowing. “You’re some kind of brawler. Fast fists, close range. A finesse type. If I’d had my sword, it would’ve been a different story. But barehanded? I’ll admit, going toe-to-toe, I was at a disadvantage. Might’ve even lost.”

The mage quietly cleared the plates from the table. No fuss, no comment, clearly used to this kind of show. Meanwhile, the swordsman rolled up his sleeve and slammed his elbow down onto the tabletop with a loud, confident thud.

“I’m a power type. I swing a greatsword like it’s paper. I’ve got raw strength on my side. But you—” he sneered, “you’re all flash and speed. So let’s even the field. You agreed earlier, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

“Nope,” I said, stepping around the table. “I’m not.”

Instead of taking the seat, I moved behind Lilith and placed both hands gently on her shoulders. She stiffened under my touch.

“Your opponent… is her.”

“Huh?” Lilith blinked, not quite processing it.

“Haahhh?!” the swordsman barked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Lilith turned toward me, eyes wide. “Ryuto, I… I don’t understand. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Her body trembled. I could feel it through my palms. The memory of that day—being slammed, mocked, humiliated—was still fresh in her bones. And now I was asking her to sit across from the very man who’d done it.

“I know,” I said quietly. “But you’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“If it gets dangerous, I’ll step in right away. I promise. You won’t be alone.”

“Still…”

“Trust me, Lilith. I mean it.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, she drew a shaky breath and nodded.

She stepped forward, sat across from him, and placed her elbow on the table. The trembling hadn’t stopped, but now it was mixed with something else—determination.

The swordsman grinned like a wolf. “Those skinny little arms of yours? I’ll snap your wrist in one hit. You don’t need that loser,” he added, jerking his chin at me. “Come with me. I’ll treat you right.”

Lilith stared him down, voice low and cold.

“Shut your mouth, you filthy creep.”

Without a word, Lilith stepped forward and placed her elbow on the table. She didn’t sit but lowered herself into a low crouch, eyes locked on her opponent.

“So cold,” the swordsman chuckled, kneeling to match her posture. He planted his elbow across from hers, thick forearm flexing as he extended his hand.

Their palms met with a hard clap, fingers lacing tight. The tension was immediate, physical, electric.

As they locked grips, the swordsman looked past her and smirked at me.

“After the little lady here, you’re next.”

I smiled thinly. “Try beating her first. Then we’ll talk.”

That made Lilith’s voice crack out, low and bitter. “I don’t see how I can possibly win this. I know you have your reasons, Ryuto, but honestly… this seems ridiculous.”

“Just go all out,” I said, stepping between them.

I raised my hand between their locked fists, glancing at each of them in turn. “I’ll give the signal. No complaints, right?”

Both of them nodded.

“Ready… go!”

Muscles tensed. Energy surged. For a breathless instant, the entire table vibrated with the pressure of their struggle.

And then, just like that, it was over.

In the blink of an eye, one hand was slammed down against the wood with a deafening crack.

The restaurant went dead silent.

“The mage girl just… beat the swordsman? At arm wrestling?”

She’d won.

The server nearby blinked rapidly, eyes unable to process what they were seeing. The mage who had arrived with the swordsman stood slack-jawed, completely frozen.

Even the swordsman himself looked like his soul had been punched out of him.

The most shocked of all… was Lilith.

She was staring down at her own hand as if it didn’t belong to her, frozen mid-breath, lips slightly parted.

“Eh?” she whispered.

I stepped up beside her, leaned in, and spoke just loud enough for her to hear.

“You killed an S-rank monster yesterday, remember? That armwrestle just now? It’s not surprising. You’ve jumped from D-rank to the low end of C-rank overnight. That’s what a real level-up feels like. No tricks. No shortcuts.”

Her fingers flexed slowly, like she was only just beginning to feel the strength flowing through her limbs.

“In terms of raw power,” I added, “you can already beat most E-rank melee fighters. Easily.”

Lilith said nothing. But the look in her eyes, that flicker of realization, was louder than any shout of victory.

Sure, in a straight-up brawl, Lilith would probably still lose to the swordsman. Combat wasn’t just about raw power. It was about skill, timing, and experience. She lacked all of that.

However, in an actual fight? With magic?

She could reduce this guy to charcoal before he even knew what hit him.

“That’s the idea,” I said, turning to her with a calm smile. “If you stick with me, you’ll keep getting stronger. And eventually, you’ll be able to pull your own weight.”

“Ryuto,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you need to get stronger,” I answered simply. “I need you to. Right now, maybe you still feel useless… but that won’t last. You’re already out of that ‘dead weight’ stage. So don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Lilith’s cheeks turned faintly pink. She nodded shyly, a little embarrassed but quietly pleased.

Of course, that was when the swordsman decided to ruin the moment.

“This is bullshit!” he roared suddenly, practically foaming at the mouth. “You did something! Some trick! No way that little girl beat me fair! What the hell kind of magic was that?! You, get outside! Let’s have a real fight, you coward!”

Ah. So now it’s stage three: denial.

First, he blamed food poisoning. Now it was illusions. This guy really couldn’t take a loss.

I sighed. “All right then. How about this—arm wrestle me. If you win, I won’t stop you from challenging Lilith again.”

I stepped forward slowly, cracking my knuckles. “But if I win… you shut your damn mouth and leave her alone.”

He practically snarled. “I’m not here for you, dumbass! I’m here for her! This isn’t your fight!”

“Running from me, huh?” I said, goading him with a grin. “Guess you are scared.”

That did it.

Veins bulged across his temple, his face going red with rage. Hook, line, and sinker. The guy was painfully easy to provoke.

“Fine! You want ‘education’? I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna teach you what happens to punks who mouth off!”

“Just so we’re clear,” I said, stepping up to the table and planting my elbow, “I’m not holding back.”

“Good! Because I’m gonna grind your hand into splinters, kid.”

We locked hands across the table. His grip was ironclad, brimming with barely controlled violence.

“Lilith,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “Give us the signal.”

She gave a silent nod. A few seconds passed in tense stillness before she finally spoke, her voice soft but clear.

“Begin.”

At that instant, I crushed him in two very literal ways.

I hadn’t been exaggerating. I meant every word when I said I wouldn’t hold back. The moment she gave the signal, I activated every enhancement I had. Physical reinforcement, full-body surge amplification, and even the forbidden arts I usually kept locked down. All of it. This wasn’t a friendly match. This was judgment.

My grip didn’t just overpower him. It annihilated him.

His hand didn’t just hit the table. It drove straight through it. The wood exploded in a spray of splinters and force, the sound cracking like thunder inside the restaurant. It was over in less than a blink, the outcome so decisive it felt surreal.

The table wasn’t the only thing that broke.

His hand—specifically the bones in the back of it—was no longer a hand in any functional sense. It wasn’t a fracture. It wasn’t even a shatter. It was pulverization. Everything from the wrist down to the knuckles had been ground into bone dust by the impact. No healer, no matter how skilled, was putting that back together right.

He could maybe live a normal life someday, if he were lucky. But his days as a swordsman? Over. Permanently. And that was by design.

I hadn’t gone far enough to cripple him completely, but I made sure to strip him of the strength he so clearly didn’t deserve. The kind of man who used his power to humiliate and dominate others didn’t need it anymore. The world would be better off without his kind on the battlefield. This wasn’t revenge. This was culling.

He screamed.

The moment the pain caught up to him, he howled like a wounded animal, falling back in his chair and clutching what was left of his mangled hand. Blood poured between his fingers, dripping onto the floor in thick streams, and bone pierced through torn flesh like jagged ivory needles.

“GUUUGHHH! GAAAHHH! GYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

His shrieks cut through the room, raw and high-pitched, panic layered with disbelief. The other patrons stood frozen, wide-eyed, mouths half-open, staring at the man who, just seconds ago, had been full of bravado and venom.

“I don’t mind the screaming,” I said coolly, “but you’re disturbing the other customers.”

I turned toward the mage, the last man standing, and jerked a thumb toward the door. “Take your partner and get lost. Trust me, it’s better for your health.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just stood there, pale and trembling, lips barely moving.

Then he bolted.

Didn’t say a word. Didn’t glance at his partner. Just turned and sprinted for the exit like the place was on fire. So much for loyalty.

The swordsman, now abandoned and bleeding out onto the floor, let out a long, incoherent shriek. His voice cracked with pain, terror, and disbelief, all mashed into one hysterical crescendo.

“GYAAAH! M-M-Monster… You’re not human… Oh gods, please, please someone, HELP! Eek—EEEKKK!”

Ah. So now he finally understood the difference between us. Took him long enough.

He crawled toward the door like a wounded insect, dragging himself across the floor, sobbing, still clutching the ruin of his hand. When he reached the exit, he didn’t even bother standing. He just slithered out like a dying worm.

That, thankfully, was the end of that.

I let out a long breath, then glanced back at the wreckage of the table.

“Well, that’s one problem solved… but we did smash the furniture.”

I turned to the nearest waiter, raising an eyebrow. “I’m guessing I need to pay for that?”

Before the staff could answer, a new figure emerged from behind the counter—a tall man with a broad frame, dressed in pristine white from his chef’s coat to the towering hat perched atop his head. The thick beard, the folded arms, the permanent scowl… Yeah, no doubt. This was either the head chef or the owner.

He marched over, grim expression in place, and surveyed the splintered remains of the table like he was inspecting a crime scene. After a few tense seconds, he scratched his beard and grumbled.

“Let’s call it… twenty-five silver.”

I winced. “That much, huh? Well… fair enough.”

The furniture had looked expensive. This wasn’t some back-alley tavern. It was a proper restaurant, with elegant hardwood, custom chairs, and real silver cutlery. Of course, a table here would cost a small fortune.

So much for our big earnings today. That was nearly a quarter of what we’d made, gone, just like that.

Still, I sighed and reached for my coin pouch. “I’ll cover it. Just add it to our bill. Sorry for the mess.”

The chef’s scowl didn’t fade, but he gave me a strange look then. Something between curiosity and surprise. He scratched his chin slowly, studying me.

“What’re you even talking about?” the chef asked, his gruff tone laced with disbelief.

“Huh?” I tilted my head, confused by the sudden shift.

“Your bill is on the house,” he said flatly. “And tonight, I want you back here. We’re going to serve you a course worth every bit of those twenty-five silver coins, made with everything my kitchen’s got.”

I blinked. “Wait… what?”

He broke into a wide grin, thumb jabbing toward the ceiling. “That loudmouth bastard? We’ve been putting up with him for months. You? You shut him up real good. Honestly, it felt amazing. Call it our thanks.”

Ah, so that was it. The staff hadn’t just been annoyed by that guy—they’d been suffering under him. I glanced at Lilith. She looked back at me, and without a word, we shared a nod of silent agreement.

“In that case,” I said, turning back to the chef, “we’ll swing by the guild first. Pick up a request and work right up until dinner. We might show up late, though.”

The chef raised an eyebrow. “Why bother taking a job today of all days?”

Before I could answer, Lilith leaned forward, licking her lips ever so slightly, and answered for me in a low, dangerous tone.

“Because the hungrier we are, the more we can eat.”

The chef stared at her, then chuckled with just a touch of concern. “Right… You two are something else.”

※※※

The next day, a man stood stiffly at the reception counter of the Adventurer’s Guild. His right hand was swaddled in layers of bandages, already stained where the blood had seeped through. His posture was rigid, his jaw clenched. He looked like someone forcing himself to stand tall when everything in him wanted to collapse.

Once, he had been an adventurer. A swordsman. He still was, technically, but his partner—the mage who had once accompanied him—had left him just a day ago, and no one in the guild blamed him, not after what happened.

Today, however, he wasn’t here to pick up a job.

“I want to post a bodyguard request,” he said gruffly. “Five gold. It’s all I have.”

He laid the coins down on the counter with a dull clink, his voice low but urgent. The receptionist glanced at the bandages, then at his face, trying not to let her hesitation show.

“A bodyguard request… Understood. And how long do you intend to hire them for?”

“I want someone B-rank. Upper tier.”

She nodded, already calculating. “If this were the capital or a major city, the rate would be cheaper. But here? In the countryside? We’ll have to send word, arrange transport, and pay for travel time as well. Five gold would buy you… five days, give or take.”

The man let out a sharp click of his tongue, eyes narrowing.

“Upper-tier B-rank bodyguards go for five large silver coins a day,” the swordsman muttered bitterly, grinding his teeth. “Damn it… what a ripoff! This is extortion!”

He slammed his fist on the counter, wincing immediately as pain shot up his bandaged hand. Still, he didn’t back down.

“But I don’t have a choice. I can’t let those bastards get away with humiliating me. I won’t be treated like trash. Not again. Not by them.”

Just then, a firm hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind. He spun around, startled.

“You— Who the hell…?”

The man standing there looked to be in his early thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, with a travel-worn coat slung over light leather armor. His expression was calm, his eyes shrewd.

“The name’s Melissa. I’m a B-rank adventurer,” he said. “Until recently, I was on retainer as a personal guard for one of the big-name noble families. Got let go for… reasons. But today’s your lucky day.”

“You’ll take the job?” the man asked, eyeing him warily.

“I’ll consider it. But my rate is one gold per day.”

His face twisted. “That’s even more of a ripoff!”

Melissa didn’t flinch. He merely shook his head slowly.

“You just said it yourself. You’re not letting this go, are you? I’m guessing your definition of ‘bodyguard’ includes things like roughing people up. You think someone’s going to take that kind of job for five gold over five days? Most B-rankers wouldn’t touch it. Not without a damn good reason.”

“Heh,” the swordsman muttered, a twisted grin curling on his lips. “You catch on quick. So, you’re saying, if I’m paying top coin, I can expect you to get your hands dirty?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He looked him up and down once, then nodded. “Fine. Can’t expect better talent in a backwater like this anyway.”

They clasped hands, sealing the deal with a rough handshake.

Behind the counter, the receptionist looked on with a weary sigh.

“Well, looks like the deal’s struck,” she said. “But… are you going to formalize it through the Guild? Or are we pretending this conversation never happened?”

The swordsman turned, flashing her a crooked smile full of smug confidence. “If I go through the Guild, I lose a chunk to fees, and I’d have to keep the details all nice and ‘respectable.’ Not exactly what I’m going for.”

“Then take your shady little arrangement outside, please,” she replied, arching an eyebrow. “Discussing off-the-record jobs in the middle of the Guild? That’s beyond unprofessional.”

“Ah, fair enough. My bad,” he said with a mock bow and a chuckle.

With that, the two of them, Melissa the B-rank adventurer and the bitter, broken swordsman, turned on their heels and walked out of the guild together, their silhouettes fading into the midday sun.

And then, several days later…

The swordsman was standing in front of me again.

“After everything that happened last time, you still haven’t learned?” Lilith exhaled sharply, her voice colored with disbelief.

We had just been walking through one of the quieter stone-paved alleys in town, dim and deserted, when he appeared out of nowhere, like a particularly persistent cockroach that refused to die. I let out a sigh of my own, in perfect sync with Lilith. Even I couldn’t hide the sheer awe I felt at how clingy this guy was.

Unbelievable. The hell does it take to get rid of this guy?

“Revenge!” he shouted, puffing out his chest like he was the hero of the story. “This is about revenge! You think I’d crawl off after that humiliation? No way! I’m getting payback!”

He stood tall, full of bravado. “It’s over for you two. This time, I brought backup. Someone who’s on a whole other level.”

Ah, so this isn’t even his fight anymore. He wasn’t looking to get even himself. He was outsourcing his grudge. Honestly? I was almost touched. At least he’d learned something from our last encounter. Still, I felt a prickle of unease.

He turned and pointed toward a narrow crossroad just ahead. “Take a left down there. That’s where the strongest adventurer I could find is waiting.”

The certainty in his voice… the pride in his posture… Yeah, he was dead serious.

I frowned. “A top-tier adventurer, huh?”

If that were true… we could be dealing with an S-rank. And if that were the case, I might actually have to stop holding back.

“Come on, brats. You’re about to meet your end,” he sneered, swaggering ahead.

Lilith and I exchanged a glance before following behind him, silent but alert. We turned the corner at the crossroad, and there, standing in the middle of the alley, was a man.

Or rather, a mountain of one.

He had his back to us, massive lats flaring under tanned, sweat-slicked skin. Shirtless from the waist up, he stood there like a statue carved from stone, arms crossed, the thick cords of muscle in his back practically daring you to comment.

The swordsman turned with a gleaming smile, brimming with confidence.

“Master! They’re here!”

Still facing away from us, the half-naked musclehead began to speak.

“My name is Melissa,” the man said, voice calm and low, still facing away from us. “Right now, I’m the top-tier B-rank adventurer in this town. I used to be under contract with a high-ranking noble family, but… Well, let’s just say that fell apart. I have time to kill now, so I’m just making some extra cash—”

Then he turned around, and the instant our eyes met, all his bravado vanished.

His eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open in shock.

“Hweh?”

It was the kind of sound you’d expect from a small, confused animal, or maybe a sleepy girl waking from a nap. But from a ripped, shirtless man built like a fortress, the effect was less “adorable” and more “deeply disturbing.”

Lilith said nothing, just blinked. I didn’t blame her.

I took a step forward, my voice cautious. “It’s been a while, huh?”

We just stood there, staring at each other in stunned silence for what felt like half a minute. Melissa’s mouth opened and closed like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite figure out how. Then, slowly, his eyes began to well up.

“Ah… ah… uhh…”

Oh no. He was tearing up.

Before I could say anything, the swordsman who had brought us here stepped forward, clearly oblivious to the strange emotional undertone thickening the air.

“Master! Come on, what are you waiting for? Wreck them! Smash them to bits!”

Melissa seemed to hesitate. Something passed behind his eyes—recognition, maybe. But eventually, he gave a slow, almost reluctant nod.

“All right. I’ll take care of it.”

Really? He was going through with this?

He had to know the kind of power I was packing, had to feel it. But still, here he was, stepping forward with professional purpose, the emotional cracks vanishing behind a mask of trained composure. Maybe pride? Maybe duty? Or perhaps he really wanted to see this through.

Either way, I wasn’t taking chances.

B-rank or not, Melissa wasn’t just muscle. If I got cocky and gave him an opening, it’d cost me. So, I slid back a few paces, keeping my center low, preparing for whatever came next. My stance was loose but ready, my focus sharpened.

Across from me, Melissa leaned forward slightly into a crouch, his muscles coiling beneath the surface, ready to spring.

Then, just like that, Melissa leaned back dramatically, chest puffed out as if preparing for a powerful headbutt. For a moment, I tensed, watching the odd movement, but the distance between us made it clear there was no way he could reach me with that kind of attack. So what the hell was he doing?

Before I could figure it out, he took a deep breath, dropped low, and slammed his forehead against the ground with a deafening crack.

“I’M SO SORRYYYYYY!”

It was a dogeza, an old-fashioned Japanese kneeling apology, head to the floor. But this wasn’t any ordinary bow. This was a full-powered, muscle-fueled, life-risking head-dive into the pavement. The kind of movement that could have accidentally killed any nearby small animalsor adventurers not wearing armor. It was aggressive, almost violent… and still somehow heartfelt.

I stood frozen, jaw hanging open. Even Lilith was too stunned to speak.

Melissa didn’t linger in his humiliation. He sprang up almost immediately, pivoted, and launched himself like a missile at the swordsman. With practiced force, he slammed his hands down on the man’s shoulders and shoved him flat onto the ground.

“Master?!” the swordsman cried, completely caught off guard.

“You apologize to these two right now!” Melissa barked.

“What?! But I paid you! You’re supposed to be protecting me. Go on, crush that guy like we talked about!”

Melissa’s voice cracked with rage. “And because you paid me, I’m making you apologize, you fool! You think I’d risk my life for a few lousy coins?! You want to get yourself killed over your ego?!”

The swordsman blinked, speechless. “W-What…?”

“This is the only way to protect you right now, you idiot!” Melissa roared. “Apologize before we both end up in the ground!”

The swordsman still didn’t get it. “But I hired you for a fight! I don’t understand—!”

Then came the breaking point. Face flushed, tears welling, and a streak of snot running from his nose, Melissa let out one final scream as a thick vein bulged at his temple.

“I’M NOT THROWING MY LIFE AWAY OVER YOUR STUPID GRUDGE, YOU DUMBASS!”

With that, he punctuated his philosophy with a devastating low kick, slamming his shin into the swordsman’s thigh with enough force to knock the man sideways. It wasn’t just an act of frustration. In a twisted way, it was protection, probably the most effective thing he could’ve done to keep the idiot alive.

I watched in silence, rubbing the bridge of my nose with a sigh. “What can I even say to that…?”

Melissa turned back toward me, bowing low with practiced shame. “I sincerely apologize! I’ll make sure this moron never bothers you again!”

“Right,” I replied, glancing sideways at Lilith. “Thanks, I guess.”

With that, we walked away, leaving the collapsed swordsman groaning on the pavement and Melissa still shouting in his ear about the value of survival.

That was the last time the swordsman ever came near us.

Not once after that did he dare even look in our direction again.

Interlude: A Librarian’s Soliloquy – Part I

This is the Grand Library of the Dragon King.

As ever, the librarian’s work was quiet—almost too quiet. Dust floated lazily through shafts of filtered sunlight. The familiar mustiness of parchment and ink hung in the air. I sat at my usual desk in the reception hall, flipping through a worn volume, letting my thoughts drift with the turning pages.

How long had it been since I’d walked away from the life of an adventurer? Months? Years? Time seemed to blur in places like this, where nothing ever truly changed. Now and then, rumors trickled in—tales of him, of Ryuto, still shaking the world with his absurd strength and equally absurd willpower. I suppose it was only natural. With that much talent and ambition packed into one reckless soul, what else could you expect?

I glanced up at the vaulted ceiling, a wistful smile tugging at my lips.

Yes… I became strong in my own way. I pushed myself farther than most would dare. But in the end, I couldn’t climb over that final wall. The wall called talent.

I’d wanted to follow Ryuto. I really had. To chase after that same distant horizon, to see how far I could go beside him. But I’d reached my limit. And Ryuto hadn’t. So, I made my choice. I stepped away from the path to greatness and took a different one.

That was how I ended up here, among ancient tomes and forgotten histories, serving as a humble librarian in the Dragon King’s Grand Library.

Truthfully… there was a gentleness to these days. After lunch, when the warmth drifted in through the glass, I found myself fighting sleep more often than not. The hours stretched long and soft, like a lullaby. It was a strange kind of peace, so quiet, it almost felt like the world itself was holding its breath.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

And yet… even in this tranquility, a shadow lingered. A faint loneliness that never quite faded.

But what could I do? The path I chose couldn’t be walked backward.

Now then… where was I?

Ah, yes. I was thinking about the day it all changed. The moment I knew I could go no further. The day I turned my back on adventuring forever.

It all began at the Tower of Mirage.

Chapter 2: Request from a Witch

The day after we were treated to that extravagant meal, Lilith and I found ourselves back in the Adventurers’ Guild, loitering in the lobby and scanning the crowded bulletin board while gently rubbing our still-heavy stomachs.

“Not a single quest looks even remotely appetizing,” I muttered.

Lilith nodded slowly beside me, her gaze fixed on the listings. “If we abandoned the whole ‘don’t draw attention’ restriction, you could earn ten gold coins in one go, couldn’t you? A single S-rank extermination quest would be enough.”

“Assuming we were allowed to take one, sure,” I replied with a dry laugh. “But we’re still technically registered as F-rank. Even at our best, we’d be evaluated as maybe high-B individually and low-A as a party. No way they’d authorize something that dangerous.”

The truth was, if push came to shove, I could brute-force a high-level job and get us what we needed. But doing so would plaster my name across every guild bulletin board in the region. That kind of attention would make it impossible to quietly watch over Cordelia at the Magic Academy.

I was turning that dilemma over in my mind when a light tap landed on Lilith’s shoulder.

“Who…?” Lilith turned slightly, her voice flat and wary.

Standing behind her was a woman—no, more like a walking provocation. She was somewhere in her late twenties, dressed in a black, high-slit, low-coverage outfit that screamed “witch” in both aesthetic and attitude. A pointed black hat balanced atop her long red hair, confirming the cliché. But none of that was what drew my attention.

Her chest was enormous. Comically so. If I had to put it in one word: absurd.

Now, to be clear, I wasn’t some chest-obsessed degenerate. Cordelia had a pretty standard figure, and Lilith, well… let’s say she leaned toward the flat end of the spectrum. So, it wasn‘t like I had unrealistic expectations.

This woman? She was operating on an entirely different plane. It was distracting in the way a natural disaster was. You didn’t want to stare, but your brain couldn’t look away.

“Rainbow fruit collection. That was you two, wasn’t it?” she asked, tapping a neatly manicured finger against the bulletin board.

Without waiting for an answer, she plucked down the request sheet with a large red X scribbled over it.

I glanced over and raised an eyebrow. Sure enough, a new note had been attached to the job posting: due to an overabundance of supply, the guild would no longer be accepting rainbow fruit for the time being. No matter how many you found, they wouldn’t buy a single one.

Well, I guess we had gone a little overboard.

As Lilith had predicted, the overabundance of rainbow fruit had crashed the market. Prices had nosedived, and local vendors were in an uproar. The board now bore a note officially suspending guild purchases of the fruit “until further notice.” Well, that was bound to happen.

Lilith, ever composed, tilted her head and regarded the red-haired woman coolly. “So what? And who exactly are you supposed to be?”

In response, the woman struck a slow, deliberately sultry pose, one hand brushing her hip as she twisted slightly at the waist. “Why, I’m a witch. Isn’t it obvious?”

Ah. So, she really was the exposed-midriff, massive-chest, dramatic-hat-wearing variety of witch.

I folded my arms. “And what business does Miss Witch have with us?”

“The rainbow fruit price crash,” she said, her ruby lips curling into a faint smile. “It was you two who caused that, wasn’t it?”

“I won’t deny it,” I replied with a shrug. “But what of it?”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You’re not just a pair of ordinary kids. That much is obvious. I’d wager one of you has a skill particularly suited for botanical detection.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Still not denying it.”

“Hmm. The scale of your harvest makes it clear you didn’t just get lucky. You must possess not only some high-level detection-type skill, but also a deep mastery of plant identification… likely on a level rarely seen outside of A-rank professionals.”

Not a bad guess. I had combined multiple max-level detection and sensing skills to create an advanced, composite ability, basically a new form of perception altogether. Among top-tier adventurers, a few could pull off that kind of thing… but the idea that a pair of “kids” might be doing it? That was clearly beyond her expectations.

It was like dropping a modern fighter jet into the middle of World War II and expecting the locals to make sense of the radar tech. For reference, I was the guy with the fighter jet.

“Look,” I said, already tired of the verbal dance, “how about we skip to the part where you tell us what you actually want? We’re not exactly free all day.”

“Oh my, so impatient,” she purred, giving me a sly look. “Men who rush the courtship and the climax are always such a disappointment, you know.”

“We’re short on time. Talk.”

With a chuckle, she finally relented. “Fine, fine. Straight to the point, then. I’m a senior professor at the Royal University of Magic, specializing in alchemy. And I’m looking for something very specific—mandragora.”

Ah. That makes sense.

Mandragora—those weird rootlike plants with vaguely human faces. Think ginseng with a grudge and a scream that could shatter bone.

If you pictured that classic fantasy trope, human-faced root, shrieked on extraction, death-by-scream, you wouldn’t be far off. Visually, it looked just like the illustrations you’d find in Earth’s mythology texts. But in this world? It didn’t actually scream. That part was just superstition, a remnant of some old tale that had stuck around too long.

The real danger lies elsewhere.

Mandragora contains potent narcotic and toxic compounds, as well as highly effective medicinal properties. It’s a staple for alchemists and apothecaries, a rare, powerful reagent used in everything from life-saving potions to experimental concoctions. And yes, in the wrong hands, it’s absurdly easy to refine into a very real, very illegal drug.

The result? Sky-high demand and very little supply.

“So,” the witch said, her voice low and sultry but serious beneath the flirtation, “just as you’ve no doubt heard, demand for mandragora is… considerable. It’s been overharvested to the point of extinction in any area even remotely near civilization.”

I nodded. “Back around a hundred years ago, addicts and traffickers tore through every field and forest they could reach. Apparently, it was complete chaos. Even though rainbow fruit is rarer, mandragora was easier to spot and harvest, assuming you knew what you were looking for, which they did. And they didn’t stop until it was all gone.”

Lilith crossed her arms, her tone as clinical as always. “Thanks to that, alchemical and medical research involving mandragora has stagnated for decades. No materials, no progress.”

“And that’s where you come in,” the witch said, a smile curling her lips. “Right?”

I met her eyes squarely. “So. Where exactly did they find a new cluster?”

The witch let out a low whistle, impressed. “You’re quick. I like that.”

Truth was, in most circles, mandragora was treated like a near-extinct species. But anyone with half a brain could guess the truth: where there were no humans, there was no harvesting. Out in the deep wilds, inside the habitats of high-grade monsters, where the average adventurer would never dare set foot, mandragora still grew naturally.

She raised one gloved finger to her lips, pressing it delicately between nose and mouth as she gave me a conspiratorial wink.

“There are still some naughty little boys and girls out there using mandragora for very inappropriate purposes. So let’s keep this between us, hmm?”

I sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Now, where’s the site?”

“A mandragora grove was discovered by chance,” the witch said, resting a hand on her hip. “But the location… poses a slight problem.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of problem?”

“It’s on the mid-slope of Mount Arakes, the volcano to the northeast,” she replied with a soft, almost teasing lilt. “To get there, you’d normally pass through a dense forest before reaching the rocky zone. Unfortunately… that forest happens to be right in the middle of a basilisk nesting ground.”

Lilith’s brow furrowed. “Basilisks… those are ranked B-class, lower tier, correct?”

The witch nodded. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to fight them. I’ve arranged for an escort. All you two need to focus on is locating and harvesting the mandragora.”

“An escort, huh?”

She tilted her chin toward the far side of the guild lobby. I followed her gaze to a long table near the wall, where a group of adventurers sat sprawled out like they owned the place. Each one was clearly battle-hardened, their gear worn but maintained, their postures relaxed but sharp.

At the center sat a massive man who looked like he could wrestle an ox into submission just for fun. Judging by his bulk and the effortless confidence with which he carried it, I guessed he was somewhere in his mid-thirties. His sun-browned skin and shaggy brown hair reminded me, bizarrely, of the old red dragon back in the village. So much so, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were twins, not just in appearance, but also in brain-to-muscle ratio. The guy looked like he did bicep curls with tree trunks and headbutted bricks for fun.

As if on cue, the man bellowed across the room, his voice echoing off the stone walls like a war horn.

“Hey, hey! These are the brats we’re supposed to babysit? You serious? How old are they, twelve?!”

Charming.

The witch sighed, her expression a blend of amusement and mild exasperation. “Your job isn’t to pick herbs,” she said, turning to him with a finger raised in warning. “Your job is to keep these two alive while they find the mandragora. Whether they succeed or not, your reward is guaranteed. So let’s keep things professional, yes?”

I turned back to her. “And these guys?”

“They call themselves the White Phoenix Covenant,” she replied, her voice taking on a more businesslike tone. “That big one is a warrior, their leader. The whole party’s A-rank in terms of collective strength. Individually, they’re each solid B-rank adventurers, mid to low tier but experienced and well-coordinated.”

So that was the lineup. Experienced enough to keep basilisks off our backs while Lilith and I focused on what we were good at.

“You’re telling me those guys are our escort?” I asked, one brow raised as I glanced toward the wall of muscle gathered near the edge of the guild lobby. “That’s gotta cost a fortune.”

The witch only chuckled, her voice husky and amused. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that. They’re already under contract, basilisk extermination in the same area. You’re just a… bonus job. Their fee has already been negotiated. You get full protection at a fraction of the price.”

I frowned thoughtfully, then shifted my gaze back to her. “All right, witchy lady. Let’s talk payment.”

Her grin widened, eyes twinkling. “Of course. The mandragora grove we found is estimated to hold about twenty, five hundred grams, give or take. I don’t expect you to harvest it all, but bring back at least five hundred grams, and the job’s considered a success.”

“And what’s the payout for that kind of haul?”

“One gold coin per hundred grams,” she said without missing a beat. “If you meet the quota, I’ll throw in a success bonus, five extra gold. So, ten gold total.”

I nearly whistled. Ten gold coins. That was enough to wipe out our debt, buy Lilith’s ownership contract outright, and even cover the magical branding fees. All at once.

Just then, the leader of the muscle brigade, the one built like a walking fortress, let out a laugh and swaggered toward us. His voice boomed across the lobby.

“Hey, you little runts!”

I slowly turned toward him, expression flat. “What now?”

He gave us a once-over and scoffed. “We signed on to protect an herb picker, not babysit a couple of snot-nosed kids. Let’s get one thing straight. You keep up, or you get left behind. Got it?”

Ah. One of those types.

Lilith and I exchanged a glance. No words needed. Just a shared sigh and a mutual shrug. Whether we liked these guys or not, this was the fastest and cleanest way to close out our financial problems.

I looked back at the witch. “Just to confirm. Five hundred grams, ten gold coins?”

She nodded, a little smug. “Exactly.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said. “We’re in.”

No matter how annoying the company or how dangerous the terrain, this job was our way out. The end of the debt. The end of the worry. All we had to do now… was survive it.

※※※

“What the hell is all this crap?” I muttered, staring up at the sheer wall of gear stacked before us.

It was the morning of our departure. Lilith and I had been summoned to the lavish lobby of the inn—no, this was definitely a full-blown hotel—where the White Phoenix Covenant had spent the night. And now, we were standing in front of what could only be described as a mountain of supplies.

“We’ve got spare weapons, extra armor, rations, water, tents, and all the camping gear for a two-week round trip,” the brawny leader explained, arms crossed. “That’s four people’s worth. Six, counting you two. So yeah, it adds up.”

He glanced at me expectantly.

“Don’t tell me… You expect us to carry all of this?”

“Damn right,” the man said, without even blinking. “Technically, sure, the deal was you gather the herbs and we handle the fighting. But there’s been a little update. That witch of yours? She violated our agreement.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of violation?”

The man snorted. “She didn’t tell us you were F-rank. Total greenhorns. Wet behind the ears, weak as toddlers. Protecting you out in basilisk territory? That’s a pain in the ass. Dangerous, too.”

He wasn’t wrong. In the eyes of the average adventurer, F-rankers were barely above armed farmers, sometimes not even that. It wasn’t unheard of for thugs in back alleys to beat down fresh recruits.

Seeing me fall silent, the man pressed his advantage.

“So we renegotiated with the witch. Two changes. First, we’ll protect you, sure. But if it comes down to life or death, and someone has to be left behind… well, don’t expect any heroics. You die, you die. Tough break.”

“And the second?”

He grinned, a smug, mean-spirited kind of grin. “We get to treat you however we like. Orders, grunt work, heavy lifting, whatever we want. Originally, we planned on hiring a few gofers for this trip. Turns out we got two freebies. Lucky us, huh?”

My jaw tightened. That damn witch… She really played us.

She’d gone and decided everything on her own… Unbelievable.

With a booming laugh, the musclehead clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth. “We’re counting on you, rookie. Cooking, laundry, prepping the baths, the works.”

I stared at the towering pile of gear in front of me and pointed to it with a grimace. “Okay, but how exactly am I supposed to physically carry all of this?”

The total weight had to be well over two hundred kilograms. There were five expedition-sized rucksacks, multiple duffel bags big enough to stuff a grown adult into, and enough sleeping bags to bury a small army.

“Easy,” he said. “You carry as much as your skinny arms can manage. Strap it on, lift it up, and get movin’.”

Grumbling, I shouldered one of the monster rucksacks, then hugged two of the duffels under my arms. “All right, I’m loaded up. Now what about the rest?”

He jerked a thumb toward Lilith. “The girl takes the next load. And whatever’s left…”

His gaze shifted toward a nearby table where a lean, bespectacled man in his twenties was sipping tea like he had just stepped out of a nobles’ salon.

“… goes into the magic box of our guild’s prized sorcerer over there.”

I blinked. “Wait, hold up. If he’s got an Item Box, why are we even bothering with this circus act?”

The older man heaved a heavy sigh, as if explaining something painfully obvious to a child. “Item boxes have capacity limits, genius. Depends on the skill level.”

“Okay,” I muttered, “so you’re saying there’s not enough room for everything?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of room,” he said cheerfully. “Our esteemed mage here’s got Item Box at level five. He could probably fit twice this much if he felt like it.”

The mage in question raised his cup with dainty fingers and gave me a serene nod, like a priest bestowing a blessing.

“Then again, why the hell are we hauling anything?” I growled. “He could just dump it all in there.”

“Because you’re the newbie,” the man said with a wolfish grin. “And you’re traveling with a high-rank party. Best learn now what that means.”

Ah. There it was. This wasn’t about logistics; it was about hazing.

He softened his tone slightly, as if trying to play the wise mentor now. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. We were rookies once, too. Got hazed worse than this, let me tell you. But that’s what lit the fire under our asses. Made us dream of climbing higher. Gave us something to prove. Maybe this is just a pain in the ass to you now, but one day you’ll look back and thank us.”

I almost laughed, not from amusement, but from how cliché the whole speech was. Still, I bit my tongue and said nothing.

If this is the crap I have to eat now to make sure Lilith’s free… so be it.

It was the most useless kind of help imaginable. Worse still, the guy didn’t even seem to realize how condescending he was being and probably thought he was doing us a favor. The worst kind of muscle-brained, team-sports mentor type. All smug smiles and empty speeches. The walking embodiment of everything wrong with old-school “tough love.”

Then, right on cue, he turned his booming voice toward Lilith. “Hey, girly! Don’t just stand there. Grab what you can.”

“Understood,” she said flatly.

Without hesitation, Lilith activated her Item Box. A glowing glyph formed midair, and she began absorbing the luggage into it at a steady pace, one piece after another.

The big guy stared, dumbstruck. “Huh…? Wait. That’s… You’ve got an Item Box? An F-rank… has one?”

While he stood there blinking, I tossed the gear I was holding into Lilith’s vortex of convenient spatial magic. In less than a minute, the entire mountain of luggage had vanished.

Expressionless, Lilith added in a low murmur, “We’re likely to slay a large number of monsters on the way. Their carcasses and materials will need to be preserved. If your mage’s Item Box reaches capacity, mine can take the overflow.”

The musclehead blinked again, clearly scrambling to process. “Er… what’s the capacity on yours, exactly?”

Lilith tilted her head in thought, then answered with all the casual detachment of a clerk reviewing inventory. “Roughly ten times the amount you just gave us.”

The mage across the room, who had been enjoying his tea in smug silence, promptly sprayed it across the floor in a spectacular spit-take.

※※※

Several days later, we finally arrived at the outskirts of the forest near the Arakes Volcano. This was the region where the basilisk-infested woods began. Shrouded in a permanent half-light even at midday, it was the kind of place that practically screamed “cursed.” The air was thick, the trees gnarled and overgrown, and the underbrush teemed with the eerie stillness of lurking predators.

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the real danger to show itself. About once an hour, without fail, we encountered a basilisk. Most came alone, but occasionally they showed up in twos or threes.

“Heh,” I muttered.

I had to hand it to them. This bunch might be loud, obnoxious, and arrogant, but when it came down to it, the White Phoenix Covenant lived up to their reputation. Their teamwork was sharp and efficient. Even in dense terrain and ambush-heavy conditions, they dispatched basilisks with minimal fuss, keeping the formation tight and the casters shielded.

They might have been jerks, but they weren’t amateurs.

The number of basilisks lurking in the forest was staggering. But for a squad like the White Phoenix Covenant, a B-rank bottom-tier monster might as well be a practice dummy. They tore through the beasts like kids kicking over sandcastles, never once breaking formation or showing any signs of strain.

As I crouched beside the still-twitching corpse of the latest kill, I hacked off its blood-slicked crest, the designated proof of subjugation. It was then that a thought struck me. Something didn’t add up.

“Hey, old man,” I said, holding the severed crest in one hand.

The burly team leader’s head whipped around, nostrils flaring. “Old man?! You little brat, do you have any idea who you’re talking to?!”

Here we go again. I rolled my eyes, shoulders rising in a lazy shrug. Technically, I’d lived through three lifetimes. If we were counting actual years lived, I had him beat by at least a decade. Not that he’d believe me, seeing as I looked like your average fifteen-year-old kid.

“Yeah, yeah, save it. What I’m saying is, don’t you think these guys are a little too big?”

“Too big? You think now’s the time to complain about details? This is the first time we’ve ever hunted something this rare!”

That explained it. They weren’t ignoring the abnormality. They were simply too green when it came to basilisks to notice. These muscleheads probably thought this size was normal. But I knew better.

In most cases, basilisks were elusive creatures found deep in the demon realm or the remote, icy edges of the world. The fact that we were running into so many in human territory was odd enough on its own. But this… This was something else.

All the ones we’d encountered so far were the size of sumo wrestlers or heavyweight fighters, at least two meters tall and built like mountains. But basilisks weren’t supposed to be that big. A typical adult specimen stood at about 150 centimeters, max.

There was no way this was a coincidence. If we’d run into one abnormally large basilisk, fine. But every single one?

That pointed to something much more dangerous: a systemic mutation. An entire brood growing beyond standard parameters was a surefire sign that somewhere among them was an alpha, an evolved variant strong enough to affect the growth of its entire pack.

If that was the case… then somewhere nearby, hiding in the shadows of this cursed forest, was an upper-tier monster. One that could very well turn this little harvesting mission into a fight for our lives.

When it comes to the evolved form of a basilisk…

“A chimera, huh? Subjugation difficulty: lower S-rank.”

No way these guys were ready for that. Honestly, they wouldn’t stand a chance. They wouldn’t even be able to put up a fight. It wouldn’t be a battle, just a one-sided massacre.

A creeping certainty settled in my gut, and I didn’t waste any time. I activated my detection skills and began scanning the area. There was nothing within fifty meters, no sign of a chimera, at least not nearby. I refined the search, narrowing the target to monsters of S-rank and above, then expanded my range to five hundred meters.

Gotcha. And just my luck, the chimera had already noticed us. It was closing in.

I leaned toward Lilith and whispered, “Lilith.”

She turned, a flicker of tension in her eyes. “What is it?”

“I’m stepping out for a bit.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think something like this would show up this close to human territory. But there’s a monster headed this way, one those muscleheads won’t be able to handle. I’ll go take it down before it gets here.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll be back in ten.”

Without another word, I slipped away into the trees, vanishing quietly into the underbrush.

※※※

About five minutes after Ryuto disappeared into the forest, it started.

Explosions rocked the distance. Trees cracked and fell like matchsticks. Shockwaves echoed through the canopy, deep, resonant booms, the kind only heard when someone was fighting at speeds well beyond the sound barrier.

The entire forest was shaking with the violence of it all. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

One of the adventurers from the White Phoenix Covenant shouted, voice on the edge of panic, “Why the hell is there an A-rank upper-class monster, a manticore, in a place like this?!”

The leader of the group, a hulking warrior built like a fortress, went pale as he let out a strangled cry.

“There’s no way! That’s a manticore!”

He wasn’t wrong.

Fifty meters ahead, just beyond the brush, a twisted creature stood motionless, watching them.

I was roughly the size of a lion, with the same broad, muscular body, only that its skin was a vivid, unsettling red. Its face was that of a man, grotesquely human-like, and from its lower back curved a thick scorpion tail tipped in venom. A predator born of nightmares, a man-eater in every sense of the word. This was a manticore.

It and the White Phoenix Covenant were locked in a tense standoff, muscles taut, eyes narrowed, neither side making the first move.

“No one said anything about manticores!” one of the men barked, voice rising. “What do we do, boss?”

“Not much to decide,” the leader muttered grimly. “We fall back. No questions.”

To be fair, they weren’t wrong. Their party might’ve been A-rank in terms of overall strength, and with solid coordination, they probably could have taken it. But the margin for error was razor-thin. One misstep, and someone was dead. This wasn’t some training exercise or heroic fantasy; it was a battlefield, where death came fast and without warning.

Pulling out was the right move.

Still, that didn’t change one crucial fact: I was the weakest one hereand the closest to dying. I had no illusions about where I stood. Whether these mercenaries would risk their hides to protect me was… questionable, at best.

The smartest thing to do now would be to regroup with Ryuto. He was the only one I could trust. But judging by the thunderous explosions and tremors still shaking the trees from somewhere deeper in the woods, he was… occupied, and a ways off.

I didn’t even have time to consider my options before a rough hand grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and yanked me clean off the ground.

“Heh… Even a brat like you makes a decent decoy.”

I twisted to look. The spearman, one of the Covenant, was grinning, a filthy sneer stretched across his face.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The warrior leader tried to intervene, but the spearman ignored him. With a cruel laugh, he hurled me bodily through the air, straight toward the manticore.

“Let the beast chew on the kid while we make a clean getaway, eh? That’s leadership, boys. And for the record, I never wanted some brainless meathead as our leader anyway. You bought into bad intel, and this is where it’s gotten us.”

“You can’t be serious! That’s a child!”

Voices erupted behind me. The team was arguing, splintering into chaos. But I didn’t hear any of it clearly. All I could feel now was wind roaring in my ears, the world flipping upside down, and the burning certainty that I was flying straight into the jaws of death.

Really though, it was far too late for complaints now. I was already airborne, soaring helplessly through the air toward the manticore.

If they were going to argue about using me as bait, I sincerely wished they’d done it before they’d thrown me.

My body hit the ground with a jarring thud. I tumbled violently, skidding across the rough forest floor until the momentum finally died. When I came to a stop, I found myself lying almost perfectly between the adventuring party and the monster. Smack in the middle. Of course.

Truly unfortunate.

The manticore, its monstrous red lion-like body gleaming in the gloom, had noticed me now. With a gleam in its eyes and froth spilling from its jagged teeth, it broke into a terrifying sprint, barreling straight toward me.

Great. Just perfect.

Of all the things to die to, it has to be this? Even though I wasn’t particularly fleshy or delicious-looking, it didn’t seem to matter. It wanted a meal. And I was apparently on the menu.

“Flare.”

“Wind Edge.”

“Lightning Arrow.”

I fired off a barrage of upper-tier spells, each one trained on the charging beast. Flames, slicing gales, bolts of lightning. Every element I had at my disposal. They struck it head-on. And yet, as expected from an A-rank upper-class magical beast, the damage was negligible. It didn’t even slow down. At best, it staggered for half a breath. That was all.

The gap between us shrank. Five meters. Four. Three.

Its mouth opened wide. Fangs glinted. It wasn’t coming for a bite. It was coming to swallow me whole.

Is this really the end?

Somehow, I didn’t feel scared. Not in the way I thought I would. I’d prepared myself for this kind of ending the moment I chose to walk beside Ryuto. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy road and that I might die someday, somewhere far from home. Maybe today was just that day.

And then, suddenly, I felt it.

A crushing impact to my side. Not a shove, not a push, but something far more violent. It felt like someone had set off an explosion in my ribs.

Pain blossomed as I was sent flying again, this time from a brutal kick.

“Sorry for the rough save, sweetheart.”

The voice was gruff but not unkind.

I tumbled through the undergrowth once more and groaned as I landed, winded but alive. When I managed to look up, I saw him, the leader of the White Phoenix Covenant. The big, burly warrior who’d been barking orders earlier. He stood firm in the path of the charging beast, a massive shield braced before him like a wall of steel.

“What are you doing?”

All of his companions had fled. Only the leader remained, alone in the clearing, standing his ground.

Bracing his shield against the charging manticore, he bellowed through gritted teeth, his voice raw with defiance.

“I strutted around like I was something special because I am strong! And with strength comes responsibility and resolve!”

“Responsibility?” I repeated, staring at him.

“Yeah. When you’ve got power, you’ve got a duty to protect those who don’t. That’s what it means to be strong!”

His words made little sense to me. “That’s your personal belief. No one’s forcing that on you. Throwing your life away for it… I just don’t understand.”

His answer was a guttural roar. Muscles rippled under his armor as he drove forward, forcing the manticore back step by step.

“Maybe not. But I’ve lived thirty-five years like this, and I’m not about to change now!” His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as he cast aside his shield. “You go. Leave this to me, kid!”

Then he drew his blade with a heavy rasp of steel. Facing the oncoming beast with nothing but a sword in hand, he roared, “Come on, monster! Let’s see what you’ve got!”

A manticore. A monster ranked near the top of the A-class threat scale. And this man, for all his strength and heart, was B-rank at best. There was no way he could defeat it.

Still dazed, I forced myself upright. Pain screamed through my side as I stood, and I couldn’t help but let out a bitter chuckle.

He’d kicked me so hard to get me out of danger… he’d cracked my ribs doing it.

“You tell me to run, but then go and do something that reckless…” I raised my trembling hand. “Flare.”

A burst of fire ignited against the manticore’s flank. It didn’t harm it, but it bought a moment. A flicker of distraction. That was all I needed.

The warrior glanced back in surprise. “You?”

“I’m not running,” I said softly. “I won’t ask you to kill it. Just buy me time. That’s all I need.”

The sounds of battle from deeper in the forest had stopped. Whatever he had gone to face, it was over.

Which meant if we could hold out a little longer… we’d survive this too.

I buried my head in my hands, unable to look away from the carnage unfolding before me.

We hadn’t bought time. Not even a second. In the blink of an eye, the towering warrior had been wrestled to the ground, pinned beneath the monstrous weight of the manticore. It hadn’t tried to overpower him directly. The beast had realized brute strength wouldn’t be enough, so it changed tactics. With terrifying speed, it circled him again and again, blurring at the edges of my vision. It was testing him, watching how he moved, how he struggled to keep pace. And the moment it sensed a delay, the slightest hesitation, it struck. A flash of muscle and fang. A leap from behind. Then, claws dug in deep, and the manticore brought him crashing down, straddling his chest like a predator claiming its kill.

“Ggh—!”

Its jaws clamped down on his torso with a sickening crunch. Armor crumpled like foil, and blood burst into the air in a vivid red spray. Flesh tore. Bone gave way. It wasn’t quite a killing blow, not yet. His insides hadn’t spilled completely. But the damage was done. No warrior, no matter how strong, could fight with a body that broken.

“Flare. Wind Edge. Lightning Arrow.”

I fired spells in rapid succession, too fast to think, too frantic to aim. They hit—some of them, anyway—but it was like striking stone with wind. No reaction. No pause. No wound.

Still, I kept casting.

“Flare. Wind Edge. Lightning Arrow.”

Again and again, magic flared from my hands, but none of it mattered. The manticore didn’t even glance my way. It opened its maw once more, fangs gleaming, and lunged for the warrior’s exposed side. His armor had collapsed entirely by now, just shredded metal hanging from blood-slicked flesh. The second bite would tear through him. Finish the job. End it.

And I could only watch.

Why? Why am I this helpless…?

Was it anger? Or sorrow? Something quieter, lonelier, that made my chest ache?

No. It was frustration That raw, bitter taste of being powerless when it mattered most.

No… not just frustration. Something deeper. I shook my head.

It was rage. Rage at my own uselessness. At how small I was in this moment. How completely incapable I was of saving him.

For the first time in my life, that fury roared to life inside me, burning hotter than fear or despair. And with nothing else left, I gave in to it. I poured every last ounce of magic I had at the monster. Not to win. Not to save him.

There was no breaking through this wall. Not with strength. Not with magic. Not with desperation. This suffocating gulf in power was what it meant to face a top-tier A-rank monster. And Ryuto had been fighting beyond even this for the past two years. Somewhere out there, in a realm where monsters like this were only the beginning, he had been locked in battle day after day. Bleeding. Surviving.

Could I really follow him into that world?

Could I step into a future where creatures like this roamed unchecked, where a single misstep meant death?

The thought hollowed me out. And yet, even as the weight of it crushed my chest, I kept casting. Spell after spell flew from my hands, more out of reflex than reason. It was more resistance than strategy, futile and desperate. The manticore reared back, jaws wide, aiming to finish the job and sink its fangs into the warrior’s unprotected flank.

Then everything changed.

A sudden gust tore across the battlefield, sharp as a blade. In that moment, I saw him. Just for a second. A figure moving with impossible speed. A boy with a sword that blurred through the air like wind given form.

The manticore’s head flew off its shoulders, spinning away into the distance. It had happened so fast, I hadn’t even seen the strike.

A blink. That was all it took.

For Ryuto Maclaine, that was more than enough time to end it.

“You did good, old man,” he said, calm and steady, wiping blood from his sword with a sheet of oiled paper. “Thanks for keeping Lilith safe.”

He turned toward me, eyes sharp beneath his tousled hair. “Lilith. You can use healing magic, right? See to him. Now.”

I nodded and rushed toward the wounded warrior. He was barely holding on, face pale, breath shallow, but alive. Pain twisted his features, though not enough to hide the astonishment in his eyes as they locked onto Ryuto.

“One strike? It was just one… Who are you?”

Ryuto didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head, considering it. Then a slow, confident smile broke across his face. A smile that carried no arrogance, only truth.

“Me?” he said, voice casual but unshakable. “I’m the strongest Villager in the world.”

※※※

That night, under a quiet blanket of stars, the old man was already well enough to eat again. Lilith’s healing spells had done their job. He still looked pale, but he was sitting upright, chewing, even grumbling a little. He was back to normal.

I broke off a piece of white bread and dipped it into my soup. “Hey, old man. You good at keeping secrets?”

He glanced up, caught off guard. The soup spoon in his hand hovered halfway to his mouth. “What… exactly do you mean?” he asked, his tone suddenly stiff and overly polite.

I raised an eyebrow. “Your voice just changed. Creepy.”

He didn’t respond, but he definitely knew I’d noticed. A few hours ago, he’d been all blunt edges and casual swearing, but now he sounded like he was trying to address a noble. Some people just flipped like that when they figured out they owed you their life.

I let it slide. “You’re already involved, so I’ll fill you in. But I’ll ask again. Can you keep your mouth shut about what you saw?”

The old man hesitated, then gave a slow nod. “I’ve never broken a promise, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That would do. Not that it really mattered anymore. He’d seen what I could do, and it wouldn’t take long before the others caught on, too. Still, less noise was better.

I set the bread down and met his eyes. “To be blunt, if we’re going by Adventurers’ Guild standards, my strength is upper S-rank.”

The spoon slipped from his fingers and clattered into the bowl. He stared at me, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“S-S-rank?” he finally managed. “You’re saying you’re… But why would someone like you be traveling like this?”

“I’ve got my reasons,” I said with a shrug. “Standing out’s not an option.”

The old man blinked, still trying to process it all. “So… you’ve been pretending to be a low-rank adventurer?”

“Not pretending,” I muttered. “I really am low-rank. On the books, anyway.”

“Right… of course…” He nodded slowly, his brain clearly still rebooting.

I leaned back, resting one arm across the top of the bench. “Anyway, I’ve got to help Lilith level up. Since you’re tagging along, I’ll be putting you to work.”

He gave me a cautious look but didn’t argue.

“There’s a whole swarm of lower B-rank basilisks in this area,” I added. “Perfect targets. For leveling, this place might be the best in human territory.”

The old man was quiet for a moment. Then, clearing his throat, he asked carefully, “By the way, Ryuto…?”

There it was. Not just the tone, but the name. No more casual remarks. He was treating me like royalty now.

“So, the goal here is to level up the girl?” the old man asked as he stirred his soup. “She’s a mage, right?”

I nodded without looking up. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“She was using some high-level spells back there, but… against lower B-rank monsters like basilisks, I doubt she’ll be able to land anything decisive. She might scratch them, but not drop them.”

I broke a piece of bread and dipped it into the broth. “Even if they’re not killing blows, they’ll still deal damage.”

He grunted. “Sure. I don’t disagree. But that’s not the issue. It’s her mana. She’ll run dry fast.”

That was fair. Even if Lilith hit with every spell, the way she was now, her MP would be gone after one basilisk. Maybe two if she held back, but with her control and inexperience, that wasn’t likely. Spell after spell, full force, no efficiency. At this rate, she’d burn out long before she gained anything useful.

“She’s wearing the Ring of the Night Fiend,” I said casually.

There was a pause. The old man looked up slowly. “You really are something else.”

I glanced over at him. “What?”

“You just drop that kind of thing into normal conversation?” He gave a slow shake of his head. “You’re talking about a legendary artifact like it’s no big deal.”

“Well, I spent two months raiding ancient ruins to get it,” I muttered. “Had to adjust my entire plan to do it, but it’s worth the time.”

His brows went up. “And I assume it’s the magic-drain version, not the life-drain one?”

“Right. There are two kinds. The HP-draining version is the more common one. This one pulls MP instead. Ninety percent conversion rate.”

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s efficient. But basilisks aren’t exactly spellcasters. Barely any MP to drain. And no offense, but your girl doesn’t have the combat ability to get close to something like that safely. Even if she did, I doubt she could manage a drain spell under pressure.”

I stared at him. “You think I’d let her get close enough to a basilisk to try something like that?”

He looked confused. “Then… how’s she supposed to drain mana?”

I smirked and leaned back a little. “Simple. She drains us.”

“Drain from allies?” the old man repeated, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m a warrior, and you’re a swordsman. We’re both close-range types. Our MP isn’t exactly—”

He trailed off, brow furrowing as he took a sip of coffee.

I shrugged. “Yeah, about that? Long story short, my MP’s close to thirty thousand.”

The old man promptly spat his coffee everywhere.

“Gah! Gghah! Khh!” He doubled over, hacking up half his lungs, each cough racking his body, harsh and desperate, one after another.

That wasn’t a polite little cough either. He’d inhaled it straight into his windpipe. I just sat there and waited it out as he wheezed and choked his way through it.

“Hggkk! Kff…! Zzz…! Hgh… Fuuuh…! Hhh…! Haaa…”

Yeah, that was a reasonable reaction.

For close-range fighters, MP was only really needed for basic body enhancement skills, so even an elite adventurer would be lucky to break a thousand. My number was thirty times that. Which meant I could spam high-tier magic all day long without ever running dry. That kind of stamina was the reason I could walk into monster dens alone and come out in one piece.

“Anyway,” I said, pushing my bowl away and standing up, “time to get some sleep. There’s something I’ll want you to do during Lilith’s training, but I’ll explain it on-site.”

“Fair enough,” the old man said, recovering his breath. “By the way… do you dislike garlic?”

I blinked. “What? No, I love it.”

He nodded. “And the girl?”

So, we’re back to talking casually with Lilith now. Typical. Guy couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

“I don’t hate it,” Lilith said coolly. “It goes well with meat.”

“And heavy meals in the morning?” the old man asked, turning back to me.

“I’m fifteen and still growing. I’ll eat anything that’s not a zombie,” I said.

He chuckled. “What about you, girl?”

“I can eat just about anything,” Lilith replied, “as long as it’s not moldy black bread.”

The old man gave a pleased nod, his grin spreading wide. “In that case, tomorrow I’ll prepare basilisk meat flambéed in red wine. It’s a bit of a hidden delicacy, you know. Not many realize how good basilisk tastes…”

“Wait a minute,” I said, eyeing the old man over the rim of my cup. “Are you actually good at cooking or something?”

He gave a sheepish smile, the kind old adventurers gave when they weren’t not sure if they should be modest or proud. “Back in my early days, I was the one who handled all the meals for the party. Every last dish. And, well… the reviews were glowing, if I say so myself. For a while, I even considered quitting the blade and becoming a full-time chef.”

Both Lilith and I froze, swallowing hard.

Then we exchanged a glance, just a flick of the eyes, but that was all it took. A silent nod passed between us like a perfectly timed handshake, no words needed.

So, she’s thinking the same thing I am. This guy might actually be worth keeping around.

※※※

The next morning confirmed it.

The old man’s cooking was the real deal. He kept his word and served up basilisk steak, flambéed in red wine. And not just some pan-seared hack job, either. It was tender, rich, and packed with flavor—legit gourmet stuff.

Lilith didn’t say a word the whole time. She just ate. And ate. And ate.

By the time she reached her third helping, I was starting to wonder where the hell she was putting it all. Her face was still as unreadable as ever, but she kept going, methodically shoveling food into her mouth like her body had decided it was now or never. Watching her work through plate after plate was… honestly a little terrifying.

Then again, I had four helpings myself. Couldn’t help it. I was still growing, after all. I laughed at my own appetite as I rubbed my stomach, already feeling the tight stretch under my belt. Teenage metabolism was crazy.

Once breakfast was done, we packed up camp and headed deeper into the forest. The canopy thickened as we moved, the light filtering down in patches of soft green. We didn’t have to go far before we ran into our first target of the day: a basilisk.

“Lilith,” I said, slowing my pace as the creature slithered into view.

“What?” she replied without looking at me.

“I’ll take care of the basilisk.”

She gave a quiet pause, then asked flatly, “So?”

“So,” I said, glancing at her, “it’s time to start your level training.”

That stopped her. She stood still for a second, then slowly shook her head.

“I’ve been thinking about that since yesterday,” she said. “I can’t handle a basilisk. The level gap’s too wide. Even if I try to hit it with long-range magic, it moves too fast. I’d miss every shot.”

She wasn’t wrong. Not even a little.

Right now, she was barely at lower C-rank. A basilisk might be on the low end of B-rank, but that still made it stronger, faster, and tougher than anything she was ready to face directly. Magic or not, her spells wouldn’t land unless the thing stood still and waited for them.

Unfortunately, basilisks weren’t ;that polite.

Lilith had finally reached the point where she could stand on par with a veteran adventurer. On paper, at least. But trying to hit a basilisk with ranged magic? That was still well beyond her ability. With the kind of speed those things moved at, the best she could hope for was a lucky hit, and even that would be rare.

“I already know that,” I said before she could open her mouth to protest. “Use wide-area spells. I don’t care if I’m caught in the blast Keep hitting the basilisk until your mana runs dry.”

She stared at me like I’d gone insane. “What… What are you talking about?”

“I’ll pin the basilisk down. Keep it contained inside a specific area. Once I force it in, I want you to hit that zone with everything you’ve got. And yeah, that means you’ll be hitting me too.”

Her expression tightened with disbelief. “But… you’ll get hurt.”

“Your spells can barely pierce the defenses of a low B-rank basilisk. Compared to that, I’m basically immune. With the kind of insane magic resistance and health I’ve got, your attacks won’t even register.”

Not entirely true. It was still going to hurt like hell. But I had the skill Unyielding. That alone changed the game. It let me keep moving, keep fighting, no matter how battered I got. Combine that with my close-combat strength, stupidly high HP, and my natural magic resistance, and yeah, this kind of reckless strategy was actually viable.

Only for me, though. No one else could pull this off.

Lilith must’ve realized that, too. She stood there for a moment, mouth open, eyes somewhere between shock and awe. Then, finally, she exhaled.

“That’s completely insane.”

“But it’ll work,” I said.

She didn’t look thrilled, but after a beat, she nodded.

I turned to the old man. “You’re in charge of keeping her safe. If another monster shows up, I’ll deal with it. Just buy me five seconds if you can.”

Then I raised my voice and called back over my shoulder. “Lilith! Stop thinking so much. Just throw everything you’ve got at that thing!”

With my sword in hand, I advanced toward the basilisk. It hissed, muscles coiling to strike. I didn’t slow down.

I swung Excalibur in a sharp arc, blade catching the air with a high-pitched hiss. The cut was clean, fast, and deliberate. One quick strike, low and precise. The tendons in its front leg snapped with a crisp snap, and the creature collapsed forward with a shriek.

Still alive. Still dangerous. But now, it couldn’t move the same way.

A basilisk was considered a serious threat, a monster that B-rank parties approached with caution. But right now, looking at this one writhing in the dirt, I couldn’t help but feel… underwhelmed.

Compared to the monsters I’d been fighting over the past year?

This thing was downright adorable.

“All right,” I muttered to myself, eyes locked on the basilisk. “That should’ve taken out about eighty percent of its speed.”

I could’ve cut the tendon in its other leg and brought it down completely, but that would’ve defeated the purpose. If I crippled the thing too much, Lilith might not earn any experience. In this world, battle rewards weren’t handed out evenly; they were based on contribution. The more you did, the more you gained. If I single-handedly neutralized the target and left her to finish it off like some staged execution, it wouldn’t count for much.

“Lilith! Now!” I shouted without looking back.

“Thunderstorm,” came her voice, calm and flat.

The sky flashed white. A jagged bolt of lightning tore downward and exploded in a violent burst across the forest floor. Thunder cracked hard enough to rattle my chest. The spell hit dead center, ten meters of raw electricity raining down in every direction.

Both the basilisk and I were caught square in the blast.

A searing jolt ripped through my arms and legs, and muscles spasmed as pain lanced straight down to the bone. My fingers clenched reflexively. My knees buckled slightly.

“Gah, damn it,” I hissed through clenched teeth. That wasn’t just a little static shock. That was pain. Sharp, biting, and far too real.

It wouldn’t kill me, not even close, but getting hit with that much voltage was never pleasant. Magic resistance or not, nerves didn’t care. Pain was pain.

The basilisk thrashed wildly, trying to flee. It flung itself to the side, scrambling for an opening, but I was already moving. I stepped into its path without hesitation. It changed direction. I cut it off again. No matter where it turned, I was there first.

It wasn’t getting away.

Then came the second strike.

“Thunderstorm.”

Another blinding flash. Another crack of sky-splitting thunder. Lightning slammed into the earth, and again I took it full force. My back arched as pain lanced through my spine. For a second, I couldn’t feel my fingers. My teeth ground together so hard my jaw felt like it might snap.

Okay, I thought, that one hurt. And it wasn’t stopping.

The third spell came immediately after.

“Thunderstorm.”

The blast dropped like a hammer, and my entire body jerked in place. My vision went white at the edges. Blood pounded in my ears. The sheer force of it was ridiculous. Even with Unyielding active, even with all my resistance, this was starting to feel like I was getting struck by judgment itself.

Then she doubled down.

“Thunderstorm. Thunderstorm.”

No hesitation. No breath between casts. Just raw, relentless firepower pouring down over and over again.

Electricity surged through me in relentless waves, burning, tearing, screaming through every nerve. My skin buzzed, my muscles locked, and my thoughts came in short, clipped fragments. Keep standing, keep moving, don’t black out.

I staggered, exhaled through gritted teeth, and forced one foot forward.

This was fine. This was precisely what I’d told her to do. But damn, it hurt like hell.

“Thunderstorm. Thunderstorm. Thunderstorm.”

Three strikes in a row, no pause, no mercy.

So that’s how it is. Turns out Lilith had been holding back at first, probably testing whether I could handle it. And once she decided I wasn’t going to keel over? She went all in. No hesitation. Just pure spell spam like she’d found a new favorite button.

Another round came down.

“Thunderstorm. Thunderstorm. Thunderstorm.”

My mouth opened, and the strangest noise slipped out, something halfway between a gasp and a dying bird call. I hadn’t even known my throat could make that sound. My legs buckled slightly. Every nerve in my body was tingling, and not in the good way.

Yeah. This was getting rough.

Even with my insane magic resistance, my skin felt like it was starting to peel. The basilisk, meanwhile, was twitching on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Most of its muscles were probably fried at this point. It collapsed completely, eyes rolled back, spasming uncontrollably.

I let out a long breath as the last crackle of thunder faded. Relief washed over me. The fight was effectively over.

I stepped back, just far enough to clear the blast radius. My whole body still ached, but I was upright and breathing. That was enough. All Lilith had to do now was finish it off from range. I was finally, finally, done taking direct hits.

“Nice work, Lilith! That’s enough. I’m pulling back—”

“Thunderstorm.”

“Gugh!”

The next bolt slammed into me from behind, catching me completely off guard. My spine lit up like a row of candles. Another noise shot out of my mouth, high-pitched and undignified. Totally betrayed by my own vocal cords.

“Lilith?!” I whipped around, smoke probably rising from my shoulders. “What the hell was that for? Why the hell am I still getting caught in your area-of-effect?!”

She looked at me calmly. Too calmly.

“Due to Cordelia Allston,” she said in that deadpan tone of hers, “I’ve accumulated some residual resentment.”

I blinked, still twitching. “Resentment?! What kind of logic is that?!”

She took a small step forward, expression unreadable. “Also… during the earlier storm, you made a very strange sound.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

Her head tilted slightly. “That sound appears to have chemically fused with my resentment. The result was… unexpected.”

I stared. “Lilith…”

“I felt a strange sense of satisfaction,” she continued. “Which is to say, I’ve come to enjoy it.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she was already raising her hand again.

“Therefore,” she said, completely serious, “this next Thunderstorm will serve as an emotional protest.”

“Protest?! Against what now?!”

Her voice didn’t waver. “Against the fact that no one told me a certain childhood friend—the so-called ‘Hero’—was a girl.”

With a flick of her hand, Lilith cast another Thunderstorm. The bolt came down hard, hitting both me and the already-down basilisk like we were fresh enemies. The monster gave a final twitch before going completely still, very much dead. Me? My limbs lit up with another wave of sizzling pain. My fingers were barely responding.

“For the love of— Lilith, I said stop!”

That was when she looked at me and smiled, a slow, serene, slightly unhinged smile.

“Also,” she said, voice quiet but disturbingly cheerful, “I haven’t forgotten the betrayal of the ring on my middle finger.”

“The ring? What, the Ring of the Night Fiend? What about it?”

Her eyes narrowed. She raised her hand.

“Thunderstorm.”

“EEEKKKKKK—! The basilisk’s already dead, damn it!”

“Shut up,” she muttered flatly. “Silence.”

Again, she tried to cast.

“Thunderstorm.”

This time, nothing happened.

Lilith swayed on her feet and, a second later, collapsed forward onto her knees. Her breathing was shallow, and she muttered through gritted teeth.

“Damn. Ryuto’s face in pain… Why does it feel so satisfying? But unfortunately… I’m out of mana.”

Still unsteady, she stumbled toward me, eyes unfocused but determined. Then she reached out and clamped her left hand around my neck.

To anyone watching, it would’ve looked like she was trying to strangle me. And maybe she was, a little. But technically, this was just the activation gesture for Energy Drain, the function of the Ring of the Night Fiend, drawing mana from a target to refill her own.

The problem was, it really felt like she was trying to strangle me.

The real issue? I honestly couldn’t tell. The difference in our close-combat strength was too wide. Whether she was squeezing out of necessity or genuine murderous intent… The line was blurry.

“As I said before,” she murmured, her breath close against my ear, “no one ever told me the childhood friend, the Hero, was a girl.”

“Can we please let that go already? Seriously, give it a rest…”

She stared down at me, eyes faintly glowing. “I think… I may have awakened something just now. These feelings that are bubbling up inside me… I can’t suppress them. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

“Cool. Great. Can you let go now that your mana is back?”

There was a beat of silence. Then she gave a slight nod.

“Understood.”

Just like that, she released my neck and stepped back.

So yeah. That was how we took down the first basilisk.

Together.

Sort of.

Name: Lilith

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Age: 15

Status Condition: Charmed (Severe) ➝ Yandere (Mild)

Level: 68 → 71

HP: 1880 / 1880 → 2010 / 2010

MP: 4420 / 4420 → 4600 / 4600

Attack: 323 → 340

Defense: 361 → 392

Magic Power: 1054 → 1140

Evasion: 635 → 654

Enhanced Skills

【Physical Enhancement: Level 10 (MAX)】

Combat Skills

【Basic Self-Defense: Level 10 (MAX)】

Magic Skills

【Mana Control: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Life Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【High-Tier Offensive Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【High-Tier Healing Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【Dragon Magic: Level 7 (Partially Usable: Race and stat restriction)】

Special Skills

【Item Box: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Divine Guardian Spirit: Level 10 (MAX)】

※※※

“That hill up ahead leads to a mandragora nesting ground,” Lilith said, pointing toward the slope.

“Got it,” I replied, nodding.

We’d already taken down three more basilisks after that first one. Which meant I’d had my mana drained four times now. My nerves were cooked, my neck still remembered every squeeze, and my pain tolerance was getting stress-tested like never before, but Lilith had leveled up nicely, so I wasn’t complaining. Much.

Pain aside, the journey so far was going absurdly well.

Stretching in front of us now was a long incline of exposed rock and loose gravel. By my guess, it was around seven kilometers in length, climbing about five hundred vertical meters. A challenging climb, but manageable.

I turned to glance behind us and instantly regretted it.

The view was rough for someone with a fear of heights.

We were standing on a high, circular mesa, maybe two hundred meters across, ringed by thick forest. That part was fine. But surrounding the entire plateau was a sheer cliff, easily fifty meters wide at its base, dropping down what had to be at least three hundred meters. Sharp rocks jutted from the bottom like a bed of spears.

Two rope bridges were the only connection between this place and the surrounding land. Both were about five meters wide and fifty meters long. Not flimsy, but definitely swaying the whole way across.

“Yeah,” I muttered, still feeling that twist in my gut. “That wasn’t exactly a fun crossing.”

We’d already passed over both bridges to get here, and I could still feel the phantom sway under my boots. The whole experience had done a number on my nerves.

“Even an S-rank has his fears,” Lilith said with a soft laugh, a little too pleased with herself.

“I’ve always hated heights,” I admitted, glaring at the cliff edge. “That drop’s got to be three hundred meters. And look at those rocks down there. Sharp enough to gut a dragon. If you fall, you’re not just dying. You’re getting skewered.”

Just as I was about to take a step forward, I stopped. My boots crunched to a halt against the gravel. Something was off.

Lilith noticed immediately. “Ryuto? What’s wrong?”

“Hold up a second… with terrain like this…”

I activated my detection skill and cast my awareness out across the area. Two hundred meters of isolated terrain, hemmed in on all sides by sheer cliffs. A perfect natural trap.

And, sure enough… there they were.

Roughly fifty basilisks. Hiding among the trees, circling in the underbrush, coiled up and waiting like something out of a nightmare. We were smack in the middle of a breeding ground.

“Lilith,” I said suddenly, “how much oil do we have in the item box? The stuff the old man packed, he brought a ton of it for lighting fires at camp, right?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the shift in topic. “About five liters, give or take… Yeah, that’s a lot more than we’d ever use for cooking.”

“Plenty,” I said, mostly to myself. “That should be more than enough to start a forest fire if we use it right.”

Lilith and the old man both gave me identical looks, eyebrows raised, confusion painted across their faces. The question marks were practically visible in their eyes.

“Right, guess I should explain,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “First, we destroy one of the rope bridges.”

“Destroy a bridge?” Lilith repeated, skeptical.

“That patch of forest over there? It’s thick. Covered in dry brush. If we burn it, the basilisks will panic. They’ll run. But they can’t escape over the cliffs. Way too steep. That means their only exit will be the one remaining bridge.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And then?”

I pointed with my chin. “The bridge is only five meters wide.”

“And?” she pressed, tone flat.

I smiled. “I don’t let a single one make it across.”

Her expression didn’t change, but I could see the calculation behind her gaze. I continued.

“If I take out a few of them in a single blow, the rest will panic. They’ll realize the exit is a death trap. Forward is hell. Backward is hell. So they get stuck—right on the bridge. Jammed together, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.”

Lilith’s brow furrowed. “So, what exactly do you want me to do in this scenario?”

I shrugged casually.

“Once the fire’s started and the bridge is packed full of basilisks, I want you to cast area spells. The kind that fires in a straight line. Over and over. Just keep hammering the bridge until there’s nothing left to hit.”

Two hours later, we were staring at the aftermath.

“Now that’s a hell of a sight,” the old man muttered, eyes wide.

He wasn’t wrong. The forest in front of us was a living wall of flame, smoke billowing up into the sky, fire tearing through the trees in waves of red and orange. It was chaos incarnate. And on the rope bridge, just as predicted, a swarm of basilisks scrambled in panic. Dozens of them, packed shoulder to shoulder, trying to figure out which death they preferred—fire behind them, or me standing at the other end of the bridge.

“Sylphid’s Kiss.”

Lilith’s spell came down like a guillotine.

A curtain of wind blades sliced through the first row of monsters, cutting through flesh and scales like paper.

“Sylphid’s Kiss.”

Again, the spell tore across the rope bridge. The basilisks were trapped, fifty of them packed in a straight line, nowhere to run, no room to scatter.

Behind them, the inferno roared closer. In front of them, I stood with my sword drawn. And overhead, Lilith’s magic kept raining down without pause.

“Sylphid’s Kiss.”

Stay on the bridge, and they were shredded. Try to push forward, and I’d cut them down. One of them lunged at me in desperation, and I met it with a clean, upward slash. Its body split in two before it hit the ground.

That was enough to halt the others. They backed off, snarling, and wouldn’t take another step forward.

“Sylphid’s Kiss.”

Some tried to leap off the bridge, choosing the abyss over wind and steel. I didn’t stop them. They vanished into the ravine, screams echoing as they fell.

“Sylphid’s Kiss.”

I lost count of how many times she’d cast it. At some point, she paused just long enough to drain my MP again, which, by now, was a familiar and mildly traumatic ritual. Still, there was no denying the results. The spell’s power had visibly increased. Lilith’s wind magic was hitting harder, faster, and cleaner.

Between the ones I’d cut down and the ones that had plummeted to their deaths, Lilith had inflicted the overwhelming majority of the damage. Her contribution to the fight wasn’t just measurable, it was massive.

“Sylphid’s Kiss.”

The last basilisk—a larger one, blood trailing from every limb—finally collapsed. It had held on longer than the rest, but it was done. The bridge was quiet.

All fifty were dead.

Lilith let out a quiet sigh, her eyes flicking to her status plate.

“This is insane. Before I reunited with you, I was level thirty-eight. And now, in just a few days…”

She didn’t need to finish the thought. Her numbers spoke for themselves.

I slid my sword back into its sheath and clapped my hands together, brushing off the last of the tension.

“Well,” I said, turning back toward the slope, “what do you say we finally go collect those mandragoras?”

Name: Lilith

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Age: 15

Status Condition: Yandere (Mild)

Level: 71 → 102

HP: 2010 / 2010 → 3250 / 3250

MP: 4600 / 4600 → 6200 / 6200

Attack: 340 → 569

Defense: 392 → 540

Magic Power: 1140 → 1760

Evasion: 654 → 960

Enhanced Skills

【Physical Enhancement: Level 10 (MAX)】

Combat Skills

【Basic Self-Defense: Level 10 (MAX)】

Magic Skills

【Mana Control: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Life Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【High-Tier Offensive Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【High-Tier Healing Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【Dragon Magic: Level 7 (Partially Usable: Race and stat restriction)】

Special Skills

【Item Box: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Divine Guardian Spirit: Level 10 (MAX)】

Class Skill

【Multi-Casting】

※※※

After more twists and setbacks than I cared to count, we finally arrived at the base of Mount Arakes, the one place rumored to host a natural mandragora colony.

According to the old man, if we followed the gravel slope that stretched endlessly up the side of the mountain, we’d reach a caldera basin near the summit. There, nestled around a volcanic lake and ringed by sparse forest, we were supposed to find the mandragoras. Rare, wild, and completely untouched by cultivation.

Most adventurers never got this far. The surrounding forest was basilisk territory, and that alone was enough to scare off the average thrill-seeker. Because of that, this place had remained undisturbed for years.

“Almost there,” I muttered as the incline began to level out.

However, the moment we reached the ridge, the slope ended, the world opened wide, and I froze.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lilith stepped up beside me. She didn’t say anything at first, just stared. Then, slowly, she whispered, “What is this?”

The old man stopped behind us, gaze lifting toward the sky. His voice was quiet. “Looks like volcanic activity’s picked up recently.”

The scene before us was of pure devastation. A glowing river of magma snaked far across the landscape in the distance, casting a dim red glow across the caldera. The lake at its center, which should’ve been still and glassy, was instead boiling, frothing with heat and fury.

The forest that was supposed to circle it? Gone.

Nothing left but scorched earth and the skeletal remains of trees reduced to blackened charcoal.

“Hey, Lilith,” I said, still staring straight ahead.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the mandragoras survived this?”

She exhaled slowly. “I think it’s pretty clear everything’s been torched.”

We both sagged forward in defeat, the weight of our failure settling in like wet stone. This was a disaster. Not just because we’d wasted time, but because Lilith had a deadline—a hard one. Just over two weeks remained. I’d scoured the guild’s request board so many times I could probably recite it from memory. And of all the jobs that didn’t raise suspicion and actually gave us access to mandragora, this had been the best we could get. Possibly the only one we could get.

“Well, no helping it.”

I exhaled, slow and tired, then raised two fingers toward Lilith. “We’ll be cutting it close, but wait two weeks. I’ll bring the mandragora back. Just… give me that much time.”

“Two weeks?” she echoed, voice quiet.

“Yeah. During my training, I stumbled across an old hideout of S-rank bounty targets. A whole crew. They’d holed up near a natural mandragora colony, probably to stay off the map. I remember thinking it was oddly convenient at the time. Might be our last shot now.”

She considered that, then nodded once. “Got it.”

I turned toward the slope, already half in motion. “First, we return to town. Once we’re out of basilisk territory, I’ll make a run for it. You and the old man should camp near a safe zone and grind for experience. No risks, just steady progress. I’ll handle the rest.”

Both of them nodded. No complaints. No arguments. Just quiet trust. That kind of silence spoke louder than words sometimes.

※※※

A few days later, I was seated inside the guild’s café, tucked into a quiet corner booth that smelled of roasted beans, old wood, and slightly burned toast. The interior was simple—aged timber walls, creaky floorboards, and furniture that’d probably been here longer than most of the adventurers. It was warm, though. Familiar. The kind of place where mercenaries drank after a job, or where alchemists haggled over potion ingredients between missions.

Across from me sat one of the guild’s better-known witches, a sharp-eyed woman with layered robes, a thousand-yard stare, and a coffee addiction that bordered on religious. Her gaze was fixed on the burlap sack sitting between us. The moment I set it down, her expression shifted from bored skepticism to open-mouthed shock.

“I’d already heard the caldera site was scorched. That information’s coming in from multiple routes,” she said, eyes narrowing. “So how did you manage to come back with this much mandragora?”

She pointed to the sack as if it might explode. Her tone was cautious, skeptical, maybe even a little bit impressed.

“Source is classified,” I said simply.

What else was I going to say? That I’d soloed a bounty nest on a death cliff where even A-rank parties wouldn’t set foot? The mandragora field was deep in no-man’s-land, crawling with cutthroats who made basilisks look like house pets. The place was practically begging to become a warzone. Revealing it would be suicide, political and literal.

She stared me down for a few seconds, tapping her nail on her coffee cup. Then, just like that, her features softened. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she leaned back.

“Well, I’ll admit I’m curious… but as your friendly local herbalist, I’m not about to turn down a miracle delivery. Wherever you got this stuff, consider me very grateful. As for the other part,” the witch added, voice tinged with guilt, “we’re actually the ones at fault for sending you to a dead collection site. Honestly, by all rights, we should be paying you a penalty for wasting your time.”

“Yeah, well… that’s not how this works, right?” I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So, come on. How much is this haul worth?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached over and began loosening the cord at the mouth of the burlap sack. As the contents spilled into view, she carefully pulled out a single mandragora sprout and examined it.

Her eyes widened. No, widened wasn’t the word. They snapped open in pure shock. And as she continued to inspect the sprout, her complexion began to drain of color.

The longer she looked, the paler she got.

I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Then, without a word, she slumped forward and collapsed against the table like her spine had turned to jelly.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

The witch raised her head just slightly, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I… I’m the department head at the Magic University’s graduate division, you know. Got the position in my mid-twenties. And I’m not trying to brag or anything, but in alchemy, I’m kind of a genius.”

“Okay… and?” I blinked, not following.

“So, usually, I don’t get surprised by things like this.”

“And yet here we are.”

Her hand reached out and grabbed the sack, hugging it to her lap as if it were a newborn child. When she looked up again, her eyes were gleaming with intensity.

“You’re really giving this to me? You’re not going to change your mind later and say, ‘Oops, never mind’? This isn’t a joke?”

I shrugged. “It’s a job request, right? I delivered the goods.”

Her response was… dramatic. She bowed her head again and again, nearly slamming her forehead into the table each time.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I can’t say it enough. This is beyond anything I hoped for! Thank you!”

I stared at her, genuinely confused. “Okay, but seriously… what’s the big deal?”

“You don’t get it,” she said, breathless. “This isn’t just rare. This changes everything. I’ve been running personal research in pharmacology and toxicology for years, but with this… this could completely rewrite the field!”

She clutched the sack even tighter, like someone might try to snatch it away.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘rewrite’?”

“This isn’t just mandragora,” the witch said, her voice trembling with something between awe and mania. “This is ex-mandragora! A strain so rare it only grows in remote, untouched wildernesses. Places most adventurers never return from.”

I blinked. “Come again?”

She held up the sprout like it was the Philosopher’s Stone itself. “This material is absurdly potent. With this much, I could push magical pharmacology and toxicology ahead by decades. No, centuries. This is what breakthroughs are made of.” She paused, catching her breath. “When the results of this research hit the journals, my name will echo through every magical academy in the kingdom!”

I scratched my head, trying to care. “That’s great and all, but how about we talk payment?”

Still clutching the sack like it might sprout wings and fly away, she pulled a purse from inside her robes and handed it over. “Technically, you didn’t bring back mandragora as per the request, so the university won’t pay for this. The mission is considered a failure on paper. But I’ll buy it from you myself.”

I frowned. “Wait, what?”

She laid out the terms in a rush, clearly improvising. “I can give you one gold coin right now. That’s just to start. By tomorrow, I’ll have scraped together five gold coins. After that… I’ll sell my house. All of it. Land, structure, furniture—I can probably raise another sixty gold. And if that’s still not enough…” She paused again to breathe, then added, “I’ll write up a promissory note for forty more. A future investment.”

One hundred and six gold coins. A literal fortune. The kind of money that could buy a mansion, a noble title, and a small army on the side.

Still, I didn’t budge. “I need ten gold coins within the week. No exceptions. How long will selling your house take?”

She winced. “Not that fast. A week is tight. Two, maybe three with luck. Property takes time.”

That was the problem. I didn’t need a windfall in a month; I needed it now for Lilith.

“If this stuff’s so valuable,” I muttered, more to myself than her, “I could sell it to someone else. A pawnbroker. Underground dealer. Hell, even—”

And then I stopped, realization hitting like a punch to the gut.

I couldn’t sell it elsewhere. Not legally. This wasn’t a normal reagent. It probably contained compounds close to contraband. The kind of thing black-market alchemists would kill over. Selling it without a research license or protection would paint a giant target on my back.

The witch was watching me closely now. She could see the gears turning.

“So?” she said, calm and careful. “Do we have a deal?”

I stared at her for a beat, then let out a breath. “Fine. Get me the five gold by tomorrow. That’ll keep us moving.”

Her body relaxed completely. “Deal.” She stood up, already grabbing her coat. “I’ll sell off whatever I can. Return here tomorrow at dusk. I’ll have the payment ready.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be here.”

The witch disappeared down the street, humming to herself with a spring in her step, the heavy burlap sack of ex-mandragora clutched protectively to her chest like a newborn. She couldn’t have looked more pleased with herself.

Meanwhile, Lilith and I stood rooted in place, our expressions bleak. The warmth of our brief victory had already faded.

“Damn it…” I muttered, staring blankly ahead. “There’s no way we make it in time like this.”

Lilith’s tone was flat. “Let’s check the job board. Maybe something changed.”

We moved quickly to the guild lobby, hearts tight with dread, and scanned the noticeboards plastered with parchment flyers. Dozens of requests were posted, but even a casual glance told us they were all small-time. Herb gathering. Lost pets. Basic escorts. Barely enough reward money to cover meals.

Then I saw it—or rather, I didn’t.

“Are you freaking kidding me…?” I growled, stepping back to take in the whole board. “There’s not even a single B-rank hunt? What the hell happened?”

Lilith said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes.

I’d heard it before. How places like this never attracted high-ranking adventurers. Maybe we’d just been lucky to catch the tail end of a rare cycle. Now the board was back to normal: a wasteland of low-risk, low-pay jobs. Useless.

We stared at the pathetic cluster of parchment in front of us, each one mocking our urgency with its pittance rewards. No matter how many we checked, none were enough.

I gritted my teeth. Even my last resort—taking an A-rank request myself—wasn’t an option. Not when there were no A-rank requests to begin with.

“This is bad,” I muttered.

Lilith’s voice came soft but sharp. “What now?”

That was the problem. I didn’t know. We were stuck, boxed in on all sides, time ticking louder with each second.

What was left? Knock over a noble estate? Break into a treasury? Maybe run a high-stakes con?

No. Even thinking that made my stomach turn. Desperation was clawing at my thoughts, but I wasn’t about to fall that far.

As I stood there, wrestling with panic, a voice broke through the heavy air, light and oblivious.

“Ah! Ryuto! Fancy running into you here! Good day!”

I turned slowly, already wincing. That cheerful voice could only belong to one man.

The older warrior—our mandragora expedition tagalong—was striding toward us, his face lit up with his usual friendly grin. He looked far too relaxed for someone walking into a cloud of despair.

“Hey, old man,” I said, rubbing my temple. “Sorry, but we’re not really in the mood. If you’ve got something to say, make it quick.”

He raised his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Of course, of course. Won’t take but a minute.”

The old man began rummaging around in the folds of his coat.

“Here we are,” he said cheerfully. “The bounty for the basilisks and the manticore. I picked it up on your behalf, Ryuto, so I figured now’s a good time to settle accounts.”

He held out a small, leather pouch. The distinct jingle of metal greeted my ears.

“Fifteen gold coins?” I blinked.

“Well, there was an A-rank monster involved,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “Seems like a fair reward to me. Officially, I’m listed as the one who did the slaying, just to keep the paperwork simple. Feels a bit like I stole your thunder, though…”

No, no, no. I stared at him, stunned.

This guy’s a damn lifesaver.

Beside me, Lilith shifted slightly and spoke up. “Ryuto… I have a proposal.”

Her expression mirrored mine, dead serious, eyes calculating. I already knew what she was thinking.

“If it’s come to this,” she continued, “we might as well start using this guy as our front man and cash in.”

“Huh?” The old man tilted his head. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Hey, old man,” I said, leaning in. “How about hiring us, for one month, as your personal porters?”

“Porters? I’m not sure I follow.”

“Here’s the deal,” I said. “On paper, all the credit goes to you. Officially, you’re the one completing the jobs. We take twenty percent of the reward. Meanwhile, I’ll do the hunting, and Lilith will keep leveling. We head straight to the nearest major city, Samook, hire a fast horse if we have to, and start pulling every high-difficulty job we can get.”

The old man’s eyes widened as the plan clicked into place.

“Samook…? That’s where they sometimes post S-rank bounty jobs, right?”

“Exactly. And if one of those pops up? I’ll take care of it. It’ll just help with my own leveling.”

He hesitated. “You’re… really okay with this? Letting me take all the credit? If I’m the one turning in those jobs, I’ll shoot up the ranks. I’ll be made an A-rank adventurer before long, you know.”

“That’s the idea,” I said with a grin. “In one month, we power-level Lilith and build up enough funds to handle what we need. You get prestige, we get stronger, and everyone walks away happy. So… what do you say? Will you work with us?”

“Yes, absolutely! This is exactly the kind of lucky break I was hoping for,” the old man said with a grin. “I’d be honored to accompany you.”

“Glad to hear it. Deal’s done, then.” I gripped his hand in a firm shake, sealing the agreement without a second thought.

Even as I released his hand, my mind was already running numbers. Now that I’d been burned once, I wasn’t going to let myself be caught short again. Money mattered. A painful truth I’d learned far too vividly. Having it was never a problem, but not having it? That could kill you. And right now, we had the chance to earn more than just coin.

Between the quests and Lilith’s leveling, I figured we could turn this whole arrangement into something real. In fact, I set a goal right then and there: five hundred gold coins, in one month. With luck and speed on our side, we’d make it happen.

※※※

Around the same time Lilith’s slave mark was finally erased, paid for in full with eleven gold coins, another story was unfolding far from them.

High above sea level, at a staggering altitude of five thousand meters, a mountain cloaked in eternal ice and snow stood in silent defiance of the world below. Harsh winds howled across its frozen peaks. This was no place for the weak or uninvited. It was a place that rejected life.

At its heart stood the Lamada Monastery, an austere and sacred ground devoted to a highly esoteric faith , one of the few belief systems in this world with no earthly equivalent except perhaps the reclusive monastic traditions of old Tibet. Its priests, its halls, even the silence they cultivated all carried the weight of ancient purpose.

Within those cold, dark halls… sat Cordelia Allston.

Cold and darkness had become her only companions, lingering for what seemed an eternity.

※※※

For two weeks now, I’d been confined in absolute darkness. No light, no sound, nothing but the occasional trickle of water to sustain me.

I sat cross-legged in the inner sanctum, wrapped in stillness. Time had lost all meaning here; days and nights blended together until I could no longer tell one from the other. My body had adapted, or maybe it had just grown numb. Hunger no longer gnawed at me, and even the cold didn’t bite the way it once had.

I was disappearing into this void, and that was the point.

I, Cordelia Allston, had come here of my own will. And I would not leave until I found the answer I sought.

The gnawing hunger and crushing fatigue were doing their job. They sharpened the edges of my mind, distorting my senses just enough to let the brain’s own opiates flood through me, turning my thoughts into warm, formless haze.

This was the point. That deliberate unraveling of body and mind was what this ordeal was meant to achieve. And I had come here to endure it, alone in the dark. There were two reasons for it.

First: reflection. A forced reckoning with the person I had become.

The Catastrophe-Class Dragon, Amanta, the so-called Plague Serpent. If it had only been a matter of brute strength, it would have fallen within the difficulty range of a low-tier A-rank threat. But that wasn’t the case. The creature had been warped by forbidden magic, half-turned into a spiritual being, and thus counted among the pantheon of lesser evil gods. It was an enemy that should have tested every fiber of my being as a Hero.

I… I had been saved. By a Villager, no less.

That humiliation still sat like a stone in my chest.

It didn’t matter what personal affection I held for Ryuto. That moment, that failure, had no place in the life of a Hero. We were the same age. He was a commoner, a nobody in the world of combat. No matter how much he longed for power, no matter how hard he trained, surpassing me should have been impossible.

Still, he had done it.

Which could only mean one thing.

I had grown complacent.

Even among the line of legendary heroes, the Western Champion, Orsted Yogsten, stood apart. He was a once-in-a-generation prodigy. A-rank by thirteen. S-rank by fifteen. Which meant that, at my current age, Orsted could have struck down Amanta without breaking a sweat.

Me?

I was barely at the upper reaches of B-rank. For someone wearing the mantle of Hero, that was disgraceful. I couldn’t blame fate. I couldn’t blame the circumstances. This wasn’t misfortune.

This was laziness.

I hadn’t neglected my training. But I’d never given it my soul either. There had been no fire in me, no desperation. I had never fought with death brushing against my neck, never pushed myself to the edge where one mistake meant annihilation.

There had only been two times in my life when death had brushed close enough to feel real: the goblin horde incident from my childhood and the battle against the Plague Serpent, Amanta. And in both cases, it had been Ryuto who pulled me back from the edge.

That was the truth.

Somewhere deep in my heart, I had been relying on him. Letting myself depend on the boy who, in my mind, had grown into something like the fairy-tale prince on a white horse.

“How pathetic.” I let those words fall from my lips in a bitter whisper. “Honestly… I can’t believe myself.”

Just then, a wave of dizziness rocked me, and my upper body swayed uncontrollably. A dull, pounding ache flared behind my eyes. Probably the result of malnutrition. Two weeks without food, surviving only on water, would do that to anyone.

Still, I gritted my teeth through it.

“I’ve got to, at the very least… be someone who can stand beside Ryuto,” I muttered, voice hoarse in the silence. “He pushed himself that far, and he’s just a Villager… What kind of Hero would I be if I couldn’t even match that?”

After the Amanta incident, the official story put out by the authorities was clean and straightforward: a case of magical overload. Nothing more.

And that was the second reason I’d come here—the real one.

Magical overload. A state that occurred when someone with exceptional magical aptitude, like a Hero or Sage, lost control of the overwhelming power inside them. It was most common in childhood or adolescence, when instinct overrode discipline. It was the raw, unfiltered force of survival taking control, unlocking the full scope of one’s potential as a result of primal fear or desperation.

People who experienced it were stripped of reason, reduced to something close to a starved beast. If the trigger was a fear of death or pain, they may lash out at everything around them. It wouldn’t matter if they were friend or foe. In the worst cases, it ended in blood-soaked carnage. They called it berserking.

The reports from the goblin attack had labeled me that way, too. A berserker. A girl who lost control and became a weapon.

So now, among nobles, generals, and the so-called elite, my name was whispered with a mixture of dread and contempt. The Mad Princess Berserker, an elegant title for a disgrace.

I couldn’t even blame them. After all, how could anyone believe that an ordinary boy my age, had resolved that disaster by himself? To the closed minds of the upper echelon, that was fantasy.

As I brooded on it, the sliding doors at the entrance creaked open with a low groan. A spear of sunlight shot into the darkness of the hall, stabbing at my eyes. I winced against the glare. My sense of day and night had long since faded, but it must be daytime now.

A low, weathered voice followed the light. “I’ve brought your water. The Rite of Demon-Child Exorcism… begins today.”

An old monk stood before me, stooped with age and bristling with a thick, snowy beard. He must have been at least eighty, though his presence felt far more formidable than his years suggested.

Despite the snow blanketing the mountainside and the bitter wind that blew unceasingly through the temple grounds, he wore nothing more than a single layer of woven hemp cloth, his simple monastic robe, and yet his expression remained calm and untroubled. There was no doubt about it: this man was far from ordinary.

He had mastered an esoteric tradition wholly separate from the continent’s standard magical systems. His arts were foreign, even mystical, born of a culture with beliefs and laws that defied our understanding of mana and the world.

“Master…” I murmured, lifting my head slightly.

“What is it?” His voice rasped like dry bark but carried the weight of quiet authority.

“What exactly is going to happen now?”

The old monk didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gazed down at me with sharp, gleaming eyes. Eyes that had likely seen the rise and fall of many would-be disciples.

“Cordelia,” he said at last, his tone slow and deliberate. “You came here with a purpose, did you not? To intentionally trigger your magical overload… and then seize control of it with your conscious mind.”

“Yes,” I replied, straightening my spine despite the dizziness. “That’s correct.”

At my current level, I could stand against B-rank upper-class adventurers. But if I could truly harness the berserker state, if I could master it instead of being ruled by it, then perhaps I could draw out power well beyond that. Maybe even reach the heights of A-rank high-class adventurers or beyond.

Of course, I understood the cost. That kind of power—pure strength unleashed only in short, brutal bursts—would burn through the body like wildfire. But I was willing to risk it.

“Tell me, Cordelia,” the master continued. “Do you understand our doctrine?”

I nodded, repeating what I had studied during my days of silence and reflection. “All things that live shall return to the soil. In the end, nothing remains. Whether we succeed or fail in this life, whether we gain riches or die penniless, it’s all meaningless. Because in death, we are equal.”

The old monk let out a low chuckle and nodded approvingly.

“Indeed. It is the cravings of the flesh that bind us to suffering. Desire is the chain that keeps the soul in torment. But all men die, and all become dust. The road you walk, whether paved in gold or soaked in blood, leads always to the same end.”

“In other words,” I added, “if you crave fine food, then nothing else will satisfy you. That craving leads to discontent, even if simple nourishment would be more than enough to survive.”

“Just so,” he said, folding his hands within the sleeves of his robe. “To be free of this world’s agony, one must sever all earthly desires. And this training, this ordeal, is the first step toward that liberation.”

“This… is the rite to sever karma,” I said quietly.

“Indeed. The trial you are about to undergo,” the old monk said solemnly, “is one that will force you to confront your own desires, to strip them away and attain the earliest form of enlightenment. And in doing so, you’ll acquire the means to counteract your magical rampage.”

Magical overload. Its trigger was primal, almost bestial. The most common cause was the instinct to survive. Faced with mortal danger, a person might unconsciously unleash their full latent power in a desperate attempt to live. That kind of survival reflex bypassed reason entirely.

“If I recall correctly, this temple forbids indulgence in the Seven Root Desires,” I said quietly. “And this ascetic rite will help bring all seven under the control of reason… right?”

He gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Should you achieve mastery over your own impulses, completely and at will, then, in theory, yes… you could place even a magical overload under conscious control. But enlightenment, even its earliest stages, usually takes years, sometimes decades to reach. Forcing the process in such a short time means we’ll need to invoke techniques that directly affect the brain.”

He paused. A shadow passed over his face.

“There is risk. The strain on your mind will be immense. In the past, many have failed to endure this ritual. Some emerged broken, hollowed out, reduced to husks. Are you truly prepared to face that fate?”

I gave a single nod.

The master narrowed his eyes, reading something in my gaze. Perhaps it was resolve… or desperation.

“What exactly will happen to me?” I asked.

“That,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you must witness for yourself.”

“Huh?”

The answer was maddeningly vague, and I must have looked annoyed, because the old man gave a wry chuckle.

“It’s the nature of the spirit world, child. The trials you face will differ from those of all who came before. Each person’s desires take different shapes. If I tried to explain them in advance, it would only cloud your mind with expectations and confusion.”

He moved slowly around the chamber, the folds of his robe trailing over the stone floor. At each corner, he lit one of the censers—ornate bronze burners that released an oddly sweet-smelling smoke.

The scent clung to my nose, thick and cloying. He’d warned me about this part: a mild hallucinogen, intended to help me enter a trance state for deeper meditation. To descend into my own mind.

He left shortly after, sealing the door behind him.

I couldn’t tell how much time passed after that.

The room seemed to breathe with the smoke. Every inhalation dulled my sense of balance. My perception warped, ceilings spun like turning gears, and the floor rippled beneath me like water stirred by a breeze.

Something inside me had begun to shift. The border between thought and dream… between self and shadow… was starting to blur.

The trial was only just beginning.

If a powerful monster were to attack me now, I’d be helpless to resist.

In the pitch-dark silence, I couldn’t even trust my sense of direction. Up, down, left, right—everything felt warped, uncertain. I drifted, untethered, as though I were falling endlessly through a void… or rising… or spinning. I couldn’t tell if the world was turning or if I was the one spinning inside it.

A faint light bloomed across the floor.

It started as a flicker, then streaked outward in sharp, deliberate lines. They raced across the stone, crisscrossing the chamber like the paths of lightning in slow motion. At first, they meant nothing, just isolated lines, but as they spread and intersected, they began to form something intricate and unmistakable: a magic circle.

I recognized it immediately. A type of ritual enchantment, one designed to interfere with the brain and spirit. Mental intrusion magic. Psionic-class.

I barely had time to process that thought before my eyelids grew unbearably heavy.

It was hard to put into words, but… it felt like my very self had begun to dissolve into the air. The boundary between what was “me” and what wasn’t blurred, melted, faded. I couldn’t distinguish where I ended and the world began. My mind turned to slurry—thick, hot, formless. And then—

Darkness.

Like a gentle fall into a fever dream, my consciousness slipped away.

Before I realized what was happening, I found myself standing in a vast, colorless void, an endless white expanse that stretched in every direction. The air felt weightless and soundless, like I was suspended in a dream I couldn’t wake from. Surrounding me in a loose circle stood seven figures, each one unmistakably… me.

I looked down at my hands, watching as I slowly curled my fingers into a fist, then opened them again, repeating the motion like I was testing whether they were really mine. Then, on a whim, I pinched my cheek.

Ouch. That stung. So this wasn’t some vague dream. I could still feel pain, at least.

I glanced over myself, confirming everything was intact. My sword was at my hip, where it always hung. My armor clung to me with its usual weight. Everything about my appearance matched the real world. Which made it all the stranger, just a moment ago, I’d been seated in meditation, wearing ceremonial white robes, draped head to toe like some ascetic.

“So that’s it,” I muttered aloud. “This must be… my own mental world.”

As if waiting for that acknowledgment, one of the seven stepped forward. She moved with calm purpose, her gaze locked onto mine like she saw something I didn’t.

“Hey,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Are you the original Cordelia Allston?”

“Original, huh?” I gave a dry smile. “Sure. Let’s say I am. What’s your point?”

She didn’t flinch. “Do you understand what the seven of us represent?”

It was my own voice asking the question, but hearing it come from someone else’s lips sent a chill crawling down my spine. The surrealness of it all was one thing, but this? This was something else. It was uncanny, wrong in a way I couldn’t quite name.

No, disturbing barely scratched the surface. If I had to put it plainly, the whole thing made my skin crawl.

“I have a rough idea already,” I said, folding my arms, “but sure, go ahead. Indulge me.”

“We represent the Seven Great Desires: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth. Each one of us embodies one.”

“Of course,” I muttered. “Figures it’d be something like that.”

This entire Inner Demon Subjugation ritual was meant to confront those desires head-on, strip them bare, stare them in the eye, and force the whole of my psyche under the control of reason. That was the goal: total self-mastery. Rationality reigning over instinct.

The one who’d first stepped forward gave me a sly smile, her voice light, almost teasing.

“Each of us represents a facet of you,” she said. “Take me, for instance, lust. I know exactly how deeply you ache for him. How often you imagine what you’ll never say out loud…”

She let out a soft giggle—my giggle, which only made it worse. The sound grated against my nerves like sandpaper on raw skin.

The thought resurfaced: this was deeply unpleasant.

Scratch that—it was infuriating. And humiliating. I didn’t need these twisted reflections of myself telling me things I already knew. I was the one who lived with these feelings every damn day.

As if taking that as her cue, another me stepped forward—envy, this time. Her eyes narrowed, her voice lower, heavier.

“I’m the one who holds your jealousy. I know how you lie awake at night, burning, wondering about her. About what she shares with him. What you never could.”

Great. Just great. Like I hadn’t tortured myself with those thoughts enough already.

Then came wrath. Her voice was sharper, mocking.

“I’m the one who watches you boil and feels that bile rise when you see them together. You pretend it’s noble, that you’ve moved on, but we both know better, don’t we?”

Another one cackled, a shrill, grating sound that echoed in the white expanse. She stepped forward, arms crossed, lips twisted in a sneer.

“You’re held up as this divine Hero, this holy champion chosen by prophecy. But underneath it all? You’re just a girl. Just another petty, bitter little thing pretending she’s above it.”

I glared at her. That one must’ve been pride, or maybe arrogance. Either way, I’d had enough.

I cracked my knuckles, drew my shoulders back, and lifted my chin.

“You’re absolutely right.”

Lust. Envy. Wrath. Pride.

All the ugliest parts of myself, laid bare. Reflections I couldn’t deny, because they were me.

And that was fine.

I was no saint. I never claimed to be.

And I never, ever wanted to be one.

I was a Hero. But I was also just an ordinary girl and a person like anyone else.

When I was tired, I wanted to sleep. When I was hungry, I wanted to eat. I didn’t want to throw my life away in some hopeless battle, and I sure as hell wasn’t planning to. If it came down to protecting myself, then yes, sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Things. People. That was just reality.

I wasn’t naïve enough to charge blindly into every fight just to prove something. I knew the value of a tactical retreat. I wasn’t so noble as to throw myself on the altar of self-sacrifice for the sake of some vague idea of “saving the world.” I had limits. And I wasn’t cruel. I didn’t take pleasure in hurting others. But there was only so much I could protect. Only so much of myself to give.

“Come on. Isn’t it time to just… give up already?” one of them murmured. Her voice was slow, syrupy, and almost gentle. “You’ve pushed yourself through two weeks of starvation until you were vomiting bile. You’ve slaughtered monster after monster, bathed in their blood like it was a ritual. You’ve been wounded more times than you can count…”

This one had to be sloth. And she wasn’t wrong.

Everything they said, I already knew. Every word from their mouths was just a mirror, echoing the thoughts I tried to bury, replaying my own fears, excuses, and justifications.

I let out a quiet breath, then smiled faintly.

“You’re right. If I gave up here, if I just let go of everything and threw in the towel, Ryuto would probably handle the rest. He always does. And he’d be kind to me for it, too. He wouldn’t blame me. Not once.” My grip tightened. “Escaping… yeah, that would be easy. But I’m not someone who runs before the fight even begins.”

“Why not?” Sloth tilted her head, genuinely puzzled, like the idea made no sense to her.

“Because if I run now,” I said, drawing the sword at my hip, the weight of it familiar and grounding, “I’ll never be able to stand beside him again. I’ll never be his equal.”

This was the trial of the Inner Demon Subjugation.

If it was meant to cast off the Seven Great Desires, then the only answer was to cut them away, one by one.

I raised my blade and took a firm stance. My voice rang out, sharp and defiant.

“I am Cordelia Allston, Hero of this realm! I won’t let a Villager—anyone—carry the burdens meant for me!”

I cast my sword aside, letting it fall to the white void with a hollow clang, and raised my fists, sliding into a stance I hadn’t used in what felt like a lifetime. A proper brawl. No magic, no weapons, just raw instinct and muscle memory. It was absurd, really, but somehow fitting. Because the seven standing before me were no illusion. As maddening as it was, each and every one of them was me. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. They were me. Down to the last ugly, impossible, human flaw.

I knew exactly what I felt. I loved Ryuto. That wasn’t something I could hide, not from myself. I was jealous of that girl with the pale blue hair who hovered close to him, always too close. I wanted to eat good food with him, laugh beside him, and share the warmth of quiet moments. I wanted to let go of everything, cast off the weight of the world, and just live, drifting through lazy days at his side, doing nothing of consequence and feeling no guilt for it.

I understood all of it. Not because they told me, but because those thoughts had always been mine. They still were.

That didn’t mean they were something to be carved out and thrown away. They were part of me. Part of what made me who I was. I wasn’t some enlightened monk, above hunger, above desire, above weakness. I hadn’t renounced the world. I hadn’t transcended anything.

And I didn’t want to.

I stepped forward, planting my feet into that endless white, letting the stillness echo around me like a war drum waiting to sound. My voice came out clear, cutting through the silence like a blade: “Come on, then. All seven of you. I’ll take myself apart and put myself back together the only way I know how. One punch at a time.”

There was no point in talking it out. I knew that better than anyone. These parts of me didn’t listen to reason. They didn’t negotiate. They just shouted, clawed, demanded, doubted. They were the worst versions of me, but also the truest. Muscle-headed, impulsive, irrational—every single one a stubborn fool with fire in her gut and pride in her throat.

Which was why I had to face them. Not to erase them. Not to destroy them. But to confront them, acknowledge them, and break them down until I could stand over them and say: I choose what defines me.

※※※

The following day, Cordelia departed the Ramada Monastery. Her magic, once prone to violent surges, was now fully restrained beneath the steady hand of reason. The ritual had succeeded. She had emerged not purified, but tempered.

After a week-long journey, she returned to the royal capital, where she stood before the king and demonstrated the power she had brought to heel. No longer an apprentice Hero, she was acknowledged at last as the genuine article.

With that recognition came a long-awaited reward: permission to receive the Divine Sword of Prophecy, safeguarded within the Tower of Mirage.

※※※

At an altitude just over a thousand meters, the highlands stretched in rugged defiance—bare rock and crumbling sand, broken only by sparse tufts of dry grass and tangled brush. Overhead, the sky was a flawless sheet of blue, unmarred by a single cloud. Cutting across it with effortless menace, a massive shadow passed, the silhouette of a winged beast.

The creature was roughly three meters long, with a dragon’s head, the membranous wings of a bat, and a tail that coiled and flicked like a serpent’s. This was a wyvern, classified as a subspecies of dragon, and far from the friendly kind.

Lilith stood at the edge of a rocky outcrop, staff raised, face unreadable. As the beast’s shadow loomed over her, she murmured, “Crimson Sphere.”

A sphere of fire flared into existence, five meters wide and pulsing with brutal heat. It launched forward with a deafening whoosh, slamming into the wyvern and swallowing it whole. The air rippled with intense heat, hot enough to melt iron. But Lilith didn’t stop there.

Raising her staff again, she called out another spell, her tone as cool and flat as ever. “Gravity.”

The wyvern, still wreathed in fire, suddenly plummeted from the sky as if pulled by a giant’s hand. The ground shuddered as it struck, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. A crater bloomed in the scorched rock.

Without so much as blinking, Lilith lowered her staff and aimed again. “Thousand Edge.”

A barrage of vacuum blades burst forward, dozens upon dozens of invisible slashes tearing through the air and into the beast’s smoldering flesh.

“Tornado.” This time, a cyclone exploded to life, roaring and howling as it devoured everything, engulfing the flames, the wind blades, the wyvern itself. Caught within the vortex, every force battered the creature at once: searing heat, slicing wind, and crushing gravity.

Chunks of scorched meat began to rain down, splattering against the rocks with wet smacks. The air filled with the heavy, savory scent of burnt fat and charred flesh.

Damn, I thought, watching the storm rage. Smells like barbecue.

I stepped forward and gave a low whistle. “Impressive,” I said, meaning it.

Lilith didn’t acknowledge the compliment. Her brow furrowed in irritation as she pulled her status plate from inside her cloak and glanced at the display. Her lips curved into a pout.

“Still plateauing,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

I watched as she frowned at the numbers. Then, without a word, she extended the plate toward me, clearly expecting me to take a look.

“Here,” she said flatly, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

Name: Lilith

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Age: 15

Status Condition: Yandere (Mild)

Level: 145 → 146

HP: 4430 / 4430 → 4460 / 4460

MP: 9440 / 9440 → 9510 / 9510

Attack: 743 → 750

Defense: 749 → 753

Magic Power: 2485 → 2495

Evasion: 1350 → 1362

Enhanced Skills

【Physical Enhancement: Level 10 (MAX)】

Combat Skills

【Basic Self-Defense: Level 10 (MAX)】

Magic Skills

【Mana Control: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Life Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Beginner Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Intermediate Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Offensive Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Advanced Healing Magic: Level 10 (MAX)】

【High-Tier Offensive Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【High-Tier Healing Magic: Level 10 (Locked: Stat requirements not met)】

【Dragon Magic: Level 7 (Partially Usable: Race and stat restriction)】

Special Skills

【Item Box: Level 10 (MAX)】

【Divine Guardian Spirit: Level 10 (MAX)】

Class Skill

【Multi-Casting】

I handed the status plate back to Lilith, rubbing my chin as I watched her slip it away.

“Hm. Stat-wise, you’re sitting at the low end of B-rank,” I said, thinking aloud. “But… what the hell is this ‘Yandere (Mild)’ tag?”

Lilith’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea,” she muttered, looking genuinely puzzled.

To be fair, it was remarkable progress. Not long ago, she’d barely scraped the bottom tier of C-rank. Her growth had been nothing short of explosive.

Still, that aside, wyverns like the one she’d just roasted were also considered bottom-tier B-rank monsters. Usually, they’d be a challenge on par with her current level. She’d wiped this one out with ease, but that was only because of how poorly they fared against gravitational magic. In raw terms, this should’ve been a battle between equals.

The problem now… was everything after this point.

No matter how many weaker monsters she hunted, the experience gain would barely move the needle. The reason I’d been able to level up so quickly was simple: I’d taken absurd, reckless risks. Every battle had been a gamble, a brush with death. Most people didn’t fight like that. They leveled cautiously, working in teams and planning everything to minimize danger.

But at our level?

“Just finding a monster that gives experience is a challenge,” I muttered. “And this might be a small country, but we’re still talking about a capital city. Even here, all the high-ranking monsters were wiped out in less than a month.”

Orcs and other low-tier beasts wouldn’t do a damn thing for her now. As for B-rank requests? Grinding those wouldn’t be nearly fast enough to push her into A-rank territory.

We could go city to city, scouring the major capitals for high-level requests, but the travel time alone would be ridiculous.

Maybe it’s about time I brought her beyond the borders.

Of course, we still had the Tower to deal with first.

A loud, cheery voice cut into my thoughts.

“But really, it’s all thanks to you, Ryuto-san! After finishing those four A-rank monster hunts, I finally, finally, made it to A-rank adventurer status!”

The old man beamed, looking like he was ready to burst with pride. Not that he’d done any of it alone. The requests he’d been taking lately were the kind that should’ve been impossible for someone at his level. They were brutal, high-difficulty hunts that would typically require a seasoned party. We’d been tearing through them at record pace, fast enough that even the receptionist was starting to panic a little.

“Anyway,” he said, tossing a casual salute, “all the B-rank and above requests are cleared. We’re heading back to town, and we’ve got the rest of the day off.”

Lilith glanced at me. “What about you, Ryuto?”

“I’ve got some things to think through,” I said. “I’ll be holed up in my room for a bit.”

Lilith nodded, already pulling up the hood of her cloak. “Then I’ll head to the black market. See if I can dig up any decent grimoires.”

The place she was talking about was less politely known as the Thieves’ Market, a sprawling underground bazaar notorious for dealing in stolen goods. Most of the inventory was unverified, and a lot of it was outright fake, but when it came to magic tomes, I doubted even the slickest con artist could fool her.

“Grimoires, huh?” I asked. “What for?”

“Unique magic,” Lilith said quietly, eyes distant, as if already planning her next move. “Stat-wise, I might qualify as B-rank. But in reality, I’m still relying entirely on general-purpose spells. Even with the wyvern, I only managed to defeat it by targeting its greatest weakness, gravity interference, and combining multiple spells to draw out more power than I normally could.”

She wasn’t wrong. For all her impressive numbers on paper, her actual combat capabilities still hovered somewhere near the upper limits of C-rank. Without a perfect matchup or clever spell-stacking, she’d be outclassed.

I crossed my arms. “The black market’s in the old slums, right? That place isn’t exactly safe.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. “You’re underestimating me. I can handle a few street thugs with my bare hands.”

She wasn’t boasting but stating a fact. I let out a short sigh.

“Fair enough. Guess overprotectiveness won’t help either. Still… be careful, all right?”

“I will,” she replied, turning on her heel.

The midday sun hung high as she stepped into the crowd, merging with the chaos of the open-air market. The name Thieves’ Market wasn’t just local color. About half the goods sold here were actual stolen property, give or take a few degrees of honesty.

Lilith weaved past a row of vendors hawking dubious “genuine” jewelry—almost certainly fake or fenced goods—and made her way into the quieter corner where old books were sold. The stalls were little more than patched-together tables beneath faded cloth canopies, but their wares were what she had come for.

Grimoires. Specifically, ones claiming to teach unique magic.

It didn’t take long to find a few. They weren’t hard to spot. Their prices were outrageous. Several were marked at prices equivalent to multiple gold coins. That alone was a red flag, but it also made perfect sense. Unique magic tomes were never meant to circulate publicly; any that did had likely been stolen, smuggled, or wrested from their rightful owners through less-than-legal means. Their scarcity made pricing tricky. Anything too cheap would immediately out itself as a fake.

In that sense, these sky-high prices were at least believable.

One by one, she picked them up, flipping through the pages, scanning the spell diagrams etched in ink. Then, without a word, she returned each book to its place. She’d gone through over ten by now. All of them were fakes.

Seven out of ten were laughably poor, so clumsy a first-year at the Academy would see through them. The other three made a better show of it, with convincing flourishes and formatting. But to Lilith’s trained eye, they didn’t hold up to scrutiny.

“If only I’d learned human-usable unique magic while I was still at the Dragon King’s Grand Library…” she murmured, fingers brushing the spine of another volume.

The draconic spells etched into her memory were undoubtedly powerful. But they weren’t human magic. They belonged to another realm, another nature of being.

“At my current level, I won’t survive in the ranks above B.”

Her voice was low, matter-of-fact, but the frustration behind it was impossible to miss.

The truth was, no matter how high Lilith pushed her level, there were monsters above the wyvern’s class she would never be able to defeat. Not because of strategy or lack of will, but because she simply didn’t possess the kind of magic powerful enough to land a decisive blow. And now, with her growth stalling, her situation was looking bleak.

She sighed—frustrated, tired—and was just about to move on when something caught her eye. Her breath hitched.

That man…

A familiar figure stood across the marketplace. A bloated middle-aged nobleman, draped in layers of garish red silk far too fine for his station and far too ill-fitting for his body. Their eyes met. Recognition was instant.

The same bastard from before… The one with that B-rank adventurer, Melissa, wasn’t it? He had a different group with him this time, but the same smug aura clung to him like rot.

“What the hell is he doing here…?” she muttered under her breath.

Then she remembered. Somewhere near this part of the city was the underground slave market, the blackest part of the Thieves’ Market. If he was sniffing around here, there wasn’t a single decent reason for it.

The noble’s gaze slid over her, slowly and deliberately, from her boots to the crown of her head. The look in his eyes was as vile as ever. Then his attention flicked to her surroundings, scanning for something—or someone. When he didn’t find it, his lips curled into a twisted grin.

That was when Lilith realized: Ryuto isn’t here.

The noble had noticed it too. That was why he looked so pleased.

A month ago, he’d tried to corner her. The moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d clearly intended to force himself on her. That look on his face now was the same.

“This is bad,” she whispered.

From behind him, one of the men in his entourage stepped forward. A tall, armored brute. Probably a melee class, at least mid-C-rank, possibly higher.

Lilith’s expression didn’t change. But her muscles tensed. Her mind shifted instantly to escape.

I have to get out of here now!

She moved quickly, slipping into the crowd, weaving through the flow of bodies with sharp, practiced steps. She didn’t run, but her pace was swift, focused. Minutes passed before she finally broke free of the chaos and ducked into the silent, narrow alleys behind the slums.

Once she reached a stretch of empty backstreets, she stopped and turned.

The men had followed her. Four of them in total.

She faced them calmly, hands at her sides. “Luring me all the way out here where no one would interfere… What exactly are you hoping to do?”

They said nothing. But they didn’t need to.

Lilith glanced around. She hadn’t needed to flee. She could’ve lost them in the crowd if she’d really tried. But she hadn’t.

“I might’ve escaped,” she said, her voice cold and level. “But it’s not my style to run from enemies I know I can defeat. And honestly, this alley was a terrible place to stage a counterattack. That’s all.”

“What the hell’s a brat like you mouthing off for?” one of the men barked, stepping forward.

Lilith didn’t respond. Her eyes were already narrowing, voice low and measured. “I didn’t want to cast magic in the middle of a crowd. But now that we’re alone…”

She raised her staff.

“Crimson Sphere.”

A roaring inferno erupted into existence, a massive orb of flame nearly five meters across. It detonated outward, engulfing one of the men before he could react. His scream was cut off as the flames swallowed him whole, reducing him to a twitching, smoldering heap in seconds.

The others reeled back in horror.

“Did she just—?! That’s an ultimate-tier spell! In the middle of the city?!” one of them shouted. “You didn’t even let us explain! This is a serious legal offense!”

Lilith didn’t even blink. Her voice was cold, stripped of emotion. “Explain? You chased me into an alley with overwhelming numbers. No insignia, no warning, no witnesses. Given the context, there’s no plausible motive beyond abduction and sexual assault. Therefore, my counterattack qualifies as lawful self-defense. No legal violation exists.”

She raised her staff again and cast without hesitation.

“Thunderstorm.”

A bolt of lightning cracked down like judgment itself. Another man dropped, convulsing violently before collapsing into unconsciousness.

The two remaining grunts moved into formation, trying to flank her, but Lilith didn’t give them the chance. She channeled a spell with a flick of her wrist.

“Wind Shot.”

Two blasts of compressed air launched from her staff and struck each target cleanly in the head. The impact sent them flying backward through the alley, landing in crumpled heaps. Silence followed.

Lilith stood alone amid the wreckage of the ambush. She exhaled sharply, letting the adrenaline ease from her system. “That’s that,” she murmured.

Then a voice cut through the quiet.

“That’s far enough.”

She turned, fast and alert, staff rising to guard, but she froze as her eyes locked onto the figure standing at the alley’s mouth.

She recognized him instantly. Dark skin, corded muscle, eyes like sharpened steel. A martial artist. And not just any fighter.

“B-rank adventurer. Melissa?” Her voice faltered. “Why are you here? You surrendered to Ryuto. You yielded completely.”

Melissa gave a lopsided grin and cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of your boyfriend.”

Then he moved.

His fist shot out in a blur, and his left hook grazed her jaw hard enough to send her staggering. Her legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees, the taste of copper flooding her mouth.

Boots thudded against the cobblestone.

The nobleman appeared from behind Melissa, eyes gleaming with twisted delight. His voice dripped with theatrical malice.

“Hahaha! So we meet again, little viper! This day marks the turning of fate! You dared mock nobility—my noble blood—and now you’ll pay for your insolence!”

He threw his head back and laughed, high-pitched and unhinged. As he stepped forward, Lilith’s eyes dropped.

His groin was unmistakably swollen beneath his ornate trousers.

Revulsion twisted in her gut. There had never been any question about his intent.

Melissa struck again, this time with a brutal kick to her shoulder. The force knocked her sideways, sending her rolling through the dirt and dust of the alley until she came to a stop right at the noble’s feet.

Exactly where he wanted her.

※※※

The blow had rattled my brain, leaving me unable to move properly. No, unable to move at all. I couldn’t even stand. As I lay there, the nobleman smirked, his grin stretching wide with malicious glee. He gripped my calves with both hands, rolling me onto my back.

With brute force, he spread my legs apart, burying his face in my skirt. The nauseating sensation of his cheeks brushing against my calves and thighs made my skin crawl. Mercifully, he hadn’t yet violated me. But it was only a matter of time before he ripped off my underwear and defiled me. The mere thought sent shivers down my spine.

How could I have been so careless? I’d assumed no one in this slum could pose a threat to me. Or perhaps I could still fight back. Even if I overpowered him, Melissa was still there, and he was a force I couldn’t handle. Like me, he was B-rank equivalent, but he specialized in close combat. At this range, I was at a severe disadvantage.

Of course, there was my own crippling weakness: I couldn’t use my unique magic, the very ability that should have made me a B-rank mage or higher. Resistance would only lead to a more brutal punishment. Overwhelmed by my own helplessness, tears blurred my vision.

This meant… my dream of giving my first time to Ryuto would never come true. As despair consumed me, I resigned myself to what was coming. Soon, he’d begin licking my lower abdomen. The sight of this man looming over me would be unbearable, so I’d probably just turn my head away and count the stains on the slum’s alley walls.

Through my underwear, I felt the nobleman’s hot breath against my abdomen as he buried his face deeper into my skirt. Just as I was about to give up entirely, something fell from the sky.

“Gobu-h!”

The alley fell silent, except for the nobleman’s choked gurgle.

The alley, by definition, was a narrow passage wedged between two towering walls. And where there were walls, there were buildings. Buildings with rooftops or, at the very least, roofs. From one of those heights, a figure had leaped down, landing with pinpoint precision to stomp on the back of the man buried in my skirt. The force was measured, enough to incapacitate but not to kill.

“I rushed here because I was worried, and this is what I find,” Ryuto Maclaine said, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and relief. He shook his head, as if this were exactly what he’d feared. “Honestly… I told you to be careful, didn’t I, Lilith?”

※※※

Evening had fallen by the time we returned to the inn. The room was quiet, lit by the warm glow of a single wall lantern. The scent of roasted pork filled the air—Lilith’s favorite: herb-crusted shoulder, served hot, just the way she liked it. But she didn’t seem to notice. She sat across from me, her posture upright, her hands moving with practiced precision as she cut and chewed in silence. The food cooled untouched on her plate, and she hadn’t spoken a word since we sat down.

I watched her for a moment. She looked calm at a glance, but her eyes were distant, fixed somewhere past the meal in front of her. Only the soft clink of silverware broke the heavy quiet between us.

“What’s wrong, Lilith?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

She didn’t answer. Just kept slicing into the meat, each movement neat and measured, like she was going through the motions because it was all she knew to do.

I leaned forward slightly. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”

Still nothing.

Then, after a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ryuto?”

Her voice was thin, uncertain. Not like her usual clipped confidence. I raised an eyebrow, trying to meet her gaze. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Have I gotten stronger?”

The question caught me off guard. It wasn’t because of what she said but the way she said it. There was no pride in her voice, no satisfaction. Just a dull, searching emptiness.

“Yeah,” I replied without needing to think. “You’ve gotten strong. No question.”

She didn’t react. Her gaze stayed fixed on her plate, unmoving. “And yet I couldn’t beat a single B-rank adventurer.”

I knew who she meant. Melissa, the thug-for-hire who’d landed a cheap shot and knocked her down. Officially B-rank, but for a close-combat type, he hit harder than his badge suggested.

“So what?” I said, trying to cut through her spiral before it dug too deep.

“Do you think…” Her voice faltered, then steadied again, though barely. “Do you think there’s still a way for me to keep growing? I mean… something I can reach soon?”

She wasn’t looking for comfort. I could tell by the tension in her voice, the rigid way she gripped her fork. She wanted facts. Possibility. A reason not to give up.

I sat back in my chair, arms crossed, and gave her the answer I knew she needed, even if she didn’t quite believe it yet.

“I don’t know if it’ll come soon,” I said honestly, “but yeah. You’ve got more in you. Plenty. You’ve barely even started.”

She let out a breath. It wasn’t quite a sigh, not quite relief. Just a slow exhale, like she was finally allowing herself to breathe again. The silence returned, but this time it didn’t feel quite so heavy.

“Maybe I’ll gain more levels eventually,” Lilith murmured, her voice low, eyes still fixed on her untouched plate. “But even if I do… I don’t think I’ll ever be useful to you.”

My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“The magic I can use… it won’t expand overnight. From this point on, if I want real power, I’ll have to learn unique magic.” She paused, then added bitterly, “But I can’t. I can’t use it. No matter how hard I try.”

I didn’t deny it. “Yeah,” I said quietly, “that might be true.”

Lilith’s voice wavered as she continued. “Over the past month or so… I’ve gotten a little stronger. But now I’m stuck. I’ve hit a wall, and… if I can’t grow any further, then what’s the point? Am I even needed? Can I still be of any use to you as I am? Or am I just… in your way?”

I exhaled slowly, choosing my words carefully. “Whether you’re useful or not… honestly, I don’t know. But I told you from the start. I’m traveling with you because you asked me to. That’s why I’ve made time for all of this.”

Lilith looked up at me, her expression trembling on the edge of something fragile. “Then… tell me one more time. Am I… a burden?”

I didn’t flinch. “If you’re asking whether you’re getting in my way, just as you are now… then yeah. You are.”

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Her lips quivered, but she didn’t say anything right away. The hurt showed plainly across her face, raw and delicate, like something on the verge of breaking.

“Yeah,” she whispered at last. “I thought so too.”

Her eyes lowered, lashes casting faint shadows across her cheeks as she sank into herself, quiet and despondent.

“That’s exactly why you have to get stronger,” I said. My voice was steady but firm. “If you think you’re not useful, then change that. Become someone who is. That Item Box skill of yours? I need it more than you realize.”

She sniffed quietly, blinking rapidly as a few tears finally broke loose. Her voice shook as she spoke again, barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry… For being like this.”

Then she looked up, and though her eyes were wet, there was a fire behind them now, faint but discernible.

“I’ll get stronger,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “Please… just don’t leave me behind.”

I reached out and gently ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

She gave me a faint smile, small and apologetic, but real. It was the kind of smile that barely held together—exhausted, uncertain, but still trying.

Surprisingly, from behind us, we heard the unmistakable slur of a drunkard’s voice drifting from the next table.

“Hey, you hear the news?”

“What news?”

“They say the Hero, Cordelia Allston herself, is staying in town. Supposedly, she’s preparing to take on the Trial of the Divine Sword… up at the Tower of Mirage.”

※※※

“Ryuto? What are you planning to do, going out at this hour?”

Lilith’s voice carried a hint of confusion as she looked up at me, brow furrowed in the dim hallway light. It wasn’t surprising. By now, the sun had long since slipped past the horizon, and we were well into the deep hours of the evening. A late-night walk wasn’t exactly part of our usual routine, and this was the first time I’d suggested anything of the sort since we started traveling together.

“I assume you’ve heard why Cordelia’s challenging the Tower of Mirage?” I asked, slipping on my coat.

“The Divine Sword,” she answered without hesitation.

“Exactly. The sacred blade rests atop the tower, embedded in its pedestal, or so the legends go.”

“Or impaled into it, depending on who’s telling the story,” Lilith muttered.

“Eh, same difference,” I said with a shrug. “What matters is that’s where it’s kept when it doesn’t have a rightful owner. And the reason we’re even stopping in this city at all… is because it’s the closest settlement to that tower.”

She tilted her head, curious now. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“The tower’s thirty stories tall. Inside, it’s full of traps and those summoned earth guardians, animated constructs created through complex magical systems.”

“Right,” she said slowly, “and?”

“It’s a publicly accessible dungeon, technically speaking, but not exactly a profitable one. You can clear traps, defeat the guardians, but the only thing you can haul out of there is dirt. Literally. Clumps of magically infused soil.”

“And the sword?”

“Belongs to the Allied Nations. Touch it without permission, and you’re not just dead, you’re dead officially, probably displayed in a square somewhere as a warning.”

Lilith paused, eyes narrowing slightly as she considered that. “I see.”

“And here’s the thing,” I continued. “The difficulty of the tower is classified as A-rank. If you’re not a certified A-rank adventurer, you don’t even get to attempt it. And if you’re a Hero, you need to be officially acknowledged as such before they let you near it.”

She nodded slowly, beginning to see where I was going. “So… no sane adventurer would ever bother with it. Too much risk, no reward.”

“Exactly. Which means the Tower of Mirage has become a de facto proving ground for Heroes alone. A trial tailored for them and them only.”

Her eyes sharpened. “Which also means it’s barely been explored by anyone else.”

“Bingo.”

Lilith folded her arms, thoughtful. “So, what do you think is hidden inside?”

“The Tower is steeped in a rare spiritual energy,” I began, keeping my voice low as we walked through the dim corridor. “The kind specifically suited to sustaining the Divine Sword. With that kind of concentration, it’s no surprise something else is in there too. To cut to the point, deep within the chamber where the sword is enshrined, there’s a hidden passage behind the pedestal.”

Lilith’s pace didn’t change, but I could feel her attention sharpen beside me. “And?”

“That passage leads underground. Beneath the tower, in the depths below the main structure… something else sleeps. A demon sword. And it’s not just lying there for decoration; it’s the actual source of the spiritual energy surrounding the entire tower.”

“A demon sword?” she echoed quietly.

I nodded. “The information came straight from one of the continent’s strongest and most ancient magic users. Looks like a little girl, but she’s centuries old. It’s the kind of person who hides her age behind a child’s face. She mentioned it offhandedly, as if it were common knowledge. And I found multiple references in the Grand Library, too. I’m pretty sure this isn’t just some rumor.”

Lilith’s voice was flat. “What I wanted to know is, what is the demon sword?”

“Right, sorry. The theory goes that anyone who manages to claim it doesn’t just gain power; they undergo a full biological ascension. A jump in classification. You stop being just a ‘human’ adventurer and start stepping into something else.”

She blinked at me. “A jump in… biological rank?”

We both paused.

Lilith glanced around, lowering her voice. “That aside… can you explain why we’re using your stealth skills to sneak around in the dark? And more importantly, where are we right now?”

We stood in the corridor of a high-class building, its pristine marble floors and polished fixtures quietly gleaming in the moonlight. Even without the obvious decor, the sheer luxury of the place made it clear we weren’t in some random inn.

“This is the knight order’s guest wing,” I said casually. “Top-tier accommodations. The kind they’d use to host foreign royalty if needed.”

Lilith’s eyes narrowed. “And this room?”

“Oh, right. That one.” I pointed casually at the ornate double doors in front of us. “That would be Cordelia’s room. We’re here to break in.”

She stared at me, stunned. “Excuse me?”

The inside was exactly what you’d expect from nobility-level luxury.

A king-sized canopy bed took center stage in the sleeping quarters, draped in silk curtains. The private balcony featured its own miniature pool, glimmering faintly in the evening air. If you had to describe it, you’d probably say it was a one-bedroom suite, though the “living room” alone was at least thirty tatami mats, and the bedroom another fifteen.

Framed oil paintings lined the walls, each one probably worth more than most adventurers made in a year. A crystal bowl on the central table held an assortment of perfectly ripened fruit—apples, grapes, exotic citrus—like a five-star resort chef had just arranged them.

It felt less like the quarters of a Hero preparing for a divine trial and more like a top-floor suite in a tropical luxury hotel.

So, this is what passes for a Hero’s accommodations, huh? I looked around the opulent suite again, torn between admiration and sheer disbelief. No way I could sleep in a place like this. It’s too much.

It reminded me of what happened right after Cordelia received her divine revelation. The Allston family, her neighbors, had wasted no time snapping up farmland left and right. They expanded their estate like they were preparing for a royal procession. At the time, I’d thought it was overkill. Now it all made sense.

Lilith’s voice broke the silence, edged with confusion. “What is that?”

She was staring into the far corner of the room, where a collection of training equipment had been neatly arranged: dumbbells, barbells, weighted attachments for practice swords, all lined up with almost military precision.

“Exercise gear,” I said matter-of-factly.

Lilith blinked slowly, her expression flat with disbelief. “Cordelia Allston is… weight training? Why? Pure muscle mass has only a negligible effect on stats.”

She wasn’t wrong. In this world, strength wasn’t built with sweat and reps. It came from levels, from numbers. Stats ruled everything. With each level gained, the body reinforced itself beyond human limits, no matter how out of shape you started.

Someone trained to Olympic standards might run a hundred meters in under ten seconds. Me? I could break the sound barrier. If we were racing, I’d finish before they heard the starting shot.

That was what stats did. That was the power of level-based enhancement.

“Cordelia’s being raised according to a Hero development program,” I explained, glancing at the weight rack. “They’ve had her try every conventional enhancement method, just in case. Muscle training, meditation, enchanted diets. All of it.” I paused, then corrected myself. “Well, she used to be equivalent to a high-end B-rank adventurer at fifteen, but I think she’s officially A-rank now.”

The ones managing her, whoever was treating Cordelia like a living strategic weapon, had chosen a cautious, incremental growth path. They weren’t letting her fight anything dangerous. Instead, they had her hunt weaker monsters over and over again, keeping her isolated, protected, and steadily leveling under tightly controlled conditions.

That was likely the problem.

Just like Lilith, she had probably hit a plateau now. You could only go so far without pushing yourself, and Cordelia, despite her power, was being raised like a porcelain doll. No real risk. No real challenge.

No wonder she’s stuck.

“So now that Cordelia’s running out of ways to grow through normal means,” I said, nodding toward the equipment lined up in the corner, “she’s resorted to pure strength training.”

Lilith seemed to understand the implication. Her eyes drifted across the room, her expression tightening as a cold sheen of sweat formed on her brow. “So she’s pushing herself through inefficient, high-strain training,” she murmured, “the kind that’s more pain than gain… all because it’s still something she can do?”

The sincerity behind it was impossible to miss. Just one glance at the rows of weights, the condition of the gear, the floor scuffed from heavy use, and anyone could see Cordelia wasn’t just dabbling. She was dead serious.

“Even Heroes have to grind it out the hard way,” I said with a shrug. “How long do you think it’s been since she got that Divine Prophecy? She didn’t get this strong overnight. You shouldn’t expect to either.”

Lilith didn’t answer. Her shoulders were stiff, and I could tell her thoughts were spiraling again.

She wasn’t built for setbacks. Every time she hit a wall, it shook her. Rattled her confidence. Made her question herself. It wasn’t that she lacked resolve. If anything, she was throwing herself into this with everything she had. However, she thought too much. Took every bump in the road as a personal failure.

Always rushing. Always chasing something.

Trying to keep up with me.

“Still,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet. “Why all the sneaking around?”

“Hm?”

“If we were just here to see Cordelia’s room,” she went on, “couldn’t you have just asked her? You think she’d say no to you?”

I gave a faint grimace at that. I hadn’t told her the whole story—not yet.

According to the Dragon King, when I wiped out that goblin horde, I’d inadvertently stolen Cordelia’s first official quest. Because of that, her Divine Prophecy had been thrown off and her power weakened. Until she rebuilt that strength herself, I needed to keep my distance. Let her grow on her own. If I kept intervening, she’d never stand on her own feet. And frankly, I didn’t have the time or stamina to handhold a destined Hero every step of the way.

I opened my mouth to explain, but before I could say a word, Lilith’s eyes flicked toward the bed. She froze.

A moment later, she inhaled sharply and walked straight toward it with purpose.

I followed her gaze and noticed it too. Something about the quilted blanketlooked uneven and lumpy. Not rumpled like someone had slept in it, but… like something was under it.

Without hesitation, Lilith grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it back.

She stared, speechless.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

Lined up beneath the covers, nestled side-by-side across the broad mattress, was a small army of plush toys. Some were big, some small, some worn at the edges like they’d been hugged too many times: bears, bunnies, fantasy beasts. A couple looked handmade. All of them were tucked in neatly, resting like they had their own designated places.

Rabbits and bears made up the majority of Cordelia’s plushie collection, though there were a few surprises mixed in, like a wide-eyed frog propped up near the pillow, looking oddly dignified for something so squishy. The largest of them all, an oversized teddy bear positioned near the center of the bed, was clearly meant to double as a body pillow.

“She’s always had a bit of a girlish streak,” I muttered, scratching the back of my neck.

Lilith stared at the display in silence, then slowly shook her head, her expression unreadable. “She’ll be sixteen soon… and yet Cordelia Allston sleeps buried under rabbits and bears.”

Her voice wasn’t mocking, just stunned.

I didn’t blame her; the room itself was surreal. On one side, the bed of a fairy-tale princess lined with soft toys. On the other, a floor stacked with barbells and dumbbells, the corner crowded with weight-training equipment. It was like someone had stitched two entirely different people into one space.

Lilith, still deep in thought, turned away from the bed and made her way across the room toward a tall lacquered wardrobe. She stopped in front of it, resting her hand on the top drawer.

“What are you doing?” I asked, already uneasy.

“If I’m going to compete with her, I need to understand my rival,” she said flatly.

“Hey, hey, hold on! You can’t just go rifling through her stuff! That’s straight-up burglary!”

Unfortunately, Lilith had already opened the drawer and frozen stiff.

Her expression shifted instantly, eyebrows rising in disbelief as she stared into the contents. “Lingerie. Bright, flashy lingerie.”

I stepped closer, groaning as I caught a glimpse. “Black lace with crimson rose embroidery… and it’s practically see-through.”

An unwelcome memory surfaced. Back when Cordelia was a kid, she used to insist on sleeping in just her underwear, even in the dead of winter. If that habit hadn’t changed…

“So now she’s going to bed surrounded by plush toys… wearing that?” I muttered, incredulous.

Lilith turned her head sharply, giving a firm shake, her eyes narrowing with analytical clarity. “No. It doesn’t match the rest.”

“Huh?”

“The rest of her underwear is plain and practical. This one stands out. It’s too elaborate. Which means…” She closed the drawer and turned to face me, her voice flat and certain.

“It’s not for everyday use. It’s her special occasion set.”

I blinked. “Special… occasion?”

She nodded once. “I believe it’s a battle set. Specifically, one meant for you.”

The way she said it—curt, cutting, laced with disdain—left no doubt about how she felt. And judging by the quiet fury in her eyes, Cordelia’s “strategy” had just been added to Lilith’s growing list of personal offenses.

“And I have them too,” Lilith declared.

“Have what?” I asked, confused.

“I have special occasion ones,” she said mysteriously.

“Special occasion? You have them too?” I questioned. Lilith gave a slight nod.

“Actually, I always wear special occasion ones,” she stated matter-of-factly and put both hands on the hem of her skirt. “I am always on the battlefield,” she proclaimed in what sounded like pseudo-Chinese for some reason. Setting aside why it sounded like that, Lilith’s speed in lifting her skirt was swift. In other words… I couldn’t help but see what Lilith called her “special occasion underwear.” And I opened my mouth wide in shock.

“Good lord…! White with blue polka dots… Wait… aren’t you… already fifteen years old?” I stammered.

“Yes… Someone of my type should wear childish underwear… It should have better appeal to men,” she explained with calculated innocence. This meant she fully understood that she had a small, cute appearance and was making maximum use of it. In other words, she knew exactly what she was doing. What a calculating girl.

Lilith continued speaking. “By the way, I have them,” she added.

“Have what exactly?” I asked warily.

After a moment of silence, Lilith said with a smug expression, “Blue and white stripes, too. One hundred percent cotton, of course.”

Striped panties? This girl really is calculating. Honestly, it was getting to a level where I was slightly put off.

“Furthermore, I also have pink versions of each of those,” she added with pride.

With an exaggerated hmph, Lilith puffed out her nonexistent chest, looking entirely too smug for someone trying to make a statement with polka-dot underwear. She stood there like a conquering general, entirely unbothered by the fact that her grand “victory” rested on blue-and-white cotton.

I gave her a flat look, then promptly brought my knuckles down on her head.

“Like hell I’d be interested in underwear from a pint-sized goblin like you,” I muttered. “Now pull your damn skirt back down.”

She opened her mouth, probably to retort with something equally insane, but before she could, a sound reached my ears from the hallway just beyond the door.

Muffled footsteps. Voices.

“Shit, someone’s coming!” I hissed. “Lilith! Over here, now!”

I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the corner of the room, slipping quickly into what turned out to be the walk-in closet. And calling it a “closet” barely did it justice. The thing was nearly ten tatami mats in size. Most of the clothing was stored in drawers, leaving the space almost empty, and the echo of our hurried breathing bounced softly off the walls.

Lilith looked bewildered. “What’s going on? Why are we—?”

“Quiet,” I snapped, pressing my palm lightly over her mouth.

A moment later, the door to the main room creaked open.

The closet was separated from the bedroom by a thin wooden partition. There was no proper door, just slats and space between them. We couldn’t see out, but we could hear every word, every step. And it wasn’t hard to guess who had entered.

Cordelia. Along with what sounded like her attendant.

There was a faint clinking of boots on polished flooring, followed by the swish of a gown. The faint scent of wine wafted in, the kind that clung to expensive perfume and evening dresses. Cordelia’s voice was calm, but there was a subtle sway in her tone, the slightest slur. She’d probably been invited to one of those high-society dinners that the city’s bigwigs liked to host.

“Still, Lady Cordelia…” the other woman began, her voice firm but respectful.

She sounded older. Late twenties, maybe. Her tone was practiced professionalism, but beneath it was tension.

Cordelia cut her off with a small gesture. “Please don’t call me ‘Lady’ when we’re alone. You’re at least ten years older than me, aren’t you? You’re a Holy Knight. Your guild rank is upper B-class, isn’t it? You’ve got skill, standing, and experience. I’m the one who should be addressing you with respect.”

“Then shall I rephrase? Cordelia-san?”

“Yes, what is it?”

The knight’s voice grew more cautious. “It’s true that you’ve mastered the skill to suppress your berserker state. In terms of raw ability, you’re far beyond me now, far beyond what any of us expected.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” Cordelia replied with a dismissive shrug, clearly unbothered.

“You, of all people, should be more mindful of what you say,” the older woman chided gently. “You carry both title and strength now. Your words hold weight.”

Cordelia exhaled as if the entire conversation was an inconvenience. “Is this about what I said at the banquet? The goblins? The Evil Dragon Amanta?”

“Yes. That incident.”

“I merely stated what happened. Nothing more.”

“Cordelia-san,” the woman’s tone grew sharper, more urgent, “you were hallucinating and hearing things. Your mind wasn’t stable at the time. Surely you’re aware of the nickname people have given you?”

“The Mad Princess Berserker, wasn’t it?” Cordelia said breezily, as if reciting someone else’s resume.

The knight sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Regardless, you’ve now learned to master the berserker state. Please, stop saying things that make others question your sanity. You’re undermining your own position.”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”

“I mean it, Cordelia-san. Please.” The woman gave her a weary, pointed look, then turned on her heel toward the door. Her boots clicked softly against the polished floorboards. But just as she reached the threshold, she paused.

“Something wrong?” Cordelia asked.

“There’s something that’s been bothering me,” the knight said, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Let’s say there was a man, someone who saved you, time and again. Someone who vanished just as quickly as he appeared… always with another woman at his side. If, by some chance, you saw him again, what would you do?”

Cordelia didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes drifted to the ornate table in the center of the room. She stepped toward it in silence, reaching out and selecting a ripe red apple from a silver fruit tray. Without warning, she tossed it straight up, high enough to brush the edge of the ceiling.

With her other hand, she snatched up a fruit knife and a porcelain dish. The blade flashed in the air, silver glinting like lightning in the dim light. One, two, three slashes, too fast to follow.

When the apple came down, it landed in perfect, delicate slices, fanned out on the plate like a flower in bloom.

“Well,” Cordelia murmured, her tone breezy as she slid a sliver of apple from the knife into her mouth. She chewed with practiced elegance, the crisp crunch echoing faintly in the silence.

Her lips were curved in a smile, but her eyes held no warmth.

The older knight caught the shift immediately and could only offer a weary chuckle as she turned toward the door. “That’s just like you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A soft click followed as the heavy wooden door shut behind her.

“Creepy,” I muttered under my breath, turning to Lilith, who was still watching through the narrow seam between the closet slats.

“Ryuto?” she whispered back, her voice low and unreadable.

“What?”

“I’ll give you one piece of honest advice. That girl? Stay away from her. If you ever chose her as a partner, and then so much as looked at another woman… you’d end up carved into sashimi.”

“Yeah? And you wouldn’t?”

Lilith paused for a moment, then answered with eerie calm. “If it were me? I wouldn’t lash out in the moment. I’d leave something on your pillow. Like a dead rat. Or maybe a nice, slow-working hex. Something tasteful.”

I winced. “Yeah, no thanks. That’s not much better.”

Gods, every woman around me is a walking red flag.

Just then, Cordelia, oblivious to her hidden guests, began undressing, peeling off her formalwear piece by piece until she stood in nothing but plain white undergarments, simple and demure. She flopped down onto the bed with a sigh, one hand reaching out to hoist a large stuffed bear into the air, as if presenting it to the ceiling like some absurd offering.

“Well, I wouldn’t actually cut him up,” Cordelia said aloud, half-laughing to herself. “But hitting him? Oh, that’s definitely on the table.”

And then, suddenly, she broke into laughter. High, clear, and manic.

“Hit him? Hit who?” she asked herself in a singsong voice, before her expression dropped into something cold and disturbingly serene. “Ryuto. Ryuto Maclaine, of course. Who else?”

The laughter returned, louder this time. Wild, delighted, almost triumphant.

“Ryuto? You’d hit Ryuto? Why? Why would you do that?” she asked herself again, switching voices like a girl playing with dolls.

The light in her eyes flickered, her glee collapsing into something solemn, something somber.

“Why, you ask? Because he pisses me off, obviously,” she muttered under her breath.

At that answer, Cordelia broke into another beaming smile, her laughter rising again to fill the lavish room. Then, with a joyful laugh, she exclaimed, “Hahaha… Hahahaha! Yes, that’s right. I’m definitely pissed off. But I’m not even one-tenth mad at Ryuto, am I?”

From within the dark recess of the wardrobe, Lilith leaned toward me and whispered, “What is this? It’s not ventriloquism. Why is Cordelia Allston talking to herself like that?”

Now that she mentioned it, Cordelia had said earlier that she’d brought her berserker state under control, which meant that recently, she must’ve done something extremely reckless to get to that point.

“Lilith,” I said, keeping my voice low, “you ever heard of Inner Demon Subjugation?”

She shook her head side to side, puzzled.

“Imagine sticking a blade into your own brain and scrambling things up inside. That’s the basic idea. Whether it’s done physically or with magic, the goal is the same: to gain a massive resistance to mental interference and mind-control spells,” I explained.

Humans are complicated creatures. We all wear different faces depending on the situation. In other words, anyone can become a saint or a monster. It all depends on where they stand.

What they called Inner Demon Subjugation was the process of forcefully cutting away those different aspects of yourself. It was a brutal method, usually carried out by isolating certain facets of your personality and treating them as separate entities.

There was also a higher-level technique, where instead of rejecting those sides, you accept them. Integrate them. Achieve harmony.

Whether you severed them or embraced them, either way, you’d have to first isolate those parts of your psyche, which was why a person undergoing the process could become mentally unstable. In Cordelia’s case, it looked like she was now conversing with one of those fragments she’d subdued.

“A temporary side effect, most likely,” I muttered. “I’ve read case studies with similar symptoms.”

“Understood,” Lilith said, her sharp eyes watching Cordelia.

Cordelia sneered faintly, her tone thick with irony, as she started a confrontation with the other personalities inside of her.

“Honestly, you’ve never been able to stop pretending you’re fine, have you? Still acting tough all this time? Why is your first instinct always to hit someone?”

“Tough? You’re talking about Ryuto again, aren’t you?” she replied to herself, her voice crisp. “But come on, isn’t punching him just the natural response?”

“Hah… Honestly, you’re hopeless,” she said now with a wry smile. “You’re grateful he risked his life to save you, right? Twice, even. That’s not something you forget.”

Cordelia grimaced, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah… I’m grateful.”

“So, the only thing you can say about Ryuto is that you’re going to punch him? Wouldn’t a ‘thank you’ come first?”

At that question, an uncertainty appeared in her tone.

“Well… if he’d just apologize sincerely—”

“If he what?” she snapped at herself.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t forgive him… depending on how he says it.” Her voice now conveyed a reluctant honesty.

“Since when do you get to talk about forgiving him?” She tilted her head, caught off guard by her answer. “At what point did you become more than just his childhood friend?”

The previous Cordelia went quiet, letting the accusatory voice press on. “You’re mad that he left you behind. Do you think you have the right to be mad?”

No answer came once again.

“Tell me, why are you so angry at Ryuto?” she kept pushing herself.

“Fine, okay? You’re right,” Cordelia exclaimed, folding her arms across her chest.

“Then say it. Why are you so mad at him?” her accusing tone pressed, unyielding.

“Because—” she answered, barely above a whisper.

“What? I didn’t hear that.”

Her voice had dropped too low for me to catch it. Her face drained of color as if she’d just been slapped.

“What did you say?” Cordelia’s voice was quieter now but far more dangerous. “You’re me, aren’t you? That means you know exactly how I feel about Ryuto. You know what’s in here.”

She nodded faintly. “Yeah. I know. So why can’t I just be honest about it?”

“Honest? If you’d just thanked him when you saw him again… if you’d just said how you really felt… I’d say you had an eighty percent chance, maybe more,” she admitted. “That’s all it would’ve taken. So why was your first instinct to hit him?”

“I think… if I stop pretending to be strong now, I’ll end up depending on Ryuto. I’ll get comfortable being protected.” Cordelia’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want that. I want to stand beside him as an equal. Maybe… maybe that’s the real reason I act this way.”

She exhaled quietly, not quite a sigh, more like resignation. “Hmph. I already knew that, but wow… you really are a handful, aren’t you?”

A faint, lopsided smile tugged at Cordelia’s lips. “Yeah. I really am.”

With that, she let her eyes fall shut. Just a few moments later, her breathing evened out into soft, steady sighs. Deep sleep, as expected. Cordelia had always been a heavy sleeper. Once she was out, waking her up was a minor miracle.

Another ten minutes or so, and we’d slip out unnoticed. That was the plan, at least.

“Hey, Ryuto?” Lilith whispered beside me, her voice barely carrying through the hush of the walk-in closet.

I glanced down. “What is it?”

“What does Cordelia mean to you?”

That was… sudden. But I didn’t hesitate.

“She’s someone important,” I said plainly. “Very important.”

A childhood friend. Maybe a little sister, or even family. She was reckless, headstrong, always getting in over her head… and somehow, always dragging me along with her. She was impossible to ignore, and no matter how far I traveled, some part of me never really stopped worrying about her.

I smiled faintly, a little exhale of warmth caught somewhere between exasperation and affection. Yeah, she’d always been like that. A storm in a teacup. A firework in a bottle.

As that tender grin curled on my lips, I failed to notice something right beside me.

Lilith… was biting her lip hard enough that it had started to bleed.

In that moment, wrapped in silence and shadows, hidden behind luxury and secrets, I didn’t realize the hurt blooming quietly behind her eyes.

That was how our little Cordelia’s Room Tour came to an end.

※※※

The morning after our tour, I found myself walking through the seafood wholesale market. The reason? Just past the market stood the local lord’s estate, and in its grand courtyard, a rather high-profile event was scheduled to take place.

Ryuto, naturally, had refused to attend. “I don’t want to see Cordelia. Not until she’s officially enrolled at the Magic Academy. Until then, I’m avoiding her as much as possible,” he’d said, sounding more troubled than he probably realized. So he was sitting this one out.

That was fine by me.

In fact, this was an excellent opportunity to keep tabs on the thieving cat who was clearly trying to steal Ryuto away. It was painfully obvious that Cordelia Allston would, sooner or later, become the single greatest obstacle to my long-term plans.

She won’t get in my way.

Not now. Not ever.

My grand strategy—the Operation Love-Love with Ryuto—was far too important to let anyone interfere with it.

Resolute, I clenched my fist tightly at my side. The crowd thickened as I passed through the market and emerged onto the main avenue. Beyond it stood the estate of the local lord, its manor gleaming in the midday sun.

It was absolute chaos.

The manor had been transformed into a full-blown festival, its grounds packed with townsfolk from all walks of life. And no wonder. This was no ordinary gathering. Today, the famed Hero Cordelia Allston, currently staying in this very city, was scheduled to give a public demonstration. Joining her was none other than Arsen Bragina, the Sword Saint summoned from the Imperial Capital.

Put plainly, it was a mock battle. A staged duel between a recognized A-rank powerhouse and a rising young hero.

For the commoners of this modest city, where entertainment was scarce and spectacle even rarer, an event like this was practically divine providence.

At the gate, I retrieved a silver coin from my purse and handed it over to the ticket attendant. The local lord, apparently, had no qualms about monetizing his hospitality. Just inside the estate grounds, food stalls had sprung up like weeds, grilled skewers, cheap booze, the usual festival fare all sold at predictably outrageous prices.

So this is how nobles make their coin. Impressive, in a scummy sort of way.

Shaking my head in mild amusement, I purchased three skewers of grilled orc meat, then made my way to the spectator stands.

The meat was surprisingly good.

The skewers were glazed in a rich, sweet-and-salty sauce. It was deceptively good, actually. Price aside, I could see myself buying another round without a second thought. Munching contentedly, I made my way toward the central attraction: a specially constructed ring, roughly fifteen meters square, set at the heart of the courtyard.

Soon, a wave of cheers surged through the air as a figure stepped up onto the platform. Clad in a striking suit of sapphire-blue armor, with her vibrant red hair tied back in a tight tail, stood none other than Cordelia Allston. The crowd’s roar was already deafening, but when she raised a single hand in acknowledgment, they erupted anew.

A moment later, a second figure joined her, a slim man with long, black hair and the bearing of a blade honed to its finest edge. He wore pristine white robes, a sword sheathed at his hip, and only a single gauntlet on his left arm. No heavy armor, no cumbersome gear. This man wasn’t planning on being hit. His stance alone screamed speed and precision.

Arsen Bragina, the Sword Saint summoned from the Imperial Capital.

The crowd recognized him immediately, and the thunder of applause that followed was every bit as fierce as the welcome Cordelia had received.

The two combatants faced each other, swords drawn. A hush fell over the crowd as anticipation reached a fever pitch. Then, a deep, resonant chime rang out, signaling the start of the match.

Cordelia wasted no time.

She surged forward, crimson hair streaming behind her like a comet’s tail, and brought her sword down in a powerful overhead strike. Arsen slipped aside with the barest twist of his body, letting the blade pass him by with less effort than it took to draw breath.

Cordelia wasn’t nearly finished.

She followed through with a flurry of rapid strikes, her blade flashing again and again like lightning crackling across a storm-dark sky. It was more than swordplay. It was a relentless, dazzling tempest of steel. She lived up to every bit of her title: a red blur, fierce and fearless.

And yet, even as I found myself breathless at her speed and intensity, it was Arsen who stole the breath from the crowd.

He didn’t just dodge; he danced.

He weaved and pivoted and leaned, his movements so refined and economical it was as if he wasn’t avoiding a blade but flowing around inevitability itself. Cordelia’s sword came at him by the dozen, and not once did it find its mark. Not even close.

The crowd exploded with wild cheers, but I couldn’t make a sound. I just stood there, stunned.

This… This is on another level entirely.

Ryuto was different. When he got serious, his movements became so fast I couldn’t even follow them with my eyes. He transcended comprehension, so fast that all I ever registered was the aftermath.

This? This was real-time. A battle of monstrous skill unfolding before me, in the open, with each move on full display.

It was terrifyingly beautiful.

Yet even in the midst of this clash, this dazzling, almost superhuman exchange of blows, I could follow it. My level must’ve risen enough to keep up with their movements, at least visually. And that was what made it all the more overwhelming. The precision. The grace. The sheer, unrelenting intent behind every step. It wasn’t just a fight; it was a conversation in sword strokes, and I could finally understand the language.

Cordelia Allston exhaled a rueful laugh as she slid backward in a clean, controlled retreat, putting space between herself and the Sword Saint.

“Hah… As expected of you, Arsen. I’ve trained seriously in the blade, you know. But this… This feels like I’m swinging a twig at a mountain.”

Arsen Bragina smiled with a humble shake of his head. “You honor me, Cordelia-sama. But if I may be honest, I’m the one in awe. You’re only fifteen… and yet you’ve already climbed past halfway to the summit of martial mastery.”

Cordelia’s answering smile was small but unmistakably proud. “So, the summit is ten, and you place me at six?”

“Roughly,” Arsen replied after a brief moment of thought. “If we think of martial attainment as a ten-stage ascent, then yes. The sixth stage. It’s a remarkable height for someone your age.”

Cordelia tilted her head, curious. “And you, Arsen? Where would you place yourself on that path?”

A pause. Then, in a quiet voice filled with quiet certainty, he said, “Perhaps the eighth.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Then I suppose I’ve met someone who stands far above even that. Someone who’s already climbed to the fifteenth stage, maybe even beyond.”

Arsen blinked in surprise. “Fifteenth? That exceeds the summit.”

No, Cordelia. You’ve underestimated him, I thought silently from the stands. If Ryuto Maclaine can even be measured on that scale, he’s well past the seventeenth. He’s already broken the framework entirely.

Cordelia returned her gaze to Arsen and took one long, measured breath. “Well then, Arsen… allow me to stop holding back.”

A chill spidered down my spine.

All at once, the air around Cordelia changed, igniting in a fiery red blaze of raw force that whipped around her body like a living storm. Her azure eyes bled into deep crimson, and the ground beneath her feet cracked with the pressure of what she was about to unleash.

My breath caught. That aura… That’s no ordinary surge of power.

It was a reaction born of forcibly converting raw mana into kinetic energy, igniting it within the body to shatter natural limits. A process both volatile and inherently unstable. My thoughts raced.

Isn’t this… Isn’t this what they call magical overdrive?

More specifically, mana rampancy, a dangerous state where reason dissolved, and instinct took the wheel. A condition often associated with uncontrollable rage and madness. The Berserker State.

Cordelia had just entered it.

Cordelia’s voice rang out across the arena, bright and fierce, cutting clean through the din of the crowd.

“Arsen-san… I can’t afford to hold back against you. So from the very first blow, I’m coming at you with everything I’ve got.”

The Sword Saint gave a low, admiring sigh. “Fifteen years old… Incredible. I never imagined we’d see another prodigy like the Hero Orsted within our lifetime, and a girl, no less.”

He offered a thin smile, solemn yet respectful, and slowly drew his blade. “Very well. Then I have no choice. I’ll meet you at your level.”

Suddenly, she vanished.

No warning, no flourish, Cordelia simply disappeared. A breath later, Arsen, too, dissolved into nothingness.

Gasps echoed through the crowd. But there was no time to wonder. No combatants remained on the platform, only phantom trails of motion, the clatter of steel on steel, the deep, pulsing boom of displaced air. The ring trembled. The wind howled. But neither warrior could be seen.

I recognized it immediately.

This is the same as Ryuto…

Not merely speed. Not simply power. The fight had shifted into a realm so far above the ordinary that only the barest flickers of their presence remained—sound, shockwaves, the hum of raw force cutting through the atmosphere. I strained my eyes, and every now and then, I could catch it: a flash of red as Cordelia’s figure snapped into view for a heartbeat; a gleam of silver where Arsen’s sword deflected a blow at the very last instant.

They were fast—unbelievably fast—but not unreachable. Unlike Ryuto, whose movements defied perception entirely, Cordelia and Arsen still left fragments behind. A blur of color. A tremor in the earth.

Twenty seconds passed in breathless silence. Then, a single, piercing clang split the air. A blade spun skyward, tumbling in slow, glittering arcs before clattering to the floor of the stage. When the dust settled, Cordelia stood tall, sword already sheathed, red battle aura still simmering around her.

Across from her, Arsen knelt, unarmed and catching his breath, sweat darkening his collar.

“I yield,” he said at last, looking up at her with genuine respect. He reached out, and she offered her hand without hesitation. He took it, and she helped him to his feet.

“I’m truly impressed, Cordelia-sama,” he said as he steadied himself. “To control your rampancy like that, and at fifteen? That’s beyond rare. That’s unheard of.”

Cordelia offered a small, sincere smile, her chest still rising and falling with the aftershocks of battle. “Thank you. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to truly test this power. The first time I’ve met someone strong enough to make me fight seriously.”

Arsen gave a low, appreciative chuckle. “Well, you did more than test it. You disarmed me.”

Cordelia shook her head, the seriousness returning to her voice.

“No… I’m not satisfied. This isn’t enough. I still have a long way to go. Right now, I can only maintain control for just over a minute. After that…”

Arsen nodded thoughtfully. “Even so, if you’d focused entirely on defense… the outcome might have been different.”

“I see,” Cordelia murmured, brushing her fingers over the hilt of her sheathed sword. “So if I had committed fully to defense… I might’ve had a chance at victory.”

“Exactly,” Arsen said, his expression warm with respect. “Your offense is fierce, but there’s refinement in restraint as well.”

Cordelia’s hand curled into a fist, her eyes narrowing. Not with regret, but with the focused heat of memory.

“The swordplay of the person I’m chasing… It wasn’t anything like this. Not even close.”

The Sword Saint let out a low, half-laugh, half-sigh, equal parts admiration and disbelief. “I don’t know who this person is, but… if you reach adulthood with that determination, perhaps we’ll reclaim some of the world we lost. When the time comes for the Grand Crusade, I’ll gladly lend you my strength.”

Cordelia’s voice was quiet but confident. “If the day ever comes when I truly need comrades at my side… you’ll be more than welcome among them. I would be honored to have you.”

With mutual respect in every motion, the Hero and the swordmaster bowed to each other. The crowd erupted, thunderous applause rolling like a wave across the field as the match bell rang its final note.

I stood there, frozen, staring up at the sky—empty, endless, and impossibly far away. The words slipped out before I even knew I was speaking.

“They’re on another level. I can’t even compare.”

Ryuto? That was beyond my reach from the start. But Cordelia… I had convinced myself we were at least fighting on the same battlefield. Yet now, watching her stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Arsen, the truth hit with painful clarity.

“Even heroes claw their way forward,” Ryuto had said. Even they struggle, bit by bit. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t just effort or willpower. This was something fundamental. Something that couldn’t be learned. Couldn’t be mimicked.

Cordelia was fifteen. Just like me. But she wasn’t like me at all.

“Hero… and mage,” I whispered.

The words tasted bitter on my tongue. A dry laugh followed, sharp and hollow. And then, without warning, hot, unwanted, yet honest tears spilled over my cheeks.

This was the first time I truly understood what it meant to be crushed by the weight of talent.

※※※

The day Cordelia and the Sword Saint clashed in their exhibition match, Lilith returned to the inn just after sunset, ashen-faced and silent.

She didn’t say a word. Not even to greet me.

Her eyes were distant and unfocused, her lips pressed in a line that trembled just enough to betray her thoughts. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she walked right past the dining hall, skipped the bath, and disappeared into her room, locking the door behind her.

She hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t spoken.

Judging by the heavy silence leaking from under her door, she hadn’t moved from her bed, either.

After finishing my own dinner and washing off the day’s sweat in the bath, I stood outside her room and knocked.

A beat of silence passed. Then, barely audible through the wood, came a whisper so faint I almost thought I’d imagined it.

“Come in.”

I pushed open the door and stepped into total darkness.

There was something oppressive in the air, like the weight of disappointment wrapped in silence and soaked in shadow. The whole room felt suspended in a stillness too heavy to be natural, an emotional gravity pulling everything inward.

I couldn’t see her at first, but I knew Lilith was in here somewhere, huddled against the gloom.

“You okay?” My voice sounded too loud in the thick air.

Another long pause, her voice, soft and raw, rose from somewhere in the dark.

“I’ve been thinking. For a while now.”

“About what?”

Silence again. This one stretched longer than the last.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a breath.

“I think I’m going to return to the dragonkin Village.”

The words hit me like cold water straight to the chest.

“What brought this on?”

“I saw Cordelia fight. For the first time.”

“And?”

“I can’t reach her.” Her voice didn’t shake, but that only made it worse. “Even if I turned the world upside down, there’s no way I could ever reach the level she’s at. I’d have to claw my way through heaven and hell, and even then…”

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure I had anything to say.

“She’s your childhood friend. She’s shared more years with you than I ever could. I don’t even know how to measure that kind of connection. Whatever I feel, whatever I want…” Her voice cracked. “I’m just… an outsider.”

I stepped into the room and lit the lantern near the door. A warm glow flooded the space, casting long shadows on the walls.

Lilith was on the bed, curled under the sheets in a tight triangle of limbs and fabric, her knees hugged close to her chest. She wouldn’t look at me. Couldn’t.

“This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing,” she murmured, not lifting her head. “I’ve been thinking about it for days. Maybe longer. I’ve been slowing you down, Ryuto. You could’ve been halfway across the continent by now if it weren’t for me.”

I wanted to interrupt her. Tell her she was wrong.

But then I saw it—her shoulders, trembling beneath the thin coverlet.

She was crying.

Lilith wasn’t a child. I knew that better than anyone. And deep down, I knew that her struggle, her quiet frustration with her own limits, had been gnawing at her for a long time now. She just hid it well. Always had.

So I didn’t try to argue with her decision. I didn’t try to change her mind. I just looked at her, at the hunched figure curled beneath the sheets, and asked the question that needed asking.

“All right,” I said quietly. “But you’re sure about this? Really sure?”

Her reply came muffled, her face still buried in the pillow, but her voice was steady. Bitter, maybe, but resolved.

“Thanks for not trying to stop me. If you had, I might’ve broken. I can’t… I can’t let myself be that pathetic, Ryuto. Not again.”

I nodded slowly, though she couldn’t see it.

“Fine. But one last thing before you go,” I said. “Help me with the Tower of Mirage Flame. Just once. I need your Item Box. That dungeon doesn’t care how strong you are if you can’t carry what matters.”

Another pause. Then she exhaled, long and low.

“After that, I’ll take you back to the dragonkin village myself,” I added. “No detours. No delays. That’s the deal.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, from beneath the blankets, her voice came again, quiet but certain.

“Understood.”

That was that.

No speeches. No last-minute protests. Just quiet, tired acceptance and the sound of a choice that, once made, might never be unmade.

Chapter 3: The Tower of Mirage Flame

It had to be close to forty degrees Celsius. The air was bone-dry, the sun unrelenting, and even the wind felt like it was scraping grit across my skin. This was the great desert, barren, unyielding. And at its heart, rising like a phantom in the heat haze, stood the Tower.

They called it the Tower of Mirage Flame. Not because it sat in the middle of a scorched wasteland, though that certainly added to the image. No, its name came from something stranger.

The tower didn’t always exist in this world.

Its coordinates, so to speak, weren’t fixed in our dimension. At any given time, it might phase in and out of reality like some half-remembered dream. The metaphysical mechanics of it were… convoluted. I’d pored over all kinds of dusty tomes, ancient glyphs, lost records, and still, I couldn’t fully wrap my head around it.

The simplest way to put it?

Some otherworldly force lingered in the tower, forming a unique spiritual field ideal for replenishing the divine energies of the Hero’s Sword. That same force made it so the tower could only be seen and entered during very specific intervals.

“A structure that wavers between worlds, appearing only in rare cycles and located smack in the middle of a sun-blasted desert,” I said, resting a hand on the sun-warmed stone. “It’s the perfect illusion. That’s why they call it the Tower of Mirage Flame.”

Lilith gave a slight nod beside me, her cloak fluttering in the dry breeze. “Makes sense.”

Just like that, here we were, standing before the legendary trial grounds known across the continent as the proving ground of the chosen, a place where only heroes dared climb.

“The Hero’s Sword, according to the legends, can only be drawn by one chosen by divine prophecy,” Lilith murmured, eyes narrowed on the tower’s massive gate. “But you’re not here for the sword, are you?”

I grinned. “Nah. I’ve already got something way better.”

My hand brushed against the hilt at my side. Excalibur. A weapon that surpassed the Hero’s Sword by at least two or three ranks in sheer performance. It was basically cheating.

“You’ve told me before,” she said. “Your interest lies beyond that. Something deeper.”

“Exactly. During my time at the Dragon King’s Grand Archive, I came across a few… obscure accounts.” I turned toward her. “As I said before, there’s more to this tower than people realize.”

“You mean beyond the chamber where the Hero’s Sword is embedded, right?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. Behind that pedestal, if the records are accurate, there’s a concealed passage. A spiral staircase leading down, not up. Into the tower’s subterranean levels.”

Lilith’s eyes flicked toward the gate again, but then, her gaze narrowed with quiet suspicion at the broad-shouldered man standing beside me.

“Which raises the question,” she said flatly, “why he’s here?”

The man gave a hearty laugh and scratched the back of his neck, his voice rough but oddly friendly. “My granddad once made it through this tower, lass. Think of me as your guide.”

I shrugged. “The old man’s been hounding me about this for days. Said he couldn’t just sit back while we tackled this place. Claimed we were comrades who ate from the same pot, even if it was only for a short while. Besides, he knows the tower’s layout better than anyone I could find. He insisted he’d be useful, and to be honest, I believe him.”

Truth be told, the guy seemed to have developed a strange sort of affection for me. Maybe it was guilt. He still thought he’d stolen the credit for slaying that desert beast, even though I didn’t see it that way. We got paid, we lived, and we walked out richer than we came in. Fair trade. But he was old-school. The kind who’d lose sleep over a favor unpaid.

“I swear I’ll pull my weight!” he’d shouted in the tavern, half-drunk and dead serious. With the whole bar watching, I hadn’t had much choice.

Still, the Tower of Mirage Flame wasn’t some tourist attraction. It was a place where legends tested their worth. For would-be heroes to prove themselves or to die trying. No ordinary adventuring party had any business even approaching it.

Our team, then, was just the three of us—Lilith, the old man, and me.

“You get how this is gonna go, right?” I asked him, keeping my voice low and serious.

The man grinned as if it were the best day of his life. “I’ll be the lady’s shield. Nothing’s getting past me. You’ve got my word.”

That was the arrangement. Lilith would stay glued to his back, let him take the brunt of anything nasty that came our way. She wasn’t ready to be out front yet, and I needed someone to keep her safe if I wasn’t in a position to do so. The old man made that possible.

Lilith’s Item Box wasn’t the only reason she was here. The truth, the one I hadn’t told her, was that I hadn’t brought her along just because of that skill.

Sure, it would be useful on a real expedition; essential, even. But this wasn’t one of those. Not this time.

No, I’d brought her here because I needed to understand. To see with my own eyes what she was really thinking, what she was really feeling when she told me she was going back to the dragonkin village.

That she was leaving me.

I understood that sentiment all too well. It was the same thing I’d felt in my previous life, standing in the shadow of Cordelia. That sense of helplessness, of standing at the base of a mountain too steep to climb. So, I knew exactly what was running through Lilith’s mind right now. I could feel it like a shard of ice in my chest.

Her situation wasn’t identical to mine. At least not entirely.

Cordelia might be out of reach in terms of raw talent, sure. But Lilith wasn’t a mere Villager class like I was. She was a Mage. And not just that: she bore the divine favor of the Guardian Spirit of the Divine Dragon, granting her formidable status growth and overwhelming resistance to status ailments. On top of that, she was intelligent. She worked harder than anyone I knew. And most of all… she had me.

At the deepest level of the Tower of Mirage Flame, there had to be something, some relic, some source of power capable of lifting a being to a higher evolutionary grade. If I could take Lilith there, maybe… just maybe, I could give her the confidence she’d lost.

I clenched my fist and stared up at the massive tower stretching into the sky like a mirage carved from stone and light.

“All right. First things first. Let’s start climbing and clear the upper floors. If we’re going to storm the top of this thing, we might as well play along with this so-called ‘Trial of the Hero.’”

※※※

Floor One.

It was a vast, featureless chamber about two hundred meters from wall to wall, with polished tiles of adamantite gleaming beneath our boots. Across the way, at the far end, a wide staircase spiraled upward toward the next floor. The place felt sterile. Clean. Like it had never known the passage of time.

Except for one thing.

In the exact center of the room stood a lone statue. A giant, at least five meters tall, hewn from black stone. It held a massive battle axe in both hands, raised across its chest like a sentinel ready to strike. Silent, imposing, unmoving. For now.

That was the entirety of the first floor. No traps, no monsters—at least, none we could see.

“The journal my grandpa left behind said this place is littered with instant-death traps,” the old man muttered grimly, eyes sweeping the room with a seasoned wariness. “Better watch your step, young lady.”

I turned to him. “By the way, what made your grandfather try to take on this place in the first place?”

“The old man climbed this tower back in the day as part of the Hero’s official party,” the burly guide said, puffing out his chest a little as he spoke.

That caught me off guard. “Wait, seriously? So your family’s actually kind of a big deal, huh?”

He scratched at the stubble on his chin and waved a hand dismissively. “Not really. Nothing fancy like that.”

Somehow that didn’t track. Being assigned to a Hero’s party wasn’t something that happened to nobodies. Whether you were born into a noble lineage or clawed your way up through the Adventurer’s Guild, it still meant you were the cream of the crop. Usually, you had to be at least upper-B Rank, if not better. Nobles earned court positions for distinguished service, and adventurers could even be elevated to minor nobility depending on their achievements.

“So, what do you mean by ‘not really’?” I pressed, narrowing my eyes.

The old man gave a long sigh and stared up at the arched ceiling above, the kind of look that belonged to someone dragging skeletons out of a very dusty closet.

“The moment the Hero finished clearing this tower… my gramps got booted off the team. Laid off, you could say.”

“Oh.” That was about all I could manage.

“Sure, he walked away with a decent stash, enough to live comfortably as a B-rank adventurer, but that was the end of the line. No titles, no lands, no invitations to court. Just… thanks for your service, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The bitterness in his voice lingered only for a moment before he shook it off and turned serious again.

“Anyway, we’ve got more important things to focus on right now. Ryuto, you’d best watch your step.”

I frowned. “Why, what’s up?”

“This floor’s crawling with pressure-plate traps. Step on the wrong tile and—”

Click.

“—they’ll trigger,” he finished weakly.

The sound was sharp and unmistakable. One of the tiles beneath my foot had sunk with a mechanical click. A split second later, a high-pitched whistle sliced through the air.

“Whoa—!”

I twisted aside just in time to see an arrow blur past my head, fast enough to shear the wind behind it. If I’d been even half a step slower, it would’ve punched through my throat.

“Would’ve killed a lesser man,” I muttered, brushing my sleeve where the shaft had passed. “That wasn’t just any old arrow, either. Poisoned. And not the cheap stuff.”

The old man swallowed hard. “Yeah… that one’s meant to take out high-B rankers. Nasty, paralyzing stuff. My grandpa nearly lost a leg to it.”

I scanned the rest of the floor warily, muttering to myself. “Cordelia’s not gonna handle this kind of trap well. She’s pure muscle. Great at charging in headfirst, not so great at watching where she’s stepping.”

As I stood there, mulling over my options, the arrow in my hand began to shimmer before liquefying, its form dissolving into the air like mist evaporating under the sun. I blinked, puzzled, watching it vanish entirely.

“What the hell…?”

“Residual magic,” Lilith offered, stepping up beside me. “It was probably formed from ambient mana circulating through the tower. Temporarily shaped into a physical form but never meant to last.”

“Ah. So that’s how it is.”

Just to test a theory, I deliberately stepped on the same tile again.

“Ryuto, wait!”

But no arrow came, just as I’d guessed. “Looks like it’s a one-shot trap,” I said, glancing down at the pressure plate. “Fires once, then it’s done.”

Lilith frowned, arms folded. “Even so, it’ll reload eventually. Probably takes a few months, assuming the magic concentration’s consistent.”

“Which makes sense,” I said, nodding. “This place only manifests once a year. As long as the traps reset before the next activation, it doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

I paused, staring at the rest of the room. Those tiles might not look like much, but given what I’d just seen—the speed of that arrow, the poison on the tip—any one of them could be fatal, especially for someone like Cordelia.

“She’s not going to survive this kind of setup,” I muttered. “Overprotective or not, I can’t let her charge in blind and get herself killed.”

Lilith tilted her head. “What are you planning?”

I gave her a grim smile. “Simple. I’m going to step on every last damn tile in this room before she even gets here.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re going to trigger every trap? Yourself?”

“Yep. If they’re all one-time use, then once they’re spent, she can walk through without a scratch.”

“That’s… incredibly excessive. That’s not just overprotective. That’s practically sabotage of the tower’s intent.”

Her words were sarcastic, but her eyes told another story. Sadness flickered in her gaze as she looked away, her voice quiet and tight. “Well… I guess that’s just another form of love, isn’t it? Not that it matters anymore. I’m not even in the race.”

I frowned. “Don’t start with that again.”

There wasn’t time to argue. I needed to focus. We still hadn’t cleared the first floor.

We advanced carefully, Lilith and the old man shadowing me from behind. And then, in the center of the chamber, standing silent and menacing, was the next obstacle: a massive stone golem, at least five meters tall, clutching a great axe in both hands. Its eyes were hollow yet somehow watching, locked onto us as we approached.

“Ryuto, stop! You can’t just walk over there like that! That’s clearly a trap! No! Don’t— Ahhhhhh!”

The old man’s panicked voice cut through the air as I crossed the stone tiles without a second thought. I glanced over my shoulder, brows raised. “What’s got you so worked up?”

He was pointing frantically at the towering stone giant five meters ahead of me. The one I’d been walking toward without much concern.

“You stepped into the Guardian’s activation range!” he shouted. “It’s gonna—!”

Too late.

With a heavy, echoing grind, the massive stone figure stirred to life. Muscles sculpted from enchanted marble flexed, and its gleaming axe rose from the ground in one fluid motion. Its eyes, empty and glowing, locked onto me with the unmistakable spark of hostile intent.

Well, yeah. That tracks.

I hadn’t exactly expected anything subtle from this tower. And knowing Cordelia, she’d have charged right up to this thing without thinking twice. I’d figured if someone was going to set it off, better it be me.

“Welp,” I muttered, tightening my grip on Excalibur. “Might as well get this over with.”

I launched myself at the Guardian, twisting mid-air as I brought my blade down in a high-arc slash. The sword struck true, but the giant moved faster than its size should’ve allowed, swinging its massive axe up like a shield. Steel met stone in a violent crash that sent shockwaves through the chamber.

“What the hell?” I landed and instantly kicked off, putting ten meters between us. “That thing blocked Excalibur?”

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with this sword.

“Ryuto!” the old man called out. “Get clear! Once you break a certain distance, the Guardian won’t pursue!”

I narrowed my eyes, watching as the statue froze again, resetting to its dormant posture. Sure enough, it seemed to have a limited range. Beyond that, it wouldn’t move. Good to know.

Time to end this.

I activated every combat buff I had—body reinforcement magic, kinetic acceleration, and reaction boosts. My skin tingled as mana surged through me, my senses sharpening, heart racing.

Then I moved, and the world blurred.

I crossed the space between us in a blink, faster than sound, a blur of steel and force.

One slash. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Each blow struck with surgical precision, carving through stone like butter. The Guardian barely had time to react before its frame began to crumble. Its massive limbs, now severed, thudded to the ground in succession.

After the battle, the shattered guardian's remnants slowly began to crumble and dissolve, the solid stone transmuting into loose earth. Bit by bit, the formidable form that had once towered before us lost its shape entirely, scattering like dry clay across the polished tiles. It made sense. This construct, like everything else in this damned tower, had been temporarily animated by the ambient magic that cycled through the structure. It was a borrowed body, given fleeting life by a force beyond comprehension.

“Ryuto?” Lilith’s voice drifted over, cautious and uncertain.

I turned toward her. “What’s up?”

She frowned faintly, eyes flicking from the dissolving pile to the sword still resting on my shoulder. “What were you doing just now? Why did you keep attacking even after it was clearly defeated?”

“I mean… did you not see it block my first strike? Even if it wasn’t going all out, it managed to tank a hit from Excalibur. That’s not normal.”

“I did see. And from the way it disengaged after you stepped back, the conclusion should be obvious. This wasn’t a foe meant to be fought. It was a deterrent. A trap meant to be bypassed, not confronted. If we’d simply kept our distance, there would have been no need for violence at all.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, sheathing the blade with a sharp metallic whisper, “maybe we know that now, but what about Cordelia? You think she’s the type to pause and think before charging into the room like she owns it? She’d have walked right into that thing’s range and gotten herself torn in half.”

Her expression twitched—equal parts irritation and… something more difficult to place.

“That kind of creature,” she said slowly, “is designed to be escaped, not defeated. Anyone with sense would recognize the difference. But you’re not thinking with your head, are you?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re thinking with your heart again… overprotective as always.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But dangerous is dangerous. I’d rather clear the minefield than gamble on someone else not stepping on a trigger.”

She was quiet for a long beat, then gave a slight, resigned shake of her head.

“No. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ve already decided. I’ll be returning to the Dragon Village. Whatever happens between you and her from here on out… I’m no longer part of it.”

Her words were even, but her eyes betrayed her, veiled in a sheen of bitter resignation.

Before I could respond, the old man—who’d been quietly watching the exchange with arms crossed—lifted his hands high above his head like a referee announcing a victory.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said with a low whistle. “Forget danger. Any average young hero would be dead the second that Guardian started moving. You didn’t just beat it, Ryuto. You diced it like a chef going to war with a turnip. Can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

Hence, in that same irreverent spirit, we continued climbing the Tower of Mirage Flame, blazing a trail not by stealth or strategy, but by systematically obliterating every trap and threat in our path.

I couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, what the hell this place was actually for.

Some of the traps were clearly magical and designed to regenerate, like the poisoned arrows conjured from raw mana. But others… weren’t. I’d tripped one that had fired an actual, physical arrow. Not mana-born. Not temporary. Just good old-fashioned lethal hardware.

According to Lilith, the tower’s first layer of defense was physical, perhaps remnants of its ancient constructionLater attacks, however, were conjured anew by the tower’s ambient power. Why the change in design? Why go from real to illusion or vice versa?

I didn’t know, and maybe I wasn’t supposed to.

By the time we reached the fifteenth floor, the official halfway mark of the Tower of Mirage Flame, we were more tired of the tower’s logic than any real physical exertion.

Lilith glanced around warily. “What is this place?”

It was a fair question. The entire floor was a vast, polished expanse, utterly barren. The walls gleamed unnaturally smooth, the floor equally frictionless, and there wasn’t a single defining feature anywhere. No furniture. No obstacles. No traps. Most importantly, no stairs.

“Looks like a break room,” the old man muttered.

I frowned, taking in the space again with a growing sense of unease. “Something’s off.”

There was no staircase leading upward. No door. Not even a hole in the ceiling. Just that smooth, unnervingly high dome above us, far taller than any floor we’d seen so far. And the walls were featureless. No ledges. No cracks. No handholds.

“So how the hell are we supposed to get to the next floor?” I asked.

“That’s exactly why I said it’s a resting floor,” the old man replied, tapping his temple and raising a finger as if delivering divine wisdom. “Once a day. At noon sharp.”

He pointed at the surrounding walls, then slowly spun in place, tracing an imaginary circle with his finger.

“A spiral staircase appears. Just… grows out of the walls like magic. Supposedly, anyway.”

I squinted at him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. That’s what my granddad wrote in his journal.”

So… a staircase that only appears once per day, tied to a fixed point in time.

“Huh.” I folded my arms. “Any idea why it’s built that way?”

He gave me a sheepish look. “Hell if I know. You think ancient tower architects left behind blueprints?”

Fair point.

I sighed, glancing at the time. It was barely ten in the morning. We’d camped on the thirteenth floor last night and made good time today, which meant we were two hours early for this magic staircase to show itself.

“We’re too early for lunch,” I muttered.

Honestly, I wasn’t tired. None of us were. We hadn’t hit a real challenge since that guardian on the first floor, and the idea of just sitting here twiddling our thumbs for two hours didn’t sit right with me.

I paused… then snapped my fingers.

“Well, if the goal is just to reach the next floor, why wait?”

I marched toward the nearest wall, drawing Excalibur in one clean motion. Its blade hummed faintly in the dry air. Without hesitation, I stabbed it forward.

The divine steel sank into the polished stone like a knife through hot butter.

“Wait,” Lilith said, her voice already rising in alarm. “What are you—?”

“Huh?”

The synchronized, slack-jawed reactions from both Lilith and the old man were almost comical. But I didn’t stop. I yanked Excalibur free from the wall, slid my fingers into the narrow groove it left behind, and hauled myself upward. Then I stabbed the blade a little higher and repeated the motion. Climb. Stab. Haul. Repeat.

Like a man possessed, I scaled the impossibly smooth wall with nothing but the strength of my arms and the bite of my sword. A real-life rock climbing session, minus the rocks. And with a divine weapon doing all the heavy lifting.

Ten meters up, I paused to glance down.

“All right, you two! Follow me up in a bit, yeah?”

The old man stared up at me like I’d just walked on water.

“You do realize the entire wall of this floor is made of orichalcum, don’t you?! Not adamantite. Orichalcum! The strongest material known to man! It’s supposed to be unscathed by any weapon! You shouldn’t even be able to scratch it, let alone stab it!”

I gave him a lopsided grin and raised Excalibur proudly above my head.

“That’s because this baby isn’t just any weapon. She cuts through practically anything. Just ask those stone guardians I minced downstairs.”

The man gaped, clearly trying to reconcile his lifelong knowledge of metallurgy with the reality in front of him.

Still, to his credit, he almost nodded in acceptance. Almost.

“But… there’s only an hour left,” he ventured. “Couldn’t we just… wait? Like normal people?”

I stabbed the blade into the wall again with a sharp crack.

“It’s Cordelia,” I muttered, climbing a little higher.

“What about her?” he asked, clearly not following.

“She’s all muscle. Head included.”

“Come again?”

I sighed, turning my head just enough to shout down at them.

“She might not even realize there’s a staircase that appears at noon. I mean, think about it. There’s no prompt, no instruction, nothing obvious to hint at it. She could think it’s a dead end and turn back. If that happens, she never makes it to the top. Never gets the Holy Sword.”

Both of them blinked, still not quite getting it.

“But…” I continued, “If she shows up and sees this? Sword marks in the wall, handholds carved into orichalcum, and a clear path upward?”

I grinned.

“She’s gonna climb. No questions asked.”

Lilith and the old man shared a look, then turned those equally baffled, equally resigned faces back to me.

“The people we’re talking about here are the Hero’s official party, you know? I’m sure they’ve done their homework, dug through all the literature about this tower, prepared for every contingency,” the old man argued, half exasperated, half imploring.

“Yeah, I’m sure they have,” I replied with a shrug.

“Then maybe what you’re doing is… you know, unnecessary meddling?”

It wasn’t a bad point. In fact, anyone else would probably agree with him. But this wasn’t just anyone. We were talking about Cordelia.

“I get what you’re saying,” I admitted, “but that logic doesn’t work on her. This is the same girl who, when she was five, decided to poke a beehive with a stick because it ‘looked interesting.’ You know what happened next? Her face swelled up like a melon, and she nearly died from an allergic reaction.”

That memory was seared into my brain—her panicked screams, the mess, the punishment afterward.

Lilith and the old man exchanged long, suffering looks. Then, in perfect unison, they sighed and slumped their shoulders.

“You’re hopelessly overprotective,” Lilith muttered under her breath.

“In this case, Miss,” the old man added solemnly, “we may have no choice but to accept it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back.

They didn’t answer. They just gave me that same tired look, like they’d resigned themselves to the fact that I was a lost cause when it came to Cordelia.

Yeah, maybe they were right.

Still, one way or another, we pressed on, busting every trap, smashing every magical construct in our path, and making damn sure that no surprise could trip up even the most reckless muscle-brain of a heroine.

By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the desert sky in amber and rose, we had reached the thirtieth floor of the Tower of Mirage Flame.

The thirtieth floor exuded an air of grandeur entirely unlike the lower levels. A long red carpet blanketed the stone from wall to wall, its fibers plush and immaculate despite the tower’s age. Golden embroidery traced regal patterns down its length, while the walls themselves were adorned with intricate carvings and oil paintings in gilded frames. I didn’t know a damn thing about art, but even I could tell these weren’t just for show. They were the kind of priceless heirlooms people killed for.

Everything was quiet. Still. Cold.

The silence wasn’t natural. It was the kind that clung to your skin, thick with tension. It pressed on the eardrums, making even a breath feel like an intrusion.

Across the chamber, directly opposite the entrance, the pedestal gleamed. And embedded in it, radiating an ethereal blue-white glow, was the Holy Sword itself.

Cordelia’s destination. Not ours.

“We’re skipping the sword,” I muttered as I took a step forward. “Let’s move.”

The moment I turned toward Lilith to signal our advance, I stopped cold.

“Ryuto? What is it?” she asked, frowning.

Without answering, I reached for Excalibur and unsheathed it in one fluid motion. Its weight settled in my grip like an extension of my own will. My eyes stayed locked ahead.

“Old man,” I said, my tone flat but urgent. “Take Lilith. Keep her behind you, and if I say so, run. Don’t argue. Just get her out of here.”

The old man blinked in confusion, caught off guard for a single heartbeat. But instincts honed by years in the field kicked in, and he moved. In a flash, he put himself between Lilith and whatever it was I’d sensed.

“Right. I’ve got her covered,” he said, nodding sharply. “You focus.”

Good. That was enough for now.

Because something—someone—had just made her presence known.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, kid,” came a voice as smooth as silk and sharp as glass.

From the far side of the room stepped a woman I’d never seen before. Short silver hair framed a sharp, angular face, and her skin gleamed with the warm hue of sun-burnished bronze. Her armor, if you could call it that, was closer to a collection of straps and plates than anything truly functional, but it was clearly enchanted. The way it shimmered told me it wasn’t just for show.

The woman’s words echoed in the vast, solemn chamber like a slow-turning blade.

“From this point forward… This’s not a realm where ordinary humans are welcome.”

I met her gaze, narrowed my eyes, and let out a short, breathless laugh.

“Hey, lady. Do I really look like an ordinary human to you?”

She smirked, lips curling with languid amusement. “S-rank, top-tier, maybe? Not bad for your age. I’ll give you that.” Her voice lowered, sultry with just a trace of menace. “But tell me this, sweetheart… do I look like an ordinary human to you?”

“Nope,” I muttered, throat tight. “Which is exactly why I’m sweating bullets right now.”

I swallowed hard.

There was no reading her strength. It wasn’t just a matter of raw power. She was concealing her stats. Maybe some advanced stealth or cloaking skill. Or perhaps she was just that far beyond my pay grade.

The biggest red flag?

She’d gotten within arm’s reach without so much as a flicker of warning. No footsteps. No magic signature. One blink and she was there.

“I’m not looking to pick up extra work,” she said smoothly, that smile of hers still sharp and cruel. “So, if you walk away now, we both leave without any blood on the carpet.”

Her words might have been casual, but every instinct in my body screamed that she was a hair’s breadth from drawing steel.

I took a slow step forward.

“Too bad,” I said, my voice low. “I don’t have time to take the scenic route.”

“Rushing toward your grave, huh?” Her silver lashes fluttered as she laughed. “Typical. But you’re treading closer to something that shouldn’t even be named. A place where his treasures lie undisturbed.”

“His?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She nodded, and her tone dropped to a near-whisper. “You reach the bottom… and the debt is paid in blood.”

Then, with a playful wink, she said, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In the next instant, she vanished.

Literally. Gone. No shimmer, no sound, no displacement of air. One moment she was there; the next she was less than a memory.

“She disappeared,” I muttered, still staring at the spot she’d stood in, heart pounding.

Not teleported. Not cloaked. Erased.

I took a long breath, then turned back to Lilith and the old man. “Let’s go. We’ve still got ground to cover.”

We passed the gleaming pedestal where the Holy Sword remained untouched. Then, behind it, just as the ancient records had promised, we found the hidden entrance. A narrow passageway in the stone, masked by illusions and old magic. Beyond it, a staircase spiraled downward into darkness, coiling like the throat of some long-forgotten beast.

As we descended, the air grew colder. Heavier.

Lilith walked just behind me. “So… what’s waiting for us down there?”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Not even I know what comes next.”

“But Ryuto, why are you treating such vague, uncertain information as if it’s absolutely reliable?”

Because that eternally youthful old hag Merlin swore the intel on the Tower of Mirage was legit. And when she says something’s for real, it usually is. No need for second-guessing.

Still, mentioning another woman—especially someone like Merlin—in front of Lilith seemed like asking for drama. I decided to keep that detail to myself.

We descended the thirty-one flights of stairs in tense silence. With every level we passed, the air seemed to grow heavier, as though something deep underground was watching us draw closer. Finally, we reached the bottom. A massive orichalcum door loomed ahead, radiating ancient weight and purpose. I braced myself and pushed it open. The hinges groaned, and I muttered under my breath as the chamber revealed itself.

“So this is it…”

The room beyond was almost identical to the one where we’d found the holy sword. Same circular architecture. Same faded paintings on the stone walls. Same pedestal in the center of the chamber. But the sword was completely different.

Instead of a blade shining with divine light, this one exuded pure malice. It was forged from jet-black metal, wrapped in a swirling, violent aura that made the air itself feel thick with hostility. This was no sacred relic. It was a cursed weapon, exuding an aura of pure hate at everything in the room.

The moment I stepped through the threshold, a jolt of instinct hit me hard. Every fiber of my being screamed danger. Without thinking, I snapped back over my shoulder.

“No one else enters this room! Stay out!”

The old man froze outside, his boots scuffing against the stone floor as he stopped just short of the doorway. But Lilith had already followed me inside. I clenched my jaw and clicked my tongue in frustration.

“What’s wrong, Ryuto?”

“Damn it. I messed up. I might not be able to cover you in here.”

“Ryuto-san? What about me…? What should I do?”

“You especially, old man. Do not come in here. No matter what happens.”

My instincts were going berserk. It was like a dozen alarms were blaring in my head all at once, turning my skull into a siren chamber. My body didn’t need convincing. It was already tense, ready, completely shifted into battle mode.

There was no doubt about it. This wasn’t just a bluff or a training exercise. It was going to be a genuine fight, and I hadn’t anticipated it.

I never imagined I’d run into someone more powerful than me outside of people I already knew, let alone in an area still considered part of human territory.

She appeared out of nowhere, just like that repeat phenomenon earlier, a dark-skinned female swordsman, glaring at us with eyes sharp as drawn steel.

“So, you came in anyway, despite the warning?” Her voice was cold and measured. “The moment you stepped into this room, you made your choice. You’ve officially accepted the Trial of Apocalypse. My name is Eslyn. The name of the woman who’s going to kill you. I suggest you remember it well.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Earlier… you were hiding your strength, weren’t you?”

“That’s right,” she replied with a casual shrug. “I didn’t show my hand.”

“Then let me ask why.”

“Why?” she echoed, cocking her head.

“If you came to issue a warning, then why conceal your power at first?”

“Because the warning’s just a job.” A wicked grin curved her lips. “But the actual killing? That’s my passion as a warrior. And I don’t get to fight gems like you very often, kid.”

That explained a lot. She had mentioned someone earlier—that person—which meant she wasn’t acting alone. Someone owned this beast of a woman.

“I have a few questions,” I said.

She gave a nonchalant shrug, silver hair shifting over her shoulders. “Go ahead. Better to die understanding what killed you than die clueless.”

I pointed behind her, to the pedestal in the center of the room, where the cursed sword pulsed like a living wound in the world.

“That thing. What is it?”

“The Demon Sword Apocalypse,” she answered without hesitation.

“Apocalypse?” Lilith’s voice was soft with disbelief. “I’ve heard of it. In fairy tales.”

I picked up where she left off. “They say whoever pulls it from the pedestal ascends, becoming something more than human. But how does that even work?”

“The trial’s simple,” Eslyn said with a smirk. “In this room, you fight the previous victor. Kill them, and the sword is yours. Fail, and you die. That’s all there is to it.”

“A succession system,” I muttered. “So, what happens once someone pulls the sword?”

“You’re granted a skill,” she said, her tone dropping into reverence. “A perfect skill. Something… unbelievable.”

“A skill?” I echoed, brows narrowing.

“I’m one of the past victors of this trial, you know,” Eslyn said, her voice calm, almost amused. “In my case, the skill I received was short-range teleportation. Before that, I was known as a master of the steel blade, focused entirely on one-hit kills. But I never had the speed to land the first strike.”

A chill ran down my spine. Cold sweat beaded at the back of my neck.

“You… revealed your trump card right from the start?” I muttered. “That skill of yours… That’s supposed to be your Joker, isn’t it?”

She smirked. “Maybe. But it’s not the kind of skill you can counter just because you know about it.”

She had a point. Even knowing she could teleport in close didn’t mean I had a reliable way to deal with it. There wasn’t a tactical angle to exploit. It was raw, terrifying speed and lethality. The kind of overpowered ability people only whispered about in myths.

“Then, to pull Apocalypse from the pedestal, or rather, to gain the skill best suited to me, I have to beat you, don’t I?”

“More or less,” she replied with a shrug. “Technically, you don’t have to defeat me to earn a skill. But as long as I’m still breathing, I won’t let anyone else claim the sword. So in practice, yes, you’ll have to take me down.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Something’s been bugging me. If the skill you get is really that powerful… There’s no way a trial like this comes without a cost.”

For a moment, Eslyn’s expression faltered. It was just a flicker, an instant of hesitation.

Then she smiled again, slowly, deliberately. “You’re sharp, kid. I’ll give you that. So here’s the truth: you lose your entire lifespan.”

“Your entire lifespan?” I echoed.

I’d considered a few possible prices—mental corruption, a cursed body, maybe servitude to some ancient force—but that? That caught me completely off guard.

“But you’re still alive,” I pointed out. “Aren’t you?”

“Oh, technically, yes. But you see—” she said, tilting her head with a cryptic smile, “—your soul is taken entirely by that one the moment you complete the trial.”

“That one…?” My voice dropped. “Who are you talking about? Someone strong enough to control you?”

“That’s not something a weakling like you needs to worry about,” she said dismissively. “So I’ll pass on that question. But after the soul’s taken, when the sword is returned to its pedestal for another cycle, you get half your lifespan back. In exchange for maintaining the sword and guarding the trial. That’s how the succession system works.”

“Half?” I repeated quietly.

“Half of what’s left,” she confirmed. “Not much, but enough to finish what you started.”

“Yeah…” I exhaled, low and slow. “That’s a heavy deal.”

“You’ve got that look,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Like you’ve already made up your mind.”

I nodded. “I’ve had my resolve since my previous life.”

I raised Excalibur, the sacred blade humming with tension in my grip. Eslyn stepped forward, her long silver sword gleaming under the dim light, poised in a stance as fluid as it was deadly.

“Come at me!” she shouted.

※※※

The battle had already dragged on for over four minutes.

“Damn it!”

Once again, my flesh tore open just like before. The same pattern. The same ambush. All I could do was twist my body enough to avoid a fatal hit.

Eslyn struck without warning, warping into existence like a nightmare on loop. I’d already been forced to endure more than a dozen exchanges, and every single one ended the same: me bleeding, her untouched. At this point, my entire body was covered in shallow slashes, and the blood loss had me swaying on my feet.

So much blood was pouring from me that I could no longer tell which part hurt the most. Pain blurred into heat, and heat into numbness.

I hadn’t taken a clean hit yet, but I didn’t need to. Just a few more glancing blows, and I’d be finished. Game over.

My boots squelched with every step, soaked through with my own blood like they’d been dunked in red rain. My breath came in ragged gasps, shoulders heaving as I struggled to pull in enough oxygen to stay upright.

Let’s be honest. My body’s falling apart. Structurally, I won’t last much longer.

If we fought head-on, without tricks or ambushes, I’d win. No question. Eslyn’s stats weren’t that much higher than mine, probably top-tier A-rank at most. In a straightforward duel, I’d finish it in under thirty seconds.

The problem… was her teleportation.

That cursed ability was too much.

A flash of killing intent behind me.

I lunged forward on instinct, dodging just in time but not completely. A searing line of heat tore across my back. Not a stab. A wide, clean slice.

It didn’t go deep, but it didn’t have to. Her blade had carved a swath of flesh several centimeters deep across my back in one long, burning stroke.

Gritting my teeth, I broke into a full sprint, trying to put as much distance as possible between us.

“This ability of yours,” I growled between breaths, “is absolutely ridiculous.”

Eslyn chuckled softly, her tone almost playful. “Why, thank you. I’m flattered. With this kind of power, I can take down opponents a full rank above me without even breaking a sweat.”

I let out a low chuckle, just enough to catch her attention.

“But it’s not invincible, is it?”

Eslyn stopped a few paces ahead, her silver hair catching the dim light like threads of moonlight. “That’s right,” she said, voice calm, almost amused. “It’s teleportation, not invulnerability. Why? Got something in mind?”

Exactly what I wanted to hear.

There was a way to deal with it. Multiple, actually. A few strategies had already sprung to mind. They weren’t perfect, but one of them… one of them, I could try right now.

Eslyn narrowed her eyes as she took in my smirk. “That smug grin of yours is starting to piss me off.”

“Can’t blame me,” I replied, tightening my grip on Excalibur. “You’re the one who thinks I can’t pull this off.”

Without another word, Eslyn lunged forward, closing the distance with predatory speed. And just as expected, she vanished.

Here we go.

The moment she uses teleportation, the fight truly begins.

She would appear in my blind spot and strike, just like she’d done again and again. I had no time to react once she reappeared. Not normally. So, I wouldn’t react to the teleport.

The trick to countering an ability like this wasn’t to follow her movements. That would be suicide, a fool’s chase. No human reflex could match the speed of instantaneous repositioning.

Fortunately, teleportation isn’t a magic trick. It’s a process, just like pulling the trigger on a gun.

Once the trigger’s pulled, it’s already too late.

However, no matter how fast the teleport, no matter how seamless it seemed, there was always a tell. A slight shift in stance, a twitch in the eye, a breath drawn in just a bit deeper. The muscles preparing to spring. The gaze narrowing in on the target location. She had to choose her destination before activating the skill.

That moment of choice—that infinitesimal pre-movement—was the opening I needed.

I’d spent the entire fight letting her attack me, defending and retreating, bleeding out… all to study those tells.

I finally saw it.

Her eyes flicked. Just for a fraction of a second. Toward the space behind me—my blind spot.

Now!

At the exact instant she disappeared, I spun. A full rotation, blade sweeping behind me in a sharp, deadly arc aimed diagonally upward, right at the point she was about to reappear.

A harsh metallic clang rang out through the chamber as steel met steel.

Got you. I could feel the impact through my arms. My swing had connected perfectly.

Just as predicted, Eslyn had appeared in my blind spot and raised her blade to block, but it wasn’t enough. “Your sword can’t stop Excalibur!” I shouted, forcing my weight into the blow.

Her weapon, probably orichalcum, maybe even adamantite, was impressive, but Excalibur wasn’t something a mere high-grade alloy could resist. My blade sliced clean through hers, snapping the weapon in two and carving a deep gash across her upper arm. Blood sprayed as she recoiled with a hiss of pain before vanishing in a flash of light. Her trademark teleportation.

This time, I was ready.

“I’ve already seen through that trick!” I roared, swinging my sword in a wide arc toward the sky above me. I didn’t need pinpoint accuracy. I’d narrowed her teleport pattern enough to guess the general reappearance point. And she landed exactly where I’d anticipated, stepping into the space already claimed by my blade. The strike connected before she could fully regain her footing.

“This time, you’re not blocking it,” I said, breathless and bloodied but steady. “So what now?”

Eslyn met my gaze with an unexpected smile. It wasn’t forced or frantic. It was calm… confident. Almost amused.

“What now, huh?” she echoed, voice lilting with a strange sort of joy.

The instant she vanished again, something primal stirred in my gut. My body reacted before my brain caught up, cold sweat burst from every pore. My instincts were screaming.

“My strongest and only true weapon…” Her voice drifted in from behind me, left and low, just out of reach. I twisted and slashed, but it met only air.

“… is teleportation itself.”

Now her voice came from above. I turned too slowly.

“… because I can do it…”

This time from the right, close to my shoulder.

“… in rapid succession.”

My blood ran cold.

This wasn’t teleport-and-strike anymore. This was different. This was a barrage. A storm of motion I couldn’t follow. Her voice pinged from every direction, closing in faster than I could even orient myself. I didn’t know where to look, let alone where to swing.

A laugh slipped from my lips. It was dry, broken, a little delirious. “I’m screwed,” I muttered honestly, the weight of the situation hitting me all at once. “There’s no counter to this…”

I’d pushed myself to the brink analyzing her movement, reading her tells, timing my strikes to match a single teleport. At most, I could predict one. Maybe two.

But this?

This was teleportation layered over itself. Chained. Stacked. Looping without pause.

It was more than overpowered.

It was absurd.

“Still,” Eslyn said with a pitying smirk, “for a mere Villager with no natural talent, you’ve clawed your way up impressively. I’ll give you that. But this time, your opponent was simply too strong. Against my absolute skill, the only ending waiting for you is defeat.”

I chuckled, even as my legs threatened to buckle beneath me. “Heh… mind answering one question before I die? Just something for me to take to the afterlife.”

She tilted her head, amused. “What is it?”

“The opponent you faced during your own trial, the one you had to defeat to claim that sword. Who was it?”

“Let me think… He was a C-rank adventurer, I believe? He had a skill that boosted his stats, so he’d reached the upper levels of A-rank strength by the time we fought. Pretty standard, honestly.” She gave a half-shrug. “I guess that means I got lucky… and you didn’t.”

Just then, a loud bang interrupted her.

The painting on the wall behind Eslyn fell, slamming into the floor with a heavy crash that echoed through the chamber.

Both of us glanced toward the sound, instincts on edge.

Eslyn didn’t need teleportation to move at nearly sonic speeds. I was even faster, already pushing past the sound barrier. Maybe it was our wild movements or the sheer pressure building in the room, but eventually the strain proved too much and the fixture finally gave way.

Whatever the reason, the painting had dropped. Loudly. And inconveniently.

“Damn it…” I muttered under my breath.

Because that sound marked the collapse of the trap I’d been painstakingly setting up while feigning desperation. The painting had covered my setup. Now it was all out in the open.

Eslyn turned to glance at the fallen frame, then back at me. Her eyes narrowed. Something clicked. She looked again, sharper this time, and her expression froze.

“That scent… is that ex-mandragora?”

From where the painting had fallen, smoke was beginning to curl into the air. It was thin and colorless, but potent. A faint shimmer in the space behind her signaled the presence of the incense burner I’d planted. Dry-processed ex-mandragora was burning silently.

The stuff was vicious. One breath of its smoke could scramble your brain into oblivion. In higher doses, it wasn’t just disorienting; it was lethal. Straight-up death by overdose.

I’d been laying the trap during the intervals between her chained teleports, threading the moments between life and death to set it up. And now, it had all been for nothing.

She spotted it too clearly. Instantly, Eslyn vanished again, teleporting to a safer distance away from both me and the rising smoke.

“Perfect,” I muttered sarcastically. “Why’d the damn painting have to fall now? That was my last shot.”

My frustration boiled quietly as I steadied my stance. Unlike Eslyn, I had a few state-resistance skills tucked away, one of the few perks of traveling alone for so long. Poison, mind-control, confusion… I’d built up a decent resistance pool out of necessity. But that didn’t help me now.

It had been a gamble from the start, whether Eslyn had resistance to ex-mandragora or not. But when I saw her eyes widen and her expression twist into something unmistakably shaken, I knew I’d been right. If the trap had gone off as planned, if the incense had remained hidden for just a few seconds longer, I might have already won this fight. I might have brought down an opponent no one else could touch.

Still catching her breath, a single bead of cold sweat tracing down her cheek, Eslyn forced a crooked smile. “When desperation gets that pathetic, it stops being cute.”

I flashed a grin, letting the adrenaline steady my shaking limbs. “Desperation’s kind of my thing.”

Without waiting for a response, I broke into a sprint. There was no room left for hesitation. My body was battered and my options were running dry, but I knew this was my last chance. One mistake, and it was over. There wouldn’t be another try.

Eslyn’s voice followed me, smug and sharp. “You really think doing the same thing will suddenly work?”

Fortunately, this wasn’t repetition. This was refinement.

Her teleportation skill had a weakness, a pattern. No matter how seamless it looked, she couldn’t teleport without first choosing her destination. That choice, no matter how fast, no matter how subtle, always left a trace. A faint shift in her gaze. A slight tension in her stance. The barest flicker of expression. She needed to prepare the space she was jumping to, and in that flickering window, I could read her.

I watched for it, waited for it.

When I saw it, I moved.

“There!”

I spun hard and slashed diagonally behind me. My blade whistled through the air, aimed directly at the point I knew she would appear. And I was right. She materialized in my blind spot just as I struck.

Unfortunately, she didn’t stop there.

Eslyn blinked away again, stacking another teleportation on top of the first.

She reappeared to my left, just far enough to taunt me. “Nice try! But this isn’t a one-and-done skill. You might be able to read the first jump, but the next? There’s no way you can keep up with me!”

Alas, she was right. I couldn’t predict her chained moves, not with any real consistency. But I didn’t need to.

Because she wasn’t teleporting out of the room, she wasn’t vanishing from existence. Eslyn was still here, still tethered to this space. Her skill wasn’t limitless. It was fast, not omnipotent. And as long as she remained within the battlefield, there was still a way to reach her.

I let Excalibur fall from my grip. The holy sword clattered loudly against the stone floor. That alone earned me a flash of confusion from her. Before she could react, I thrust my hand into my cloak and drew out eight arrows. Old, half-forgotten projectiles I’d salvaged from previous dungeon floors. Each one had been coated in a potent, undissolved toxin. I hadn’t had a chance to use them until now.

Throwing arrows by hand wasn’t exactly ideal. It was messy, imprecise, and the odds of hitting were maybe—maybe—thirty or forty percent. But I didn’t need to be perfect. I needed to be fast.

I fanned the arrows between my fingers, my eyes locked on the shifting space around me. For just a second, I looked back at Eslyn and saw something I hadn’t seen before.

Real fear.

Eslyn vanished. Then reappeared. Then vanished again.

Each time she blinked in and out of space, I threw. Arrow after arrow, poisoned and desperate, flew through the air. My aim was wild. Some shots went wide, others skewed off course entirely. By the time I’d hurled the last of them, my hands were empty and my breath ragged.

When the final arrow clattered to the ground, Eslyn stood several meters away, her chest heaving, her face pale. She looked at me not with contempt, but with something dangerously close to respect.

“You’re… really good at fighting, aren’t you?” she said, her voice lower now, tinged with something fragile. “That was way too close.”

I bit down on a curse. Most of my arrows had flown off into useless directions, scattered like broken chances. But two had flown true, straight toward her reappearance point. One of them, she’d caught mid-air, barely. The other had grazed her arm, just a faint cut along the skin, but enough to draw blood. Enough to introduce a trace of poison.

“Good at fighting, huh?” I muttered. “Well, yeah… I’d have to be. You don’t make it this far as a ‘Villager’ without learning how to claw your way forward.”

She gave a faint, bitter smile. “The poison’s already started to work. I felt myself stagger just a little. You know, no one’s ever pushed me this far before. Not even close. You should be proud of that.”

Her voice faltered slightly, but the glint in her eyes remained sharp. “If your optimal class hadn’t been Villager… If your natural talents weren’t garbage… If your stats had been just a little higher… You would’ve won this fight.”

I didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say.

I had no more weapons. No tricks. Nothing left in the tank.

However, my limbs still moved. My consciousness hadn’t faded. My body, however bruised, torn, bloodied, refused to fall.

“Still planning to struggle, boy?” she asked softly. “Even now?”

If she thought that would deter me, she didn’t know me at all.

“I’ve been ‘struggling’ since the moment I was born into this world,” I said, stepping forward with a cracked grin. “So yeah… you’ll have to forgive me if I keep fighting. Even if it’s ugly.”

“No doubt,” she said, her eyes scanning my face. “I can see it in your expression. You already know it’s over.”

I did.

Still, I stood.

Then, a sharp, high voice rang out from the edge of the room.

“He doesn’t give in to hardship. He doesn’t break. He thinks, he acts, he fights with whatever cards he’s been dealt. If he doesn’t know how to grow stronger, he learns. If the path is steep, he climbs it anyway. And even when facing someone he can’t possibly beat… he still searches for a way to win.”

I turned toward the voice, startled.

“Lilith?”

There she was, standing at the pedestal where Apocalypse waited. I had no idea when she’d moved, no idea how long she’d been watching. But her eyes were filled with certainty.

“That,” she said, her voice unwavering, “is who Ryuto Maclaine really is.”

In her hand, clutched tightly and radiating malevolence, was the obsidian blade, Apocalypse.

Eslyn’s breath hitched, eyes going wide in disbelief as she stared at the girl across the chamber. “That little girl… pulled Apocalypse?”

Lilith met her shock with a quiet, resolute nod.

“That’s right. Ryuto’s never had physical talent. He’s no genius of strength or skill. He’s just a prodigy of effort… and a mad genius of desperate resistance.” Her voice was calm, almost gentle. “The path he’s walked… is one anyone could have followed if they were willing to ignore the risks, if they were truly willing to commit. And maybe, if they had the soul of someone capable of real resolve… even a ‘Villager’ could get this far.”

Effort, huh? Well, I guess being a “prodigy of effort” is primarily thanks to my skill, Unyielding Will. And fine, I’ll admit it—“mad genius of desperation” isn’t exactly inaccurate either.

Lilith let out a wistful smile, one filled with the ache of understanding. “I’m still just a mediocre person,” she said quietly. “And thinking I could reach the place Ryuto has… without paying the same price… That was just a naïve dream. A soft, selfish fantasy.”

Apocalypse was more than just a blade. Pulling it meant surrendering your lifespan in exchange for a skill that elevated you. It was an evolution that pushed you beyond the limits of what it meant to be human. That was how Eslyn had gained her overwhelming edge. She hadn’t been anything more than an upper A-rank adventurer when she took the trial. But the moment she pulled the sword, she was granted teleportation, the perfect skill for her.

Now, Lilith… she had done the same.

The moment the thought struck me, I saw her body shift.

A twitch ran across her forehead, subtle at first, then violent. The skin there trembled, then split open.

And from the wound, a gleaming, inhuman eye emerged.

A third eye.

Its slit pupil glared with reptilian coldness in stark contrast to the soft warmth that had once defined her gaze. This wasn’t human. This wasn’t even close. Her new eye belonged to something older, something more profound. Something draconic.

“Of course,” I whispered. “The third eye… Makes sense. That’d be the only skill worthy of pushing her forward.”

Lilith had always been marked by dragons. She carried a guardian spirit, a divine dragon that had once chosen her. She had spent years mastering dragon magic, absorbing its logic into her mind. So, if the Apocalypse trial granted her the skill most suited to making her stronger…

Then this was inevitable.

Dragonification.

I’d always known this would be her path. I had searched ancient ruins, crossed forbidden realms, and chased down every myth and rumor to find a way to help her reach this point. I thought we’d need time, rituals, relics, negotiations with half-mad spirits.

I had never imagined it would happen here. Now.

With the power of the divine dragon now awakened within her, Lilith had transcended the limits of human magic. She could wield both the raw force of the dragon spirit she harbored and the secret arcana of their race. Her third eye—the slitted, reptilian mark of her ascension—glowed with a quiet, terrible brilliance.

I re-evaluated the situation, reassessing every element on the field. The conclusion was instant, and it hit me like a jolt of lightning.

“Well done, Lilith… With this, we can win. Ninety percent odds. No, better. Much better.”

The price, of course, was her lifespan. The blade didn’t grant power for free. But right now, that wasn’t the priority. We could worry about the consequences later. First, Eslyn had to be taken down.

I turned to face her, raised a middle finger, and grinned. “You know, you said a lot of crap earlier. About talent. About me having none. Yeah, I remember. And you’re right. I’ve got none. I’m just a Villager. Your ‘absolute skill’? Sure, I admit it. I couldn’t beat it. Not alone. I was completely outmatched.”

Then I glanced toward Lilith, and our eyes met.

“But I’m not alone.”

She understood me instantly. Of course she did. We’d been through too much together not to. In this situation, there was only one spell worth casting, and she already knew which one it was.

Across the chamber, Eslyn stood frozen. She hadn’t stopped sweating since the moment Lilith had drawn Apocalypse. Her instincts were screaming at her now. She knew better than anyone what that cursed sword meant. What kind of skills it granted. She had lived through it once. And now she was about to feel it from the other side.

“How?” she muttered, voice cracking. “How could you draw that sword without hesitation? And that skill… What is it? What are you…? What the hell are you?”

Lilith tilted her head slightly, blinking once, her third eye unmoving. Her voice came cold and flat.

“I’m a Mage. Is that a problem?”

I laughed, the sound sharp and triumphant, and raised my voice to the ceiling.

“Let’s go, Lilith! Unleash it! Hit her with the strongest damn spell you’ve got!”

Lilith didn’t hesitate.

She began the incantation, and with eerie fluidity, the spell circle began to take shape beneath her feet. There was no stumbling, no uncertainty. It was as if she’d cast it a thousand times before. Her magic surged, a vortex of power that began to fill the room with crushing pressure.

I recognized the core of it instantly. The feeling, the heat, the seething fury behind it.

It was the same essence as Villager’s Wrath, the magic born of defiance. A spell that screamed: You can take everything from me, but I will still stand.

Only this time, it was no longer the rage of a powerless Villager.

It was the rage of a dragon.

It was a simple spell, in theory. One that consumed all remaining MP to unleash a devastating blast of magical energy. Nothing elegant, nothing subtle. Just raw, unfiltered destruction.

What set it apart was its source.

The Villager’s version of this spell, Villager’s Wrath, was a joke. It was an inefficient, unrefined tantrum of magic powered by pitiful base stats and a derided leveling bonus, a last resort for the desperate, mocked by adventurers everywhere.

Lilith’s version was something else entirely.

This was no human spell. This was a dragon technique, a forbidden spell passed down in the secluded sanctuaries of the dragonkin, an arcane rite only those with dragon blood or divine guardianship could hope to wield. And Lilith, now awakened through Dragonification, was its perfect vessel.

At this moment, her base status was equivalent to a low-tier B-rank adventurer by Guild standards. With the transformation, it jumped to the upper tier of B-rank. And now, by converting her entire magical reservoir into a single all-or-nothing blast, her offensive potential spiked even higher, on par with an S-rank adventurer’s ultimate spell. No incantation in the human world could rival this.

The spell didn’t even fire in a single direction.

It was omnidirectional bombardment. A full-scale magical purge that bathed the entire floor in annihilating light.

I could handle it. My physical stats and magical resistance were both at the very peak of S-rank adventurer standards, and I was built to endure. But Eslyn… She wasn’t. No matter how skilled or fast she was, at her core, she was still an A-rank melee fighter. There was no defense she could muster against something like this.

Lilith’s voice was calm, almost reverent, as she raised her hand and began the invocation.

“In the name of my father, the Golden Earth Dragon, I convert the wellspring of my magic into pure draconic wrath…”

A single breath passed, the silence sharp with tension.

Then, she spoke the final words.

“Golden Howl: Dragz Genocide.”

In an instant, the entire floor was swallowed by light.

Not just brightness. Violence. Magical energy so dense that it became a physical force, pressure that ground into the bones. The world turned gold-white, and in its core, Lilith stood like the eye of a storm. Apocalypse gleamed in her grip as the spell released everything.

From across the chamber, Eslyn’s scream rang out.

“Ahhh… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

It was the howl of someone who’d realized too late that there was nowhere to run. Every inch of the battlefield was covered. No blind spot. No safe haven. The light was the battlefield now.

Another scream followed, louder, more ragged.

“Ghh… AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

It went on. Ten seconds. Then more. Her voice was torn against the storm, vanishing beneath the weight of pure dragon magic.

At last, the light faded.

Smoke lingered in the air. The room shimmered with residual heat. And there, knees buckling and breath ragged, Eslyn stood in the wreckage—barely.

Shoulders heaving, she gasped out her first words through clenched teeth.

“I’m already falling apart…” Eslyn’s voice was hoarse, her breathing ragged, but her eyes still burned with resolve. “But my teleportation skill is still intact! That spell of yours was a one-shot deal, right? A full-MP discharge for one all-or-nothing attack… which means, if I survived that, I win!”

She tried to sound triumphant, to muster force in her voice, but her stance was barely holding together. Blood trickled from her mouth, her armor cracked and scorched, but her will hadn’t broken.

Lilith met her with a flat, emotionless stare.

“So, what are you going to do now?” she asked softly. “You actually think you can still win? Ryuto said it earlier… that our chance of victory is over ninety percent.”

Eslyn let out a bitter laugh. “Ninety percent? Don’t make me laugh. Girl, your MP is gone. Completely drained. You’ve got no more of that ridiculous full-area spell. And me? My teleportation’s still active! You two have no way to win!”

She flung her arm forward with the last of her bravado, but even as she spoke, I was already moving.

I launched myself across the battlefield at supersonic speed, closing the distance between us before she could even register it. Her attention was still locked on Lilith, utterly blind to my approach.

In a flash, I was beside her.

Beside Lilith.

And now our win rate? One hundred percent.

“Seriously…” I muttered, shaking my head as I reached her. “You went and did something completely insane.”

Lilith didn’t smile, didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm. “You’re the last person who gets to talk about reckless.”

“Fair,” I admitted with a sigh.

I reached out and took her staff with my right hand. At that exact moment, she reached with her left hand and clasped my wrist.

“Lilith?” I asked.

“What?”

“My MP is just under thirty thousand. Yours caps out around ten. You’ve got two more shots in you, tops. Make them count.”

She nodded, firm and unshaken. “Understood.”

We looked each other in the eye and nodded once in perfect sync.

Then, I turned back to Eslyn, raising my left hand without a word and giving her one last salute, a middle finger, sharp and clear.

“Sorry to say… but this is the end.”

“Energy Drain,” Lilith intoned.

A sudden pull surged through my arm as my mana flowed from me into her like a torrent. In seconds, the full power of my reservoir was hers. And that was when Eslyn finally understood. Her smirk faltered. Her posture slumped.

She let out a low, breathless laugh and gave a slight shrug of resignation.

“Well played. I’ll admit it. At this point, your desperate struggle is almost… beautiful.”

Lilith raised the staff high. I stood beside her, hand still locked with hers. And together, our voices rang out, overlapping in perfect harmony, echoing through the chamber like a divine decree.

“Golden Howl!”

The first strike landed.

A blinding flash of annihilation surged through the chamber, and when the searing brilliance finally faded, Eslyn was on one knee, her entire body trembling as she struggled to stay upright. But the second wave followed immediately.

The next spell hit with the weight of a divine verdict, a flood of golden light so vast and absolute it felt like the world itself had declared its end. The final blow. The last judgment. And with it, the battle ended.

When the radiance faded and the dust settled, Eslyn lay sprawled on the stone floor, her body convulsing slightly, her consciousness hanging by a thread. Her armor was scorched and cracked, her blade shattered, and her once-fearless eyes now stared blankly, defeated.

Across the ruined floor, Lilith and I collapsed at nearly the same moment. Our strength gone, our bodies at their limit, we fell together in a heap, shoulder against shoulder, breath shallow and ragged.

Lilith was the first to speak, her voice barely audible as she leaned into me with the weight of someone who had nothing left.

“Hey, Ryuto?”

“What is it?”

“Did I… help you? Even just a little?”

I turned my head, meeting her exhausted eyes. “Yeah. You did. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be dead.”

It wasn’t flattery but fact. Without her, I would’ve lost. Plain and simple.

“Hey, Ryuto?” she asked again, her voice even quieter now.

“What?”

“Did I… do okay? Did I try hard enough?”

I let out a soft breath, and despite how numb I felt, I managed to smile.

“Yeah. You did more than okay. You were brave. You gave it everything you had. I think you were amazing.”

I meant every word. She’d given up half her life for me. She’d faced down fear, hopeless odds, and a lethal trial to protect someone she believed in.

Then, after a pause, her voice came once more, fragile and uncertain.

“Ryuto?”

“What now?”

“Can I ask for something? Just one thing?”

“Sure,” I murmured, turning my head toward her. “What is it?”

“A reward,” she said.

“A reward?” I blinked.

Blushing furiously, Lilith lowered her eyes and hid behind her lashes, her voice little more than a whisper now.

“Um… well… you see…”

“What is it?” I asked, arching a brow at her hesitating voice. “Come on, spit it out.”

“I want you… to pat my head.”

There was a pause. Not because I was surprised, but because of the sheer simplicity of it. How raw and honest the request was.

“Yeah. All right.”

I reached out and ruffled her hair. There was no ceremony, no gentleness. Just rough, affectionate pats. Her sky-blue strands shimmered like silk under my fingers, tousled by my hand.

“You did good, Lilith,” I said, my voice low but firm.

For just a second, her expression melted, eyes fluttering closed, lips curving faintly as her entire face softened. She looked like she was floating.

Then she blinked, gave her head a slight shake, and mumbled beneath her breath.

“It’s not enough.”

“Huh?”

“More than being patted… I want to be held. Hugged.”

“You little—” I started, then stopped. Of all the things to ask for right now…

But she had earned it.

“Just this once,” I muttered.

“Okay.”

So I pulled her in.

I wrapped my arms around her petite frame and held her tight. She was trembling slightly. Whether from exhaustion or emotion, I couldn’t tell, but she sank into the embrace like she’d been waiting for it all along.

Her cheeks flushed bright red, and just at the corner of her eyes, I saw tears welling up. But her smile was radiant. Pure and full of quiet pride.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I really did my best this time.”

Let me be honest. The look on her face at that moment was beyond beautiful, beyond human. For one fleeting instant, her expression was so incredibly gentle, so heart-wrenchingly sweet, that it stopped my breath. My heart skipped, seized, and was stolen all at once.

She looked up at me, her tone shifting.

“Still. My lifespan’s been cut in half.”

That was the truth. She had done it all for me. She bore the cost, took the risk, carried the burden. I was the one saved, and yet I walked away untouched. No scars. No price paid.

If I left it like that, if I dared call myself a protector, claimed to stand for anyone or anything while letting her shoulder that weight alone, I’d lose the right to speak those words ever again.

“Hey, Lilith,” I said quietly.

“Yeah?” she replied, her voice just as soft.

“So if I remember right,” I began, voice quiet, gaze fixed on the black sword that lay abandoned by the pedestal, “the moment you pull the sword, it takes your entire lifespan. But if you return it… If you accept the role of the next trial’s guardian, they give you back half.”

“That’s what she told us,” Lilith replied, her voice low.

“What if… that burden didn’t have to be carried alone?”

She turned toward me slowly, uncertain. “What are you saying?”

I took a step toward the pedestal, toward the cursed blade that had started all this. Apocalypse rested there, still humming with its ominous energy, still bearing the weight of sacrifice.

“I don’t know what will happen,” I admitted, keeping my eyes on the sword. “But let’s say the average lifespan in this world is fifty. You’re fifteen, Lilith. That gives you about thirty-five years left. The sword took seventeen, maybe more, meaning you’d die around thirty. But what if we split that?”

She didn’t speak. I continued.

“If we share it like we shared the spell earlier, then it’s eight or nine years each. That still gives us over forty years to live. Together.”

I looked back at her. “Let’s return it together, just like we cast the spell together. Both our hands on the sword. Both of us placing it back into the pedestal. It’s the only thing I can offer you.”

Silence hung between us. For a moment, I wasn’t sure she’d answer. But then—

“Ryuto?”

“What is it?”

“What am I to you?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

She looked down, her voice trembling, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t heard before.

“I want to stay by your side. I want to walk the same path as you.”

She clenched her fists, trying to hold her composure.

“I don’t want to be a burden. I want us to be equals. I want to stand beside you.”

For a long moment, I couldn’t say anything. I just stood there, the weight of everything she’d said, everything we’d gone through, pressing into my chest. Then, at last, I found the words.

“Lilith?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s keep getting stronger. Together. Stronger than anyone. Strong enough to protect what matters most to us.”

She nodded, her eyes shining. “Yeah.”

And so, side by side, we walked to the sword. Together, our hands closed around the hilt of Apocalypse. Together, we lifted it, still heavy with power and meaning, and returned it to its place.

And then, suddenly, applause echoed through the chamber.

“Well now, wasn’t that a wonderfully entertaining little play? Truly, I was moved. So dramatic. So earnest. And what was it you said? ‘If the burden can be shared between two…’?”

The voice was light and high-pitched, too ambiguous to tell whether it belonged to a boy or a girl. It was mocking, sing-song, soaked in amusement. And when we turned, the source was already standing there as though the creature had always been present.

A figure, barely in their early teens by appearance, with blazing crimson eyes and flowing black hair that shimmered like obsidian. Its face was exquisitely androgynous and impossibly symmetrical, every feature chiseled with divine precision. Beauty so refined it crossed into something unreal.

It wore a suit of black, tailored perfectly to a slim frame, like a butler from a noble house, if said butler had just stepped off a stage. A silk top hat perched atop their head, completing the image of an eccentric ringmaster, or perhaps a devil in formalwear.

Everything about the figure was flawless. Too flawless.

It wasn’t just captivating. It was unsettling.

Perfect beauty.

Even Cordelia whose looks could silence a banquet hall would pale next to this being, one that existed on a completely different plane. There was no way it was human. No chance in hell. The air around it didn’t feel alive. It felt like the tension before a natural disaster.

The stranger chuckled again, tears of laughter still lingering in the corners of its eyes. Its grin stretched just a little too wide, and it dabbed at its nose with a gloved hand, wiping away the faintest trickle of snot like it was nothing at all.

“Ahaha! Ahahahahaha! Oh, it’s rich, really! Are you seriously okay with that? No proof, no confirmation, no divine revelation, and yet the two of you just… did it?” The being wiped its eyes again, then spread its arms dramatically. “If you’ve both had your lifespans halved, what then, hmm? What would you two reckless lovebirds do next? What a charming brand of idiocy! I must say, even in all my years playing god, I’ve never encountered such delightful madness. It’s beautifully irrational! Magnificently stupid!”

It laughed again, loud, echoing, and entirely too genuine.

I had no idea who or whatthis thing was.

One thing was certain.

There was no way to defeat it. Not with any amount of grit, skill, or clever desperation.

Not even a scratch.

No… that wasn’t quite right. Maybe, just maybe, with the right strike, I could scratch it if my blade landed.

Unfortunately, that was the problem. It wouldn’t happen.

No matter how sharp my sword, no matter how divine the steel, my technique—my very self—wasn’t good enough to reach it.

Not even close.

If Merlin, with her deceptively youthful appearance, hit this thing square-on with one of her fully-powered, large-scale spells, the best-case result would probably be the equivalent of someone bumping their head on a pillar—maybe a slight sting. As for the Dragon King, well… he never showed his full strength, so it was hard to say, but if he ever went all-out, maybe—just maybe—he could hold his own for a few seconds.

Me? Right now? I couldn’t even get close.

I glanced down at Eslyn, still collapsed on the floor, twitching faintly. Then I shrugged and turned back to the being in the top hat.

“This ‘master’ Eslyn kept talking about… Was she referring to you?”

“Oh, how rude of me!” The being grinned, its red eyes gleaming like coals. “Let me give you the simple explanation: think of me as… a spirit dwelling within Apocalypse. Something along those lines, yes?”

Something like that, huh. That clarified absolutely nothing.

“And Apocalypse itself?” I pressed. “What is it, really?”

The stranger gave a melodramatic sigh and clasped its gloved hands behind its back.

“Well, I suppose you could say… I was bored.”

“Bored.”

“Yes, quite. My only hobby these days is observing humans. Watching them come face-to-face with Apocalypse, weighing their lives against power, agonizing, hesitating, despairing… It’s my new favorite pastime.”

I stared, and it beamed at me with a kind of innocent cruelty.

“And the skills I grant? Well, think of them as a gift, a little thank you for entertaining me. I make sure each one raises the recipient’s Adventurer Rank by at least one tier. Quite generous, don’t you think?”

I frowned. “So… you’re saying…”

“For example, our dear little princess here. Dragonification was the obvious pick for her, wouldn’t you say? And you… hmm…” Their smile twitched wider. “You’ve already acquired nearly every skill that would truly benefit you. Honestly, it’s rather… inconvenient. You’ve made things so boring for me.”

“Yeah, that figures,” I said, exhaling. “I came all this way because I’d hit a wall. So again, what is Apocalypse? Your earlier answer didn’t really explain anything.”

“Oh, that?” The being tilted its head playfully. “Well then, to put it plainly… Apocalypse is my vessel. My foothold in the mortal world.”

“Vessel?”

“A spiritual lifeform of extremely high order. No, let’s be precise. I am a supra-spiritual entity,” the androgynous figure explained with an indulgent smile, one finger raised daintily like a noble lecturing a child. “For me to manifest in the physical world, some form of vessel is absolutely necessary. A large-scale summoning ritual, or a proper medium. Without those, how could I possibly step into the mortal plane?”

Ah. It finally clicked.

I let out a sigh, equal parts exasperation and understanding.

“Yeah, no kidding. It’s a massive headache for those of us down here on Earth, or wherever the hell this is. You lot really need to stop meddling in the world of the living. So what are you, exactly? Gabriel? Shiva? Zeus? Amaterasu?”

The figure raised an amused brow, crimson eyes glittering with approval.

On both Earth and this world, the gods and mythical beings in legends were oddly identical. My guess? Those names all pointed to the same class of beings, cosmic intelligences that existed across dimensions, or perhaps… didn’t exist at all in the way we understood. Omnipresent, and yet nowhere.

The being chuckled sweetly in response.

“To think you could deduce that much from just this explanation. Truly, a rare insight. Very well, allow me to introduce myself properly.” It gave an exaggerated bow, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I am Lucifer. The ultimate idler. After all, my true self remains sealed away in the deepest level of eternal hell—Cocytus.”

That laugh—“Ohohoho”—was so absurdly aristocratic I nearly choked.

I gave a dry, almost impressed laugh of my own.

“Yeah, no kidding. You’re the real deal. One of the biggest names there is.”

There really wasn’t anyone bigger. Lucifer was on par with beings like Satan, Michael, the highest-ranked in any celestial hierarchy.

“And just for your education, boy,” Lucifer added with a wicked smile, voice turning silkily dangerous, “you may want to watch your tongue… even slightly, yes?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“I am Lucifer,” the being said, voice rising in pitch like a crescendo. “First among demon kings. A supreme-class archdemon. Once, even the highest-ranking Seraph among angels. So please forgive me if I find it just slightly insulting to be spoken to so casually by a mere mortal, one whose power barely reaches the level of an S-rank adventurer.” Then the being waved its hand with mock graciousness. “But I suppose we’ll let that slide. For now.”

I scratched the back of my head, letting out an awkward breath. “Yeah, okay. My bad. Didn’t mean to step on divine toes.”

Lucifer giggled again, this time genuinely delighted. “And yet you still speak so casually?”

“Can’t help it. It’s just how I am.”

That earned me a slow, toothy grin, dangerous and delighted all at once. Lucifer’s lips curled up in genuine amusement, and its eyes gleamed with wicked delight as it tilted its head, one hand resting thoughtfully beneath its chin. “Well, now, this is fascinating. I suppose I shall make an exception. Speak however you like. I’ll allow it just this once. But in return, I have a question of my own.”

I crossed my arms, wary but intrigued. “What do you want to know?”

Its smile widened, all teeth and curiosity. “About your little ‘soul-sharing vow.’ I’m sure much of it was said in the heat of the moment, spurred on by emotion and bravado, but I would like to know your true feelings. Deep down, were you truly prepared to offer up half your lifespan?”

I gave it a moment of thought. Then, with a quiet breath, I answered honestly.

“If it came to that, if my life really was halved, then I figure I’d still have some time left. Enough to do what matters. Maybe I wouldn’t get to protect her forever… but I’d at least have the time to teach her, prepare her. So that when the time comes, even if she’s alone… she’ll survive. And if the price of that is half my life? Fine. Worth it. Hell, if I was gonna drop dead a few years later anyway, then I was never going to live long to begin with, right?”

Lucifer turned its gleaming eyes to Lilith next, voice still syrupy but curious. “And you, dear princess? What are your thoughts on all this?”

Lilith didn’t answer immediately. She lowered her gaze, reflecting, then looked up with unwavering clarity.

“Living a long life without Ryuto would be meaningless. If he’s gone, what am I left with? A world that has nothing to offer me. But if my death could help him, if my life could mean something for him… then I’d die smiling. For Ryuto, I’d give my life without hesitation.”

That was when Lucifer absolutely lost it and burst into raucous, unrestrained laughter. Its knees gave out as it crumpled to the floor, clutching its sides, howling so hard it looked physically painful. “Kuhah! Kuhahaha! Fff—fuhahaha! AAAAAAHAHAHAHA! Oh my… HAHAHAHAHA!”

I looked down at it, unimpressed. “You seriously need to get that checked. You’re gonna rupture something at this rate.”

Still convulsing with laughter, tears streaming down its face, Lucifer finally managed to choke out words between gasps.

“Hahaha! Ahh… this is rich! Your resolve is exquisite! Delicious! Such flawless dramatic conviction. I adore it! And you… Ryuto, was it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

The crimson eyes shimmered like polished rubies. “You’ve walked quite the… intriguing path, haven’t you?”

I folded my arms again, wary. “So, you are informed.”

It grinned, nodding with smug satisfaction. “Of course, I am. I am a supreme-class deity, after all. It’s in the job description.”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a smirk, its voice dripping with amusement. “Oh, let me correct you on one thing. I can read memories, but that’s not all, you know? I’ve been keeping an eye on you for quite some time.”

I narrowed my eyes, my tone sharp. “What do you mean?”

“I figured you’d eventually end up here,” Lucifer continued, leaning back casually. “And honestly, there’s no way you’d just pass through a place like this, right?”

“So, I’m like a pawn in your game?” Ryuto muttered, his voice tinged with resentment.

“Well,” Lucifer drawled, “from my perspective, whether you’re a monkey or a Villager, it’s all the same to me.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You know Journey to the West?”

“I’m a person of leisure, after all,” it replied with a shrug. “Anyway, what I’ve been curious about is how you’d handle that princess over there. If you’d entertained me enough, I might’ve even offered a little… service in return.” Then, it crossed its arms, its gaze hardening.

“And… what’s your verdict on what you saw?”

Lucifer’s laughter was sudden and genuine, echoing through the space. “Didn’t you hear me laugh from the bottom of my heart just now?”

“Yeah, I did,” I admitted begrudgingly.

“Well, it’s hilarious,” it said, still chuckling. “I haven’t laughed this hard in ages. You’re truly entertaining to watch.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “If it’s too much, just say so… but could you at least spare our lives?”

Lucifer’s smirk softened, though its eyes remained sharp. Its words were direct, cutting through the air between them. With someone like that, beating around the bush wouldn’t work. Better to be straightforward. It’d probably succeed more often than not.

“Huh? Lifespan? I’ll exempt you this time. After all, it’s just petty harassment to pass the time for those who dare challenge trials. Struggling insects like you can be quite amusing, though.”

I nodded, turning the words over in my mind. Makes sense, I thought. It’s got quite the charming personality. No wonder it’s the highest-ranking Seraphim, yet also the one who rebelled against the One True God.

“That’s… incredibly generous of you,” I said, my tone dry, “but why exempt us?”

Lucifer’s expression turned casual, as if discussing the weather. “Because,” it said simply, “you’re more fun alive. Well, I figure if you two manage to live a little longer, I might get to see something far more interesting.”

The way the being said it, like they were already enjoying some cosmic joke I wasn’t in on, made my skin crawl.

Then, almost like an afterthought, it added, “Oh, and earlier, you returned the sword together, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I answered, wary.

“In doing so, your souls partially merged.”

The words landed with eerie nonchalance, but they hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Partially… merged?” I repeated. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“To be precise,” it began, raising a finger like a smug professor, “the spiritual architecture of your beings—your mana pools, magical circuits, and the high-dimensional channel that allows you to project spells into this world—have synchronized.”

I blinked. “You completely lost me.”

It was clearly enjoying this. “Let me make it simple. That little princess of yours, Lilith-chan, can now use your mana to cast spells several times more powerful than before. And you, in turn, can outsource the complex magical calculations to her brain. Meaning you’ll be able to use high-level magic without needing the theory behind it.”

Lilith-chan? Why the hell is she getting a -chan? The thought crossed my mind, but honestly, the explanation wasn’t bad.

Wait… if that’s true…

My brain shifted into overdrive. In an instant, my entire training plan for the next year rewrote itself in my head.

All right, first thing: haul ass to that cranky old hermit Liu Kai and squeeze every last bit of immortal technique out of him. No more screwing around.

I couldn’t help it. I grinned.

“Heh… If that’s how this works, then forget being the strongest in the village. I might actually become the strongest human alive.”

“Ahem,” Lucifer interjected, polite but pointed. “Shall we move on to the main topic?”

“Main topic?”

“Yes. What skill would you like?”

I froze. “Wait. You’re… letting me choose?”

Lucifer gave me a calm nod, no trace of mischief this time. “Even I can’t say what skill suits you best. So wouldn’t it be quicker to let you pick one from the full list of existing skills?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

All the skills in existence.

Every last one laid bare in front of me, just waiting to be chosen.

Honestly, it sounded way too good to be true. But even so, I didn’t hesitate.

“I want the God Eater skill,” I said without blinking.

Lucifer arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Not Skill Theft? Not ten times experience gain? Not even the triple stats option? Are you sure about God Eater?”

“Skill Theft’s useless if all I’m stealing is garbage. Even if I swipe a hundred trash-tier skills, it won’t change a damn thing. As for ten-times EXP. If there’s no one left in my weight class, there’s no experience to gain in the first place. And triple stats… Yeah, that one’s tempting, I’ll admit.”

I crossed my arms, the logic settling in my gut like iron. “But it’s not enough. I’m not here to pad my numbers. I’m here to devour the impossible.”

“I see,” Lucifer said, voice low and thoughtful. “So, you really do intend to keep walking that reckless path. If I give you this skill, it’s entirely possible that someday even I will be consumed.”

I shrugged, casual but firm. “I’m aiming for the top. Over the next year, I’ll hunt down every lesser god I can get my hands on. For now, I’ll set Beelzebub as my provisional final boss.”

That drew a dry chuckle from it. “Beelzebub, the gluttonous lord, one of the highest demon kings, as a starting point… How modest.”

Then it clapped its hands once, sharp and clear.

“Well then. I suppose I’ll have to be extra careful not to be assimilated by you. Truly… I’m glad we had this conversation.”

Just like that, I became the bearer of the God Eater skill.

※※※

A few days later, a young Hero stood before the legendary Tower of Mirage, ready to take on the trial known as one of the deadliest in the land.

Ranked an A-class dungeon, the tower had earned its name as a proving ground for heroes, a crucible where only the strong emerged alive. But she, flanked by a party of elite adventurers, tore through it as if it were an empty field. Nothing slowed her down—no trap, no beast, no cursed seal.

Her pace was absurd. Unheard of. Record shattering. Among all who had ever dared to climb this place, she was blazing ahead with unmatched speed.

And yet… it made sense.

Every trap in the dungeon had already been disarmed. Every magical construct, the inorganic guardians crafted to test a challenger’s mettle, had already been reduced to scrap.

When she reached the Hall of the Holy Sword, confusion clouded her face.

She stepped forward, hands trembling slightly as she reached for the blade. Her voice slipped out, unsure and disbelieving.

“Is this… seriously the Holy Sword? There wasn’t… a single trial? What the hell is going on?”

Her fingers closed around the hilt. The sword came free with ease.

She looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard, as if expecting some divine answer to drop down from above. And then, with her voice full of frustration and betrayal, she screamed:

“This totally defeats the whole point of learning Berserker Moooooooooooode!!!”

And so, it was.

The anguished, indignant howl of a battle maiden echoed through the hollow heights of the Tower of Mirage.

Interlude: A Librarian’s Soliloquy – Part II

Since that day, the black-haired boy and the girl with the pale, watery-blue hair arranged everything. Thanks to them, I was offered a position at the Grand Library of the Dragon King. That was how I became a librarian.

Maybe I didn’t have to quit adventuring. I could’ve done both, technically. But when I looked into Lilith’s eyes, those impossibly sincere, crystal-clear eyes, I realized something I hadn’t let myself think about in years.

I remember the day I first stepped into a swordsmanship dojo. I was just a girl back then, stubborn and eager. I started training for a simple reason: to become strong. That was all. And somewhere along the way, I did become strong. I gained juniors, students, people I cared about. People I had to protect. That gave me more reasons to keep improving, to chase a higher peak.

My master had once been a renowned Sword Saint, ranked near the top of A-class. But by the time I joined, age had caught up with him. In truth, I was the strongest in the dojo. I was its pillar. Head instructor in all but name.

Then he appeared.

An Eastern swordsman with an S-rank bounty on his head. A man who had long since cast aside any shred of humanity. For the sake of power, he didn’t care who he killed. Monster or man, it made no difference. He murdered for experience, nothing more.

He came to our dojo to prove something. Maybe to himself. Maybe just for fun.

In one night, he slaughtered everyone.

He’d come for my master. He didn’t know that I was stronger. And the moment I saw the way his blade moved, I knew I couldn’t win. Not in a fair fight.

So I pretended. I played the weakling, kept my presence low, and lured him into carelessness. It was the only reason I survived. I took a near-fatal blow and fell, broken but alive.

I came to on the blood-soaked floor of the dojo. Around me were the lifeless bodies of my brothers, my students, the juniors who’d once looked up to me. Every face I knew, every voice I cherished, gone.

From that moment, I didn’t swing a sword for pride or technique. I wielded it because of hatred. Because of grief. Because I had nothing left but the promise that I’d never let something like that happen again.

I craved strength not for honor, but for revenge.

So, I entered the Tower of Mirage. I fought, climbed, bled, and came out the other side with power that no one could touch.

I had my revenge.

Even after that, I kept seeking strength. I hunted down the strong and cut them down one by one. Not because I wanted power for its own sake, but because I never wanted to feel that kind of loss again. For the sake of everyone who vanished before they could reach their dreams, I had to become stronger than anyone.

In the end, I was defeated by a boy and a girl whose eyes still shone with that raw, painfully sincere kind of light I’d long since lost.

Looking at them, something stirred inside me. Something I hadn’t felt in years.

I remembered that day. Vividly.

“There’s more to your story than meets the eye, huh?”

The boy had said that to me as I lay sprawled in the dirt, beaten.

“In the end, chasing strength… using deception just to survive… Maybe that was your way of atoning. For your master. For the others. I get it. But… maybe that wasn’t the right way after all.”

His voice wasn’t accusatory. Just honest.

“Then maybe it’s time to try making amends in a different way,” he said.

“A different way?” I asked, my voice rasping. “And what would that look like, exactly?”

He just shook his head.

“That’s not for me to decide. It’s something you need to figure out from here.”

“Fair enough,” I murmured. There was nothing else to say.

That was when the girl—the one with soft, sea-colored hair—stepped forward and looked me straight in the eye.

“If it’s atonement or mourning you’re after,” she said gently, “there are books about that. You could try looking for the one that feels right to you. There’s a surprising amount written on the subject.”

Then she gave a small, knowing smile.

“And besides, now you’ve got free time to spare. So, take all the time you need in there.”

As a result, I found myself employed as a librarian.

These days, I spend my time surrounded by books. In the quiet hours, I still train in the library’s garden. /Just me and my sword, like old times. The fight hasn’t left me, not completely.

As the girl said… I really do have time now.

All the time in the world.

Whatever I decide to do from here on out, I think… I needed this.

This time—these quiet days—were necessary for me to finally stop and face myself.

Since I first visited the village, I’ve been given new clothes marked with five golden threads as proof of my standing. A month ago, I entered the tournament held during the festival and lost in the finals, defeated by the Dragon King himself.

Still, thanks to that, I’ve been granted the status of an honored guest. The accommodations are more than generous, and truthfully, I’ve found no reason to complain.

Today, like every day, I sit behind the reception desk of the Dragon King’s Grand Library, working as a librarian beneath shelves stacked with more knowledge than a lifetime could hold.

I wonder how much time has passed since the Tower of Mirage incident. It feels like a lifetime ago and yet no time at all.

From what I’ve heard, the girl with the soft blue hair has been making quite a name for herself. Fighting at the side of Ryuto Maclaine, wielding dragon magic with staggering versatility. She’s become a figure of legend in her own right.

Every time a new book arrives detailing their exploits, I find myself smiling before I even realize it, like I’m reading a story I’ve been quietly rooting for all along.

Watching the woman who once defeated me rise to prominence, seeing the world recognize her strength…

Well.

It doesn’t feel bad at all.

Epilogue

The sun was setting.

Crimson light spilled across the horizon, tinged with shades of deep indigo, as a lukewarm breeze drifted over the plains. A single, winding road stretched east to west, cutting clean through the open grasslands. It was a trade route, one that connected the inland heart of the continent to the bustling port towns of the northwest. Smoked fish like mackerel and salmon, along with other seaborne goods, made their way inland via this very path.

At twilight, the hour of shadows, it belonged to different travelers.

This was the time when monsters and thieves emerged from hiding. Anyone with a shred of sense had already retreated to a nearby town or roadside inn. The highway had fallen silent, abandoned by all but the fearless… or the foolish.

And then—

“You there. You’re Cordelia Allston, the Hero, aren’t you?”

Cordelia turned toward the voice, brows furrowed in suspicion. “Huh? Yeah… that’s me. Why?”

Her caution was justified. The speaker, a girl dressed in a flowing black robe, wore a striking mask that covered her face from the nose up, its shape reminiscent of a swallowtail butterfly.

The masked girl took a step forward and lowered her voice, just enough to carry.

“Would you accept a duel with me?”

Cordelia stared. “Huh?”

Her reaction was entirely reasonable.

After all, when Lilith had asked me the same question just the day before, I’d given her almost the same look.

It was the day after we got back from the Tower of Mirage. We were back at the inn, catching our breath, when Lilith came to me serious-faced and said she wanted to test her strength.

I could tell something had changed in her. She’d gained confidence. Not arrogance, but a quiet, rooted certainty in her own ability. The kind that came only after surviving something impossible.

And well, if she wanted to do it, who was I to stop her?

At her current level, Lilith was more than capable of standing against Cordelia. From the standpoint of pushing Cordelia to grow stronger, it made sense. That was why I’d suggested the mask—to keep her identity hidden. Since they had already met during the Evil Dragon subjugation, there wasn’t much we could do about that part.

“A duel, huh? Another fame-chaser?” Cordelia asked, eyeing her warily.

“No. This is a test for myself,” Lilith replied quietly.

“Oh, so in the end, you’re just another reckless idiot trying to make a name for herself? Sorry, but people like you are part of my daily routine. Honestly, I don’t have time for this. Can’t we settle this peacefully?” Cordelia shrugged.

Lilith smiled faintly. “Still too soft. You don’t even realize your permission isn’t required to start a fight.”

“Huh? What are you talking abou—?”

Cordelia trailed off. Behind her, nearly a hundred spheres of flame had appeared. At some point, Lilith had deployed a barrage of general-purpose attack spells without anyone noticing.

“Upper-tier among general-use spells. None of them are that powerful on their own, but this many at once… That’s not normal,” Cordelia muttered, drawing her sword.

At the same time, Lilith snapped her fingers. All at once, the magic she’d prepared surged toward Cordelia in a unified assault.

Cordelia turned, swung her blade into the air a few times, and—

Both Lilith and I fell speechless.

With each swing, dozens of spells vanished. Slash after slash, Cordelia effortlessly erased Lilith’s attack. Nearly a hundred spells were completely obliterated without so much as a scratch.

“I’m a full-on melee fighter. That’s exactly why I need countermeasures against long-range magic. Hence, the Holy Sword of Oracle. Its effect is magic sealing.”

“I see. So, it really is a holy sword in more than just name.”

In essence, it was an artifact that neutralized magic formulas in the direction the sword was swung. I’d read about it in books before, but seeing it in action was far beyond anything I’d imagined.

Yeah, this thing’s absolutely broken. Then again, I guess that’s to be expected from a Hero’s holy sword. Honestly, as a secondary weapon, it’s pretty damn useful. I kind of want one myself.

“You’ve got some skill, I’ll give you that,” Cordelia said, casually. “But as you can see, you don’t stand a chance against me.”

Lilith smiled again, a quiet grin curling at the edge of her lips.

“I believe I already pointed out that you’re too soft. And yet, here you are, letting your guard down, convinced you’re in control. Tell me, why haven’t you noticed this?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your footing. It’s completely exposed.”

From beneath the ground, pale-white glowing worms erupted upward, wrapping tightly around Cordelia’s legs and locking them in place. She lost her balance and crashed to the ground, only for more of the glowing worms to burst from below and coil around her wrists, binding them like shackles.

“H-Hey! What the hell?! What is this?!”

Frankly, Cordelia’s reaction was careless. The hundred spells Lilith had deployed earlier were nothing but a smokescreen.

At the same time, she’d already set the real trap, sending binding worms crawling underground, ready to strike.

It was a type of magic known as Bind, a general-purpose spell, though not one commonly known. In fact, to be precise, it would be classified as a lost magic. You might find the name mentioned in the deepest sections of a magical university archive if you were lucky.

The only reason we even knew about it was because of an old, nearly unreadable tome preserved in the dragonkin’s library, a fragment of ancient, long-forgotten spellcraft.

“Damn it… gh!”

That said, Cordelia was muscle-brained to the core. She didn’t bother with a dispel. She simply tore through the glowing restraints with brute strength.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I got a little careless. Wait, what?”

She froze.

Surrounding her were about thirty golems. Each roughly a meter and a half tall, these masses of hardened earth stood silent and still. Naturally, these were magical constructs created by Lilith.

“So let me get this straight,” Cordelia said, scanning the formation. “You summoned a horde of low-level golems—things not even rookie adventurers would struggle with—in bulk. What’s the plan? Is this supposed to stall me or something? Because if that’s the case, it’s almost laughable.”

“I’m surprised,” Lilith said.

“Surprised?”

“That a brawler like you would see through my tactic of using numerous golems as a distraction.”

“You can’t be serious. For someone with your level of spellcasting, you really thought these things would slow me down? Or are you not even trying right now?”

“Heh. Fair enough. No, I’m not going all out. And do you know why? Because for the next year or so, I’ll be living surrounded by enemies stronger than myself. I need to learn how to fight and win despite overwhelming disadvantages. If I can’t beat you without going full force… then this test means nothing.”

Then Lilith raised her right hand, fingers spread like the open “paper” gesture in rock-paper-scissors.

“Five… four… three…”

With each number, one finger curled in.

“A countdown? What are you—”

“… Two… one… out. You’ve known from the moment I summoned the golems that I was planning something, didn’t you? If so, the correct response would have been simple: rush me with full-force sword strikes and overwhelm me before I could act. That was your best shot.”

“You’re seriously making no sen— W-What's… going… on…?”

Cordelia’s knees gave out beneath her.

She collapsed with a soft thud.

“W-What… is… this…?”

Lilith calmly pointed behind Cordelia.

There, nestled quietly on the ground, was a small incense burner, a faint, colorless, odorless gas seeping out from it.

“Ex-mandragora,” she said.

A chill ran down my spine.

The opening verbal exchange. The spell deployment. The lost magic. The army of golems. The seemingly pointless small talk had been used to stall for time.

All of it had been a distraction.

This was the real play.

She’s seriously good at this.

I had to admit, even I was impressed. Sure, the tactic itself was basically a copy of mine. But the buildup to it? That was on another level entirely. Every move she made was a calculated step toward this moment. And she pulled it off without even relying on dragon magic. I never imagined Lilith could dominate Cordelia so completely, especially not like this.

“Now the power of life and death rests with me,” Lilith murmured. “Even a so-called ordinary person, with the right strategy, can land a blow against a Hero. Maybe even reach beyond S-rank with the right positioning, with the right timing…”

Cordelia certainly wasn’t done yet.

A crimson glow flared in her eyes.

“Berserker Mode. Didn’t think I’d have to use this here, but I guess I don’t have a choice. And anyway, mandragora? Against someone like me, who can suppress desire and manually control the release of brain chemicals? That trick won’t work!”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Cordelia…

That’s basically forbidden magic. You’re not supposed to use that on people, not unless it’s truly life or death.

Then again, from Cordelia’s point of view, maybe this was a fight for survival.

“I’m about to throw everything I have at you. You’ve got sixty seconds. Supersonic Sword Dance—let’s see if you can handle it!”

Cordelia rose to her feet, voice clear, her words sharp.

The effect of the ex-mandragora had been completely negated.

Well, yeah. Of course.

The technique Cordelia was using in the first place revolved around forcibly controlling every fluctuation of her mental state, channeling that instability into a violent surge of magic power, and still maintaining control. So, it stood to reason that even a hallucinogenic trip, induced by altered neurochemical states, would fall under that same control.

Lilith raised her staff high overhead.

“Cordelia Allston, I want to give you everything I have, too.”

A third eye opened on Lilith’s forehead.

She was entering dragonkin form.

In an instant, a dense concentration of energy began to gather at the tip of her staff.

“What… is this? What is this magic density? This is insane. There shouldn’t be any S-rank adventurers or S-class level monsters in this area…”

Cordelia’s face turned pale.

This was Lilith’s ultimate spell, cast in exchange for her entire MP pool.

If Cordelia took it head-on in her current state, there was a real possibility she’d die. That one attack alone would absolutely be enough to threaten even an S-rank adventurer.

“Well, I guess I can’t afford to hold back either. I was hoping to limit it to losing a few limbs, but… worst case, don’t hate me if you die, okay?”

“I could say the same to you. There’s no reason I should hold back against a Hero. Take it, all of it. Here’s my full strength, Cordelia Allston!”

They were both clearly past the point of a friendly match. This was a deathmatch now.

And Lilith—

“She’s seriously about to fire off Golden Howl! Are you trying to kill each other?! Hold up! BOTH of you!!!”

I took off at full speed.

Breaking the sound barrier, I shot behind Lilith and struck her pressure point with a sharp hand chop to the neck.

Her body collapsed instantly.

As I tried to slip behind Cordelia, she immediately twisted around to face me, her blade raised and ready.

Tch. Figures. She really is a close-combat specialist.

Even with my speed, she managed to follow my movements with her eyes and react in time. For a moment, her body was taut with suspicion at the sudden intrusion, until her gaze landed on my face. Then, all at once, her tension melted.

“Huh? Ryu— Wait, what are you do—!”

Without giving her time to recover, I slipped into her blind spot with a second, sharper step and delivered a precise karate chop to the back of her neck.

“Don’t let your guard down in the middle of a fight, you moron!”

She collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. And just like that, two absurdly beautiful warrior women lay crumpled on the ground, both knocked out by yours truly.

Goddammit. Why does it look like I’m the villain here?

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and let out a sigh.

“This is all your fault, you know,” I muttered to the unconscious pair. “Starting a deathmatch in the middle of a public road… What the hell were you thinking?”

Trying to convince myself more than anyone else, I shrugged and turned away.

A while later…

I carried Cordelia back to a roadside town, handed some gold to the innkeeper, and had him bring her to a private room with a proper bed. Then, with Lilith still passed out on my back, I trudged onward for several hours until I reached a different inn in a quieter town.

Only then did I finally let my body relax and allow sleep to claim me.

The next morning, after finishing breakfast, we stepped out of the inn and onto the sunlit cobbled street.

“So, where to next, Ryuto?” asked Lilith, her voice quiet but expectant. “Where will you take me this time?”

I gave her a sideways glance.

“Weren’t you planning to return to the dragonkin village?”

Lilith shook her head firmly, the tips of her blue hair brushing against her shoulders.

“No. I’m going with you,” she said softly. “I’ll follow this path with you.”

“You know,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at her, “you were surprisingly good in that fight. Turns out you’re not half-bad in a brawl.”

At that, Lilith’s face scrunched up in exaggerated indignation.

“That wasn’t brawling,” she huffed. “It was strategy. I didn’t win because I was ‘good in a fight.’ I won because I planned. I analyzed Cordelia Allston’s personality based on what you told me and what I already knew of her abilities. Then I built a plan around that. That’s all.”

“Huh. Fair point.”

She looked ahead, her expression serious.

“And that’s something I’ve been doing long before you ever appeared in the village. Planning, thinking, preparing, doing everything I could to grow stronger. That’s the only thing I’ve ever done.”

I fell silent. There was nothing to argue.

“The future isn’t set in stone,” she continued, her tone measured but fierce. “We’re born into different circumstances. Some with gifts, others without. Yes, that gap can be enormous. But even so, if we choose the right path, even a future that feels inevitable can still be changed. That’s what I learned watching you.”

“You’re making too much of it,” I muttered, scratching my cheek. “I’m not all that special.”

Lilith turned to me, her silver eyes unwavering.

“A so-called ‘ordinary Villager’ who clawed his way to S-rank,” she said. “And now looks beyond even that. What else would you call that, if not an extraordinary example for the rest of us talentless ones to follow?”

I stood there, letting her words sink in, then gave a slight nod, smiling despite myself.

She was right: I had changed my future.

The one where I was destined to be killed by Moses? I’d shattered it. The path where all I could do was chase after Cordelia’s shadow? I’d broken away from it. I stood here now, not because the world had granted me something, but because I’d clawed it out of fate’s grip.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “You’re right.”

“It’s not about levels, or dragonkin transformations, or ancient draconic magic,” Lilith said, her voice steady, yet soft. “The most important thing is mindset and resolve. In that sense, I’m no longer the same girl who used to hide away in the library.”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “You’re right.”

“I’m grateful,” she continued. “Truly. That you helped me to realize that.”

She fell silent for a moment, eyes lowered as if sorting through thoughts too fragile to voice. Then, she looked back up at me.

“All the magic I use, all the knowledge I have. They came from books. Everything I know about the world, about how to act, how to fight, how to think. It’s all secondhand learning. But there’s one thing I never found in any of those pages.” She paused, smiling wistfully. “How to express gratitude. I… I’m sorry if I seem clumsy with it. I just don’t know how.”

Her smile, then, was breathtaking in its purity. It looked too beautiful to belong to this world.

“Ryuto,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, smiling back.

“Mhm.”

“And hey, Lilith?”

“Yes?”

“I got it. Loud and clear. Your gratitude came through.”

“Good.”

Before us stretched a long, empty road, running endlessly toward the horizon. A pale blue sky arched overhead, unbroken and free. Beside me, Lilith blushed faintly, then quietly extended her hand.

“Let’s go. Together.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking her hand without hesitation.

We started walking. A playful breeze brushed past, lifting the scent of wildflowers into the air and rustling her silken blue hair. She looked toward me with a smile—genuine, sweet, and so gentle it made the flowers blooming along the roadside seem like they were trying their hardest just to keep up with her.

Afterword

Hello, everyone! This is Arata Shiraishi, the author. First of all, thank you for picking up this book!

This volume is a completely new, exclusive story. It’s not available online in any form. Thanks to your incredible support, sales of Volume 1 have been strong, and I’m thrilled to announce that a manga adaptation has also begun serialization in Dragon Age, the monthly magazine published by KADOKAWA.

To be honest, when I first uploaded this series online back in February last year, I never imagined things would move along so smoothly. All of this is thanks to readers like you—those who’ve supported me since the web novel days, and those who found this series in bookstores. I mean it from the bottom of my heart: thank you.

Now, let’s talk about Volume 2.

To put it bluntly (and yes, I’m going to say it again): this is entirely newly written content, utterly separate from the web version. That means it’s full of surprises and definitely worth your purchase!

Let me be shameless for a second: if sales are good, there’s a much higher chance this series can continue as a long-running one! So if you enjoy the story, please consider supporting it, and hey, multiple copies are always welcome! Wait, what’s this— Editor-san, put down the bat! I’m joking! Well, half joking.

Back to business: while a tiny fraction of the online episodes may have inspired parts of this volume, over 95% is brand-new content. Total bargain, right?

In the web version, Ryuto’s already reached laughably overpowered status. But in this volume, he’s only just reached the upper echelons of humanity. The focus here is on how he begins his climb to the top, something we skipped over in the web series. That journey becomes the heart of this installment.

Expect the same energy as always: evil gets slashed swiftly and satisfyingly! And yes, there’ll be some antics involving our double heroines, Cordelia and Lilith, but you can rest assured we’re keeping that momentum going strong.

Finally, some words of thanks.

To Shiraso Fami, our amazing illustrator—thank you once again for your breathtaking artwork.

To my editor, Mr. O—thank you for always pushing to make the impossible possible, and for swiftly putting your foot down (in the nicest way) when it isn’t possible. Your balance of patience and decisiveness is a gift.

And of course, to you—the readers.

Thanks to your support, I can now say with confidence that we’re not in danger of cancellation by Volume 2 or 3. It’s all because of you.

Truly, thank you so much.

—Arata Shiraishi

Thank you all

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